#I’m gonna start calling in sick to work to absorb all this good content

[somegrumpynerd]

Me: Nah I don’t really read much I never have the time and it doesn’t keep my interest

Also me, any time @ilookbetterinslowmo posts something:

#ilookbetterinslomo #Like heck dude #I’m gonna start calling in sick to work to absorb all this good content #Just from your expanded thoughts on that au I KNOW it’s gonna make me have emotions #But it sounds so good I gotta read #Anyway I’m about to be late for work but #Callout post for ilookbetterinslomo: makes top quality content thank you!!

[jenoismydad]

2 + 3 = You In Me

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Pairing: Tutor!Jaemin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (pwp), Slight Angst, College AU

Words: 4.6k+

Warnings: 18+ content. Unprotected sex.

Synopsis: He agrees to tutor you and you end up becoming good friends even though you both so clearly want to be more. What happens when you let you bodies talk for you?

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Jaemin was coming over to help you prepare for a test. You had no clue how he'd agreed to assist you, but you were thankful nonetheless. Jaemin rarely ever studied with girls. Mostly because they were always hitting on him. But it seemed you were an exception. You wondered why but you figured it was because he was trying to make some extra money.

Yes, Jaemin made you pay him. He made everyone pay him so you didn't think too much of it. From what you'd heard, his methods never failed to prove effective. You hoped he could help you study well enough to pass this test. After all, a majority of your grade depended on it.

You'd spent a good amount of your time trying to prepare a nice study space for you both to sit at in your apartment. So far you'd only managed to clean your coffee table and place two cushions for seats at its feet.

Jaemin would be here any minute. You rushed to get everything you'd need for the day, wanting to keep it all ready so that you wouldn't have to interrupt the study session. Your bell rang not soon after. He was here on time.

Opening the door, you welcomed him with a smile. He nodded and entered without a word. Black track pants and a plain white shirt. Jaemin hadn't made much of an effort to dress to impress. He ventured into your dorm, looking around the place silently.

That's when he came across your makeshift study zone. He pointed at it and looked at you.

"We're studying here," he asked, placing his hands in his pockets. He sounded a tad bit dejected. Your eyes widened slightly in panic. Was he not comfortable with sitting on the floor? "Yeah, I figured. Is there a problem," you asked, fearing the worst for no reason. Jaemin shook his head. "Nope, I just thought we were gonna sit in your room. That's where most of the girls take me anyways," he revealed, flashing you a small grin. You immediately felt at ease.

"My room's kind of a mess at the moment," you admitted, joining him near your couch. He took a seat on the floor, placing the cushion behind his back instead. He cleaned his black-rimmed glasses and patted the space next to himself. "Let's get started."

Jaemin was a pro at breaking down the complex concept so that your pea-sized brain could understand it to the fullest. The only drawback with that method was that it took much longer than you'd like it to. Two hours later you'd only finished one of the chapters that would be coming for the test. You still had four more to go.

"Fuck it's already three o'clock," you complained, falling dramatically on the coffee table. Jaemin flipped his pen in his fingers and stretched his body with a yawn. "I don't mind staying overtime," he joked. He'd made a lot of humoring comments during your time with him. The last you'd heard, he tended to be quite serious, never straying from his purpose. Not that you minded or anything, but Jaemin wasn't really meeting the expectations everyone had set for him in your mind. Maybe they were just trying to intimidate you.

"Don't you have to study too," you asked, turning your head to glance at him. He looked at you and shook his head. "I already studied beforehand. Plus, this test's gonna be super easy. You pass it with a breeze," he admitted. As relieving as that sounded, you didn't wanna take any chances. What if he flunked the test because he didn't revise or something. You really didn't want to be the person he blamed when that happened.

"You don't have to stay for my sake. You can go home if you want to. I think I can manage on my own now." you flipped through the pages of your coursebook, sighing in despair. It was a lot to go through. At least you still had half the day left.

Jaemin folded his arms. "Don't worry about me y/n. Not to undermine you, but I don't think you can get through all of this by yourself. I mean, you barely managed to understand the basics. All those chapters just branch off from this one and get increasingly tough to learn."

If this was him trying to convince you to let him stay then it sure as hell was working. You groaned and sat back up. "You promise you won't fail the test because of me then?" Jaemin chuckled. "Of course not. I'll pass with flying colors."

So you resumed studying. Jaemin was right. What he taught you next was more confusing than the first chapter you'd covered. You regretted not paying attention during your lectures. Jaemin never got impatient with you. In fact, he took ample time to make sure you understood everything he explained to you. He was very thorough and you appreciated that. However the more knowledge you absorbed, the more exhausted you felt. It got to the point where you felt like you couldn't study any further. Jaemin then suggested that you take a small break. You couldn't have agreed faster.

"Once we're done you should go through the practice questions that I emailed you," Jaemin reminded, taking a sip of the soda you'd offered him. You gave him a thumbs up and fell on the ground. "You're a lifesaver Na Jaemin."

Jaemin chuckled and turned to you. "I'm guessing it's not just math that you're having a problem with."

You raised your head and narrowed your eyes at him. "Nicely deduced."

"We can get together to study together for your other subjects if you don't mind. No need to pay me either," he offered.

You furrowed your brows. "Jaemin the longer you spend teaching me the dumber you're gonna get."

He brushed you off. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"You never know, and besides, after today you should know that it's gonna take five hundred years to clear all my concepts. Do you even have that kind of time?"

Jaemin tilted his soda can at you. "You'd be surprised at how much free time I have on my hands."

You smiled. "Wait so you're actually agreed to be my personal tutor."

Jaemin rolled his eyes amusedly. "It was my proposition but yes. I wouldn't be your personal tutor though. Just a study partner."

You sat up and leaned back. "So like, studying in the library after class and stuff like that?"

He nodded. "If the library's closed we can come here or I can take you to my place."

You pursed your lips, considering his deal. But something paused your train of thoughts. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? You hardly seem like the type of guy who'd study with someone else."

Jaemin downed his drink, wincing at the fizziness that clawed at his throat. "I've had fun studying with you so far. Like, you're genuinely dumb, unlike some other people I tutor who just pretend to be dumb so they can spend a few hours with me."

You raised a brow. Had he just called you dumb? "I'll try not to take offense, thank you very much."

Jaemin apologized with a laugh.

"Does it make you feel smarter in some type of way," you asked? Jaemin hummed in response. "It kinda does now that you mention it. But I also feel like it would help me revise and clear my own concepts at the same time."

That made sense. "Damn, and here I was thinking you wanted to do this cause you were interested in me."

Jaemin's eyes widened. You raised your hands in defense. "It's just a joke. Don't take it seriously," you assured. Jaemin relaxed at that.

"Let's get started again. We're almost halfway there," he said, changing the topic. You agreed and sat beside him again, pen in hand, ready to go.

_

You walked out of your lecture with a bright smile on your face and headed straight to the library. Sure enough, Jaemin was already sitting there, waiting for you patiently. You sent him a small wave and skipped over to him. Handing him your graded test paper, you watched excitedly as his eyes lit up.

"Oh my god. You passed!"

You squealed and sat next to him, placing your bag near your feet. Jaemin smiled up at you. "This is such a good score," he added, glad that he'd been able to help.

"Henceforth we're studying together for every single test. I don't care if you're sick or at a friend's house."

Jaemin laughed and nodded. "Sure thing. If it means seeing you this happy then I'm down."

You froze at his words, glancing towards him. He clearly didn't seem to realize what he'd just said. Maybe you'd heard wrong. It was possible. After all, he was whispering. You didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to listening anyways. Concluding that you were mistaken, you pulled out your books and got to finishing up your assignments.

A few hours later Jaemin and you exited the library. You both usually parted ways since your dorms were in the opposite direction. However today, Jaemin followed behind you.

"What are you doing," you asked when he jogged up next to you. "We should celebrate your achievement today," he suggested. That sounded nice. "Okay then, what do you propose we should do?"

Jaemin pondered on your question. "Let's go to the cafe. I'll buy you coffee and anything else you want."

Coffee was perfect. You nodded and agreed. Jaemin grinned and led you to a small cafe that was just a little outside campus.

You both entered the small shop, the tantalizing scent of coffee hitting your senses immediately. Even though it was almost lunchtime, the cafe was brimming with multitudes of students. Luckily, the queue was short.

"Go find us somewhere nice to sit. I'll buy us some drinks," Jaemin said, pulling out his phone. Before you left, you let him know what you'd like.

Venturing to the back of the cafe, you found a secluded booth for two. It faced a large window, one that gave a fantastic view of the campus. You took a seat and placed your bag next to you. After a couple minutes of waiting, Jaemin emerged with your drinks in hand. He handed you yours before sitting down.

"Iced Americano? I see you're into the classics," you chimed, deciding to spark up a conversation. Jaemin took a sip of his drink. "Simple is the best after all."

Of course, it was. "Hey Jaemin," you started, setting your drink down on the table. He hummed. "Do you wanna come over later today," you asked. Jaemin furrowed his brows. "But we already finished studying."

You shook your head. "Not to study. Let's hang out, maybe watch a movie or something like that."

He seemed a bit taken aback, but nothing too alarming. It was just that you two never really did anything other than study together. Sure enough, you'd become close because of it. But you figured as friends, there were other things you could engage in to pass the time.

"Let's do it. What time should I come over," Jaemin asked? "Does seven work for you? I'll order pizza, so you don't need to worry about dinner."

Jaemin nodded. "Seven works for me."

_

As soon as the clock struck seven, there was a knock on your door. The ever punctual Jaemin would never be a second late. You let him in, eager to get your night started. He walked into your dorm and went straight to your room, plopping down on your bed as if it were his own.

You'd already been browsing on Netflix, wondering what genre he liked. It had never come up in conversation before so you didn't really know.

"What are we watching," he asked, scrolling through the options. You shrugged and joined him on your bed. "I'm not sure. I didn't know what you like," you admitted.

"I usually just watch whatever's in the top ten or 'new this week'," he shared. He stopped at a movie you would never have believed he'd be interested in.

"You wanna watch Yes Day," you asked in disbelief? Jaemin giggled and nodded innocently. "It looks super lame but I've already finished watching everything," he revealed. Here you were thinking you both would watch something more serious instead of a family movie. Instead of spending forty minutes trying to settle on one movie, you decided it best to just go with the first choice.

Jaemin started the movie and leaned back beside you. It was quiet between you both for the most part. You watched the movie in silence. It wasn't as entertaining as you'd thought it would be, but Jaemin seemed to be engrossed in it so you chose to say nothing and continued staring at the screen.

Halfway into the movie, Jaemin stifled a yawn and fell to the side, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looked at you and pointed to the screen. "Are we gonna keep watching this?"

You let out a breath of relief and exited out of the movie once and for all. "If you didn't like it why'd you make me watch it," you complained, shutting your laptop. Jaemin sat up and crossed his legs. "I thought you were enjoying it. You even laughed at the funny parts."

You stuck your chin out. "You should know what my fake laugh sounds like by now Jaemin." He raised his hands in defense. "The only time I hear you laugh is when you realize you're doing something wrong."

You tsked. "That's called nervous laughter genius. You suck at interpreting emotions."

He hit you with a pillow softly. "Hey, stop making me out for a robot."

"You're the human embodiment of the AI," you joked, dodging the pillow he swung at you. Raising your hands in defense, you shielded yourself from him. "At least I said you're intelligent."

Jaemin paused his attacks. "You're lucky I think you're cute. I'll let you off the hook for now."

You had another one of those moments where you froze, wondering if the words that had come out of his mouth were true or not. He didn't whisper this time. You'd heard everything word for word. But you couldn't believe it.

"Did you just call me cute?"

Jaemin nodded, not seeming too surprised about it. "You aren't not cute," he added. Maybe you were misinterpreting the meaning behind it. Friends called friends cute. It was normal. That didn't mean that they liked each other, did it?

Noticing the conflict in your expression, Jaemin leaned forward and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way."

Something about that made your stomach churn. You felt uneasy all of a sudden. You wanted to be relieved, that he didn't think of you as more than a friend. But a part of you wished he felt otherwise. You didn't know why, it just did.

You chuckled awkwardly and faced him. "Yeah, of course, you didn't. I don't know why I thought that."

Jaemin hummed and rested his chin on his palm. "Maybe because you wanted it to be true."

"Huh?"

"Maybe you wanted me to tell you that I like you."

You didn't know what to say to that. So you just smiled awkwardly. "But you don't, do you?"

Jaemin grinned. "Do you want me to?"

"No! Of course not, why would I-"

"I'm just messing with you y/n. Don't worry, we're just friends," he assured, finding you getting alarmed quite amusing. You hit his shoulder. "Don't joke around like that. Who knows what might happen."

Jaemin's laughter died down. He met your gaze sombrely. You knew he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. His eyes traveled down to your lips for a moment. You sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling giddy. Jaemin looked back into your eyes, this time with a small smile. You didn't know what he was doing. You also didn't know if you liked it or not. Your mind said one thing and your body said another. Jaemin subtly licked his lips. You had no clue why the action had such a devastating effect on you.

Before you knew it, your lips were on his. Jaemin didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, he relaxed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your body onto his. He fell back on your mattress, bringing you on top of him. Straddling his lap, you placed your hands on either side of his head, kissing him with vigor. Jaemin groaned against your mouth, the sound sending warm shivers down your back. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be and he tasted faintly of coffee.

His hands slipped under your shirt, resting on your skin. His touch felt fiery hot. You rolled your hips over his lap impulsively, biting his both lip as a throaty groan left his mouth. He squeezed your waist and trailed his hands down to your ass.

Before things could escalate, however, your bell rang. You both stilled, separating from each other. When your eyes met, you scrambled off of him and sat at the edge of your bed, completely stunned. Jaemin rubbed his face and sat up as well, not really knowing what to say. The bell rang again, snapping you out of your daze. "I'll go get that," you muttered disorientedly, leaving Jaemin in your room. He nodded and stood up. "Actually, I'm gonna go," he said, leaving your room before you could say anything. You heard the door open and shut soon after. Your bell rang again.

You went to open your door. A delivery guy stood before you, hands empty with a confused look on his face. "The guy that just left took the pizza with him. He said that you'd pay for it." You couldn't believe it. Nonetheless, you paid the man and shut your door. What had just happened?

_

A few days passed after the incident at your dorm. Jaemin hadn't called or texted you and in all honesty, you hadn't made an attempt to contact him. You felt too embarrassed to face him. After all, it was you who'd gone onto him. Even if he didn't push you away it wasn't like either of you had agreed to start making out. You were anxious because you knew you'd ruined your friendship with him.

A part of you missed him. You enjoyed spending time with him, even though all you did was study. Everything was so bleak now that he wasn't around to humor you.

You didn't want to regret whatever had happened that night. It was amazing. You just wished it hadn't ended the way it did. You should have understood that he indeed was joking. Instead, you mistook his prodding for sarcasm.

It made no sense for you to not speak to him. You wanted to make amends, figure out what had gone wrong. But you were scared he'd ignore you. That would just make you feel worse than you already did.

So you passed the days, wafting in your own misery. Pitying yourself as if the entire weight of the world had been thrown on your shoulders.

Little did you know that all it would take was another shitty test score for you to pick up your phone and call Jaemin.

"Help me study," you said as soon as he answered the call. Jaemin was silent on the other end. "Don't just listen to me. Say something," you begged. Your heart felt heavy. You heard him sigh. "I'd rather not y/n." You got goosebumps. "Jaemin, please. We can go to fucking library if that makes you feel better," you suggested, desperate for him to agree. After giving it some thought he finally answered you. "Okay fine. Tomorrow at three. But no longer than three hours."

He hung up, leaving you feeling a tad bit better. You looked forward to the next day. Hopefully, he wouldn't act indifferent to you.

_

Jaemin sat in your usual spot at the library. He was on his phone, leg crossed over his lap leisurely. You walked up to him and took a seat beside him without a word. Seeing you had arrived, he put his phone away and turned to you. "What are we studying?"

You took out your books and opened them. "This."

Jaemin glanced over the material. No wonder you'd flunked your test. He sighed, placing the textbook between you two. Without wasting a second, he began tutoring you.

No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't pay attention. You were too busy staring at his face, more specifically his lips. They way he'd lick them ever so often made butterflies soar in your stomach. He'd run his hand through his fluffy hair and adjust his glasses, letting your mind run wild. Jaemin didn't seem to notice your lack of focus. You figured he didn't really care. He kept glancing at his watch. It was like he was waiting for your time with him to come to an end.

Much to your dismay, eventually it did.

"I'll send you a picture of some practice material. You can use that to prepare better," he concluded, getting up from his seat. You quickly stuffed your books in your bag and ran after him.

"Jaemin wait!"

He paused. "What," he asked as he turned around. He sounded disinterested. "Can we talk," you asked? Jaemin sighed and shrugged. "What do you wanna talk about," he questioned, placing his hands in his pockets. "About what happened at my place last week."

Jaemin tensed up. "It was a mistake. I think we both understood that."

You shook your head. "I don't know Jaemin, I'm not sure I did."

He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"The more I thought about it the more I realized that I wouldn't have kissed you unless I wanted to. Not just that but you wouldn't have let it go so far if you thought it was wrong."

He seemed at a loss for words.

"When you called me cute, you did mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way." You didn't need an answer for him to know you were correct.

"What are you trying to say y/n," he asked, sounding defeated.

"That I like you," you admitted. Jaemin's eyes widened. "And that you like me too," you added.

Jaemin bit his lip. "Okay, so then why were we acting like we hated each other for so long?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you overthink everything and I'm a big pussy."

Jaemin chuckled and slung his arm around your shoulder. "I'm sorry about that babe."

You cringed at the nickname. "Don't 'babe' me. We're not dating. Not yet."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Does it really need to be that formal?"

You nodded adamantly. "Of course it does."

He sighed. "Fine. Will you go out with me y/n?"

You smiled and shook your head. "I'd rather not Jaemin."

"Yeah whatever," he said with a scoff, leading you outside.

_

As soon as you were past your door Jaemin's lips were on yours in an instant. He pushed you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his shoulders, sighing into his mouth. "I missed you so fucking much," he muttered, stumbling to your room.

He dropped you on your bed and hovered over you, staring down at you somberly before kissing you again. His lips didn't stay on yours for too long, trailing down to your jaw and then your neck. You tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. When he did, you stared at his chiseled body in awe. "I didn't know you worked out."

Jaemin chuckled at your comment and pulled your own shirt off. He flicked the tiny bow on your bra with an amused grin. "This is cute."

You nudged his arm timidly. "I wasn't exactly preparing myself for this moment."

He said nothing further and latched his lips to your neck once again. Running your fingers through his hair, you craned your neck to the side to give him more access. He gently sucked on your skin, not too harsh that it would leave marks. You sighed and fiddled with the waistband of his sweatpants. "Do you want it off," he asked quietly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded, biting your lip when he pushed his pants down.

His member came into sight, making your mouth water.

Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his cock. Your fingers wrapped around his girth instinctively. Jaemin suck in a breath as he made you stroke his length. His hand slipped past your panties, fingers toying with your clit. You gasped and spread your legs wider, loving the way his calloused fingertips felt. Tightening your grip around his cock, you jerked him off earnestly. In turn, Jaemin began rubbing quick circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Letting go of his member, you hastily pushed your pants down your legs. Jaemin peeled your panties off of you, marveling at the sight of your glistening pussy. "Don't just stare," you complained, shutting your legs, "do something."

Jaemin wordlessly, spread your legs apart and settled down between your thighs. He glanced up at your through his lashes, asking for permission before licking a stripe up your folds. You pushed your hips against his mouth, eyes falling shut when he repeated the action. Holding onto your thighs, he nipped and sucked at your clit, groaning every time your bucked your hips into his face. You gripped onto his hair, tugging at his roots. Jaemin's fingers prodded at your slit, slowly entering your walls. He curled them up, making your arch your back in delight. It felt so good. He knew exactly what he was doing.

With his tongue skillfully moving over your clit and his fingers continuously pumping in and out of you, it didn't take long for you to feel a familiar knot in your stomach. You sat up, pulling his mouth off of your cunt. "I need you to fuck me now." Your voice was hushed, breathless because of how much you'd moaned. Jaemin's eyes had darkened considerably. He pushed you down on your back again and pressed his tip to your entrance.

Jaemin felt bigger than he looked. Not that you were complaining or anything, it just took a while to get used to. He made sure you were comfortable before slowly starting to pound into you.

You grabbed his arms as he fastened his pace, head falling back in ecstasy. Shallow breaths left his parted lips. "You feel so good," he muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot on your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in response. You were close. Jaemin could tell.

Gripping onto your waist, he went faster, slamming his cock into you as he chased your highs. You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut. Your walls clenched tightly around his length, your orgasm crashing down on you intensely. Soon enough, he twitched inside you. His thighs stilled, hips snapping into you one last time before thick ropes of his cum shot into your walls. He let out a pleased groan, voice deep and raspy.

"That was amazing," you breathed, pushing your hair out of your face as Jaemin moved off of you. He smiled and tugged his pants back on, joining you under the covers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jaemin pulled you into his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You laughed to yourself. "What is it," Jaemin asked. You shook your head, looking at him. "To think this all started after you agreed to tutor me."

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tagging: @neosmutcollective @hoehousenet @kdiarynet @kafenetwork @nct-writers @ficscafe @whipped-kpop-creators @kpopscape

#jaemin smut #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct oneshots #nct college au #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #nct jaemin #kpop smut #ficscafe #kdiarynet #neosmutcollective #nct-writers #wkcnet #kpopscape #kafenetwork

[lilevixen]

heyyy, idk if u write bertholdt or are even taking requests, but if u are can i request giving bertholdt an orgasm denial from a f!reader and it’s been like 3 hours that he’s had to hold it? thanks if u can :)

sweet boy

Characters: sub!Bertholdt Hoover x dom!female bodied reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: Reader teaches Bertholdt a lesson after he gets a bit too touchy with them in front of their friends

•WARNING- 18+ CONTENT: orgasm denial, no-contact orgasm, descriptions of oral sex (male receiving), dacryphilia(ish?)•

“Baby, please, I said I was s-sorry!” Bertholdt whined from across the room for what felt like the millionth time that evening. You casted a look of faux boredom over your shoulder from your small wooden desk, trying your best to remain blasé at the mouth-watering sight of your boyfriend still sat criss-cross applesauce completely bare on the bed. He was so good for you, so obedient; his arms never once left from behind his back for entirety of the time you had him there. How long did you have him there? After you two got back from the dining hall, minutes easily spilled into hours in the smudgy haze of repressed lust you had established. The only indicator of how long Berthodlt had been sitting there for, cock upright and twitching for attention, was how absolutely worn out he looked. Every inch of his deep, tan skin was glittering with sweat, cords of muscle in his thighs and abdomen strained beneath his flesh so severely they looked like they could snap any second, his chest heaved erratically as if he had just run a marathon- this was absolute torture for him, you could tell. You would’ve felt bad, if he hadn’t disobeyed you in the first place.

“Huh? I was reading, sweetie. I didn’t hear you,” a bald-faced lie on your part. Your eyes kept tracking over the same paragraph over and over again without absorbing any of the information in your brain, the sweet pleas of your boyfriend claiming all the space in your mind instead. His lip quivered at your persistence in feigning ignorance of his situation and tears quickly filled his dark eyes.

“P-Please! Can you please t-touch me? I need you so bad I think I might e-explode,” he stammered out, his voice meek but desperate, shameless, so needy and you felt it throb between your legs, adding to the arousal already collecting along your inner thighs. Despite how incredibly turned on you were, you let out a slow sigh hiss past your lips as if you were getting irritated.

“Well, you got to touch me plenty, sweets. In front of everyone, just like I asked you not to,” excitement overtook your annoyance some time ago, but what you brought up was a genuine point of contention. From the very beginning you made it clear you wanted your relationship to be private. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him or anything, you just hated all the unnecessary attention couples garnered, all the mindless gossip and speculation of who plays what role, the whispers, the stares. And once Bertholdt had gotten comfortable with you, always seeking your touch like a love sick little puppy, you knew this was something that needed to be discussed. He agreed at the time, ‘if it means I get to be with you, I guess it’s okay,’ he said, but as things progressed he would give away your relationship in little ways. At first it was just the way he would look at you (which was only natural given your feeling for each other, you supposed), staring at your lips for a little too long when you spoke, a little twinkle of fondness in his warm eyes. You let this slide, because it was minimal and no one seemed to notice. But slowly, he started doing more and more things that you had to call him out on, resting his head on your shoulder, using his thumb to tenderly swipe crumbs of food off your face, nearly calling you baby- until finally, tonight in the dining hall while having supper with your friends, he practically announced you two were together by kissing your hand when you burnt it on a scalding bowl of soup. Porco was too involved with his food to notice, but you could feel Reiner and Annie’s eyes hovering over you as if you were an alien. Too embarrassed to handle their reactions, you excused yourself to your room and quickly left before they even had a chance to say anything, Bertholdt obviously right on your heels. He tried to embrace you and kiss you and apologize to make it all better, but his penchant for physical affection was what got you in this situation in the first place. So that’s when you decided to give him a little time-out. Even though, your edge was starting to wear down after hearing him whine out for you for so long.

“I know! I-I just don’t like seeing you get hurt! I didn’t think they were looking at us, I’m sorry Y/N!” he choked out, squirming against the air as if that would provide some sort of relief. “I’m s-so hard for you it feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“Oh really? And what do you want me to do about that?” You asked in a snarky tone to mask the unadulterated lust pulsing through you, going back to fake-reading your text book.

“I want you to touch me! I want to feel you, any part of you, until I cum over and over…” you could hear the thought in his voice as he got lost in what he was describing, and you didn’t need to turn around to know he was biting his lip with his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut and brows knitted. Another hot rush of arousal swirled in deep in your stomach.

“You know I can’t do that, baby,” you said against your own body’s command.

“Y-Yes you can! I promise I’ll be good from now on, I w-won’t hold your hand or kiss you or hug you in front of anyone again! Just please, I need you Y/N,” maybe it was your own excitement, or how fucking good he sounded begging for you like a pitiful little boy, but this finally broke your resolve. It would be cruel to let him stay there like that all night, anyway. You pushed yourself out of your seat and made your way to Berthdolt’s trembling form on the bed. Even you just getting closer to him caused his heavy breathing to pick up pace.

“How do you want me, my sweet boy?” you purred, laying down flat on your stomach before his lanky body so that his dick towered above you like a skyscraper.

“A-Any way,” he looked down at you beneath his dark, fluttering lashes, swiveling his hips in anticipation of your touch. You let out a soft scoff.

“Be specific or I can’t help you~,” you said with a sweet lilt in your voice, harsh words laced with honey. His eyes blew open wide at your threat to leave him a writhing, unfulfilled mess for even longer than you already had.

“Can you take me in your mouth? Please?” A new wave of blush spread across his cheeks as he said this, and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was.

“There you go, baby,” you giggled. You guided your featherlight fingertips along the slick muscle of his thighs, causing him to tense up immediately, and you could actually see the thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath his skin in faint flits. He was so sensitive by now you didn’t doubt he would explode just like he said before. Your fingers playfully walked along the slope of his legs, working their way inwards, and you teased them to a gradual stop mere inches from where he needed you most. He was panting like a dog at this point, chest rising and falling violently as he looked down at you, jaw slack and eyes cloudy with frustrated tears.

“You’ve been waiting for this, huh?” You dragged your tongue along your lower lip and leaned in close to his pulsating cock so that your breath fanned across his shaft, digging your fingers into the tendons of his inner thigh. He gasped, the shock of you finally gracing him with some sort of stimulation overwhelming his worked-up body, and a throb of pleasure shot through his dick with such alarming intensity that you could see it expand in his veins and swell at the tip. You blinked up at him, a bit startled yourself. He was so close already and you barely even touched him… Maybe you didn’t even need to touch him.

“U-Uhuh!” He nodded frantically, tears now spilling down his flushed face and drool dribbling down his chin; the sight would’ve been sad if it wasn’t so fucking hot. You massaged your fingertips into the thin, sweat-slicked skin on either side of his balls and slowly moved your lips upwards so that they were ghosting the hot, leaking head of his penis. His whole body shuddered underneath you, hips eagerly twitching to meet your lips, but only mildly, timidly, making it clear he was still completely under your control.

“I bet you’ve been imagining this for so long, my lips around your cock, feeling me squeeze you in my throat,” you hummed, your lips just barely brushing his dickhead as you spoke, and to him the vibration of your voice and the warm flutters of your breath against him felt just as sensational as the euphoric grip of your walls after hours of waiting for any kind of attention. This was exactly what you suspected, what you were hoping. He was such a desperate mess that he could get off to just your words and proximity. “Can you feel it? My pretty little mouth drooling around you?”

“A-Ah! Yes!” He cried out, and his stiff cock slapped against his belly eagerly as if he was truly feeling every bit of what you were describing, hell, even you were starting to feel it from his reactions alone, the ache between your legs growing almost painful.

“Does my sweet boy want to cum down my throat?” You kept steady eye contact with him, savoring every bit of watching him crumble before you, intentionally letting your breath pour past your lips in heavy pants, and he bucked into the air with each puff, his abdomen flexed tight and his thighs shuddering.

“Ahaha y-yes please!” He whimpered, the rhythm of his hips gently rising to meet your breath becoming twitchy and unstable, a clear sign that he was on the brink of long-awaited release. A coy smile played at the ends of your lips as you batted your lashed up at him.

“Then cum for me,” and on command, his whole body convulsed under the weight of sweet, sweet climax, at long last, the hugest load you’d ever seen erupting out of him in thick, hot torrents that sprayed right in his face. You were so proud of him, your poor baby, putting up with your little act for hours on end despite yearning for you so immensely that you didn’t even need to touch his cock for him to bust. He just loved you that much and why exactly? You quite honestly didn’t know. You almost felt the need to apologize for treating him so cruelly, but at the end of the day you were trying to teach him a lesson, and based on how he was looking at you, right eye squeezed shut to prevent cum from getting in his eye, body rattling with exhaustion, it was safe to say he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. The least you could do was help him clean up. You got up on your knees and took his clammy face in your hands, gliding your tongue along his salty skin to get rid of all the cum, saliva, tears- whatever fluids were coating his face. When you were done, you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

||

A/N:

HEYYY LOVELIESSS💓💓 here’s my first official completed request (woohoo)!!! Bertholdt is not usually a character I would accept writing but this request kinda had me GRRRR ya know (thank you for that anon, I truly hope you’ll enjoy this! This was my first time writing orgasm denial too so idk if i did it right NAKWKA)? BUTTT yeah here ya go, bloop ilyyyy

~Bunny

#bertholdt x reader #bertholdt imagines #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x reader smut #bertholdt x reader smut #aot imagines #aot headcanons #bertholdt Hoover #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertholdt smut

[its-kall-the-clown]

Submitted by @twitchyglitchy: don't know if you meant submit as in send something to submit or to just wait for the askbox to open back up but when you get the time perhaps #41 with fatherly Sun Wukong and MK?

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Sorry, I was opening up the inbox again but then I walked away to get a snack, and then three people submitted this way. So sorry! XD

I think this could be considered the unofficial prequel to THIS and THIS Explains how MK got sick

prompt list

Blurred Lines

Rated: G

Wukong held out his hand a few drops of rain starting to fall against the palm of his paw. He looks up with a frown, the sky's overhead grey with the promise of rain. Judging by how dark the clouds have become in such a short time looks like they were in for a downpour.

He opens his mouth to tell MK their training was over for the day but found he was having to dodge a staff hurtling towards him. Apparently, the kid had not noticed the rain yet or was looking to take advantage of how distracted he was for an easy win.

He smirks shifting to one foot easily, completely dodging the attack, MK expected the blow to land and found when it didn't his balance was off. That was something they really needed stonework on, his balance. It's like MK was compensating for missing weight in his body, he wonders if maybe if MK grew a tail that problem would magically resolve itself.

MK topless forward onto his face and rolls a few feet, till he's laying on his back with a groan.

Monkey king saunters over to the boy a few more drops of rain hitting his fur as he walks.

"Good job today, I think we need to work on your balance though." He offers a hand out to MK who smacks it away and stands up on his own with a grunt. That.. .was unusual. The boy always had a pretty good attitude even when he lost. Never a sore loser when they sparred.

"Again." MK grunts our whipping his nose off on his sleeve with a determined look. The sky above them rumbles with a warning and Wukong's face twists down in a frown. Something was brewing and it wasn't just the storm.

"Let's call it a night kid. It's gonna rain soon." A few more drops fall against his fur and face and MK shakes his head back and forth, droplets flying from his hair. No way the kid didn't notice.

"No we can train a bit longer, rain never killed anyone." He smiles, already taking a challenging stance. Wukong crosses his arms over his chest and feels a tail-flick behind him.

"Not a chance. We're done for today."

MK lets out a sigh and leans against his staff side-eyeing him.

"Hmmm...never thought the great monkey king was afraid of a little water." MK smirks and Wukong stiffens under the jab. His fur bristled under his insulted pride and he smirks back at MK with his tail swishing behind him annoyedly.

"Fine. Smartass. We can keep training but don't come crying to me when the heavens open up." His eyebrow twitches, taking up a defensive stance ready for whatever the boy would throw at him.

Almost as if on cue, the sky opens up and it's a downpour. He opens his mouth to tell MK they couldn't train in this but MK is rushing forward with a war cry on his lips Wukong barely has any time to react dodging and blocking a flurry of blows.

"Mk stop! It's pouring!" He tries to reason with MK who only steps forward into a strike, Wukong barely has time to grab the staff, halting it from bashing his face in. He didn't want to do this, he always goes easy on MK so they could slowly build up to his level, but at this point, the boy wouldn't listen to reason.

He grabs the staff and digs his heel into the ear and shifts his weight. He flips MK over his body slamming them hard into the earth..he hears MK let out a gasp of pain and he worries he's actually hurt the boy.

"Kid oh my gosh! Are you ok-" he reaches for MK who looks stunned on his back looking up at the sky with wide eyes, water dripping down his face and mixing with the earth.

"You have been...holding back on me" MK whispers out his face scrunching up in what could only be described as pain and betrayal. He sits up with anger on his face

"You don't even use all your strength on me??!!!" He yells at Wukong who's now getting a turn to be stunned.

"Well...of course not bud. I don't want to hurt you." He looks soaked to the bone now shivering, his hair hangs limp while his clothes stick to his body.

"That's not fair!!! How can I get stronger if you aren't even trying to train me!" He yells shivering again. Even Wukong could feel the rain soaking his fur and making his clothes heavier.

"Come on MK….I'm doing my best to train you."

Wrong choice of words.

MK's face becomes vacant and broken. Tears now pouring down his cheeks and mixing with the rain.

"What, so you're saying it's MY fault?? That I'm u-untrainable??!" He yells, gripping his hair and tugs.

"That you're doing your best because it's so hard to train me? Cause I'm a failure??" Thunder cracks after a flash of light only serves to illuminate the look of betrayal carved into MKs face.

"Kid stop!" He grabs the boy by his shoulders trying to stop him from spiraling.

"You're doing AMAZING. Your progressing faster than I did at your age. But you GOT to keep in mind that it takes time to get where I'm at." MK sniffs his lip warbling and Wukong grabs his hands to squeeze it reassuringly.

They are shaking like a leaf and are ice cold in his grip.

“Your hands are so cold!" He rubs them together between his paws trying to warm them up. He brings the hands to his mouth breathing hot air into them. It seemed content productive with them standing in the rain.

"Come on. Let's get you inside and dried off, you will catch your death out here." MK nods numbly and Wukong leads him indoors to his stone house where a few monkeys have already holed themselves up for the storm. They chitter and shrieks of concern from the monkeys greet his ears as they fret over both their king and their quote-unquote 'brother'.

Wukong ushers MK to his bathroom where he throws a towel over Their head and tries to absorb all the water that his mop of a head consumed. MK just stands limp allowing him to dry his hair. It's concerning that he hasn't even let out a squeak since they came inside.

"MK…." He pulls the towel away to look at their face. Indoors now, out of the pelting rain, it's so much harder for MK to hide his tears. His cheeks are puffed out and his eyes are red as a constant stream drips down his face and chin adding to the puddle on the floor steadily.

“I just want to do better….be strong like you.” MK’s eyes flit to wukong guilty before looking away to his soaked shoes. It shoves a wedge between Wukongs ribs painfully and presses upward threatening to separate ribs from the flesh.

"Look at me." Wukong titles his chin up forcing Expresso's eyes to look at him.

"You're doing amazing. I want you to know that. Every day you surprise me who how much you have learned. " He explains and he sees the boy's chest hitch slightly another batch of tears joining his.

"I'm very proud of how far you have come." He smiles at the boy whose lip warbles again. A sopping wet body slaps into his as ML throws his arms around his chest and buries his face into his wet clothes. At first, Wukong has no idea how to react, his arms hovering over the wet form but when MK squeezes him tighter he is prompted to wrap his own arms around the boy. He runs his fingers through the wet locks and tries to warm them up with his body. Subconsciously hai tail finds MK's ankle and wraps around it as if he was trying to get every possible grip he could on the boy. He lets out a soothing purr on his chest as if he's coddling his own child instead of his successor.

At this point how could you tell the difference?

The line has been slowly blurred over time like rain against sidewalk chalk to the point he had no idea where he stood on which side.

At this point he couldn't be bothered to care. Which terrified him.

He pulls away eventually but his tail remains around MK's ankle.

"You should head home, you need to change out of your wet clothes so you don't catch a cold. Okay?" He asked, offering a lazy smile to MK who seemed marginally better and lips quirked with a shy smile.

"Okay. Can we still train again tomorrow?" They asked sheepishly and Wukong ruffles the top of his head

"Sure can bud! Bring your A-game because you moved up a level tonight and it's gonna be a bit harder." He smirks again and his words only seem to encourage. MK smiles brightly now, eyes shining with the promise of more difficult training.

"Can't wait!" He beams pulling away already and shakes like a dog adding more excess water to his bathroom floor.

"Okay okay, that's enough. Get on outta here. And take care of yourself."

MK salutes as he backs away from his mentor..

"Sure thing!"

Wukong walks him to the door his tail only letting go of the boy's ankle when he finally is driving away on his noodle cart. He waves to the boy something warm newly sprouted in his chest. The line between mentor and father figure blurring a little more

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #Prompt ask #writing Prompt #MK #Wukong #Wukong acting like a dad #oops posted before I finished sorry #submission

[crimefightingspiderguy]

i remember thinking i had you

Summary: Based on the request sent in by @peter-maximoffsbitch “Hey! I saw your requests were opened and I wanted to ask if you could write a Peter x reader on a lazy Sunday morning? Ya know just some sweet domestic bliss ♡ Thank you!”. I started off doing the domestic bliss/lazy Sunday thing, then I ended up getting carried away because I couldn’t help myself. So this has that sweet domestic bliss side, but it also has a touch of angst and then back to happy bliss. 

Warnings: Spoilers for WandaVision

Pairing: Evan Peters!Peter Maximoff/Quicksilver x Reader

Word count: roughly 4,537

A/N: Was I totally listening to August by Taylor Swift while writing this first half? Yes. Yes I was. Also, your powers in this are supposed to be like Rouges, but it was sort of hard for me to describe them without saying her name as an example lol. Also this is my first time writing for Peter Maximoff/Quicksilver, so sorry if it is a little rough in some places. I hope this is what you’re looking for and a little more! Let me know what you think, feedback is always welcome!

Peter woke up laying almost exactly how he’d fallen asleep. His head resting on you, arms tucking behind your back. Only this time, instead of singing a soft melody in his ear as you brushed your fingers through his hair, you sat reading a book. Peter rolled over so he could look up at you,

“Morning.” He said through a yawn.

“Morning.” You smiled down at him, peaking past your book, only briefly. Putting your free hand back into his hair, causing him to melt into your hand and let out a content hum.

“I love it when you do that.”

“Oh, trust me, I know.” You let out a small giggle. He reacted the same way every time you went to touch his hair. A simple sigh of relaxation, a content hum, and a visible relaxation in his body.

“Whatcha reading?” He asked, eyes closed so he could fully appreciate your presence.

“A Tale of Two Cities. It’s for the literature class I’m taking.”

“Is it any good?”

“I think so. It’s pretty interesting, especially considering it’s partially based on real events.”

“Will you read it out loud?” He requests, you nod and pick-up where you left off. He lays patiently while you somewhat stumble your way through the book. It’s written with some older slang terms, making some of it hard for you to read quickly through, but Peter didn’t care. He cared about listening to the fluctuation in your voice telling him how you were reacting to a certain event, cared about your breath going in and out, cared about your steady heartbeat under his head. These were the only moments he could be completely still when awake. When you grounded him, allowing him to take things slow and appreciate every single moment of life. The sun was shining in on your skin, lighting you up in a way that seemed almost angelic. It was pure bliss.

 The warm memory of that delicate August morning helped you wake with a smile on your face. The first time you’d genuinely smiled in weeks. It has been too long since you felt the warmth Peter brought to you, too long since you woke to his snoring vibrating through your chest, too long since you got to run your hands through his hair and hear his sigh of content. It’s been about three weeks since he disappeared. No one knows where he is still and how to get in contact with him. The last time you saw him you were sitting out in the front lawn of the school with his head in your lap as he listens to his music through his headphones while you worked on homework. You’d taken a break to stare at a nearby bumble bee landing on a flower. It was calming.

“I’ll be right back” Peter said, getting up with a confused look on his face.

“Where are you going?” You started to ask but was cut off by him zooming away. You shrugged and went back to looking at the bee, he wouldn’t be gone long. You were wrong though; he was gone long. He never came back.

 You wiped away the tears forming on the brim of your eyes. You thought you had all the time in the world with Peter. You never thought he would leave you, especially not like this.

“Y/N”

You jumped, scared out of your mind. Sitting up and looking around like a madwoman. It was his voice.

“Peter?” You called out to him. “Jean? Is this some sick prank? Because I can tell you it’s not funny.”

“Y/N help me.” Peter called out to you.

“How? Where are you?” You asked quietly, realizing the voice was definitely not Jean, she could get into your head, but not like this.

“Come to me. I need your help.” Peter’s voice started to fade.

“No… Come back, tell me how to find you!” You start panicking. But just as quickly as the voice came, it was gone. You frustratingly fell back onto your pillow, almost trying to slam yourself into unconsciousness. At least there you would be with Peter. But what was that voice? You ran through the obvious thoughts, ‘I’m going crazy. It couldn’t have been him. Simply me imagining things because I was dreaming about him.’ But something about those excuses didn’t sit right with you. ‘Maybe Peter was reaching out? Maybe he found a way to contact me, like cerebro? Maybe that’s the key!’ You quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the long hallway where the device is kept. Your powers were confusing, in the way that you had no idea what the limit was. You were able to “absorb” other abilities. You wouldn’t take them from them, but you were able to use them if you touched the person and concentrated. At this point you were able to do a lot of the basics that could help you get to Peter. You had Jean’s telepathy, Kurt’s teleportation, Peter’s super speed, and your own strength and skill from training, you could get to him and save him. In your rush, you hadn’t even realized you bumped into Beast.

“Hey kid, what’s the hurry?” He asked you, startled.

“I have to find Peter.” You said, a wild look had over-come you, in your right-out-of-bed look.

He began to question you further, but you just began running. With Peter’s speed, you got there in a matter of seconds. Students weren’t really allowed in this area unless with Charles, but you could care less right now. You were getting Peter back. You broke into the room and quickly put on the helmet, homing in on his voice in your memory. You searched and searched when finally, it became clear again. He was calling out to you again.

“Come on Pete you gotta give me something to work with.” You searched his distant and fuzzy mind for anything that could give you a location. You saw that he was currently talking to a woman named Agnes. You couldn’t hear what she was saying but based on the worry pressing in on you from his mind, you figured it wasn’t too good. “Pete, I need you to look around the room for me. I have to be able to clearly visualize where I’m going.” Through Peter’s eyes you saw the room as he quickly looked away from the woman. It wasn’t much, but it might just be enough. You took cerebro off and clearly visualized Peter, that woman, and the room they were in.

 You landed with a cloud of blue hanging in the air. Right in front of you was Peter and the woman you assumed was holding Peter hostage in some way.

“Peter!” You ran to hug him, but he just stumbled backwards.

“Woah there toots. You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Who are you?” The woman Agnes asked, grabbing your arm.

“My name is Y/N and I’m here to take my boyfriend home, even if it means I have to kill you.”

She began cackling, “Kill me? Honey I’m hundreds of years old. You couldn’t kill me in your dizziest daydreams.” She still held your arm, you began concentrating, seeping her power into your body. Allowing you to feel how powerful she was. But at least now the fight would be even.

“So, what are we gonna do with you? I can’t have you running around telling people who he is. No, I need him to play his part well.”

“What did you do to him? What do you mean play his part?”

“Well, you see honey, I need your little boy toy here to be my eyes and ears.”

“He’s under your control? So, he doesn’t remember me?” Your heart cracked a little at the thought. You didn’t even need her to confirm this, you could see into his mind and see the haze over his memories from home.

“Mhmmm, how about this. I could use you both if we go about this the right way. So, Pietro dear,” Peter’s eyes flickered away from you to her. “Stick to the plan, introduce yourself on the show tonight. And you little lady are going to be the new neighbor in town, introducing yourself tomorrow, so you can keep a watch from a distance, and if Pietro here were to fail, you could swoop in and take over.”

“What am I supposed to be watching for?” You asked.

“I need some information out of his sister Wanda, and you two are going to help me get it, or you’re never going home.”

 The next day you woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Looking around, you saw Halloween decorations everywhere, and in your closet a single costume. You were going to dress up as a cowgirl. You rolled your eyes, “how original” you muttered to yourself. While Agnes thought she had put you under the same spell as Peter, she was very wrong. You were able to block her out but played the part of brain-washed zombie well enough she let you and Peter go. You didn’t dare say anything other than a good night to Peter as he went to this Wanda’s house and you went a house over from Agnes’s. You got ready and went down to the first floor of your new home to find a snoring Peter laying sprawled out on your couch. ‘This is it’ You thought, my chance to take him and never look back. But what would stop Agnes from following you? She found Peter once. You knew if you planned on making it out of here, you had to make it through today like she planned. Then you might be able to bargain yours and Peter’s freedom or even just make a break for it. You walked around to the front of the couch and sat cross-legged in front of Peter. You missed him so much, but it seems he’s been unable to even think about you other than the subconscious plea he called to you with. You ran your hand through his hair and saw a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He released a soft sigh and you saw his visibly tense shoulders relax.

“You found me” He muttered.

“Peter?” You gasped; does he remember?

“Who else would it be? Jesus?” He laughed at his own joke and you let out a sob that you’d been holding in for way too long. His eyes shot open and before you knew it, he was up and pulling you into his lap on the couch, holding you close. He began drawing shapes on your back, trying to calm you. “Shhh… it’s okay. I’m here now, and I’m not leaving your side until we get out of this hell on earth.” Your shoulders shook with the force of your crying. After a couple minutes, you were able to calm yourself and wipe your eyes dry. “Better?” He asks, pushing your hair back from your face. You nod your head, “Good, because we have a big day ahead of us. Playing along with Agnes’s little game, then getting the hell out of dodge.”

 You and Peter headed over to Wanda’s house together. On the way, he caught you up on the things he was supposed to do, pretending to be Wanda’s brother and convincing her to tell him how she created this fake little world. You were holding his hand up to the point of Wanda’s front door. Peter dropped your hand and you felt he warmth slowly seeping out of you again as he turned around and said “showtime” to you.

He rang the doorbell, and it was answered by a small child, probably the age of 10. “Uncle P!”

Peter ran into the house, throwing the boy and the other one nearby over his shoulders. He ran them round and round in circles as they playfully screamed and laughed their heads off.

“Someone better be bleeding or dying.” A woman came down the stairs dressed in a red costume. She stopped when she saw you awkwardly standing in the doorway. You could feel her trying to get inside your head, so you gave her slight access. Enough to see you were new in town and Peter was helping you meet new people after he bumped into you on the street.

“And who is this?” Wanda referenced you, as if she didn’t know.

“Oh, this lovely lady here is Y/N. I met her on my way to your house this morning and she’s new, so I thought why not introduce her to some neighbors.” Peter said as he put the boys down and zoomed next to you, putting a hand on your back to slightly push you forward to greet Wanda.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at the ‘lovely lady’ comment, ‘good, she’ll believe our story of being strangers’ you thought in the back of your mind, somewhere you weren’t letting her gain access to. You held you hand out to her and she took it with slight hesitation, but when you showed her you meant no harm, she relaxed slightly. In that brief moment though, you were able to gain even the slightest access to her powers, and you took the oppourtunity.

“Wanda” She told you.

“It’s nice to meet you Wanda. I just live two houses down actually, so we were bound to bump into each other at some point.” You let out a small innocent giggle, “But Pietro here was just bursting with energy at the chance of bringing me to meet you.” Wanda gave a smile to Peter and quickly noticed his hand still resting on your back. You could see in her mind that she was picking up the idea that Peter thought you were cute and wanted to impress you.

“Why don’t you join us for trick-or-treating tonight? You could meet more people around town, and by the looks of it you’re already dressed for the occasion.” She waved at your cowgirl get-up.

“Yeah, I was hoping I wouldn’t be the only one dressing up all day. Love that costume by the way, so cute on you!” You complemented her.

“What are you supposed to be mom?” One of the boys asked,

“Old red riding hood?” The other one seemed to finish the thought.

Peter snickered, “I’m actually a Sakovian fortune teller.” She said forming an invisible crystal ball with her hands.

“That’s so cool!” One of the boys said at the same time that Peter seemed to say “Lame”, the boy quickly fixing his previous statement, and copying the “lame”.

“It’s worse than the costumes mom made for us the year we got typhus.” Then the strangest thing happened. It was a flashback, that all of you could see, playing in your head. Peter did mention that we were on some sort of TV show Wanda created, so maybe it was supposed to be a character flash back?

“That’s not exactly how I remember it.”

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma”

Just then the boys grabbed your hands and pulled you away from Peter and Wanda.

“Wanna see our new game?” They asked, even though their determined pulling you away was more like “Come see our new game, now.” But, of all the people you’ve met so far, these two boys had the purest minds. They weren’t clouded by anything or anyone, they weren’t being controlled, so you knew their question wasn’t scripted or forced, just them being kids.

They pulled you to sit down on the ground with them on either side as they showed you how to play with them. You kept an eye on Peter’s mind, and you saw that he was smiling at you and the boys. Wanda’s mind was slightly louder than the clouded Peter, and she was now looking between you and Peter curiously. You looked a little bit deeper into her mind and realized she was suspicious of Peter. He didn’t look like her actual brother, or even act like him. But she was starting to put that aside, since he had given her no real reason to not trust him yet. She was now fascinated though, with his reaction to you. She could tell he acted different when he turned his attention to you.

You quickly left Wanda’s mind, sensing that she was starting to feel someone in her head. Peter zoomed over to you, sitting on the coffee table, resting his legs on either side of your torso. He wrapped his arms around you and helped you play the game by putting his hands over yours.

“Hey! No cheating Uncle P!” The boy who introduced himself as Billy said.

“It’s not cheating, just teaching!” He put his hands up in self-defense. But quickly replaced them over yours to help you get ahead of the boys again.

Just then, you heard someone else come down the stairs. You heard his conversation with Wanda, and gathered he was her husband and the twins’ father. Wanda told him about you being new in town, and you saw in her mind her leaning closer to his ear and saying, “I think Pietro has a crush on her.” And pulling back from him with a smirk on her face. The man named Vision gave a soft “ahh” and nodded in understanding. As soon as Peter had rushed behind you, he was gone.

“Sweet costume bro-ham-in-law. Let me guess, traffic light? Half-shucked corn? A booger!”

“Yes…” Vision said, clearly over Peter, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

Peter pumped his fist in the air and came back behind you and continued to help you play the game, but that was after he handed all three of you sodas and showed them how to shotgun it. “One, two, three, go!” Peter exclaimed as you all tried to down it as fast as you could. You actually finished first and turned around to smash the can into Peter’s head. You were able to do it fairly easy, and you heard the thought run through Wanda’s mind, ‘Wow, she’s pretty strong… I wonder… No. I would see it in her head’. You turned back around making sure to go at a normal speed. The last thing you needed was for her to find out you were a mutant and hiding something from her.

Later on in the day, you, Wanda, Peter, Tommy and Billy began walking through the streets, on the hunt for candy. Peter was running around with the boys, leaving you and Wanda alone to talk. It was then that you felt the presence of Agnes in your mind. You made sure to keep the conversation light, to not make Wanda suspicious, but to maybe hint towards the information you needed.

“So, what made you come to Westview?” Wanda asked.

“I started thinking about moving about a month ago, this was close to the city, but not too close, and it had some good property up for sale. So, I took a leap of faith and ended up here.” You smiled at her, “What about you? How long have you been here?”

“Oh, not long, just came here to start a family and live sort of mundane suburban lives you always hear are so great and perfect.” She laughed lightly to herself.

“How’d you meet Vision?” You could feel Agnes approving of your questions in your head, encouraging you to go on.

“Oh, ummm… We were friends before we got together, so I’ve known him for a while.” Agnes was getting frustrated at how vague Wanda’s answers were. “Pietro seems to have his eye on you.” Wanda pointed out Peter standing behind the kids as they were grabbing candy from a couple, watching you and Wanda closely.

“Quite literally” You chuckled.

“I’ve never seen him act the way he does with you. You… slow him down. Not in a bad way of course, but you can tell from the way he’s been acting around you, it’s like he’s scared to let you go. Like you’ll disappear. Are you sure you just met this morning?”

“Yeah, but he did talk a million miles an hour before he brought me over to your house, so I feel like I got his whole life story” You laughed, feeling Wanda’s suspiciousness suppressing for the time being.

 You took over walking with the boys for a bit while Peter tried taking a shot at getting some information out of Wanda.

“You’re very confusing.” Billy said to you.

“Why’s that?” You asked, looking down to the boy staring at you confused.

“You have a bunch of different voices in your head.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “You can read minds like your mom?”. Great one more person you had to block your thoughts from.

Billy nodded his head in hesitation, “I think, I’m not sure. It didn’t start until just now. It’s like all of the sudden I can hear everything and it’s a lot. It kind of hurts.”

“Here, let me show you a trick” You got down to his eye level and said, “close your eyes, take a deep breath in, then out. Focus on the sound of one voice, my voice. I know you said I have a couple but pick the loudest one and stick with it. Follow it like a string. Open your eyes.” Billy did as you said, “Better?” He nodded and smiled.

“How did you know how to do that?”

“Well between you and me, I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.” You put a shushing finger over your mouth and then cut your thoughts off from him.

“I can’t hear you anymore.”

“I know, because I’m not letting you. If you want to focus on someone else you can, if it helps. Or the voice you focus on is your own. Tune the others out and just think about your own thoughts. It can be hard when you have loud thoughts around you, like your Uncle P. His thoughts are the loudest in the area. But after some practice, you’ll be a pro just like your mom.”

Billy smiled up at you as he realized just how loud Peters thoughts actually were.

 The trick-or-treating was going by pretty quick especially with Peter eventually taking over permanently and zooming around the town with the boys. You were walking with Wanda again.

“I heard you helped Billy.” Wanda said to you, “How did you know how to control the mind reading?”

“Oh, just a trick I picked up from a friend of mine.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes at you a little, “You’re lying. You’re blocking me out and hiding something. I can feel it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Really. I have a friend who can read minds and she told me how she controls it and how she focuses.”

“Then why are you shutting me out?”

“Because I don’t like people being in my head. I’ve got too much going on as it is.”

“Who are you?” Wanda stopped you and held you still with her magic.

“My name is Y/N and I’m new in town. I can promise you, I mean you and your family no harm.”

“Then show me your mind. Completely.”

You sighed and let Wanda in your mind. She saw everything, from when you got here, to your life back with the XMen, your life with Peter. The only thing she didn’t get access to were your memories of Agnes. You assumed Agnes herself put a lock and key on them in case this exact thing happened.

“So, you’re here for Pietro or Peter as you call him. I knew there was something off about you two.”

“Please, we will leave with no fuss. Just let me take him home.” You pleaded with her.

“Fine, but I doubt your teleporting power will work to get you out of here. It’s not strong enough.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be able to get out. I also possess some of your magic. The exact type of magic that will let me and Peter through safely.”

“Leave.” Wanda gave you a threatening stare, not too happy with the idea of your magic matching hers. You used Peter’s superspeed to get to him as quick as you could.

“Hey Pietro, can I interest you in a late-night stroll through the park?” You asked him, trying to stay casual.

“Why of course m’lady.” Peter stuck his elbow out for you to grab. “Why don’t you two demons catch up with your mom.”

“Ahhh, really?” Tommy whined.

“Hey, stay cool. When a pretty lady wants to take you somewhere, you follow suit.” He winked at them.

“Dad?” Billy randomly burst out in a confused tone, “Dad!” He started to panic.

“What’s wrong Billy, what do you see?” You asked him.

“I can’t tell, he’s too far away.” By now Wanda had made her way over to her freaking out child.

“Focus. Follow the string. Follow his voice.” You told him

“He’s hurt. There are a bunch of soldiers around him.”

Wanda tensed up and her eyes started glowing red.

“Relax sis, it’s not like your dead husband could die twice.” Peter said, trying to diffuse the situation, only it did the exact opposite. Wanda whipped around and shot a red blast his way.

“I said leave!” She yelled at you. You nodded your head and zoomed over to where Peter landed. He was unconscious, but you pulled him in your arms and using the combined magic of Wanda and Agnes, and your teleportation, you thought of home and pulled the two of you out of there. You were worried at first that Agnes might try to stop you since you weren’t successful in your mission to get information out of Wanda, but she didn’t stop you. You assumed it was because Wanda knew you two were not who you said you were, so you wouldn’t be helpful anyways.

 You woke up lying in your own bed at home again. For the first time, in a long time, Peter was lying next to you. He was awake already and was watching you carefully.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he push your hair off your forehead.

“Better now that we’re home. How did I get in bed?” You specifically remember teleporting you and Peter to Charles’ office so you could tell him what happened.

“When we got back you collapsed from the effort. Charles said your mind was awake, but tired and you used too much magic and power for what you’re used to. I was so scared you killed yourself.”

You shook your head, trying to remember anything after you left Westview, but you just couldn’t, “How long have I been out?”

“About two days. I’ve been so restless, just waiting for you to open your eyes. Poor Jean, I kept finding her to read your mind and make sure you hadn’t died. You were scary still.”

“Well, I’m awake now, and you’re home with me. That’s all that matters.” You pulled his head onto your chest and started to play with his hair. He hummed in content and relaxed into your body.

“I know I just slept for two days, but do you mind if we just stay in today?” You asked him.

“We can do whatever you want.” You could feel a smile forming on his face, against your skin.

“What I want to do first though, is pee.” You rushed to the bathroom, letting Peter’s face flop into the bed as you shut the door behind you. You heard him laughing. It was so good to hear his laugh again. To feel his warmth linger on your skin, and knowing when you returned he would still be there. That’s all you’ve wanted for the past three weeks.

Find more of my work here. 

My work is exclusively posted on Tumblr by me, on this blog. If you see my work posted elsewhere, please reach out to me.

Thank you, xx.

#peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x you #quicksilver xmen #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x y/n #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #wandavision #wanda maximoff #wandavison spoilers #the vision #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #evan peters #xmen

[nastybuckybarnes]

Bad Dream  -  Ten

Pairing: Dark!Steve X Reader

Summary: A year after wiping your memory and keeping you for himself, Steve Rogers is happy. Happier than he’s ever been. With you and your daughter, life couldn’t be any better. The only problem? You’re starting to remember things.

Warnings: Angst, Language, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER

Word Count: 2.1K

A/n: Boom boom hit ‘em with a plot twist. Ahaha

!!!THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!!

MADNESS MASTERLIST ~ BAD DREAM MASTERLIST

~*~

He’s kept his word.

It’s been eight days and he’s kept his word. He hasn’t hurt you or raised his voice at you. He’s been kind, sweet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he actually cares about you.

Do you know any better? There are times where you find yourself staring at him, a smile on your face while he plays with Sarah, before you remember exactly who he is and what he’s done to you.

But the scary part is, that those moments are happening more and more frequently.

~*~ 

“You hungry, darling?” Your stomach flips and you try to convince yourself it’s morning sickness, not the nickname he’s been calling you.

“Not really,” you reply automatically, voice soft and timid. Steve sighs and gently rests his hand on your knee, setting a plate of food down on the bedside table while looking into your eyes with something that resembles desperation.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta eat, regain your strength. Doctor’s orders.” You watch as he picks the plate back up and sets it on the bed in front of you. There’s an omelette, a bunch of fruits, some toast, and a small yogurt cup. It looks delicious, but the thought of eating anything makes you wanna puke. And the thought of your mouth watering for something he’s providing you makes it that much worse.

Oblivious to your internal battle, he sets a fork down on the plate with a soft smile. “I’ve got all the food groups in here. I read somewhere that if your plate isn’t colourful then it isn’t healthy but I don’t know how true it is.” He looks up at you, those baby blues so entrancing that you find yourself momentarily forgetting everything he’s done to you and instead, allow yourself to enjoy the breakfast in bed.

You stare at him for a moment before caving with a sigh, popping a strawberry into your mouth and trying desperately to figure out his intentions.

He sees the questions burning behind your eyes and sets down the glass of water he was sipping.

“What is it?” He asks, blue eyes fixed on your face.

You find yourself torn between asking your questions and staying silent, the former a test of his boundaries and the latter a form of protecting yourself from any potential harm that may arise from unwanted questions.

“You can ask me. I won’t get mad, I swear. At least, not at you,” he adds the last part carefully and you take note of that before asking your questions.

“You said you picked me because you saw potential in me. For a family, a life,” you begin carefully, not wanting to push his buttons. He simply waits for you to continue, eyes still soft and curious.

“Why did you get so angry at me? Why were you so rough?” He exhales deeply and closes his eyes, knowing that this conversation was bound to happen if he truly wanted to make things better with you.

“I... I’m angry. I’m so fucking angry all the time and I took it out on you. I used you as an outlet in the worst possible way. I realize what I did was wrong but... I did it anyway. I guess because you’d been... programmed,” he hesitates on the word, gauging your reaction before continuing, “to obey me. To take every hit I sent your way and stay by my side through it all. I knew that I could do what I wanted and I’d get away with it.” You find yourself shocked by the humanity in his answer, the admission of guilt, of being wrong.

“Before you found out you were pregnant with Sarah, you and I were good together. We were perfect. I didn’t even need to... influence you. You were just so perfect for me. I want us to be like that again,” he murmurs.

“How are we supposed to get like that?” You ask quietly, not entirely hating the idea of being happy with a man who treats you right. He sighs heavily and rubs his eyes, suddenly looking exhausted and weary.

“I don’t know. But I know that I’m not going to hurt you. You’re carrying my baby, and I won’t hurt you. Even if you weren’t pregnant, I wouldn’t hurt you again.” His words hang heavy in the air as the two of you absorb them, him with his face in his hands and you with a strawberry stem in yours.

You’re quiet for a long time, thinking about everything he’s told you, everything you remember that you wish you could forget. An idea suddenly hits you full force, and your heart jumps in your chest at what it would mean.

“Could you... make me forget it? All the bad stuff? I... I’ll never be able to live a normal life while I have these memories. Can you get rid of them? Then we’ll live a normal life.” His eyes flash up to yours, hope igniting a flame in them as he nods slowly.

“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” he whispers, wanting more than anything for you to forget and be his obedient little wife again.

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, almost too quickly. Almost.

“I’ll talk to Bucky about it. He’s the one with the book. But I don’t wanna do it until you’ve had time to properly think it over and really consider what you’re asking. I know that... you know you’re it for me. And I’m going to have you no matter what, but making our relationship work is a priority for me, especially now that we’ve got another baby on the way. But you’re mine, and you’ll always be mine. But if that’s what you really want, I’ll do it for you.”

You let out a shuddering breath as he stands up and heads to the door, Sarah’s cries grabbing his attention. With him gone, you take a few deep breaths, trying to come to terms with what you’ve requested of him.

~*~

“Are you sure that you want to forget?” Natasha asks, sitting across from you on the bed. You nod, eyes cast downwards. “I’m forced to stay with him anyway, I might as well be happy while doing it. I just... I want to know what it is, how it affects my brain. I don’t want to be forced into it, I want to learn about it.” She nods, unsure of how she feels about your request.

“Bucky has a book about it, it’s the one they used to control him. He’s had the words wiped from his mind but it explains how it works. I’m sure the two of them would understand if you read it, especially because of how... obedient you’re being.” She eyes you up and down for a moment before sighing.

“I wish it wasn’t like this for you,” she whispers, eyes on the baby in your arms. “Me too,” you agree. “But I know that there’s nothing I can do about it. This is my life, and nothing can change that. So I’d better make the best of it. If this is what leaves everyone feeling at least slightly happy, then I’ll do it.”

Her heart aches at the confession but she understands.

You lean down and plant a gentle kiss to Sarah’s head, smiling when she giggles.

“Steve loves her,” Nat says softly. You nod, looking at the beautiful baby in your arms. “I know. And she loves him. It’ll work. Maybe not in my favour, but it’ll work.” Unable to bear the way that you’re sacrificing your individuality, Natasha gets up and seeks out her friend, wanting to do whatever she can to make you happy. “Steve!” She calls. The blond looks up from his phone, eyebrows raised.

“I want the book. I want to teach her what’s happening to her.” He nods, setting his phone down on the couch beside himself.

“Bucky’s getting it. He should be back within an hour. I want her to be happy before we wipe her again. Buck says it makes it last longer when she’s compliant.” Nat feels sick to her stomach.

“Steve you can’t-” But Steve’s on his feet and rushing past her to the master bedroom, hearing your distressed cries before they reach Natasha’s ears.

He finds you struggling to get out of the bed, Sarah held in one arm.

“Bathroom,” you whisper weakly, one hand held tightly to your mouth. Natasha comes in and takes Sarah from your arms while Steve scoops you up in his and brings you to the bathroom, placing you in front of the toilet and holding your hair back while you gag.

When you finally stop heaving you fall back against steve's chest, bringing your hand up to wipe your face.

Steve's sharp inhale gets your attention and you open your eyes, horror filling you as you see the blood in the toilet and on the back of your hand.

You slowly turn to look up at him, fear in your eyes, and his own face mirrors your expression.

A sharp pain in your stomach makes you cry out, eyes shutting again as agony fills your lower abdomen.

"What's happening in there?!" Natasha demands, peaking her head in through the doorway. Her eyes land on you, hand against your stomach and face screwed up in pain, and she instantly knows what's happening.

"It's okay, darling. You're gonna be okay," Steve says softly, rubbing your back and trying to comfort you.

You squirm on the ground as pain overwhelms you, crying out again and reaching for the closest thing, which happens to be Steve's hand. You squeeze hard, sobbing as the pain sends bolts of fire up your spine and down through your pelvis.

"The doctor's on his way," Nat says, although she knows nothing can be done.

When you open your eyes everything is spinning, the world a blur, and you can hardly hear anything over the ringing in your ears.

"What do I do, Nat?" You don't hear her reply, too busy fighting the darkness that threatens to overtake you. Eventually, fighting becomes too hard, and you fall into the peaceful nothingness that takes the pain away.

~*~

"This is why you can't keep her the way you have been, Steve," Natasha scolds for the millionth time, standing by her friend who sits at the foot of the bed, redrimmed eyes trained on your unconscious face.

"I know," he whispers, trying to get the image of you on the ground, bleeding, out of his mind.

"And neither one of you knew she was pregnant?" She asks. He sighs and nods. "We didn't know how far along. I think both of us assumed she was only a month or two." You had been just over four months.

You scrunch your nose up in discomfort and slowly open your eyes, confused and slightly dazed.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve whispers, moving up on the bed to sit next to you so you can see him.

"What happened?" You ask, voice scratchy and hoarse.

"The doctor couldn't pinpoint one cause... but we... we lost the baby." You furrow your brows and shake your head, wincing slightly at the throb it causes.

"N-no." He nods, tears falling down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." You look at Natasha desperately, hoping he's lying, but when she shakes her head solemnly you know it's true.

A strangled gasp leaves you and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"No," you repeat, softer this time.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers again, holding your hand close to his face.

You tear your hand away from him and bring it to your stomach, fat tears rolling down your face as you realize how empty you feel.

"No!" You cry, curling in on yourself despite the pain. "No!" You hate him. You hate him with every fibre of your being. And you hate yourself for thinking that even for one moment you could be happy with him. He's taken one of the few shreds of light in your life and destroyed it.

Steve and Natasha leave you alone after a while, Steve to get Sarah and Nat to find Bucky.

The isolation gives you time to calm down and to think, and you quickly find yourself hatching a plan.

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #steve rogers/reader #dark #dark!fic #dark fic #Dark Series #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve #dark!bucky barnes #dark!marvel #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x reader au #Steve rogers x reader series #Steve rogers x reader angst #angst #trigger warning: Miscarriage #miscarriage #trigger warning

[brokutosan]

Title. Quarantine Tales Or alternatively; Bokuto Tries Baking and Nearly Poisons His Two Roommates/Best Friends

Pairing. Bokuto Koutarou x Platonic!Reader x Kuroo Tetsurou + Minor BokuAka and Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Summary. In which a pandemic hits the world and tests the ten year long friendship between three roommates. Or; Kuroo enters quarantine as a cheeky bastard, and walks out of it as a cheeky bastard with a really pretty girlfriend.

Warnings. Manga spoilers, very strong language, and lots of sexual innuendos. Also lots of platonic cuddling and skinship. It gets kind of steamy at the end but nothing too bad. This is basically just a collection of short stories that also kind of has a plot. Fair warning: excessive use of the words ‘bro,’ ‘dude,’ and ‘man.’

Once the news of the pandemic hit Japan, the three roommates were confident they’d come out as better individuals. Maybe pick up on a new hobby, drop a few pounds (or in Bokuto’s case, gain some muscles), and just have a good time, making the best out of the worst situation. They were good at that.

At first, however, the three friends each had a different response to the news. Bokuto decided to splurge and buy everything they need and then some they didn’t (he was making bank from being a pro athlete). He was convinced that the apocalypse was going to happen soon, and that they’ll need all the rations they could get before it’s too late. Kuroo decides to confiscate his Netflix account and told him to stop watching The Walking Dead.

During the first few days Y/N easily got swept up in Bokuto’s bullshit, also convinced that the apocalypse was coming. (“Kuroo, look! The cases doubled over the last few days! Tell me that doesn’t mean something!”) But she was easier to snap out of it, mostly because she’s not as childish as Bokuto. She did, however, buy all of her favorite snacks and put them in a secret stash. (Although Kuroo figured out where it was within three days).

Kuroo is the mediator between them. He’s a man of science, so “no, Bokuto, there’s no way the infected ones are turning into zombies, now stop crying!” He also took the liberty to create schedules and laid out some ground rules on when and how they should shop for groceries and things of that sort. He also made the rule that no one joins their Zoom meetings in the living room after Bokuto walked in on his screen ass naked.

All in all, they (Kuroo) were able to set up a system that ensured Bokuto doesn’t lose his mind out of boredom and Y/N doesn’t try to kill them in their sleep.

-

“If aliens take over the planet do you think I could become their overlord?”

“Doubt it. You need to have the brains for it.”

“Hey! I’m pretty smart!”

“Explain the process of osmosis.”

“Fuck you, Kuroo.”

Y/N listens in on the idiotic conversation between her two roommates, not daring to speak up in fear of losing her much needed brain cells.

“Y/N! Listen to this, Kuroo doesn’t think I’m smart enough to become an alien overlord!” Bokuto sits up from his spot on their living room floor, one elbow propped up to support his body. Y/N sighs, closing her book realizing there’s no way she’ll get the peace she needed.

“Kuroo doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Bo.” It’s only been one week since the mandated quarantine started. If Y/N gives in now, then she’ll only spiral into madness as the months go by.

“Hear that, you bastard?! Y/N-chan believes in me!” Kuroo looks unamused. There’s a shit eating grin on his face that Y/N wants to wipe off. Or punch off. Whichever happens first.

“Y’know what they say, owls of a feather stick together.” Kuroo’s probably referring to the fact that both Y/N and Bokuto attended Fukurodani. Either way, he’s insulting her. Y/N is seething.

“Shut up you cocky cat!” Y/N screeches, flinging her book to his relaxed figure on the floor. Kuroo lets out a groan as the hardcover book makes contact with his groin. “Shit, there goes my future generations.”

Bokuto emphasizes with his bro, placing a protective hand over his ‘lil man.’

-

During the third week of quarantine, Kuroo comes down with a cold. Or maybe he got the virus. That’s what Bokuto and Y/N are currently trying to figure out.

“Kuroo, man, I searched up your symptoms here and it says you have network connectivity problems. What does that mean?” Bokuto grumbles, aggressively tapping the laptop screen. Y/N scowls at the way he’s manhandling her laptop before snatching it away from his hold.

“That’s not what that means, dumbass.” Bokuto pouts. “It means someone fucking forgot to pay for the wifi for this month.”

Y/N is glaring at her bedridden roommate through her face mask, but the rooster head throws his hands up out of innocence. “Sorry, I was too busy trying not to die!”

“So what now?” Bokuto asks, trying to cut through the tension between his two roommates. Y/N sighs in response, shutting off her laptop. “Now we just have to wait for him to sleep it off. If he has the virus then we burn his room with him in it.”

“Hey!” Kuroo tries to object. Instead what comes out is a garbled noise followed by excessive coughing and Bokuto screeching something about the ‘zombie virus infecting his home,’ and then he bolted out of Kuroo’s room.

“Whatever,” Y/N sighs, knowing Bokuto would have been useless in this situation anyways, “just try to rest. I’ll come in to check on you every now and then to bring you food. You better eat it!”

“Aw, Y/N-chan, you really care about me, huh?” Kuroo fake gushes, pressing one hand on his chest and another on his forehead. “It’s sweet how you try to act all tough.”

“Bo! Go find the lighter!”

-

Six weeks into the quarantine, Kuroo is over his ‘virus scare’ and now it’s Bokuto who’s sick. Correction, lovesick. It’s starting to test Y/N’s thinning patience.

“Do you think ‘Kaashi would get annoyed if I call him again?”

“Bo, you’ve been facetiming him every single day since this quarantine started. What changed?”

“He hasn’t been messaging me back the last three days! Do you think he got tired of me? Do you think he realized I’ve been in love with him and now he hates me? Do you think he hates my owl memes? Damn, I should’ve just told him before this whole thing started.” Y/N snorts. Clearly. One less headache for her. Even the sight of Kuroo breathing is starting to irk her. One time she nearly slapped him across the head for sleeping on the couch. Quarantine is doing something to her.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you answering? Oh my god, you hate me too, don’t you?” Crap. She was too absorbed in her hatred towards Kuroo’s existence that she forgot this big baby was lying down on her lap crying about something. What was it again? Akaashi hates him? Impossible.

“Impossible.” Y/N doesn’t realize she is running her hand through his two-toned hair. Bokuto hums in content. Y/N is suddenly reminded of her dog from back home. She wonders how he’s doing.

“Keiji’s like, in love with you. If anything he’s probably just drowning in work. You know how busy he gets.” Even Y/N’s not buying it. Busy or not, three days of radio silence from Akaashi has to mean something. She just doesn’t want to deal with an emo Bokuto. She decides to pass the responsibility to Kuroo.

“Bo, I bet Kuroo has some pretty good advice for ya. Remember when he had that crush on Akari-chan for all of highschool?” Bokuto shoots up with a new look of determination. He yells out a ‘you’re the best, Y/N-chan!’ over his shoulders before dashing straight to Kuroo’s room.

Y/N smiles in triumph as she receives a plethora of messages from one very angry Kuroo Tetsurou, ranging from ‘Why would you do this to me?’ to ‘I fucking hate you.’ Serves him right for finishing the ice cream.

(Later they find out that Akaashi simply broke his phone and had to wait three days to get it fixed. Bokuto was over the moon).

-

Sometimes Y/N wears their highschool jerseys because she thinks they’re comfortable. Some days she wears Bokuto’s. Other days she wears Kuroo’s. Today she’s wearing Bokuto’s, and Kuroo doesn’t know why it’s pissing him off.

“Oh man! That thing looks like a dress on you!” Bokuto squeals like one of his fangirls. He dashes to where she is, minding her business making toast in the kitchen, and picks her up from under her arms a la Lion King style.

“Bo! Put me down, you dumbass!” She wiggles in his hold, legs thrashing around. It’s all meaningless though. Bokuto is a pro athlete and is 190cm. Any attempts to free herself remains futile against this giant man-baby.

“Kuroo, look! So cute!” Bokuto gushes, showing her off like a baby. He lightly loosens his hold on one arm and extends his hand to bring a finger up to her cheeks. Y/N is emitting a strange aura. Kuroo suspects she’ll start tearing his ass into pieces within ten seconds.

Correction, three seconds. Because somehow she figures out how to kick behind her and shove an ankle deep into Bokuto’s groin. Now Bokuto is wriggling around on the living room floor as Y/N returns to her toast.

Kuroo finds this amusing, yet there’s a foreign feeling deep inside his chest. Is he getting sick again? He’s gonna need to check on that later.

-

“Ou! What ‘ya watching?”

“Your Name.”

“Huh? Bokuto Koutarou. Did you forget?”

“Dude...” Y/N stares at him in disbelief. Bokuto doesn’t notice but that’s because he’s Bokuto, and just about everything flies over his head. Instead he plops down on the couch next to her and hogs all the blanket.

“Get the fuck out! Get your own blanket!” Bokuto doesn’t reply, but he hums and opens his arms as an invitation. Ah, another platonic cuddling, as Bokuto puts it. Y/N is touch starved and she can’t deny it, so she slides closer to his lean figure and lets her head fall on his chest.

Eventually they settle in, huddling impossibly close to each other as the movie reach its tear-jerking climax. They don’t notice Kuroo walk in with a scowl on his face.

“Oh hey, bro. Wanna watch?” Bokuto notices him first, lifting his head up from the crown of Y/N’s head. Y/N finally looks over Bokuto’s chest and spots Kuroo moving around in the kitchen.

“I’m good.” Is his short answer before he trudges to his room with a loud bang! from his door. Y/N flinches a little, but pays no mind to it. Instead she directs her focus back to the movie, where another sad scene is unfolding.

The movie reaches its ending, but not before Bokuto could ask, “So, what’s the actual title of the movie?”

-

One peaceful afternoon Bokuto decides to take in a stray cat. Except...

“Bokuto, you fucking idiot that’s a racoon!” Y/N screeches as she climbs Kuroo’s back. The rooster head screams as he backs away from Bokuto and ‘Mr. Fluffles.’ Bokuto stares at his frightened roommates and the ‘cat’ in his hand and then back at his roommates again.

Realization strikes, and now Bokuto is screeching with the other two, holding the raccoon as far away from his body as possible.

“If you fucking drop it, I’ll kill you!” Kuroo threatens, holding onto Y/N’s arm that’s starting to dig into his throat. “Take it outside!”

“But it’s raining!”

“Bokuto!”

“It’s you or him, man!”

The two continue their little back-and-forth, not noticing the raccoon had escaped Bokuto’s grasp. But Y/N notices. And it’s heading into her room. And now she’s seeing God.

“Bokuto, gah-!” Kuroo is rudely interrupted by Y/N’s tight hold on his throat getting tighter. Before he could give her hell for attempted murder, he notices the look of horror on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Your fucking raccoon went in my bedroom!”

“Ah shit!” Both Kuroo and Bokuto scramble, the former forgetting all about the human person hanging onto his back. Said person is too scared of letting her foot touch the floor, afraid that it might be met by the furry abomination Bokuto brought home. So she kinda just...lets Kuroo run off into her room with her dangling off his neck.

“Where’d he go?!” Bokuto panics, not seeing Mr. Fluffles anywhere in his immediate vicinity. He starts flinging stuff off the ground and her table and her bed, making a huge mess in the span of ten seconds. Y/N takes one foot off of Kuroo’s waist and kicks him square in the back.

“Quit trashing my room!” She scolds like a mom. Bokuto pouts but continues looking, until they hear the quiet pitter patter of claws hitting the wooden floor. “Wait shut up!”

Y/N huffs but still complies, wanting nothing more than Mr. Fluffles gone from her room. Kuroo takes the liberty to start questioning Bokuto’s stupidity.

“How could you have possibly thought that thing was a fucking cat?!”

“In my defense, it was pretty dark outside.” Bokuto grumbles in his low and whiny voice, before firing back, “And stop calling him a ‘thing!’ Mr. Fluffles has feelings too!”

“Bokuto we’re not keeping it!” This time it’s Y/N yelling at him with fire in her eyes. The poor guy looks like he’s about to cry, but Y/N is far too gone over the thought of a raccoon making its home in her bedroom.

Bokuto lets out an ‘aha!’ as he emerges from under her bed with Mr. Fluffles. Y/N visibly relaxes knowing that the raccoon is safely contained. Until she remembers what was stashed under her bed.

“Ah, there’s something in his mouth.” Bokuto announces, holding Mr. Fluffles disgustingly close to his face. Her secret stash of snacks. The bastard got into it.

“Bokuto!!!”

(They later find out that at least four neighbors filed a noise complaint against them).

-

It’s two months in to the quarantine when Bokuto discovers TikTok. Within one week he’s dropped his towel in front of Kuroo, sat on Kuroo’s lap during his work Zoom meeting, smacked his gym bag across Kuroo’s face, and then some. Y/N finds humor in this, of course at Kuroo’s expense, but that’s even better.

Speaking of Kuroo and Y/N. Lately there’s been undeniable tension between his two roommates, and Bokuto doesn’t know how to resolve it. Everytime he tries to get them to talk they end up arguing.

He’s asked Akaashi for advice, but Akaashi simply told him to let them resolve it amongst themselves. Bokuto does not have the patience for that. He’s scared their meaningless arguments might rip a tear into their ten year long friendship.

So Bokuto does what he thinks is best, bake them cookies! No one could possibly be in a bad mood while eating freshly baked cookies, even Bokuto is drooling at the thought. So with a new resolve, Bokuto scrolls through his new favorite app (TikTok) to find some good recipes. Because TikTok has all the answers.

Except when he bakes the cookies he later finds out he used two cups of salt instead of sugar. He doesn’t know how that happened, but it could be because he grabbed the first white substance he saw and dumped it in the bowl.

Kuroo and Y/N somehow found a way to blame each other. Bokuto is reaching his limits.

-

Bokuto calls for an emergency meeting. He needs help deciding whether or not he should drop 40,000¥ on the Animal Crossing Limited Edition Switch that comes with Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

Y/N says go for it because she’s secretly plotting on stealing it the moment he gets tired of the game (which knowing Bokuto, would be fairly quick). Kuroo objects because Bokuto blew 50,000¥ last month buying shit he didn’t need for the quarantine.

And now there’s a fullblown argument between the two. Bokuto is reminded of his parents, except their fights never got this hostile and he’s pretty sure his mom never called his dad a “rooster-hair bastard!” He’s too scared to cut in. He thinks they might cut off his head. So he decides to sneakily crawl back into his room.

He ends up ordering the switch anyways, and when it arrives a week later Kuroo calls Y/N a bad influence. They argue again.

Bokuto has an epiphany.

-

Two days after Bokuto’s epiphany, they take a trip to the supermarket. Bokuto wants to drive but he can’t because his license got revoked after he ran through five consecutive red lights. Kuroo tells him this but he gets pouty so Kuroo had to buy him ice cream on the way there to get him to shut up.

So now Bokuto is slobbering up Kuroo’s car, much to the latter’s distaste. It isn’t until Kuroo brake checks him and Bokuto slams the ice cream on his face, does Kuroo show a look of content. Bokuto pays no mind, and decides to bring up his recent epiphany.

“So, bro, when are ya gonna tell Y/N you’re in love with her?” Kuroo slams his foot on the brakes again, this time out of shock. “I - uh - what - what did you just say?”

“Oh man,” Bokuto lets out a boisterous laugh while licking the ice cream that dripped down his shirt (gross), “you didn’t know?!”

“You two have had this sexual tension between you brewing for weeks! It’s like - I could actually cut through it with a knife, like a piece of pie or something!”

“I hate everything you just said.”

“Whatever man, just let me know if you want me gone for the night. I’ll even come up with a good excuse.” He winks, and Kuroo resists the urge to crash the car into a tree.

-

Bokuto’s words affect Kuroo a lot more than he would like to admit. Ever since that fateful trip to the supermarket with his owl-eyed friend, Kuroo’s been too wary of his other roommates existence. He wants to prove Bokuto wrong. He, Kuroo Tetsurou, is not in love with L/N Y/N, his best friend since his first year of highschool.

L/N Y/N is one of the guys! That’s like saying he likes Bokuto (Kuroo bites back his disgust). And Kuroo doesn’t like Bokuto, thank you very much.

Except L/N Y/N is not Bokuto.

L/N Y/N is his endless highschool memories that he always goes back to on a bad day. She is going to the beach during the summer and playing in the ocean until they tire themselves out. She’s like a warm hug that welcomes him after a long and tiring say. She’s like the rock that was flung at his ex’s window after she cheated on him with some other guy. She’s like the fun he’s had during the summer away games, where he got to play volleyball with his friends for one week straight. She’s like taking the long way home just so he could walk back with her. L/N Y/N is his best friend.

No, Y/N is not all those things. She is, however, the person he’s shared those memories with. The person Kuroo could say one hundred percent, without a doubt, knows him best (aside from Bokuto and maybe his mom). She’s the person that’s always been there through thick or thin, for ten years and counting.

Oh god. Kuroo Tetsurou is in love with L/N Y/N.

-

Bokuto has a plan in mind. A plan to help his two best friends hook up (and maybe date afterwards). Bokuto tells Akaashi his plans but Akaashi tells him all his plans are moronic, so he goes to his teammates Hinata and Atsumu, who says he’s a genius.

(The plan is simple: make Kuroo jealous. That bastard is as possessive as a dog over his food).

Which is how he finds himself seated at the kitchen table, phone in hand with a disgusted Y/N right across from him.

“No, you’re not giving my number to Miya Atsumu. That guy has shifty eyes!”

“Come on, you’ll learn how to love it! ‘Sides, Tsumu-tsumu is a nice guy! Did’ya really think I’d set my bestest friend in the world up with some sketchy guy?” If Bokuto’s normal talking voice is at a hundred, he’s talking at a hundred twenty now, just to make sure Kuroo can hear him from his room.

Y/N presses her palms to her ears, not really questioning why he’s talking so damn loud. Instead she blackmails him. “Bokuto if you don’t stop I’ll send Keiji all your embarrassing pictures from our first year.”

“You wouldn’t!”

But the look in her eyes says she would. And the ping! sound that came from her phone says that she just did. “Y/N!” Bokuto cries out, scrambling incredibly fast to his room where he left his phone plugged in, hoping he could stop Akaashi from witnessing the embarrassment that is Bokuto Koutarou as a fifteen year old.

Moments after Bokuto bolted to his room and is screaming out, “‘Kaashi! Block Y/N-chan right now! Don’t open her texts!” Kuroo steps out of his bedroom, having been shamelessly eavesdropping on their previous conversation.

“So,” He leans over the kitchen counter (he thinks he looks like hot shit but Y/N begs to differ), “Miya Atsumu, huh?” Her face contorts into something out of digust or discomfort, he can’t tell which one. Is it bad for him to say he likes that reaction? Probably.

“Don’t.” Is her short response, bringing up a hand in front of her body. “If Bokuto thinks I’m desperate enough to go for one of his teammates, then I’ve got a surprise for him. No offense to Shouyou.”

“So what I’m hearing is...it’s not the aspect of being in a relationship you’re totally against, but the guy himself?” Kuroo thinks out loud. Y/N throws him one of her infamous ‘what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about’ looks, but he feigns ignorance to it.

“I mean, yeah? I haven’t had a good fuck since-” Kuroo decides to cut her off there, not really eager to learn the name of the man she’s...well, you get it! (Bokuto was right, this man truly is possessive).

“Anyways, good choice. I heard the other twin is where it’s at.” Kuroo ends the conversation there, with new knowledge about his new found crush and confidence over the fact that he still has a chance.

-

A week goes by just like that. Bokuto makes it painfully obvious he’s trying to make Kuroo jealous. Except painfully obvious is not obvious enough for his slightly-frustrating friend, Y/N.

At one point, when obviously Atsumu didn’t serve much of a threat to Kuroo (curse that idiot for being too easy to mock), Bokuto took matters into his own hands and tried flirting with Y/N himself. And while Bokuto is a lot of things, being smooth isn’t one of them. There’s a reason why he hasn’t made whatever he has with Akaashi official yet, he’s terrible at relationships and anything related to it.

(Though Kuroo had a riot witnessing Bokuto’s failed attempts at heterosexual flirting:

“So, you come here often?”

“Bo, I fucking live here.”).

And as much as Bokuto wants to just go out with it and announce to Y/N (and the world) that his totally radical bro, Kuroo Tetsurou, is in love with her, he has just about enough self control and conscience to know that doing that could only result in his immediate death at the hands of a very angry rooster-head. So he’s just been beating around the bush. For a week he’s tried to drop subtle hints that were, sadly, left dropped by Y/N. She’s almost as helpess as Bokuto. Almost.

But when an opportunity like this falls on his lap, Bokuto just knows he has to take it.

It’s at one of their annual roommate-bonding, a tradition they’ve held since moving in together during college. This time Kuroo is unable to join due to some hold-up at work. He’s in his room furiously typing away at his computer.

“So...” He makes sure to drag out the last vowel to gain her interest. Though it’s pretty useless since Y/N is as easy to fool as Bokuto himself. They’re best friends for a reason. A very bad reason, one might say.

“So what?” She asks, shoving about ten pieces of popcorn in her mouth all at once. Bokuto realizes he is tired of beating around the bush. He decides to set the metaphorical bush on fire. “Admit it, Y/N. You like Kuroo, don’t ‘ya? You wanna screw him or something?”

“Shh!” Suddenly Y/N is more invested in whatever Bokuto has to say than the shitty movie he picked out. And now she’s launched herself off her side of the couch onto his, pressing a greasy, buttery palm to his lips.

Bokuto easily swipes her hand away with a shit eating grin on his face. “So I was right! Which one is it? ‘Ya like him? Or you wanna screw him?”

“Bokuto!” She warns. Her eyes dart to Kuroo’s closed bedroom door, suddenly too aware of just now thin these walls actually are. It also didn’t help that Bokuto’s normal speaking voice is about as loud as a race car engine.

She realizes there’s no point in hiding it, since he’s looking at her with those creepy owl eyes, just daring her not to spill everything. “How’d you even find out?” She sighs in defeat.

“Come on! You’ve been so irritated lately that there was only two possible explanations: ya either love the guy or hate his guts. I don’t think you’d be friends with him for ten years if you hated him so much.” Y/N blinks in surprise. That’s surprisingly perceptive, coming from Bokuto. She tells him this.

“Hey! I’m capable of using my head too!” He doesn’t like how she’s giving him that judgement look. Clearing his throat, Bokuto decides to skip past that.

“So? Since when did ‘ya like the lucky bastard?” Bokuto expects one month, maybe two at best. What he didn’t expect was this: “Probably since highschool.”

“Wha-?!” His outburst is contained by a smaller body flying on top of his, as well as two palms pressed tightly over his mouth. Eyes wide, he looks down to see a flustered Y/N, pink cheeks and all, looking menacingly at Kuroo’s door, trying to see if he heard any of that.

Once she confirms she’s in the clear, she lets out the breath she’s been holding and smacks Bokuto across his biceps.

“Idiot! Don’t just scream like that!” She huffs, arms crossed at her chest. “I told you ‘cus I trust you, Bo. Don’t do anything stupid with that trust.” The man simply nods, still too shocked to form coherent words.

Once he does however, Y/N is hit with an onslaught of whispered questions. “Since when? How come I didn’t notice? How come anyone didn’t notice? Why-” He pauses, realizing his questions aren’t being answered. So he waits as she brings her legs up to her chest with an unreadable expression.

“I mean it was pretty easy to hide it. We went to different schools, and whenever we hung out you were always there,” Y/N starts, but quickly adds, “I mean, not like I didn’t want you there! It’s just - it was easier to forget I even liked him whenever the three of us were together.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, probably still wary of the fact that Kuroo was only one room over. Bokuto notices this and turns up the volume of the TV, earning a small smile from his nervous wreck of a friend.

“At one point I was actually gonna tell him, but then he started dating Akari-chan.” Bokuto scowls at the name. Akari, the girl that Kuroo crushed on for a full year, but also the girl that ended up cheating on him with some guy in her painting club. “I wasn’t really the type to cry over a small crush, I had other things to do. Actually I was kind of relieved. Kuroo being taken meant I didn’t have to act on these weird feelings I started having.”

“And next thing I knew we were off to college. I started dating other people, and my feelings for him started shrinking. Even when we decided to move in together, we were all so busy with our separate lives, so I wasn’t really worried about it...until, y’know, we kinda got stuck here together. I guess seeing him 24/7 just caused my head to malfunction. I thought fighting with him would stop these weird...feelings, from coming back. But I guess that backfired on me since you ended up finding out. Wait - Bokuto are you crying?”

The said man tucks his head in his arms, mumbling out “No,” even though it was pretty obvious. Y/N softly smiles, finding his reaction kind of cute. It was nice to know he cares that much, no matter how infuriating he could get.

“I didn’t even know you went through that much, Y/N-chan. C’mere! Lemme give you a hug!”

“Bokuto, no! I don’t need-” The rest of her complaints are drowned out by a sturdy chest meeting her face. Great. Bokuto’s way too emotional now.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll help you tell him!”

“Wait what? I don’t want that!” Y/N tries to argue, but her voice is muffled due to being stuffed into his chest. Suddenly remembering that Bokuto has a tendency to be a loud mouth and could never keep a secret from Kuroo, Y/N shoots up, pressing her palms to his chest to release herself from his hold.

“Bo, you have to promise me you won’t tell him anything.”

“But -”

“Bokuto!” He slightly recoils from the sternness of her voice, before he bows his head and nods. Y/N relaxes a bit, settling back into her previous position and fixed her focus back to the movie playing on the TV as if their previous conversation never happened.

Unbeknownst to her, Bokuto is already putting the pieces together for his master plan.

-

Y/N comes to regret telling Bokuto her ‘dirty’ little secret exactly one week later, at their next roommate-bonding. This time Kuroo is there, with Bokuto right in between them on the couch. There’s another shitty movie playing in the background (curtesy of Bokuto’s horrible choice in films), but Y/N can’t bring herself to pay attention.

She does however, snap out of her little daydream when Bokuto shoots up, phone in hand and reaching for the door. Oh no. Both Kuroo and Y/N think to themselves.

“Ah! What’s this?! There’s an emergency at ‘Kaashi’s apartment?! Guys, I’ll be right back!” Bokuto is out the door before either of them could object. Y/N knows Akaashi. Akaashi is a safe guy. He’s not the type to call out of nowhere because of an emergency, and even if he did, Bokuto surely would not be the first contact in mind. Which means, Bokuto, that sneaky bastard, planned this with the single brain cell he had left.

Silence fills the air for the next five minutes, until Kuroo’s phone sounds off. It’s a text from Bokuto, reading: When I come back you two better be-

Kuroo decides to turn off his phone there, fearing the contents of the very explicit paragraph Bokuto sent following those words. Instead he turns his head to his friend next to him - or rather on the opposite side of the couch, avoiding him like he’s the plague.

He doesn’t like this awkwardness at all. Conversation between them used to always just flow, even if most of them end up becoming a heated debate over the most trivial things. Kuroo decides to man up. It’s now or never.

“Okay so -” “Hey -” The two pause, finally making eye contact for the first time in past week. All of Kuroo’s brain cells fly out his brain and out the window, leaving him to fend off for himself in this awkward situation. His head is like that one Spongebob meme. Oh god, he’s turning into Bokuto-

“So,” Y/N’s voice snaps him out of his train of thoughts, or rather his lack of it. This is pathetic. He’s a grown man and he’s acting like a highschooler over a pathetic crush. Except this isn’t a pathetic crush. This is Y/N - his best friend for the past ten years, who he’s just now realized is a lot prettier than he initially thought.

“I’m in love with you.” Yes, yes he is. Wait, that wasn’t his voice. And that definitely wasn’t his subconscious trying to patch up what’s left of his decimated ego, which means -

“Kuroo?” Jesus fuck, when did she even slide over this close? “You don’t have to answer or anything, I just thought I should tell you first before Bokuto breaks. I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“No!” She flinches at how loud his voice is. “I mean, fuck - wait. You gotta let me process this real quick.” Kuroo is suddenly aware he’s redder than his Nekoma jersey, and her face is super close to his, and her lips look totally kissable right now.

“I’m in love with you, too.” Kuroo finally speaks up. He notices how she goes stiff, and how quickly her face turns into a bright shade of red.

“You don’t have to say it just ‘cus you feel bad! This doesn’t have to change anything between us! I mean, I’ve kept it a secret for ten years, I can do ten more-”

“Y/N.” She finally stops her rambling, meeting his eyes. And she doesn’t know why, but suddenly she just knows he’s being sincere. She could probably die right now and she’d say she lived a happy life.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Kuroo waits for her confirmation, in this case a shy nod, before cupping her cheeks with his large and warm hands. He inches over slowly at first, but lets his lips eagerly meet hers with a smile. He feels her hands wrap around his waist, letting him deepen the kiss.

It starts of slow and steady, everything Y/N could have ever dreamed of, until needy hands start roaming her body. She has to crane her neck to meet his lips, and Kuroo probably sensed her discomfort because now he’s gripping her waist tightly, lifting her up gently and placing her down on his lap.

The new and more comfortable position allows Kuroo to deepen the kiss, and Y/N finds her hands grabbing the hair she’s been insulting so much for the past two months. Kuroo sighs into the kiss, with Y/N smiling a bit at the situation. As things escalate, a loud gasp breaks them out of their trance.

“Oh. My. God!” Bokuto is squealing like an idiot and Akaashi is behind him unamused. “Finally.” Is his short statement.

“What the fuck Bokuto!” Kuroo growls. Y/N, suddenly a bit too self conscious climbs off the spot she made for herself on Kuroo’s lap. Though her embarrassment doesn’t last long, before she joins Kuroo in glaring at Bokuto.

“I just came back ‘cus I forgot my wallet, but oh man! You guys are adorable!” Akaashi is still behind him, but this time he looks more apologetic. “Bokuto-san, maybe we should leave.”

“Nah, I kinda wanna stay.”

“Bokuto!”

“Get the fuck out!” Bokuto only laughs as he catches both the pillow and the remote control thrown at him. He drops both items back down on the living room floor and snatches his wallet from the counter before calling over his shoulders,

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure ya make me the best man and the maid of honor!”

A/N. Reupload! This fic was totally self-indulgent bc I am so bored of quarantine and am currently wishing I had a Bokuto and Kuroo to keep me entertained. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And as always, thank you for reading! Leave a like if you...liked it? Is that how it goes? - chuu

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[71tenseventeen]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-28

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, implied homophobia, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

I literally have a team of betas at this point and I could not do this without them. Much love and so much credit to @ljummen, @visionshadows, @icosahedonist and @queen-alia for taking on different parts of this.

Sid manages to get the car to the side of the road safely before it dies completely but it only takes a couple of minutes poking around under the hood for him to realize he won’t be able to coax it back to life. The rain is coming down harder now, mixed with sleet and he ducks back into the car to try to figure out his options. He’s already too wet and the cold is starting to seep through his clothes. 

Fuck. 

He can’t afford to call a tow truck without Geno’s help and calling Lyft would mean trusting a stranger to not question dropping off a very pregnant Sidney at Evgeni Malkin’s house. That’s just not an option. 

That leaves plan C—calling Geno. 

“Fuck,” Sid groans into the empty car, knocking his head back against the headrest in defeat, knowing there’s a zero percent chance that Geno will take this in stride. Geno won’t care about the money or that Sid went out—but he’ll lose his mind at the fact that Sid got stranded. 

Sid sighs as he fishes his phone out, steeling himself for telling Geno that he’s stuck in his shitty car on the side of the road in freezing rain. 

Except when he tries to use it, nothing happens. His phone is dead. 

“FUCK!” He yells it this time, full of disbelief. 

A moment later he concedes defeat and pulls his coat up tight around his neck as he steps back into the rain. 

It’s not a long walk, a little less than a mile he thinks but it might as well be ten miles in this weather. He’s soaked through and shivering within minutes and he picks up the pace, desperate to get home. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes he can’t tell Geno about this part of things. The broken down car and dead phone are bad enough but this—Geno will lose his shit if he finds out.  

Sid's teeth are chattering furiously by the time he reaches the house and he hurries down the long drive. He hadn't thought things could get any worse but there, to the side of the house stands the attached garage with two of its doors wide open and Geno's car parked inside. 

He’s home early. 

Sid’s not surprised when Geno meets him at the door. 

“Sid? What—” He stops abruptly, staring wide-eyed as Sid steps in, dripping all over the floor. It only takes him a moment to find his voice again. “What happen to you?!” 

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, trying to stave off Geno’s freak-out. “My car broke down and I was close so I just walked home.” 

“What? Why you not call?” 

“I was going to but my phone was dead.” 

Geno’s eyes dart over Sid again before reaching out hastily and starting to pull off his sopping wet coat. “Sid, you soaked! Where your car break down?”

“It’s not that far—about a mile up the road.” 

Geno’s eyes widen as he steps back to look down at Sid. “You walk a mile in freezing rain?!” 

“Geno—”

“A mile, Sid? Because you too stubborn to drive my car and too stubborn to let me buy new phone? You could have freeze, you gonna get sick, could slip on ice, maybe cars don’t see you—so many things could go wrong! What if you farther away and no phone? What if you on highway? Could have been so bad! Could have—” 

“I know okay!” Sid doesn’t mean to yell and he really doesn’t want to be tearing up right now but he can’t handle this guilt trip. “You think I don’t know it could have been worse? I feel bad enough so I don’t need you jumping down my throat right now!”  

Geno’s jaw snaps shut as Sid wraps his arms around himself in a completely pointless attempt to warm up. He’s shaking all over now. 

Geno is quiet for a moment before stepping close again and suddenly his hands are pulling Sid’s clothes off. 

“G—” Sid starts, voice shaky. 

Geno shakes his head. “Need warm you up.” 

Sid lets Geno strip him without arguing and then gratefully slides into the hoodie Geno shucks off. Geno hustles him through the house then, up the stairs and straight up to the master bathroom where he immediately starts running a warm bath. He makes quick work of the hoodie and herds Sid into the tub even though there’s only an inch or so of water so far. 

It feels amazing though and even better when Geno strips and slides into the tub, wrapping tight around him. “Fuck, Sid. You so cold,” he murmurs quietly and holds Sid tight as the warm water fills up around them. 

“I’m sorry,” Sid finally forces out quietly, teeth still chattering a little. 

Geno tightens his grip for a moment before reaching for the shower attachment, spraying the warm water over Sidney’s curls. “Shh. We figure it out.” 

It takes him a long while to warm up but eventually he does, nestled tight against Geno’s chest. 

He’s drifting off a little when Geno sighs heavily and twines their fingers together. “I want to get you safer car. Can’t keep you stuck in house like prisoner and can’t handle stress of worry all the time if you safe. Winter coming fast, roads gonna be bad. Can’t stand thought of you get stuck in worse situation. I worry all time, Sid. Can’t take anymore.” 

Sid swallows hard, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach again. His first instinct is to refuse but he knows Geno is right so he nods slowly and says softly, “Okay.” 

He feels Geno wilt against his back, nose nestling at the crook of his neck as he sighs in relief. “Know is hard for you. Thank you for let me take care of you and baby.”

Geno sticks close for the rest of the day, quieter than usual but every bit as handsy, if not more. Sid’s not complaining—it didn’t take him more than a few steps in the freezing rain to realize what a risky situation he was in. Geno’s reaction, as much as he hates to admit it, was justified. 

After lunch he curls up on the couch where Geno pulls him close, tugging a blanket up to Sid’s shoulders. He’s exhausted to the bone and out between one blink and the next.

He doesn’t remember sinking down on the couch but that’s how he wakes up, head propped on pillows while Geno sits nearby with his reading glasses on, absorbed in whatever is on his tablet. Geno doesn't look up right away but he chuckles as Sid stretches and yawns, stopping mid-scroll to reach over and stroke Sid's hair. "Sleep good?" 

Sid nods and twists to look at the clock, groaning when he realizes how long he slept. "You should’ve woken me up." 

Geno shakes his head at that. "You needed sleep." 

Sid takes his time but eventually he sits up, rubbing his eyes with another deep yawn and Geno grins at him.

"Cute when you wake up, all messy." 

Sid grumbles as Geno moves the pillows out of the way. “Now you up, come look. Tell me what you think.” 

Sid scoots over and peers at the screen. “What are you looking at?” It’s an article, as far as he can tell, about..sport utility vehicles maybe? There are a few pictures and headings like Features and Safety. Then he sees the pictures and gets a sinking feeling when he realizes Geno is looking at luxury vehicles.

“Car for you,” he replies without looking up so he misses Sid’s jaw dropping. He scrolls and points to a picture of something that looks very expensive. “What you think of this one?”

When Sid doesn’t reply right away, Geno glances over with a frown. 

“Geno...” Sid trails off, swallowing hard. 

Geno interrupts, furrowing his brow as he does. “We talk about this. You say is okay.” 

“I know. I know, but those—” Sid shakes his head. “Geno I can’t drive something like that. It’s so flashy and expensive. It’s—that’s too much.”

Geno hesitates for a moment before speaking slowly. “Okay. Will look at not so flashy. But has to be safe.”

Sid nods. “Yeah of course. But just—just something practical okay? It can be used and it doesn’t need to be expensive.” 

“Practical, safe, not flashy. Okay, this I can do.” 

“And not expensive.” 

Geno sighs but tugs Sid close. “You are most stubborn I know. Good thing you cute.”

Before Sid can reply Geno is planting playful kisses on his neck to make him laugh. 

“I know you’re trying to distract me.” Sid tries and fails to look stern. 

“Is working?” 

A smile spreads wide across his face. “Yeah.”

Part 29

#Take My Hand #mpreg #my fic #part 28 #quarantine sucks

[thebimarauder]

8th year Drarry part 5

TW/Past abuse

TW/Nightmares

Harry’s POV

I had been talking to Malfoy for a minute or two now and didn’t think to ask if I had hurt him “Malfoy, did I hurt you when I woke up?” he put his hand to his head as if he had completely forgotten about it “No, I’m alright. What about you?” “I’m good.” He smiled “well that’s good, also if we are gonna be friends we should probably start calling each other by our first names. You okay with that?... Harry?” I listened as he drew out my name, it made me want to go closer to him, to pull him to me. I shook that thought away and looked back up at him, “Of course, Draco.” After that, we both decided that we should try and get more sleep. I couldn’t fall asleep, every time I closed my eyes I saw the events of my nightmare repeating, but I knew Draco had to sleep so I pretended to try to fall back asleep. Once I could hear that his breathing had evened and that he was asleep I turned onto my back and opened my eyes, I just stared at the dark ceiling and thought about things. I thought about how sweet it had been of Draco to wake me up and that he looked so hot when he was standing over me in his oversized nightshirt and boxers. I shook my head, where were these thoughts coming from? I have always known that he was attractive but I have never imagined that I could end up liking him. I always thought that I would end up marrying Ginny. That thought, of course, had abruptly ended that day over the summer when we were hanging out in her room. She was running her hands through my hair and all of the sudden it felt wrong. I sat there thinking for a few minutes and then looked up at Ginny, she had seemed to know that something was up so she sat up and let me too. We looked at each other for a few moments and then I told her “Ginny, I’m really sorry but I just don’t think that this is going to work out. I’ve been toying with the idea for ages but I’ve only just realized for sure…. I’m gay.” she looked at me as realization spread over her face “oh…. That actually makes sense. It’s okay I’m not mad as long as you promise that we can stay friends forever” “of course, I could never lose you” I had responded with a nervous smile. “Harry, why do you look so worried, were you expecting me to get mad at you or call you names?” “well…I… uh… no, your far too kind, I never expected you to freak out but I just didn’t know how you would react, I haven’t told anyone yet so I have nothing to go on” Ginny have harry a sweet smile and reached out to hold his hand “Harry, I have two things to say, one, I would never tell anyone if you didn’t want me too and am honored to be the first to know, secondly, I am bi, I could never judge you or get angry with you for figuring out who you are and wanting to be yourself. That would be hypocritical of me. I truly do love you Harry but we can just be friends and everything will be okay. I will still love you” at that I had cried in relief and hugged Ginny for a very long time. She is the only person in the world who knows that I’m gay, we talk about boys together and occasionally she also brings up girls. She had even started dating Luna Lovegood a few weeks ago. I felt nothing but happiness for her and desperately wanted to talk to her about these things I was feeling for Draco, but it was 5 in the morning, and Ginny was not a morning person. I would have to wait for breakfast. Thinking about telling Ginny about it made me sad because I knew that Draco would never reciprocate the feelings, I mean sure he wanted to be friends but nothing more, he was straight.

I laid in bed for a few more hours and eventually went down to breakfast at 8:30. Draco was still asleep when I left and I didn’t want to wake him because I felt bad that he was up in the middle of the night for me. I tiptoed out of the room and went to the great hall to join Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna at the Gryffindor table. Hermione was groaning at her boyfriend, “Ronald how can you possibly eat so much so early in the morning” “Mione I’m hungry, how can you eat so little in the morning” Ron replied while stuffing his face with a biscuit. Ginny snorted at him and then went back to talking to Luna. I sat in between Neville and Ginny and across from Hermione and Ron. They seemed wrapped up in conversation and I was content just listening but Neville tapped me on the shoulder, “Morning Harry, so what’s it like living with Malfoy?” “Oh, its actually not so bad, Draco and I made a truce last night and decided to try and become friends, what about you and Zabini?” The table seemed to have suddenly quieted, Neville looked like he was going to answer but Ron interjected “Did you just say you were friends with the ferret” “Did you just call him Draco?” Hermione added. “Yes I did, we are going to try to put the past behind us and move on, and normal friends don’t call each other by their last names so yes Hermione I did, in fact, call him Draco” I looked around wondering why everyone was looking at me so oddly, Ginny put her wrist oh my forehead “Are you sure your feeling alright Harry, he didn’t drug you did he?” I shoved her hand away, “No Ginny he didn’t drug me. We were both just sick of the fighting and he apologized, honestly most of it was forced by his father or Voldemort. So yes we are going to try and be friends.” Ginny looked confused, “He apologized?” and then Ron turned to me and asked, “Did someone drug him?” That was when Luna cut in with a voice of semi reason “I’m sure no one was drugged, that’s wonderful Harry, fighting and holding grudges are very bad for the psyche, It was only a matter of time before the wrackspurts got to your head” I smiled at her “Thank you, Luna.” Everyone was suddenly absorbed in a debate over whether or not I was drugged so I figured that this would be a good time to talk to Ginny. I turned and whispered in her ear “Hey Ginny I have to ask you something” “go on” I stopped to think of exactly how to word it “I think that I like someone but its someone that I shouldn’t like, I tried to push it down but every time they say my name I feel drawn to them and oh my god are they hot. But its someone that I really shouldn’t like and that I am almost certain is straight.” she looked at me as if contemplating what to say “Harry, you are definitely crushing hard, who is it? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but I think that you should. And who’s to say if you should or shouldn’t like someone, you are the one who makes that decision. And who knows there’s always a possibility that there gay or bi and just haven’t come out, I mean what if they like you, they would think that your straight because you haven’t told anyone but me.” I took in what she said, there was always that possibility, I sincerely doubted it but there was always a chance. I also decided that I should tell at least Ginny so that she can help me figure out this whole situation. She took a swig of pumpkin juice and I leaned in close and whispered “I hope your right and that you don’t hate me for this, but I like… Draco” in her ear, she spit pumpkin juice all over the table and made a choking sound. Ron looked up “Ginny are you alright?” “yeah yeah fine,” she said to him before turning to me and whisper yelling “your kidding” I shook my head no and she screeched “oh my god” at that Ron turned again “really Ginny what’s up?” he glanced between the two of us but neither of us said a word, she just shook her head. So he gave up and turned back to talk to Hermione and Neville.

#drarry #angst #harry potter #8th year #hogwarts #draco malfoy #hermione granger #ronald weasley #demus #professor mcgonagall #tw past trauma #tw nightmares

[wordlessbabbling]

The Anya-Margaret (Thomas Shelby) - Chapter 4

“I’ll kick my legs in fit of fear, and know not north from south or my arse from my mouth just as I roll about in the deep water.”

Masterlist

The now worryingly intelligent girl sat crosslegged in the grass with the latest edition of ‘Pudd’nhead Wilson’. She stole the book from her mothers bedside and was now reading it in the cold morning sun while her bum got wet from the dewy grass.

Her hair no longer fell in front of her face or itched her shoulders. Now it sat jagged and pinned back by the nanny who desperately tried to fix the choppy mane.

——

Six months had passed since that night at the train station and since then, Florence made an agreement with the Shelby’s and dealt with their corpses.

It was safe to say that everyone was pleased with the arrangement.

Thomas and Florence never really conversed much, aside from when Thomas needed to fling a body into her cold room. Though their chats were cold and kurt, they appeared to be able to at least stand each other for the sake of business.

——

1

“Orright, Mr Shelby, let’s see what you’ve gifted me today.” Florence rubbed her hands together in her regular slouched posture. She had a cigarette in between her lips and by the state of the floor, she’d had seven already that morning.

Thomas entered with two other men who heaved a pale woman on the table.

The woman had reached full rigor mortis so it had been dead for a while. This was going to be a juicy one.

“Tell me about ‘er. ‘Ow’d she die?” Florence poked at the face and peeled open the eyes to get a good look.

The other men shuffled out, seemingly disturbed by the body.

“Her name’s-“

“I don’t care about ‘er name. Gimme ‘er death admission.”

Thomas sighed and lit a cigarette, it was going to be a long day. “I don’t know how she died. She was actually just dropped at our door. No note, no clear signs of threat or who dropped her there.” He rested against the stone wall on the opposite side of the room and tried not to watch as Florence stuck her WHOLE HAND down the lady’s THROAT.

Charming.

Thomas instinctively swallowed and blinked away the nausea.

“Oh now that’s a good fucking story. Are you sure she didn’t just ‘ave wee too many drinks?” Florence crooked her arm and plunged her other one underneath her elbow as her hand tried to find equipment on the table.

“Mind handing me those pluckers?”

Thomas only raised a brow she didn’t see and continued to lean against the wall.

Florence sighed and rolled her eyes, “puh-lease, can you hand me those them there pluckers?”

Thomas, being the stubborn bastard that he was, didn’t move an inch.

“I’ll give you her silver tooth, eh? Is that good?” Florence dipped her head. “Would you like that?”

Thomas straightened up and approached the high table cautiously.

For being such a hardened man, he did not do well with the kind of work this woman did.

He took the ‘pluckers’, which he was fairly sure weren’t called pluckers, and tried to just hold them by the ends, afraid he’ll catch something if he gets caught in the snippy parts.

“Oh just give them here, you ninny.” She shook her open palm and Thomas quickly and silently placed the instrument into her hands but surprisingly didn’t move at all.

He leaned over slightly and tried to watch through the flurry of arms and worrying creaking sounds.

He didn’t actually see anything inside the mouth, but what he did see was that the neck and chin was kind of turning a blueish, greenish colour.

Thomas’ throat made an inhumane noise as he tried to grab onto the table, but in the process, one of his hands actually clutched the dead woman’s feet and he let out a strange ‘yelp’.

Florence didn’t make a comment but she did pause for a second to furrow her brows and truly reconsider where this man stood in the Birmingham hierarchy.

She dove back into the woman’s mouth and dislodged the silver tooth from her gums with a sickening squelch.

“Hand.” She demanded.

Thomas, considering what he was going to get out of this, held his hand out to the waiting woman. She carefully placed the silver tooth with blood on it, into his hand, making him recoil slightly.

Florence then jammed her ‘pluckers” back into the woman’s mouth, but this time it was a gold tooth.

She held it up to the light and nodded when she was satisfied.

She looked over to Thomas who stood there with a highly unamused look on his face. “Well off you pop then. Unless you want to sit here and watch me bleed her, then I don’t know what you want.

He pocketed the tooth without another word and went on his way.

——

2

“Hello there, Beastie!” Florence cheered as the door to her cold room opened. In stepped the usual attendees as they dumped the body on to her table.

Thomas had gotten used to seeing the hunched woman with a cigarette in her mouth, but for some reason or another, she didn’t today. Instead she looked out of it, like she was high or dying, Thomas didn’t know.

She did her usual routine of scanning the figure; checking inside their mouths; cutting their clothes to prepare for the medical procedures.

Thomas never knew why he stayed around for a while, the whole ordeal was sickening and the woman wasn’t exactly fun to be around.

She sighed when she found nothing, instead she took the wrist of the corpse and waved it about. “Cooey!” She played around with the limbs, using them to wave at Thomas who stood unamused in the corner.

She heaved the body into sitting position and made it do a little jig. Thomas always thought the woman to be clinically insane, but this really drove the point home.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that right?” He lit a cigarette and stared on at the woman who was having a bit too much fun.

She dropped the limbs so they fell heavily on the table again, resting her hands on her hips, “and you’re a killer. We all have our quirks. Isn’t that right beastie?” She turned to face the body again, but this time she actually got to work. This was Thomas’ cue to leave.

——

3

“Hello Beastie!” Florence chimed, cigarette already between her lips, along with the cloud that always loomed across the ceiling.

Thomas shuffled into the room with a body behind him, a regular sight by now.

As the men plonked the body on the table Thomas scurried to the edge of the room to lean in his dibbed spot.

This time though, instead of a cold wall that sent shivers down his neck, there was a chair. It was small and breakable with no real speciality to it. But it was a chair.

It made him pause for a moment. It was a chair. It wasn’t there last time. Why now?

He didn’t say anything though. He just sat down and lit his cigarette.

Florence wondered why the man stuck around for as long as he did. Unless all he was waiting for was the potential gold tooth or earrings, he really had no reason to stay.

She understood the absorbing life of being a leader like Thomas. Florence figured that maybe, despite the vile climate, the mortuary was almost like a getaway for him. The chance to have a smoke and just deflate.

Florence sat against the table legs, also looking tired and deflated.

She held a cigarette between her index and middle finger with her knees up to her chest, the crook of her elbow on her knee.

Thomas watched her for a moment, both of them unmoving.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Thomas piped up quietly.

Florence jerked her head back from her stare at the floor, hitting the table leg with a thud, but it didn’t seem like she minded.

“Heh, sounds about right.”

The silence resumed, Florence didn’t even start to move to examine the body, only sitting on the floor, cigarette in hand.

“Does anyone live here with you?” Thomas inspected.

“What? No, no one but me and me buddies.” She flung her hand up onto the table, and patted the dead mans hand, as if it were a loving partner.

“You seem awfully dedicated to your work?”

Florence was silent for a moment, “‘ow you mean, Shelby?”

“Well you seem to only ever leave this house once a week and even then, it seems like there’s no activity in the house.” He observed.

Florence pushed the cigarette end into the floor and got up, stamping on the fuse. “Is that why I’ve seen your men outside me ‘ouse?”

She strutted out of the room, and Thomas didn’t move from his spot, only staring at the crushed cigarette on the floor.

Before he could reply though, Florence huddled back in with her signature waddle of sorts. She had a bottle of rum and two glasses. She sat back down again, leaning against the table leg with the remains of the cigarette still next to her.

She placed the two glasses on the floor loudly, taking the cork off of the bottle with her teeth and lazily pouring the contents into the two glasses.

She leaned back against the table leg again and sighed when she drank the liquor.

Thomas watched the other glass and assumed that was his. He crouched down to the floor and scooted over to the glass and where Florence sat. Instead of going back to his chair though, he sat his arse onto the cold stone floor with her.

She only crooked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything more.

“So what about you’re family? What about them?” Thomas leaned forward.

Florence stared at him blankly, only chugging the rest of her glass then proceeding to bite the cork off of the rum bottle again, then spitting it out an impressive distance.

“I’m gonna need to be a lot more drunk for this conversation.” She took a large swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I would question you why you’re asking me these questions, but you’re probably just gonna give me some bullshit answer anyway.”

Thomas shrugged and didn’t say anything, only watching her switch from cigarette to rum with splendid rhythm.

She topped up his glass one final time before she took one last big gulp and downed the rest of the bottle. She peered through the bottle head as if there was a flaw in the design like there was a hole in the bottom.

She sat for a moment before she coughed out “what was your question again?” She rubbed her eyes.

“What about you’re family, I don’t think they live round here do they?”

Florence belched loudly before answering, “dead. All dead. But ‘‘tis life, no?”

“So no friends or family? Surely you must’ve had someone?” He inquired more and more.

“Questions like that can get you killed where I’m from, love.”

“And where are you from?”

Florence got very close to his face. He could smell the stench of rum and cigarettes on her breath. “I’m from a place where the ocean does not apologise for its depth, nor the mountains make excuses for the space they fill. I went there, I went there to learn from them. You. You with your small mindedness arrogance could not fathom those hills nor those lakes.”

She leaned back again, reaching for another cigarette to get her through the conversation.

“Besides. I’ve got the dead. They don’t speak too loud or ask for presents on their birthdays.” she shrugged.

“Do you usually drink like this?” Thomas gestured with his free hand to the everything in the room.

“Yeah, just you came in early today. I’m not about to let that stop me from my day drinking.” She took a drag from her cigarette, “if I’m not drunk by noon then the day’s wasted.”

“Have I ever talked to you sober then?” Thomas recounted all their meetings in his head.

“Nope. You wouldn’t like me sober, anyway.” She grinned. “When you’re sober, you start to notice just how depressing all this really is.”

“Your job or just life in general?” Thomas chuckled humourlessly.

Florence cleared her throat, “I’m sure you already know the answer to that question, Beastie.”

——

4

Thomas entered the private mortuary, the air was more smoky and thick than usual, which wasn’t worrying, more just confusing.

He stepped into the cold room and made space for the men to put the body on the table.

“Miss. Kent?” Thomas called.

“In here, Beastie.” He heard her voice from behind a door he never really noticed before, it just matched the body cabinets.

He opened the cold door and a gust of hot wind blew in his face.

“Welcome to the cremation zone. Keep your arms and legs to yourself, lest you want me to confuse your limbs for someone else’s.”

Thomas peered at the giant stone furnace that stood proud and tall in the middle of the room with a roaring fire inside its walls.

It had four pillars around the edge, disconnecting the slab to the chimney.

He looked through to the other side of the room through the stone pillars and saw Florence staring intently at the fire.

“Mind the-“ Florence started, but Thomas had already tripped over the arm of a carcass on the floor.

“Why the FUCK do you just leave bodies on the floor? Isn’t there regulations for that shit?” Thomas nearly screeched.

“Yeah, but I seriously can’t be arsed to read them. I did my school years, what’re they gonna do, take away my other non-existent medical license? I don’t think so, Beastie.”

Thomas came round to her side and followed her stare into the fire, finding the way it licked the air to be mesmerising.

“Beastie? Who’s Beastie? Why’d you keep saying that?” Thomas stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“You, you ninny. I thought it was rather fitting, really.” Florence quipped.

Thomas only nodded and shifted his gaze to the body still on the floor, “you gonna put them in or do you just have the room for the view?”

“Oh yes! I forgot!” She scurried around and heaved the legs up the best she could.

The carcass, though dead, was quite a large carcass. “Mind helping me here, Beastie?”

Thomas swallowed his bile and took the figure in his arms to heave up onto the stone slab. Florence then rolled the body into the fire. The body didn’t land in a flattering position as it turned face down in the flames.

“They’re very needy the dead.” Florence mumbled, “and they rarely give back—unless you’re delusional or religious.”

Thomas, for the first time in the company with Florence, actually laughed. It was broad and loud and even made Florence chuckle a bit.

——

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

#tommyshelby #peaky blinders story #peakyblinders #thomas #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinder fanfic

[drawlfoy]

2019 Draco x Reader Secret Santa Gift Exchange - - Inevitable

masterlist request guidelines i know, i know...it’s been a bit. this is for @eltanin-malfoy​ ‘s secret santa gift exchange.

pairing: draco x reader

requested: kind of! this is part of the xmas gift exchange :)) also i hate to say this but i kind of deviated from the request...i wanted to make it a bit longer and didn’t like how it specified how they were the only two students left at hogwarts...wanted to mix it up some :)))))))))

summary: ravenclaw y/n is remaining at hogwarts over the holidays to study for N.E.W.T.S while her family is away on business. despite never really having been close to him before, y/n begins to form an unlikely connection.

warnings: just swearing and underage drinking and a mention of a sexual relationship between snape and a student (don’t worry...NOT the central focus and just an anecdote provided).  

a/n: damn....it’s really been like....almost two months. i’ve been logging on and off occasionally to see what’s been going on. i know that there were a lot of requests over the summer that kind of sunk that i never got to, and to that i’m very sorry. maybe one day i’ll be able to get back to them (i’m thinking of doing so over the next summer!!). i’m so so so thankful for the fact that you guys are still here, reading my content and enjoying draco malfoy as much as i am. i love this community and feel very blessed to be a part of it.

music recs: any christmas music!!

word count: 3,859

“And you’re sure that you’re alright with staying behind?” 

Y/N sighed, twisted her hair into a knot behind her neck in a nervous gesture. “Yes, Mum. It’s really okay. I hope you and Dad have a good time in Paris.”

“You know we won’t,” her mother said. “I can’t believe we have to work through the holidays.”

“I’m sorry Mum.” Y/N took a glance out the window, watching the rest of her friends leave the grounds with the intention of catching the train back to London. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I’m one of the only students staying here this winter. I’ll just be working too.”

“Be sure to write often.” There was a brief pause before Y/N could hear some commotion in the background, and her mother’s face, which had previously been gazing at her from the common room coals turned. “I’ve got to go, dearie. Love you!”

With that, the fire was extinguished, and Y/N was left to sit alone in the empty Ravenclaw common room. It was rather dark now that the sun was hanging lower in the sky, and every sound she made echoed. She had never noticed just how much space her housemates took up until they had gone home.

Once Y/N had gotten over her miniature pity party, she gathered up her robes and headed down to the dining hall. There was one particular Slytherin girl, Daphne, who she knew was staying behind for sure. There was something about the Slytherin house staying over the holiday break to study for N.E.W.T.S...or perhaps all their parents had gotten sick of them and their snooty attitudes by this point.

Y/N snorted ungraciously at this notion as she entered the dining hall, pushing open the two large doors. The eerie hum of quiet chatter hit her ears instead of the familiar roar of 4 houses, and her footsteps echoed--actually echoed--as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. She quickly changed her mind when she saw Daphne waving at her from the sparsely populated Slytherin table. 

“Over here, Y/L/N,” she called, shoving someone who was sitting next to her to the side. Y/N couldn’t get a good look at who it was, but the long, flowing dark locks suggested that it was Pansy. “Move, Pans. We have special company.”

Y/N gratefully accepted the offer, ditching her completely empty table and sliding in next to her Potions partner.

“Thanks, Greengrass.” Y/N never understood the Slytherin obsession with calling acquaintances by their last name, but on Merlin was she going to follow that rule whilst she was the only friend she had. 

“Of course,” Daphne responded, daintily picking at the food on her plate while Y/N grabbed a roll and spooned stew into her bowl. “Just don’t embarrass us too much, you know. Blue and green just don’t really...vibe well. We’ll have to get you a Slytherin tie for the holidays if you don’t want to be harassed in the common room.”

“In the...what?” 

“In the common room,” Pansy said, barely looking up from her own plate. “You don’t seriously think we’re going to leave you to go up to an empty dorm every night, right?”

“Does...that....huh?” Y/N knew that her mouth was gaped unceremoniously open, but she didn’t know how else to act. The Slytherins were...inviting her to live with them?

“Yeah, Pans and I have an extra bed now that Millicent is off in Peru on holiday,” Daphne said nonchalantly. 

“Does that mean I get to call you Daphne now, or...” 

She laughed, her perfectly straight white teeth glinting in the light. “If it makes you happy. Only me though. Or Pansy. Anyone else will have a bit of an attitude.”

Y/N smiled nervously, pushing her stew around with a spoon. “I really wasn’t expecting this, Thanks for not making me spend the holidays completely alone.”

“Honestly,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t get why people give Slytherins such a selfish rap. Look at how empathetic and caring we are.”

Y/N laughed, casting her eyes up from her food and taking in the table. The 6th year Slytherins were well-represented, with Zabini, Nott, and....Malfoy? She frowned at him. Malfoy had blabbed the entire year to all of his croonies about how well-regarded he was in family and how he was such an integral part of his father’s work. It was surprising to see him at Hogwarts and not home, where he would’ve been much more useful to his family. The extra line in his scowl suggested to Y/N that he was well aware of the fact and was staying against his will. Then again, she could’ve been wrong. She’d had some classes with him, but they’d never personally spoken, but it didn’t take much for her to draw the conclusion that he was a spoiled prat.

She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t think to pull her eyes away when Malfoy turned away from his conversation with Zabini, his head tilting in her direction. His grey eyes snapped up from the table to meet hers, and she jerked away the moment they made contact. Y/N stared at the table as nonchalantly as she could, counting 7 cracks in the wood before she felt confident enough to peek back up again. Malfoy was turned back around, talking a bit more animatedly to his friends. 

That was weird she thought, putting her energy back into her stew. I’m never looking that direction again.

<^>

The Slytherin bunk beds felt slightly more comfortable than the Ravenclaw ones. “Daddy’s money always makes for a thicker cushion,” Pansy said to this observation as she rifled through her drawers, trying to find a few acceptable pieces for Y/N to borrow. “I don’t have an extra jumper, but I’ll be right back. I know someone who does.”

“Isn’t this kind of extra?” Y/N asked Daphne as Pansy dashed off through the open dorm door. “I’ll just avoid wearing blue stuff. I swear.”

She laughed at this, tossing an extra Slytherin tie on Y/N’s bed. “It’s weird. I think it’s kind of a Slytherin thing. It’s fun to indoctrinate you or something like that.”

“Kind of kinky.”

The two snickered as Y/N continued to unpack her things into Millicent’s now empty drawer, shoving her sweats and unmarked sweaters to fit as much as she could. 

“I wouldn’t go that far, but if it floats your boat.”

“You’re gonna love me for this,” a prim voice sang from the doorway. Y/N turned to see Pansy holding a bundle of clothes. “Full set of Slytherin robes. I say that you try and convince everyone that you’ve been in this house the whole time.”

Y/N cackled at this. “I feel like I’m rooming with absolute lunatics.”

“Because you are, darling.” Pansy flounced forward, pinching Y/N’s cheek. “Anyways. I say you get changed into something a little less...blue...and we go to the first Christmas party of the year. I hear it starts at 11.”

With that, the girls descended into a flurry of motion. Y/N slipped into one of Daphne’s deep emerald dresses, which felt more expensive than her family’s home, and prayed that it would stay intact for the rest of the night. She was never a wild partier, but she would never forgive herself if a rogue glass of mulled firewhiskey found its way onto the expensive velvet fabric. It felt uncomfortably tight and revealing, so she snatched the first Slytherin article of clothing she could find--what appeared to be a black cape with a snake emblem on it--and draped it over her shoulders.

“Let’s talk about girl things,” Pansy announced as she took out her makeup bag and sat herself in front of the mirror. Daphne smiled in exasperation. “I know all about Daphne’s vast experiences with Blaise, but I know nothing about you, Y/N. Got any horrid men messing up your educational experience?”

Y/N laughed as she finished trying to spell her hair smooth. “No. Not really. I wish. I was into this one guy in my Charms class this September, but he turned out to be a whole clown.”

“Oh, ick.” Pansy paused just long enough to make eye contact in the mirror and send her a disgusted expression. “I hate men. Except for mine, of course. “

“And that is...?” prodded Y/N.

“If I told you, it’d ruin all the fun,” Pansy teased. “He does look good in red, though. I’ll let you know that. Do with that information what you will.”

“A Gryffindor?! Aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna kill himself cliff-jumping over the holidays or something?”

“Oh, hush little Y/N. He’s here for a good time, not a long time.”

Daphne snorted from her corner of the room, sending Y/N a look that said “see what I have to deal with?”. 

11 came around sooner than expected. Y/N’s dress was feeling tighter with each breath she took, her anxiety brewing within her. Despite being on friendly terms with Daphne for a season, she had never been invited to a Slytherin party, but she had heard plenty of morning after stories that left her wondering what really went on. 

Now I’m going to find out she mused, running her fingerpads over her ring. 

“Are you going to just stand here or are you going to open the door, kiddo?” Pansy’s voice sounded behind her, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“Don’t be fucking rude, Pans,” Daphne chided. “This is a monumental moment for Ravenclawkind.”

<^> 

Y/N never thought that she’d see people getting absolutely trashed to Frank Sinatra’s christmas album, but her first Slytherin party shook this preconceived notion. The moment she stepped into the common room, Daphne pressed a hot goblet into her hand that was full of something that smelled suspiciously like fire. 

“It’s a Slytherin specialty,” she explained. “Firewhiskey, but with more fire.”

Whatever it was, it tasted good. Really, really good. If Y/N hadn’t been so nervous, she would’ve downed the goblet in one go, but she knew better and only took small sips. Daphne and Pansy were a little less conservative, pouring themselves a third go before she had even finished her first. 

“So proper,” Daphne managed to get out as she looked at Y/N, an amused expression on her face. “Come on and be festive.”

Y/N managed to hold off on heavy drinking and instead retired to a dark green leather armchair, choosing to people watch. The Slytherins were stumbling about in a fashion that was very unSlytherin-esque but oddly charming. Pansy was chatting up Nott and Malfoy, and when she saw Y/N sitting alone, she grabbed the two boys by the tie and dragged them over. 

Malfoy didn’t look nearly as hammered as his companions as he stared daggers at Pansy’s hand, clutched at the emerald fabric encircling his neck. They were standing in front of her in moments with Pansy smiling goofily. 

“Y/N, doll,” she began, dropping the ties and reaching out to grab Y/N’s hands. “Have you met my friends? Draco and Theo?”

“Why are you wearing my cape?” Draco’s voice cut past Pansy’s easily with his posh accent. 

“Your...what? Are you talking to me?” Y/N asked, her mind clouded with confusion.

“Er, yeah,” Malfoy said, motioning towards the cloak settled over her shoulders. “That’s mine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/N shifted awkwardly, working it off her shoulders and holding it out to him. “You can have it back, if you want. Pansy just said that I could borrow it.”

Malfoy stared at her, his silver eyes flickering in the dim light. He seemed very out of place--the Malfoy energy didn’t exactly match with the classic Christmas love songs that were echoing through the room.His pale hair reflected the festive green lights strung up around the dungeon ceiling and walls, making it look much colder than she thought it normally did. 

It took him clearing his throat for her to realize that she’d been staring again and that no, he hadn’t reached out his arm to take the cape.

“It’s yours now,” he said stiffly. 

“Ooooookaaaaay,” Pansy sang, slipping her arm through Nott’s and shoving Malfoy towards the couch. “Looks like you two need to talk this out! I’ll be going!”

With that, she darted off, leaving a very awkward looking Malfoy standing substantially closer to her.

“You can sit down if you want,” Y/N said, a wave a boldness washing over her. So what, he was cute, and there was nothing stopping her from talking to him now. “I don’t bite.”

He seemed receptive to this, settling down onto the couch and leaving a healthy distance between them. “Your name is Y/N, right?” 

She was surprised by this. There was no point in time where she was referred to anything but Y/LN in front of him, but it appeared as if he somehow knew her first name anyways. “And you’re Draco?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to call you Draco or Malfoy?” she pushed, curling her legs up under her and turning to look at him better. Now that he was just about a foot away from her, she could see that his hair was slightly ruffled. 

“Whichever you fancy,” he answered. 

“Do we have Potions together?” 

Before Draco could fully answer, there was an explosion of motion behind them and an infectious spread of laughter.

“Mistletoe!” Pansy gleefully shrieked from somewhere out of Y/N’s line of sight as a floating patch of greenery made its way through the common room air.

“The fuck is that?” Y/N cast a questioning look at Draco. “What’s the point of mistletoe if it doesn’t stay still?”

“It’ll stop in a moment. It goes to the pair with the most chemistry in the room.”

“That sounds kind of dangerous.”

“Oh, believe me.” Draco’s face broke into a rare smile, revealing dimples that Y/N had never seen before. “I heard that one time Snape walked in while that thing was floating about. It stopped over the heads of him and one of the 8th years. The cruelest thing is that it won’t leave the pair alone until they kiss.”

Y/N closed her gaping jaw and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish I could return to the point in my life where I didn’t know that information.”

He smiled a little wider, his eyes seeming to be a little warmer now. Their was a strange fluttering inside of Y/N’s stomach, but she chalked it up to the firewhiskey. The distance between them had shrunk significantly since they had first begun to talk, and now they were so close that Y/N could smell his cologne--a tasteful mix of pine and mint.

Her throat dried up as she saw Draco blink slowly, resting his chin in his hand and looking at her in a way that made her feel...not right. Wasn’t he supposed to be a prick? Her attention was caught by a flash of green leaves in her peripheral vision, speeding towards their direction.

“I should go,” she hastened, grabbing the cape and pulling it snug over her shoulders. His eyebrows raised the slightest bit in interest, but he didn’t seem to move at all. “I’ll....er....see you around, okay?”

With that, she booked it to her room.

<^>

“I’m never drinking again!” Pansy’s shrill voice awoke Y/N from a rather deep slumber. “I swear to Merlin, Daph! Never let me do that again!”

Y/N leaned over the side of the bunk, glaring down at the two girls. “Can you be a bit quieter? Some of us are trying to get some sleep here.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “And some of us are trying to get up in time to get a good study spot in the library. Care to join us, princess?”

While it pained Y/N to admit, Daphne was probably right--every single student staying at Hogwarts over the break was there with the purpose of studying for N.E.W.T.S, meaning that the library was going to be overflowing. A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed her suspicions--most spots were probably already taken at 11 in the morning, and they’d be lucky to even find a table open at this time.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Y/N moaned, sliding down from the bunk to get dressed. They all readied quickly--after all, studying wasn’t the most glamorous event--and made their way down to the library.

“Damn, there’s only a few spots left open.” Daphne frowned as she surveyed the room. Sure enough, there were no empty tables, just scattered empty seats throughout the library. 

“Guess we’re splitting up then,” Pansy said. “We can all meet up in an hour for lunch. Until then, good luck! I have some Wide-eye potion if either of your hangovers get too bad.”

Y/N snorted at this, turning away to find her own spot. If she was lucky, there’d be an empty seat by the windows that overlooked the forest. It was snowing, and she wanted nothing more than to watch snow fall as she revised.

Thankfully, there was exactly one empty seat, but unthankfully, this seat was next to a certain someone.

“Hi Draco,” she greeted, immediately wishing that she had just kept her mouth shut. Her tone of voice was way too cringy. 

He looked up from his Charms essay, his face lighting up when he saw who it was. “Hello.”

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She motioned towards the empty chair, and he shook his head, even going as far as pulling out the chair for her. “Thanks.”

Draco nodded but turned his attention back to his essay, dipping his quill back into his inkwell and continuing to write. Y/N rested her chin in her hand as she watched the snow swirl outside the window and paint the trees white. 

After a bit, she unpacked her books and began to read up on outlawed hexes. Every once and a while, Draco’s elbow would bump her arm as he immersed himself in his essay. 

“Isn’t that my tie?” Draco asked, his voice breaking the silence. 

“What?” Y/N’s eyes cast down to the Slytherin tie she had haphazardly thrown on that morning and caught something she hadn’t noticed before--the Malfoy crest.

“Oh,” she said. “Pansy gave me a whole bundle of things. I’m assuming all of it was yours. I don’t plan on keeping this stuff, by the way. Once I go back to Ravenclaw, I’m never wearing green again.”

“Shh!” A random student looked up from their work to glare at Y/N. She whispered a quick apology before turning back to admire Draco’s amused expression.

“Those are fighting words,” he told her simply, quirking an eyebrow and tapping his lip with his quill like he was thinking.

“Can I see your quill?” she asked suddenly, holding her palm out. The feather was something she had never seen before--it shimmered with some kind of charm that projected silver light. Without a word in response, he passed it to her, his hand dragging across her palm for a second as he placed it in her hand. She shivered--his hand was surprisingly warm considering his fairly cool demeanor.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Very wintery.”

“That’s not a word,” he said matter-of-factly, but one glance at him was enough to tell that he wasn’t being serious. 

“You’re insufferable,” Y/N told him. “But you must know that.”

His face broke into another smile, lines forming around his silver eyes. “Insufferably wonderful.”

“Seriously, can you guys shut up?” the same Slytherin asked from the other end of the table. “Some of us are actually trying to work.”

“Yeah, take a walk if you guys can’t be quiet,” another Slytherin added. 

Draco sent them both a death glare that made them turn back around and get back to their work without another word of caution. 

“Maybe I should leave,” Y/N offered, motioning to the blizzard outside. “I like the snow anyways. You can come with me if you’d like.”

His dimples pressed into his cheeks again at this as he packed up his things, a bit haphazardly and carelessly. “I think a walk sounds great.”

The two made their way out of the library, passing by Pansy who sent them a curious look. The library doors were obnoxiously loud to open, and it took both of them throwing all of their weight into them to get out.

“I hear they’re harder to open the more students are inside,” said Y/N absentmindedly. 

“And where did you read that?”

“Hogwarts: a History, I think.”

“Of course.” Draco seemed amused at this--which was admittedly a great look on him. Today he had worn a white collared shirt, the collars barely peeking out of the dark green jumper he wore over it. That color always looked absolutely stunning next to his near-white hair...something made Y/N feel warm for noticing.

“So....er....” Y/N struggled to stay upright on a particularly slick patch of ice. Draco’s arm shot out to steady her. “Oh, er, thanks. Are you enjoying the holidays?”

His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Yes, I guess so. You?”

“They could be better.” One of his eyebrows arched. “Er, no, I mean, not because of you, because of all the studying I have to get done.”

“I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw,” he teased. A few snowflakes had nestled themselves into his eyelashes, and he looked indescribable to Y/N. 

He cleared his throat, and Y/N stopped staring. 

They walked in silence around the grounds for a bit, and Y/N cursed herself for not wearing any gloves. The winter air swirled with snowflakes that stuck to her bare skin, and Y/N shivered a little more with every step she took. 

“D’you want my--”

Draco’s proposition was cut short by the sound of something whizzing through the air.

“How did that get out of the common room?” Draco said instead, motioning with his head to the flying patch of greenery that was coming their way.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s out now.”

The two waited awkwardly for a few seconds, and Y/N was sure that they were both praying that the mistletoe would change its course and veer back in the direction of the castle, but it didn’t. It made its way straight for them, hardly stopped at all through the battering of the blizzard.

It stopped only when it was directly above the two of them. When Y/N tried to lean away, it was like she hit a forcefield that forced her back in, even closer to Draco. He seemed concerned at this, running his fingers through his hair once and sighing.

“I guess this was inevitable,” he said, offering further explanation when he saw Y/N’s confused expression. “I saw it heading towards us last night. If we had gone to another Christmas party, I’m sure it would’ve found us anyways.”

“Maybe it’s better that it’s here than in public,” Y/N mused. Before she could add anything else, Draco took his gloves off and took her hands in his.

“Another reason why this was inevitable,” he began, dropping her right hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, “Was that I was planning on doing this anyways.”

final a/n: sorry i really really didn’t feel like writing a kiss scene and also i procrastinated and started this yesterday and that was NOT the move i’m so so sorry kings and queens and nonbinary royalty--i hope you can enjoy the lead-up and use your imagination to fill in the blanks that i have left (please please please don’t kill me). alright love u all and merry xmas. wonders of ohio is coming out soon and is in progress

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x oc

[kaesaaurelia]

should auld acquaintance be forgot

This is a rough draft of the first chapter of a fic I’m writing, which will be called Hustler’s Blood.  It is Aziraphale/Crowley, with numerous OCs and historical figures, and is set in 1926 in Chicago, although it starts on December 31, 1925.

I’ve posted the first scene here before, as well as a few other bits and pieces, but since it’s New Year’s Eve and the fic starts on New Year’s Eve, and also since it’s my birthday and I just wanna, I’m going to share the whole first chapter here.

(I’ve been serializing it on fail_fandomanon but I’m a little over 100k words into writing it and it’s just reached the middle of the plot so it’s a lot to catch up on at the moment.)

6,666 words.  (There were 6667 but it was too perfect, so I deleted one.)  Small content warning for brief mention of pet death and resurrection.

Aziraphale looked right, then left, then walked into the dark alley in front of him. It was the fifth place he'd tried that evening, and the twelfth since he'd arrived in Chicago. Heaven had sent him to thwart Crowley's terrible wiles and keep him from pulling this entire city into Hell with him, but if even half of what he'd seen had been Crowley's doing, Aziraphale was going to be very impressed, and also extremely annoyed at his violation of the Arrangement.  Then, maybe it was rowdier than usual right now; it was New Year's Eve, after all.  Maybe things calmed down.

He knocked on the nondescript door in front of him. A hatch in the door slid back, revealing a suspicious-looking pair of eyes. "Yeah?" said the young man behind the door.

"Ah! Hello, thank you, the password is..." Aziraphale reached into the man's mind and plucked it out. "...Mirage."

The hatch clicked shut, the door swung open, and Aziraphale walked in. "Thank you!" he told the doorman, and looked at the scene in front of him. People were laughing and drinking and smoking and generally having a lovely time, although there was much more close dancing than was probably strictly necessary, and of course it was all dreadfully illegal and Aziraphale therefore disapproved wholeheartedly. He looked around for Crowley, or, failing that, a menu. He could really use a nice drink.

Aziraphale handed his coat and hat off to the coat-check girl, then returned to the door.  "Young man, I don't suppose you've seen my... acquaintance anywhere in here, have you?  Dark glasses, red hair... doesn't seem to know how to walk?"  Whatever form Crowley had taken probably had those three attributes.  Unless he'd been discorporated in the war.  Oh dear.  What if Crowley had an entirely new form?  Not that it was any business of Aziraphale's, of course, but it would make him much more difficult to find.

"You lookin' for Mr. Crowley?" said the young man. "You sure?" Behind him, the fistfight had metastasized into a brawl between four or five barflies.

"That's the one, yes! Where is he?" asked Aziraphale.

"Look, mister, I'm here to keep the trouble to a minimum --" Aziraphale somewhat doubted this, as no one had moved to break up the fight -- indeed, the patrons were cheering on their favorites and making bets "-- and I'd love to help ya out, but Mr. Crowley is kinda, uhh... he ain't gonna be happy if he don't know you, and I hear he's a lot of trouble if you do."

"I've known him for quite a long time. Trust me, I am aware," said Aziraphale. He smiled patiently, and waited for the boy to get on with getting him Crowley.

Aziraphale sensed a familiar twinge in the fabric of reality as the brawl ended abruptly. The last man standing cheered, and he could see money changing hands between winners of bets. "Well, uh... lemme see what I can do, okay?" said the doorman. "No promises."

"Oh, I don't think you'll need to go get him," said Aziraphale, for he could see a familiar swaggering figure coming towards them, pocketing a fistful of green paper and peering through dark glasses at the doorman.

"My ears were burning, is there something -- Aziraphale!" he said, breaking into a grin that made odd things happen in Aziraphale's chest. "How the Heaven have you been? He's okay, he's an old, old friend," he said, waving the doorman away.  He turned back to Aziraphale, still grinning.  "Hey! Come on to the bar, I'll buy you a drink!  Didn't think you'd turn up here."

"No, I would imagine not," said Aziraphale, trying to maintain an air of polite disapproval. "What happened to the Arrangement?" he whispered.

"Relax, angel, I haven't been doing anything," said Crowley, guiding him towards the bar.

Aziraphale glared at him, but followed. "You have!  You ended that fight early just now."

Crowley shrugged. "Would've gone that way anyway, though, eventually. I just sped it up a bit. What are you here for, anyway?"

"I was sent by Heaven to thwart whatever nasty things you're doing here," said Aziraphale. "Gabriel was very cross with me when he'd found out I lost track of you. Why didn't you tell me you'd left London? How long have you been here?"

"Why would I tell you?" Crowley asked. He was no longer grinning. "I thought you were sick of all that... hmm, what did you call it? Fraternizing."

Aziraphale stared at him, open-mouthed. "What -- that's not -- I didn't mean -- what about our Arrangement?"

"Well, since you called it off --"

"I did not! And anyway, you were sulking and I tried to wake you up but --"

"So are you saying you'd like to pick up where we left off?" Aziraphale wished he wasn't wearing those dark glasses, because then he might be able to tell what was going on in Crowley's head. Aziraphale thought he sounded hopeful, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"I..." He's tempting me, Aziraphale thought. He's only tempting me, and I should do my job properly, and I should never even have let on that I was here.

Crowley watched him silently.

"I -- I do, yes," Aziraphale admitted. The grin on Crowley's face made him feel a lot better about being a failure of an angel, though.

"Well, that's all right, then! Come on, I'll get you that drink."

"Are the drinks here any good?" Aziraphale asked.

"Mmmh." He made a sort of ambivalent whole body wriggle. "The recipes are good, but the alcohol they're working with is terrible. Been trying to fix that, but there's only so much you can do. Free will and all that. They keep cutting my stuff with drain cleaner and gasoline."  He made a face.  "At least I can report it as a success downstairs.  I'll see that you get something you like, though."  He sat down at the bar.

Aziraphale sat next to him, and it was remarkable how much better he felt now.  Wandering a strange city full of hooligans was all well and fine, but meeting up for drinks with Crowley was safe.  Crowley called over the barman.  "Oi, Pete!  Get me another old fashioned, and a gin fizz for my friend here!"

They weren't even supposed to be friends.

He's just tempting me, Aziraphale reminded himself again.  The problem was, all too often, it worked.

---

Crowley had been telling himself he was having a grand old time for the past few years, and especially this evening. Drinking alone was just how he happened to enjoy spending the evening. On New Year's Eve. It was fine. He'd picked the most raucous hole-in-the-wall he knew, or at least the most raucous one where they all knew him as Anthony Crowley and not any of his other aliases, and he had at least been enjoying seeing everyone reveling in ways they weren't supposed to.

(He'd been spending most of his free time as Anthony Crowley.  He had three other aliases, all with slightly different faces and bodies, but sometimes the roles he'd chosen for himself got tiring, and he'd... well, wanted to be recognized.  By anyone who happened to know him under that name.  Not specifically Aziraphale, but should Aziraphale come and check in on him, Crowley felt he shouldn't make it too hard for the poor bastard to see just how well Crowley was doing without him.)

If he was honest with himself (and he tried not to be) seeing all these attractive people with their equally attractive companions for the evening made him a little bit lonely.  He'd watched two couples break up tonight and another get together, and near the back of the room there was a group of three who seemed to be aiming to be more than friends by the first dawn of 1926.  He'd considered finding somebody, just for the night, but nobody really appealed.

Then the door had opened, and a chill wind had carried a slight scent of vellum and sanctimony to him, and he knew without turning around that Aziraphale was here. So he'd thrown his voice, whispered some insults from one zozzled patron to another, and started a fight so he had an excuse to not turn and look at the newcomer, to be totally absorbed in this fight, to make a bet...

And then he really, really wanted to know what Aziraphale was doing here. And to see him. And to talk to him. And to watch him try a really good cocktail and show him all the best restaurants in town and take him to concerts and impress him with how very well-connected and influential Crowley was now that he'd been free of the Arrangement for sixty-four years.

So he'd ended the fight with a snap of his fingers, collected his winnings, tried very hard to look suave, and then failed as soon as he actually set eyes on Aziraphale.  And now he was buying drinks. Well, not buying, precisely, but he was putting forth the fiction that at some point he would be paying for said drinks, and Aziraphale politely pretended to believe that.

"Ooh, this is good!" Aziraphale said, after a sip or two of his gin fizz.

"How long have you been in town?" Crowley asked.

"A few days. I spent Christmas on a ship to New York." Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. "It was a bit much. The food was good, though. You?"

"Oh, I've been here a few years. They wanted me to be sure the States didn't become a bastion of holiness overnight just because of this Prohibition nonsense."

"And?" Aziraphale asked.

"I traveled around, saw that humans still don't need much help humaning, and settled in here to take credit for whatever horrible thing they came up with next. Considered New York, stayed in LA for a few months, tried out New Orleans -- you really need to get down to New Orleans, angel, it's amazing, you'd love the food -- but this seemed to be the best place to hang around and watch everything go to Hell in a handbasket. Not so much going on that I can't keep track of most of it, but definitely plenty of havoc to be had. I did think I'd made an awful mistake in '23, because they elected a mayor who I think might actually... not be a crook --"

"Is that unusual here?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley snorted.  "Don't really pay that much attention usually, but everybody was so impressed with themselves for voting for somebody decent that I got worried."

"Ah, well."  He took a thoughtful sip of his drink.  "So what happened to him?"

Crowley laughed harder, and shook his head.  "That's the best part, angel!  The poor bastard's still mayor.  Everything he does to clean up the mess just makes everything worse!  I don't have to do a blessed thing.  I just write my reports and enjoy the show."

"Oh dear," said Aziraphale.  "You know, my lot think you've ruined this city personally."

"Nah," said Crowley, shaking his head.  "Barely touched it, really.  It was broken when I found it."  He shrugged.  "Fun, though.  So, what, did they send you here to clean my mess up?"

Aziraphale nodded.  He stared at his glass contemplatively.  Crowley watched him, wondering whether he saw it as half-empty or half-full.  Finally, he said, "I was worried about you, you know."

Of all the things Crowley had been prepared to hear Aziraphale say to him about their long absence from each other's company, this wasn't it.  "Worried?  What?  You were worried?  About me?"

"Well, you..."  Aziraphale trailed off.  "After our... misunderstanding, I stopped seeing you anywhere, so I --"  He was avoiding Crowley's eye now, looking over his shoulder at the other bar patrons.  "I checked in on you.  I -- I don't know if you remember..."  He looked down at his drink again.  Definitely half-empty, if Crowley was any judge of expressions.

"I don't," Crowley said softly.  He hadn't realized Aziraphale would care that much.  Or at all, really, given their last conversation.

An uneasy silence lay between them.  Finally, Aziraphale said, "And then when the war started up you were nowhere and I found a bunch of complete strangers living there!"

The expression on Aziraphale's face made him want to reassure, to apologize, to comfort.  To stop being everything he was.  "I thought you didn't want me hanging around anymore, that's all," he said.  "I thought you were done with our Arrangement.  And war is hell, so... I had a job to do."

"In the war," Aziraphale started, and then paused.  "Did you --"

"No, angel," he said, rolling his eyes.  "I didn't start the war, I didn't do much to make it worse, and frankly I don't know if I could have made it any worse than it was going to be already.  I did take credit for it because it got my head office off my back for a few years, and if you're going to judge me for that --"

"Crowley," said Aziraphale, looking wounded.  "I was only going to ask if you had to see much of the front."

"Oh."  Crowley took a long swallow of his old fashioned then, so as to avoid looking Aziraphale in the eye, not that Aziraphale could see his eyes.  (Thank Satan for small mercies.)  "Yeah.  I saw... enough."

"I'm sorry," said Aziraphale.

"Don't be.  Don't think I was ever really in danger, I just hung about asking questions, trying to get people to disobey orders, slack off...."

Aziraphale stared at him.  "That wasn't you, was it?  In 1914?"  Crowley frowned at him.  "Christmas?"

"That?  I thought that must be you!" said Crowley.  "Seemed exactly like something you'd come up with except for the football part, although I did wonder how you'd managed it.  Don't know how I'd even pull off something that big," he admitted.  "No, it wasn't me.  How could I possibly justify that to Downstairs?  It was so treacly too, and on Christmas.  Eugh."

"It most definitely was not," said Aziraphale.  "I got a very angry letter about it from Gabriel.  I'd sort of hoped it was you.  I thought... you know, you'd like people questioning authority and not doing their jobs, even if their jobs were murdering each other.  But I didn't tell Gabriel that, of course."

Crowley took another swallow of his drink, and said "Gabriel's a wanker."

"Crowley..."

"He is.  I loathe him and I think I've only ever met him properly once, but everything you tell me is always awful."  Crowley finished off his drink and waved the bartender over to get another one.  "He got angry at you for it?  What, did it show up in his miracle queue under your name by mistake?  Or however that works."

"He said it didn't show up at all and asked if I knew of any rogue angels operating on the Western Front.  I suppose I was the nearest agent they had.  I was... not really asked to leave London but I felt I should check in on the front every now and again.  You know, do some rounds at some hospitals.  Brush up on my French and German."  Aziraphale could have been discorporated, Crowley thought.  It was probably a good thing he hadn't known about it until now, although part of him mourned the loss of an opportunity to sweep in and be very impressive and good-looking and save Aziraphale's life.

He didn't want to think about all of that now, so he turned the conversation back to 1914.  "So... nobody did the truce, then?" Crowley asked.

"Humans did it," said Aziraphale.  "Must have.  Nobody else was involved.  Unless one of your lot had a very strange change of heart --"

"They didn't," said Crowley.

"-- or one of my lot thought, you know what, today I'm going to upset the Archangel Gabriel, it'll be fun!" concluded Aziraphale.

"Well.  Maybe.  I would.  I bet it would be fun," said Crowley.

"Yes, but you're a demon," Aziraphale insisted, in that infuriating tone of voice that suggested maybe Crowley had forgot.

Crowley ignored him.  "Why didn't they want it happening?  Really seems it ought to be right up your lot's alley."

Aziraphale shrugged.  "Wasn't part of the plan, I suppose.  Gabriel didn't really specify.  It is, after all --"

"Ineffable," Crowley finished for him, rolling his eyes.

Aziraphale made no reply.  He finished off his gin fizz instead.

"You can't plan for humans, that's the trouble," said Crowley.  "All you can do is plan for them to go haring off in some wild direction --"

"And whose fault is that?" Aziraphale asked, pointedly.

Crowley glared.  "I didn't make her eat the apple, you know.  Still don't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil.  For one thing, I'm not sure it took."

Aziraphale sighed.  "Much as I hate to admit it, you may have a point, my dear."

---

They soon got to reminiscing about times past, drinks past, temptations and miracles past, and somewhere after his sixth or seventh or... possibly tenth drink, Aziraphale stopped feeling guilty and let himself just feel warm and happy in this boozy, smoky barroom.  These newfangled sugary drinks really weren't as bad as he'd assumed they would be, and the people here seemed to be having such a good time.  It was a shame it was all illegal, and also apparently immoral.  Aziraphale was enjoying listening to Crowley tell a complicated story about an enterprising fellow he'd met in Cincinnati.

They both looked up from their conversation when a young lady shouted "Hey, it's almost midnight!" from one of the tables near the back of the room.

"Oh, are they going to be counting down to midnight?" Aziraphale asked.

"I s'pose so," said Crowley.  "In New York they have this... ball."

"Oh!  Like with masks?" Aziraphale asked.  He'd rather enjoyed those.  All the costumes were so much fun, and the food was usually quite good too.

"No, no, like... big round bastard," said Crowley, with an evocative gesture.  "Falls down at the stroke of midnight."

"Oh," said Aziraphale, frowning.  He tried to picture this, but it still didn't quite make sense.  Not that he was drunk.  As an ethereal being, he could put away a fair amount of alcohol, and all these silly sugary drinks couldn't possibly be very strong.

"You know, like a circle, but more," Crowley added.  His evocative gestures were getting more and more patronizing, and Aziraphale wasn't having it.

"Yes, I know what a sphere is, thank you very much," Aziraphale said.  "Why does it fall down?"

Crowley considered this.  Aziraphale was beginning to think Crowley might be a bit drunk, silly sugary drinks notwithstanding.  "Gravity?"

"So you don't know either," Aziraphale said.

Crowley chose not to answer this.  "I think they used to use them as... as a signal, for ships?  Only the New York one's just a signal for drunk people.  I think... I think they might have one at Greenwich," he said.  "For ships, not drunk people."

Aziraphale felt he was on firmer ground now that they were (conversationally) back in London.  "You know, they moved Greenwich."

"Did they?" Crowley asked.  "That must've been a lot of work.  Where's it now?"

Aziraphale tried to remember.  "Not in Greenwich.  I think it had something to do with trains.  To be perfectly honest I wasn't paying attention."

"I'll have to find out where they put it, then," said Crowley, making a face.

Aziraphale peered at him.  "Crowley, I didn't know you were interested in astrono--"

"I'm not," said Crowley.

Well then.  "So why are you --"

"To avoid it, obviously.  Last thing I want to do, find myself surrounded by a bunch of boffins who think they know everything about the stars."  Crowley somehow managed to visibly roll his eyes despite his dark glasses.

"I didn't know you were so against astronomy," said Aziraphale.

"I'm not against it," snapped Crowley.  "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well... that's fine, then," said Aziraphale.  He wished he hadn't brought it up.  Being back on good terms with Crowley had been so nice, for this evening, and he didn't want to lose that over... astronomy.  "So what happens at midnight?  The ball drops, and...?"

"I think they all kiss each other," said Crowley.  "You know, for luck."

"Oh!"  Aziraphale remembered a little village in Swabia with a tradition like that.  He thought it had been very touching.  Actually, it had been a bit more touching than Aziraphale was entirely happy with, in the press of humans enthusiastic to ensure their luck and their family's and neighbors' luck for the next year, so he'd gone invisible after the first few friendly little pecks on the cheek from people he'd never met, wishing him luck he didn't need.  He'd been biding his time, waiting on the right timing to perform a miracle.  "That's a nice tradition.  A bit lonely, though, if you don't know anybody."

Crowley shrugged.  "I'm a stranger everywhere.  I'm used to it."

Aziraphale realized then how much worse it must be for Crowley, who couldn't even feel the love and happiness of others as they shared their well-wishes en masse, of whom humans' first impressions tended to be untrustworthiness.  "No!  No, you aren't," he said.  "Not really."  He was having trouble putting this into words.  Maybe he had had a few too many drinks.

Crowley frowned at him.  "Sorry?"

Somewhere in the crowd beyond, Aziraphale heard someone shout "Ten!"

"You're not a stranger, Crowley.  Not everywhere," said Aziraphale.  It was, he felt, absolutely vital that Crowley understand this, especially right now.  Aziraphale didn't want to lose him again over astronomy or something stupid like that.

"Nine!"  There were more voices joining in.

"Ah.  Thanks?  How many of those have you had, Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, indicating Aziraphale's empty glass.

"Eight!  Seven!"

Aziraphale was having trouble concentrating on counting the drinks he'd had with everyone shouting numbers around him, so he dismissed this question.  He didn't see how it was relevant anyway.  "That has nothing to do with anything, Crowley," he said, over the entire rest of the room counting down.  "You're not a stranger to me, my dear."

"Aziraphale," Crowley said, sounding worried.

"Four!  Three!"

"You aren't, and you never will be, and I'm sorry we haven't spoken in so long, and --"

"Two!  One!"

Aziraphale decided, at this juncture, that since it was midnight, and since they were among humans who would presumably be expecting it anyway, he might just as well express himself more traditionally, as it were, so he leaned over and kissed Crowley.

His lips tasted like cognac and lemon, and he smelled good -- well, evil, technically, but in a way Aziraphale had always quite liked -- and it was all actually very nice until Crowley pushed him away, and said "Right, then, you'd better sober up."

"I'm sober!  I'm fine!  Can't be much in those drinks anyway, mostly sugar and --"

"Sugar and industrial alcohol, yes," said Crowley.  He stood, a bit wobbly himself.  "I'm sorry, I should have been paying attention --"

"I'm fine, Crowley, I'm not some lightweight," said Aziraphale, and he tried to stand too, but the room was surprisingly spinny and he ended up leaning against Crowley for support.

"Oof.  You definitely aren't," said Crowley, putting an arm around him.  "Come on, you can sober up or I can get you home, but I think you've had enough for now."

"I'm fine," Aziraphale insisted once more.  But, in order to humor Crowley, he tried to extricate the alcohol from his system.  Only it wasn't... normal alcohol, and he was having a bit of trouble, drunk as he was.  "Oh.  Oh dear."  He stumbled forward.  "Oh, you were right.  This is -- this is very strong stuff, Crowley."

Around them, people were singing Auld Lang Syne very badly.  They'd got through old acquaintance being forgot and never brought to mind, and now they were faltering.  Aziraphale considered helping them out, but all he remembered was something about cups of kindness, which he had probably had enough of tonight anyway.

"Come on," said Crowley, gently.  "I'll get you a cab.  Where are you staying?"  He managed to help Aziraphale through the smoky room, and with a snap of his fingers they both had their hats and coats back.

"Not staying anywhere in particular," said Aziraphale.  "I didn't think I'd need to.  Not as if I sleep."

"Ah," said Crowley, frowning.  He went strangely quiet as he held the door for Aziraphale.

The cold wind rushed into the room, crashing over Aziraphale like a wave.  It did clear his mind a bit, at least, as he stumbled into the alleyway.  He paused, waiting for Crowley.

"Well," said Crowley, following him out, "you could... you could stay at my place.  I've got plenty of room."

"Oh, I don't want to put you to any trouble," said Aziraphale, although if the headache he was getting now just from the minuscule amount of alcohol he'd managed to get out of his bloodstream was any indication, he would appreciate somewhere quiet and warm and safe very soon.

"It's no trouble at all," said Crowley, and he sounded like he meant it.

"Oh... fine," said Aziraphale, feeling he had put up enough token resistance to the idea to concede.  He leaned up against Crowley for support again.  "You are... such a good friend."

"I know," said Crowley, sounding miserable.  "Don't rub it in."

"Without you things were very quiet," Aziraphale said.  "Nobody to talk to.  I joined a club and that was all right for a while.  You might've liked it.  Or maybe you would have hated it, I don't know, but it would have been nice to find out."

Crowley sighed.  "I missed you too, angel."

---

The cab ride home was too long for Crowley's taste, but the last time he'd miracled a cab to go faster, the cabbie had panicked and they'd almost crashed, so Crowley put up with it.  He'd never bothered to learn himself; he hadn't enjoyed driving carriages with horses, because... horses, and he assumed cars would be much the same, only even stupider and harder to control.

Aziraphale was drunk.  Aziraphale was drunk and having trouble sobering up -- that was how drunk he was.  Aziraphale had been in the city for two days; had in fact only been in the States for maybe four days.  Had not known what the drinks on order were.  Crowley should've been clearer in his warning about the quality of American alcohol; should have mentioned that the reason they put so much fucking sugar in it these days was because it tasted extremely bad, was possibly laced with poison by the distributor, and occasionally made people go blind.

The actual government had been poisoning it lately too.  Crowley had written an entire report about it; governments murdering their own citizens for their own good always won him praise downstairs.  Well, not praise so much as grudging acknowledgment that that was actually pretty evil.

Anyway, Aziraphale would probably be fine in the morning.  At least, he would be fine physically.

Maybe he wouldn't remember kissing Crowley?

No.  No, Crowley always remembered everything he'd said and done while drunk, unfortunately.  It was probably one of the dubious perks of being a celestial being.  So Aziraphale would remember everything he'd said and did and he'd be horrified at himself.  And he'd be absolutely insufferable towards Crowley.

It hadn't even been a very good kiss, although Crowley felt that was probably because he'd been too surprised to respond in kind.  He looked across the back seat of the cab, to where Aziraphale was watching buildings go past, and decided he didn't dare ask for a do-over.

Hooray, 1926.

Ah, well.  He'd been hoping to invite Aziraphale back to his new digs for a nightcap anyway, so he could rub Aziraphale's face in just how completely, utterly, totally, undeniably, fantastically well Crowley was doing without him, but all those over-earnest pronouncements about what a good friend Crowley was had made him feel rather undemonically guilty about that plan.  He'd expected the Aziraphale who insisted they weren't friends and he'd got beatific smiles and endearments instead.  It had thrown him off.

There was also the matter of sleeping arrangements.  It was quite a large house, but there was only one resident, so Crowley had only bothered to put one bed in it.  Were Aziraphale sober, there was no question what Crowley would have done, given this predicament -- he would have apologized profusely, then suggested they share it, because obviously Crowley didn't have any other furniture at all upon which he could sleep; none of the couches would do, or the arm chairs, or even the pool table, oh no.  Because after all, if he was sober, Aziraphale would probably just opt to sit up and read all night rather than discomfort Crowley in any way.  It was fair if Aziraphale was sober.

(Read what?  Crowley's small and haphazard pile of paperback novels and pulp magazines?  Crowley decided that his first order of business once they pulled up to the house would be to miracle himself a library before Aziraphale could discover the lack of same.  And after that, he would just have to miracle a second bed.)

So Crowley sat in the back of the cab, watching the dark water of the lake lap up against the snowy beach outside, wishing things had gone differently.  He couldn't even put his finger on which things.  Should he have kissed back?  Should he have told Aziraphale he'd better go easy on the cocktails?  Should he have sought him out before sixty-four years had passed?

Maybe he just shouldn't have Fallen.  That would've solved pretty much all of Crowley's current problems neatly, and doubtless replaced them with an entirely different set of insoluble problems, mostly to do with Heaven being full of bastards with all the self-awareness of a chunk of pumice.  Also, he would never have met Aziraphale, so it was a rotten solution anyway.

"What a beautiful night.  From inside of a taxi, at any rate," said Aziraphale, watching the lights of the houses go past.  There were only mansions along this stretch of the road along the lakefront, and every light was blazing.

"From inside a taxi, lots of things are beautiful," said Crowley.  "You don't have to look too closely from inside a taxi."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes.  Crowley tried to watch the scenery passing by on Aziraphale's side, and not look at Aziraphale himself.  Now the mansions had been replaced with greystones and courtyard buildings.  Here and there tipsy people wandered out of buildings, or stared out at the dark, flat lake from chilly balconies.

"Crowley, I haven't ruined your evening, have I?" Aziraphale said, quietly.

The question took him by surprise.  "No!  Why would you say that?"

"Well, I mean, if you had plans..."

You showed up and you made my evening, angel, thought Crowley.  I can ruin my own evenings without you.  Aloud, he said, "I didn't, especially.  Er.  Speaking of plans, have you got any meetings with Head Office scheduled yet, or can we do brunch tomorrow?"

"Oh, heavens no, they're not expecting me to check in for a good long time.  To be -- to be perfectly candid I don't think they expected me to get here so quickly, my dear.  Should have some time to myself.  Brunch would be lovely."

Crowley grinned to himself, then remembered then that he barely knew any restaurants that were open in the daytime, because he only ever really had meals once every two weeks or so.  And surely none of the diners he frequented counted as good, although their rat populations had all taken a drastic hit as soon as Crowley had started coming around when he was peckish.  He'd have to call around to some of the people who showed up at his parties.

He wondered what Aziraphale would think of his parties.  Probably not much.  Not enough food.

He could fix that.

When they got to the house, Aziraphale stumbled out and handed the cabbie a fistful of cash before Crowley could stop him, and they made their way to the front door.  "Quite a house," said Aziraphale, looking up at it.  Crowley could not tell if he was being sarcastic or not.  "Lots of columns," Aziraphale added.  "And stairs."  Crowley realized Aziraphale had fallen behind, and went back to help him up the stairs.  "Thank you," said Aziraphale.  "What do you need so much house for?"

"What does anybody need it for?" Crowley asked, because if Aziraphale was going to be drunkenly judgmental about his house he'd also better sniff superciliously at everyone else in the neighborhood.

"Just asking.  I'm certain it's lovely," Aziraphale said.  He stared up at the house for a moment, and nearly lost his balance.

Crowley caught him and steadied him, then unlocked the door and held it.  "Come on, Aziraphale."

"Oh my," said Aziraphale, leaning against the doorframe and looking up at the vaulted ceiling of the entry.  "Looks almost like a chur--"

"If you must know," said Crowley, guiding him forcefully into the house with an arm around his shoulder, "I need it for parties."

"Parties?" Aziraphale asked.  They continued into the living room.  Crowley quietly added some built-in bookshelves and filled them with books while Aziraphale was looking at the grand piano.  Were those enough?  Aziraphale didn't even look at them as Crowley led him through a corridor and once more offered him help up the stairs.

"Sort of obligatory, parties," said Crowley.  He was trying not to enjoy how Aziraphale was leaning on him.  He could probably offer more support with his arm around Aziraphale's waist, but that seemed... dangerous.  "If you're going to show up out of nowhere being extremely wealthy and mysterious and clever --"

"Who's doing all that, then?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley pointedly ignored him "-- you've got to throw parties."  They paused at the landing.  "I'm practically carrying you up these stairs, you know, you should be nicer to me."

"I'm always nice, Crowley, I'm an angel.  Who do you invite?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley made a noncommittal noise.  "I don't really invite people, I just sort of decide, eh, it's been long enough between, let's have a party, and people think I invited them last week and show up, and sometimes they bring a friend or two.  Nobody I already hate, though.  Then I keep them around 'til the neighbors are angry enough to come over, or I'm sick of them, whichever comes first."

Aziraphale tsk'd.  "Poor neighbors."

Crowley left him to hang onto the banister for balance while he went to inspect one particular section of the wood paneling.  There was a forest motif here.  Or rather, a garden motif.  "Oh, don't pity them, angel, they deserve to be upset.  I returned their lost cat once and they've hated me ever since.  Couldn't stand the thought of it rubbing... cat elbows...? with new money.  Somebody'd hit it with a car, too, it was an awful job getting the poor thing back in working order."  Crowley found the tree he was looking for, pressed the third apple up, and the panel swung open.  "Be careful here, there's a step up," he said to Aziraphale.

He'd sort of hoped Aziraphale would say something about the secret door, like maybe, "Oh wow, a secret door," or "What an impressive secret door you have," or perhaps even "Take me now, you beautiful secret door owner!" but Aziraphale seemed unmoved, and merely took his offered hand and stepped through the secret door as if it was a blatant and conspicuous door.  "Well, that is a pity," he said.  "Still, you did them a great kindness."

"Oh, don't, angel, don't act like I did them a favor.  I reanimated their cat.  It's probably haunted or something," said Crowley.  "Perversion of nature, sort of thing."  The cat seemed pretty normal, from what Crowley had seen of it, but sometimes it left eviscerated birds on his doorstep, and tried to trip him when he went out to get the mail.  So probably it'd been a bad deed.  (Crowley did not know much about cats.)

"I don't think that's how it works, my dear," said Aziraphale.  He stumbled a bit, and when Crowley caught him, he beamed apologetically.  "I'm so sorry, you're being terribly hospitable and I'm..."  His face was so close Crowley could feel his breath.

He swallowed, and looked away.  "No problem at all."

They were slowing down now, because Crowley, specifically, was slowing down, because this whole "Oh, by the way, I only have one bed in this whole mansion, whatever shall we do?" conversation felt much less fun to have now that it was imminent.  They'd shared beds before, in other times and places when that was perfectly normal for two man-shaped beings who were merely friendly acquaintances, and it had been... well.  It hadn't been much, but it'd been nice.  This wasn't that, though; this was Aziraphale sloppy-drunk and overaffectionate, who would already wake up the next day and realize he'd done too much.

Crowley finally lost his nerve, and decided he'd have to just make a new bedroom.  There were plenty of other rooms here; it was only that they were unfurnished and completely packed with smuggled liquor.  The Canadian whiskey would be easiest to replace, so he sent a hundred and sixty-one crates of Old Log Cabin into the lake.  Then he realized he didn't know what sort of decor Aziraphale would like, except that probably it would be hideous and incorporate tartan, and he froze up.

"Is everything... all right, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.

"Fine, just -- fine," said Crowley.  "Which... which bedroom would you like?" he asked.

"What are my options?" said Aziraphale.  "Can I see them?"

"No!" said Crowley.  "I mean.  Not all of them.  It'd take a while.  Just, you know.  Describe... a bedroom."

"It doesn't really matter, Crowley, I just need somewhere to rest while this awful stuff makes its way out of my blood stream," said Aziraphale.  He was frowning at Crowley, which Crowley didn't like, and then suddenly he was smirking at Crowley, which Crowley liked even less.  "Have you got any tartan?"

Crowley knew he had been caught now, but there was nothing for it.  "I might do," he said, faintly.  "What, er, sort of tartan?"

"Oh, there's a lovely pattern I just don't see enough of these days," said Aziraphale, and he went on a long drunken ramble about the particular history of some ill-fated Scottish clan, and by the end of it Crowley still didn't know what bloody colors the tartan was, but he sort of wanted shortbread now.  He managed to get a color scheme out of Aziraphale (red and green, with occasional rogue blues and yellows, because fuck consistency) and tried to make the bedroom cozy, and by the end of it he was slightly regretting dumping all that whiskey into the lake, given that he could use some of it now, and that Aziraphale probably floated better.

Instead, he opened the door to the former whiskey storage room, and waved Aziraphale in.  "Oh, it's lovely!" said Aziraphale, seeing the awful, hideous room Crowley had made for him.  He beamed at Crowley.  "Thank you for everything," he said, eyes wide and earnest, and he took Crowley's hand, and squeezed it.  He looked at Crowley, expectantly, still holding Crowley's hand.

Crowley panicked slightly.  "Yes -- well -- it's nothing.  Goodnight!"  He took his hand back and retreated quickly to his own bedroom.  Upon arriving there, he took his glasses off and placed them carefully on the nightstand, sent his hat and coat down to the hall closet with a dismissive wave of his hand, and then fell back onto the bed, clawing his hands down his face.

#good omens #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #text #fiction #kaesa op

[ofphcenixes]

THE PHOENIX || BLUE HAWTHORNE.

ok i won’t lie i stole this intro from veritas 2 kdJKDGF BUT ! if you want to get to know this guy definitely hit the readmore below *shaky eye emoji*. also hi i’m lilac i’m an admin and also a sims enthusiast anyways, back onto what’s important here, this lil bean called red blue !

personality

THANK YOU FOR SUBSCRIBING TO BLUE FACTS. PLEASE TEXT ‘STOPBLUE’ TO CANCEL YOUR SUBSCRIPTION.

but if you have seen blue’s blog sidebar and title, i feel like you will gather a LOT about his personality lmfao

he is playful, jocular, and honestly? immature

always looking for the childhood he never got to have, y’know?

he is secretly very insecure and always has a need to please. if someone doesn’t like him, he’ll tear himself apart to figure out why.

he’s always telling jokes and always laughing. he’s known for his Memes and is always a good time to be around… if you know what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

but also Anti-( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) because ya boi has commitment issues so high they’re past the inevitable spaghetti monster that’s probably floating out there in space

he can also be very maternal when the need arises. he is not good at talking about emotions but he’ll give you a meme or a plate of cookies to Heal You

honestly? the human embodiment of a puppy. cannot be alone for very long, has a short attention span, and craves validation lmfao. give him a squeaky toy and he will be Contented

as a footballer he can be Tough on field when he needs to be but he’s also v sensitive and talks to birds he passes on his morning runs like he’s a disney princess djkgfdk

he struggles academically as he has a short attention span most of the time and thinks too little of himself. however, he’s a lot brighter than most people give him credit for. he’s incredibly creative and a lateral thinker. maths makes him want to die, tho.

also what’s money? blue does not know

to many, blue’s known as the troubled kid who turned his life around. to others, he’s known as the local Meme Dealer. but to a lucky few, he’s known as a friend who would do anything for you.

most just know him as the moron named after a colour tho.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

history. (trigger warning: illness, death, drugs, depression)

WHO’S READY FOR SOME CHROMATIC CONTENT

blue hawthorne, who never goes by his birthname bc he hates it dfkjgdgdf ( what is his birthname ? he’ll never tell ┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘ ) was born right here in ashmont.

despite not having a lot - he grew up with just him and his mum ( his father left before he was born, never knew a thing about him ), in a tiny trailer park on the outskirts of town. a far cry from the opulent manors peppered all throughout town, and the very lifestyle blue’s mother was accustomed to as a child. however, the pair were content as long as they were together.

despite not having much, blue loved every second of his childhood. he wore his mischief like a crown, smiling wherever he went. he’d always resonated with a love of music and dance, and like his mother before him, danced. ballet was his passion growing up, and started as young as 5.

as a child blue was often teased for this, and the fact that he was so close with his mother. he was also very outspoken and strong-willed, and never let his peers get the best of him. he danced, he laughed, he bruised his knees at any given opportunity. what he lacked in possessions he gained in the abundance of joy he felt in his heart growing up. his mother and a few of his close friends were his world.

when blue turned ten, everything changed.

the jubilant, mischievous, but altogether kind-hearted boy was given the heart-breaking news that his mother had been diagnosed with cancer. margarette hawthorne, much like her son, was a fighter - and didn’t let such a diagnosis keep her down. despite their dwindling lack of funds now going towards medical bills, and the fact blue began sacrificing his own childhood as he took to the role of a caretaker of sorts for his mother, he never took his time with her for granted.

things were okay for a while. there was a point where the doctors were convinced that she was going to make it. blue was a fool. blue believed them.

at the age of thirteen, blue lost everything. he lost his place to live, he lost his childhood and lust for life, and he lost the person he loved most in the world. he lost his best friend.

it wasn’t long before the overbearing sympathy from those around him soured blue. he was sick of being bullied, people not liking him, and altogether not being in control. so what did this boy do ? he quit ballet (the thing he’d loved since he was able to stand), he started drinking, he got involved in a very bad crowd and became a frequenter of the local ashmont police station. blue became a certified Bad Boy™

blue was sent to live with the grandparents that despised him and never acknowledged his existence before that moment. righteous and conservative in their views, they had cast aside their daughter when she had blue out of wedlock, and only reached out to her in her final months. for this reason, blue despised these people (he refused to call them family). he tried his best to be appreciative of a house and food ( which was much better than anything he had growing up ). but he was cold. always cold.

as a teenager, blue fell into a rapid succession of bad decisions. still small, still frail in stature, he found himself at a dissonance with his image and began growing insecure about his looks, the years of torment weighing on him. he found anesthetic in the party scene outside of school, taking to alcohol and drugs as a sedative from the life he felt forced to lead. his grandparents were pigeon-holing him into a preppy, studious boy who’d go on to be a banker or a lawyer, when all blue had wanted to do was be himself. he couldn’t decide if he hated himself or he hated the world more.

at the age of 16, his rap sheet seemed to grow with each rising of the sun. he’d fallen in with a bad crowd, hardly ever heading ‘home’ and couch surfed. at the age of 16 he’d gotten his own car and lived more out of that than the stuffy house on top of the hill where he was supposed to stay. his grades were sinking towards the bottom of the barrel, he was always looking for validation from the bad kids he hung around with and made some very poor decisions in the hopes he’d be liked. in the hopes he’d find a new family.

the partying, the stream of hook ups, his criminal record (mainly with traffic offences, a few write ups for public intoxication and fighting), sobriety, the instability of his living situation and his future all came to boil just before he turned 17. physically he’d started to fill out, and look more like the man people know today. he was no longer frail and no longer weak, and when asked, he used to his fists to forge that path he thought he wanted.

after a dark night, it became apparent to blue that his path of self destruction was hurting no one but himself. whether by choice or by accident, he knew he wasn’t ready to see his mother again. so… he’d hit rock bottom with a spectacular thud. but blue knew the only way to go from there was up.

through nothing short than a McMiracle (sponsored by Ronald McDonald, bc no one else is rich enough to pull it off lmfao) blue managed to scrape by and complete high school.

blue had no doubt his family name (that of his grandparents) helped him secure an athletic scholarship to st etienne. in his year of transformation from 17 to 18 his grandmother had softened to the boy she’d always hated and was riddled with guilt for the years of mistreatment, and promised to pay for his education (that wasn’t covered by his scholarship) as long as he promised to make something of himself. his first year of college, things really started looking up for blue. he was finally back on track.

then woops, grim came a-knocking again

bidding farewell to the grandmother he was only beginning to know, his grandfather had no reason to extend her kindnesses, and cut blue off. at the age of 18 he was homeless, with nothing but a car and a handful of pokemon cards he’d had as a kid. not worth anything or even particularly sentimental, he just likes pokemond kgfjfd.

living in his car for a while before eventually crashing with a close friend, blue managed to absorb his days in study and in work. he quickly found his passion in helping kids, and giving them the childhoods that he never got. going into teaching seemed like a no-brainer.

although blue’s wild days are behind him, there are some things locked in his past that still haunt him. there are doors he never hopes to open again. but he got his fresh start, and is determined to live the life a young blue would have wanted for him, and one his mother could be proud of.

then the grim reaper came back a third time, his scythe begging for daisey rutherford.

the investigation.

blue’s connection to daisey is that they danced in ballet classes together… as you can imagine, daisey had to put on her Evil Training Wheels somewhere and unfortunately, blue was one of her earliest victims. teased constantly for his appearance, his love of ballet, his lack of wealth, and on awful days, his single parent household.

for the most part blue had grown resilient in ignoring these comments. but he never forgot how daisey mistreated him, and sparked a wave of similar comments from people in their year when they were only children.

hey now im not gonna rEVEAL (bc what if he is ??? :o ) anything relating to the crime if he was the murderer, but know he is Lorge and Strong and could probably push daisey over with his finger lmfao

it’s also worth noting that one of daisey’s parents, a beloved surgeon, treated blue’s mother whilst she was in hospital with cancer. the late detection of its return is what caused her death, and blue has been vocal in his blame in the rutherford family for the loss of the person closest to him ever since.

now i’m not saying blue did anything… but if he did, his ‘eye for an eye’ motive ? maybe not as crazy as you may think. especially when you consider your boi already has a criminal record. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

plots.

atm i am still working on blue’s blob and getting his stats/connections page up BUT !! here are a few fun lil plots beyond his skeleton connections that i’d absolutely love to explore. also here’s his current connections page for further ideas ! 

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS  - blue grew up in ashmont, and didn’t have a lot of friends kfgjfd. if your muse would have been down for a Young Memey Mess that’s fond of a pirouette, blue is your Man. on the flip side, if your muse is one of the Cool Kids and is looking for potential animosity, i’d love someone who tried to squash blue like a bug in their youth (~:

FLIRTATIONSHIP - blue is currently in a (hidden) relationship, and for the first time in his life, gasp, might have feelings. but he’s a fucking walnut and refuses to admit that, so a plot of someone with an unrequited crush, a fun flirtationship, or even someone that just wants to be his wingman would not only be fun, but also incredibly painful - which is what we deserve. 8) (also note, blue is bisexual so any muse would work. <3)

COWORKERS - blue works as a trainer at the ashmont fitness centre ( …. dont @ maaria for the page not being done fgjdgkdf  WE ARE IN THE PROCESS OF UPDATING THE PAGES NOW KDFJGDKFJ). but i’d always be down for plots in the workplace !!

UBER - sorry for the lame ass name lmao but dkjfgfkd blue is not about the party scene anymore ( lowkey bc he’s afraid to get addicted again and throw away everything he’s worked so hard for). but he does care a lot about people, and a pal of his is v much still hooked to that lifestyle and he very dkfgjdf determinedly drives them home every time to ensure they’re safe. could be former party friends, could be current friends in some capacity. maybe there was an incident in their past that blue feels guilt over ( a fight perhaps, trigger warning - maybe an overdose?) and so now he looks after them. or even just having a sibling-like bond, which (as blue is an only child) i’d also love something like that!

STUDY BUDDY - blue is a moron and needs someone to help him not fail kdfjgdf. he may not be naturally adept at getting good grades, but unlike many, he’s trying his absolute hardest. in return, he’s more than happy to be your Meme Dealer. bonus points if it’s unlikely friends, or if they didn’t exactly get along at first. :D

FELLOW FOOTBALLERS - 2 bros sitting in a hot tub five feet apart bc they’re not gay. dkjgdgdf but for REAL. exploring the team dynamic of the football team would be so fun, especially with blue’s reputation and the fact he only started taking up the sport when he was about 15-16, which may be a lot later than other guys in the team.

RIVALS - god they’re probably rivals about memes and i hate that but that’s just what it is :/

ok i have nothing else to say other than thank you for being a sweetheart and reading through this ??? i know it was a McMess but, if you’d like to plot with said mcmess definitely hit me up - or wait it out a lil bc i plan to do some starter stuff and plotting later today. (~: love you all, and viva la daisey ! 

#veritasintro #IDK WHAT THIS IS IM SORRY DJKFGDF

[kee-writestrashh]

Guns for Hire

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

Summary:  You are the wife to the Heir of the Red Kings, Ramsay Bolton. living the undercover life of a mob wife has its perks, and you love your husband. But you find out something that seems to unfold a series of unwanted events…

Chapter 39: Blind Tiger

January melted into February. Or it would be more accurate to say melted and refroze as the snow turned to sleet and ice.

Every day seemed to make your stomach bigger, though women simpered about how tiny and cute your little baby bump was whenever you left this damn house.

But it was really starting to get in the way. Especially in the bedroom. No, Ramsay didn't say anything about it, and he never missed an opportunity to fuck you, but to you... it was just... awkward in a way. Having sex was becoming taxing, trying to find a position that wasn't uncomfortable.

But, your girls were back in the city. Ramsay seemed content. He hadn't even bitched about his boring desk job since finally returning to work. And he was no longer drowning in excessive bottles of liquor. He had cut back a lot. Ever since you killed the Targaryen. He still drank every day, just not as much. Theon Greyjoy had been spotted two days ago. However, there were only 5 short days until you found out what Baby B was. It scared you senseless. You were no closer in figuring out how to keep your husband safe.

Life at the safe house was boring. You spent half the day sleeping or reading. Charlotte came to stay with you a lot. It was nice to have another female to hang out with. You missed Liz and Kaden, but Liz was now too sick to leave her house.

She had called you the night before last and cried to you about how much pain she was in. How she regretted the idea of chemo. She should have just pushed for surgery. It hurt you to hear her so down and miserable. She was always so head strong and encouraging. You wished you knew what to do to help, anything to make her smile.

Your mother had called you a week ago, all in a dither that Eli was apparently getting married. Eli and Jeyne were going out there this weekend, so Mom and Dad could meet her. Eli had been very distant with you since that night at dinner. Not that you could blame him, but damn. You had just become cool with him again.

You had lunch a couple of times with Whit and Jared, when they didn't have to immediately get back home after their 'coffee bean' runs.

"Oh yeah, mom and dad are ectastic that we get to use our flight skills for more than just med evac. Dad said, coffee beans was a funny investment, but as long as it put money in our pockets and made us happy. Going to put Kasey in traveling cheer squad this summer. She will be so excited."

Well, at least your Sheep were prospering. Ramsay had set up the schemes to buy all the land you had wanted, and construction for new businesses were in the works. You had gotten in touch with the Martell's to grow on land your Sheep had set up, as well as building more secure labs, though marijuana was the best choice to go with, for you personally. At least it was naturally occurring. You didn't really want any part in synthetic shit, to which Ramsay begrudgingly obliged.

"What do you want to do for your boyfriend's birthday?" Ramsay asked, looking up from the laptop he had been absorbed in for the last two hours.

"What?" You asked, marking your place in the book you had been reading.

"Matt. His eighteenth birthday is tomorrow." Ramsay said, glancing at the sleet tinking on the windows.

"I dunno. I figured he and Ty would spend the day together. Thought maybe I would talk you into giving him a decent amount of money for him to blow on stupid shit." You shrugged, pulling your blanket up around you, trying to ignore the annoying urge to pee for the sixth time in the last hour and a half.

"Sure." Your husband replied, lighting a cigarette and going back to whatever it was he had been doing. Numbers by the sound of pen scratching on paper, furious muttering, and deep sighs. "It's fight night. Want to go? Thought I'd take you to dinner and then to the ring."

"Um... sure? I've never been." You shrugged, yawning and rubbing your belly.

You closed your eyes with a small smile, breathing slowly, and deeply when... it happened.

You gasped, threw your eyes open, and sat up straight.

Ramsay looked up, alarmed, half rising from his seat.

"I felt it! I felt the baby move!" You said excitedly, looking down at your belly.

"Sure it wasn't just some weird body function?" He asked, raising a brow and closing the computer.

"Positive." You said excitedly. You stared hard at your belly and gave another gasp after a few moments of silence, "yes! I can feel the baby. Oh my god."

Ramsay leaned back in his chair and watched you with a rather uncharacteristically warm expression.

You both simply stared at one another until finally Ramsay stood from his seat and gave a deep stretch like a cat.

"Were you ever good at math?" He asked, cracking his knuckles and frowning at his notebook.

"Well I can find x." You replied, knowing your answer wasn't good enough. "Why?"

"I'm missing something. A variable or... I don't know." He said slowly.

You said nothing. Finally he shook his head slightly, scratching his jaw and turning to you.

"Dinner?"

"Whatever. It's gotten to the point where as long as I eat it doesn't matter. Heartburn doesn't discriminate it seems, either. But I would really love bell peppers."

"You make my life so easy." He chuckled, walking down the hall.

You watched him leave with a grin.

"I suppose I can dress for comfort?" You called from the closet. You turned to look at Ramsay as he entered the room. His faded jeans and band shirt were enough of an answer.

"You're very fond of this old rag." You said, picking at his shirt as he pulled his leather jacket on.

He shrugged, "first concert. Met Alyn there, actually."

"Oh?" You said, pulling your hoodie on.

"Yeah. We were fourteen. Gave him a bloody nose in the mosh pit. Then I saved his life from some big dude after he got caught making out with the dudes drunk woman. Rolled one behind the venue, and the rest was history. He just kind of stuck around. Father always hated my Boys, so I kept them close. Anyways, burgers and shakes? We can buy your bell peppers on the way back home."

"Burgers and shakes sound wonderful. On one condition." You nodded, pulling your hood up and grabbing your wallet from your purse.

"What's that?" He asked, ushering you out of the house.

"The fries have to be perfect for the shakes."

"Shake fries. Maybe you could market that." He chuckled, helping you into the Jeep.

Ramsay had had the Jeep repainted, tagged, and replaced the vin number. Made you a bit sad, but, safety first, right? Right.

"So, what am I to expect?" You asked, finishing your shake.

"It'll be loud. But what's better than a few beers and watching people beat the shit out of each other? Wonder if anyone good is fighting tonight?" Ramsay said, dropping his cigarette butt out of the cracked window.

He shifted in his seat, pulling his gun and knife, sliding both under the seat. You watched him with a raised brow.

"They check at the door." He shrugged, opening his door.

You met Damon, Charlotte, Ben, and to your excitement, Kaden at the front gates.

The boy rushed you, hugging you tightly.

"Aunt (y/n)! Look!" Kaden practically shouted, pulling his cap off.

"Oh goodness. What happened to all your hair?" You asked, kneeling down and running your hand over his fuzz.

"I did it for mommy." He said, eyes bright.

You looked up at Ben who gave a half shrug and sad smile.

"Liz had a meltdown and said fuck it. Says she was gonna lose it all anyways, might as well get on with it." Ben said, hurt lacing his words.

"But can I tell you a secret?" Kaden said, motioning you closer.

"What's that, hon?" You asked quietly.

He leaned into you, "it will grow back. Just like mommy's."

You gave a small, watery laugh, realizing you were emotional, "yes. Yes it will."

"Come on son, let's get out of the cold." Ben said, as Kaden put his hat back on.

You watched the boy with a fond smile, as Ramsay laced his fingers in yours and tugged you along.

Ramsay led you to a row of seats, close to the ring. Maybe too close for your liking.

"Want something to eat or drink before I send Dame off?" Charlotte asked, sitting behind you.

"I'd love a sprite or something." You replied, glancing back at her.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." She replied.

You watched Ramsay's profile, but he seemed unemotional as his eyes scanned the crowd.

Someone fell into the seat beside you. You turned quickly to see Tyene. She smiled brightly at you as Matt sat on her other side.

You hugged her warmly, "hey."

"Hey yourself. I was excited to hear you were coming. We miss you." Tyene said, looking past you to glare at your husband.

"I miss you all. But, gotta keep this baby safe." You said, placing your hand on your belly.

"Mama was saying how cute you looked yesterday when you swung by." Tyene smiled.

"I was sad you weren't there. But, I heard you were in good hands." You grinned, watching Matt shrug out of his coat.

Tyene shrugged, but grinned broadly.

"Speaking of, what are we doing tomorrow?"

Tyene chewed her lip and gave another shrug, "dunno. Thought we would party it up tomorrow night at Alyn's club or something."

You nodded, "just text me and lemme know."

You made it through two fights before becoming slightly bored. You stole glances at your husband, who looked equally as bored, as he slouched in his seat and jiggled his foot.

You were going to suggest blowing this joint and maybe sneaking into a movie when the boredom flipped completely. But not into excitement.

The final two fighters of the night. Loras Tyrell, which meant the Tyrells and Lannisters were here. And none other than this infamous Jon Snow that your husband hated with almost as much passion as his obsession for you.

When the man took the ring, Ramsay sat up straight and rigid, eyes narrowed to cold slits, jaw clenched, and fists balled.

You caught Damon and Ben exchanged glances.

You watched how Ramsay watched this Snow guy. It was calculating and almost hungry. Like a starving wolf, in the dead of winter, watching a herd of deer run past.

You opened your mouth to say something to him but Damon made a frantic gesture with his hand, catching your eye, and shaking his head fervently.

You closed your mouth again and turned your eyes to the ring.

They were both fast, but Loras was not consistent. After three rounds, Snow had ended it.

The noise of the crowd was loud and excited as Snow was paraded around the ring in triumph by the ref. He looked solemn and uncomfortable at all the attention.

The stands had mostly cleared before Ramsay finally came back down to earth and stood, fists still balled.

You held on to your empty cup, trying to think of something to say. But what was there to say?

You followed him quietly to the lobby, where you bade Matt, Tyene, Ben, and Kaden good bye, giving Kaden about 15 extra hugs and threatened him to be a good boy for his mommy and daddy. To which he assured you he was always good.

You threw your cup away when a group of Lannisters and Tyrells pushed past you, all practically running toward the exit. It puzzled you.

You turned to Ramsay to ask if he had seen but to your surprise you found him pushing through the crowd in the other direction, Damon tearing off after him.

You exchanged a look with Charlotte and followed in their wake.

"SNOW!" Ramsay shouted, pushing people aside.

"Oh god. Please no." You sighed, hurrying to catch up to your husband.

"Bolton." Jon replied, inclining his head slightly, turning from the news crew and the red head on his arm.

"I'm calling you out." Ramsay growled.

"Baby, do you think that..." You started, halting at Ramsay's side, but stopping in midsentence as he gripped your arm and gave you a murderous look.

Jon Snow stood there, glaring at Ramsay in dislike. The woman at his side, glanced you and your husband over before leaning into Jon and whispering in his ear. He gave her a perplexed look when she pulled away and she wore an arrogant smirk, meeting your gaze.

You curled your lip and glared back at her.

"No." Jon finally spoke.

The red head rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and stormed off.

"Pussy." Ramsay sneered, but his smirk dropped when his phone rang. "What?" He barked when he answered. His face hardened, "no. Do not engage." He hung up and turned to you, pushing you rather roughly along in front of him.

Damon gave you a look of sympathy as you were pushed past him.

Ramsay said nothing until he got to your door at the Jeep. He pushed you into the cold door and grabbed your face.

"If you ever make a fool of me like that in front of people and question my actions ever again, it will be the last thing you ever do." He hissed in so much venom that for the first time you were completely afraid of your husband. He meant it. The ice in his bite made it unmistakable.

You swallowed, dropping your eyes as the tears lined your lower lashes, "yes sir. I'm sorry. I just... I don't want you to get hurt."

Ramsay released you, running the back of his hand along your cheek. He placed his finger under your chin and pulled your face up to his. He placed a kiss to your lips, but said nothing.

"I'm taking you home, then I have to see what the fuck is going on." He helped you into your seat and slammed the door.

"Stannis." You said, remembering what Olyvar had said.

"What?" Ramsay said, glancing over at you in confusion.

"The day I met Oly at the bar to sign paperwork and went to lunch... He told me that Renly had gone into hiding and that Stannis was going to make a move on the Lannisters before the idiot boys wedding. But then I saw the Stark girl and forgot all about it. So sorry baby. I figured you'd know anyways." You said, tumbling over the words as they fell from your mouth.

Ramsay watched you as he sat there waiting on the red light to turn, lights and sirens coming from behind. He said nothing as the cop cars soared past. He cleared his throat and lit a cigarette.

"So?" You asked.

"Nothing. We will go home and that's it. As far as I am concerned neither side makes a difference to me. Maybe they will all kill each other. I have no ties to any of those cunts. Guess we will see what happens when the smoke clears tomorrow morning."

×××

"Party tonight?" You asked, looking up from Tyene's message.

Ramsay shrugged, looking up from his computer, "sure. But tell your snake we are partying my way. And I need to meet the kid at one o'clock downtown on the corner of Fifth and Kings Road."

"Um, okay? What are you doing? You've been quiet all morning." You questioned, sitting up from the couch.

"Numbers. And background cheks. This woman your brother is marrying... she's interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" You asked, with a jealous bite.

Ramsay noticed it and laughed, "jealous? Jealousy bores me, doll. You've nothing to fear. I just meant her family. They have bad blood with the Lannisters. Found articles and police reports. Aparently aren't very popular with Tywin's brother. Maybe that's why she didn't laugh or seem surprised at dinner. She's a couple years younger than you. Been in the service for six years."

You listened to him ramble his useless facts on your soon to be sister in law.

There came a knock on the door and you saw Ramsay crinkle his brow in confusion before he rose from his chair.

He opened the door and Damon stepped in.

"Robb Stark. He's looking for you."

Ramsay clicked his tongue and smirked.

"Tell him to meet me at the shop at six. Then we are going to the club for the kids birthday. I only need you with me when I meet the cop."

"Yessir." Damon nodded, clutching his keys and phone.

"Why did you come all the way up here instead of just calling?" Ramsay asked, crossing his arms.

"Because he's security detail this morning." You spoke up, putting your book down.

Your husband looked between you and Damon, who gave a half shrug and nod.

"I thought that was Friday?"

"Babe, it is Friday." You said, furrowing your brows slightly.

"Hm. Interesting." He hummed, leaving the room.

"He good?" Damon asked quietly.

You shrugged, "he's been a bit off for a couple days."

"When's your appointment?"

You heaved a sigh, "Wednesday."

"Ah. I see." Damon nodded, glancing around the mostly empty house.

"This is a pretty dress." You said, pulling the navy blue dress from the bag.

"I thought it would look good on you. Classic waves. Pearls. You have two hours." Ramsay replied, throwing a box of shoes on the bed.

"Why are we dressing so nice to get the kid fucked up for his eighteenth birthday?" You asked, examining the highly polished, black shoes.

"Rite of passage."  

Ramsay walked in the bathroom, fixing his cufflinks as you pulled the last if the curlers from your hair. You felt your cheeks warm as you glanced at him in the mirror.

"Why do we look like we belong in the thirties?" You asked, turning to him.

"Dress code." He said, adjusting his tie and placing his fedora hat delicately on his perfectly slicked hair. You just noticed he had gotten a haircut while he was out.

"Where are we going?" You asked, turning back to the counter to find your lipstick.

"It's a surprise."

"Who are we meeting?"

"Matt, your snake, Dame, Charlotte, and Alyn."

He clasped your strand of pearls around your neck, fingers lingering longer than needed as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Alright, doll. First we meet with Stark, then we meet up with the gang."

"I'm following your lead." You smiled, putting your makeup away.

"You will hold your tongue, understood?" Ramsay said, throwing open the conference room door.

You nodded, entering the dark room, as Ramsay flipped on the light. You took a seat and ran your hand over the smooth surface of the polished table.

Ramsay leaned against the table beside you, glancing down at his watch. He tutted in annoyance.

"I really hate when people don't have the courtesy to be on time."

"You'd really hate my mom then. She'll be late to her own funeral." You giggled, tapping your foot on the ground, as you smoothed out your dress.

Moments later Damon entered, looking just as clean cut as Ramsay. You almost didn't recognize him and took a few moments of staring to realize who it was, as he swept his hat off his head and tucked it under his arm, leaning against the wall as Robb Stark walked in stiffly. The news reporter, Talisa a step behind him.

"Let's waste no time, I'm in rather a hurry this evening." Ramsay said, taking a seat beside you.

Robb made to sit across the table but Ramsay held up his hand, "gun on the table."

Robb scowled, pulling his gun and placing it on the table.

Ramsay glanced at you, "check her."

You rose from your seat, walking around the table to Talisa.

"Is this really necessary?" Robb asked, stiffening even more.

"Just a precaution." Ramsay said, lighting a cigarette.

You gave Talisa a small smile, "Sorry. But, safety first." You pat her down, "oh! I love your shoes."

"Uh... thanks?" She said, standing just as stiffly as Robb.

You pulled away from her and returned to your seat.

Robb and Talisa took their seats, both looking very awkward and uncomfortable.

"So, you got my message?" Ramsay asked, resting his elbows on the table.

"Yes. I did. You're a hard man to find." Robb said, with a nod.

"I like it that way. But I've been watching you. Nosing around in things that will get you killed. I would hire a professional hacker next time you try to find me. Now, before I say any more, why have you been meeting with my father?"

Robb eyed Ramsay closely, "he's helping me find my sister."

"Why? What's in it for him?" Ramsay asked, masking his confusion, but not before you took note of it.

"Don't know. He came to me and said he was sorry about my father and offered his help." Robb said, looking down at his hands as he rested them on the table.

You could see the strain in his face. Poor guy. Trying to play by his law abiding, police rules.

"Hm. Well, I am afraid I lied about having your sister. However, I know who has her. But locating her physical being has been difficult." Ramsay said, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Who?" Robb asked at once, snapping his head up.

"Hold on there, detective. What's in it for me?" Ramsay chuckled.

You gave him a side eye, frowning at his enjoyment by keeping this poor man in the dark.

"Bolton, I'm a cop. I don't make near enough what you're asking for." Robb said with a frustrated sigh, running his hand over his face.

Ramsay smirked, putting his cigarette out in the ash tray on the table, taking his hat off, and placing it in your lap.

"And I am just a simple banker, who owns a garage."

"Please. Name your price." Talisa spoke up, grabbing Robb's hand tight.

"Alright, how about this... Give me Theon Greyjoy and I will deliver your sister to you. Bring me Theon and his uncle, Euron Greyjoy and I will give you your sister and fifty k."

Robb gaped, "Theon? Why?"

"That's my business. Deal?" Ramsay said, a grin twitching the corner of his mouth.

"I can't. I don't even know where he is. He never came back to work." Robb admitted, chewing his lip.

The grin spread like poison on Ramsay's face.

"Seem to be losing everyone close to you, huh?"

Robb gave an ugly scowl and made to stand. Ramsay pulled back his jacket to reveal the gun strapped to his chest. Robb sat back in his chair.

"Do we have a deal?" Ramsay asked, rising from his chair, pulling the gun.

Talisa gasped, casting around wildly as Damon stepped in front of the only exit, hand tucked away inside his jacket.

Robb sighed, "Do I even have a choice?"

Ramsay laughed, "And I thought all Stark's were slow on the uptake. Look at it this way, you both walk out of here and never mention this meeting to anyone, you give me what I want, I give you what you want. Easy, right?"

Robb gripped the arms of his chair, "and if I bring the whole department down on you?"

Ramsay sucked his front teeth and gave an eye roll. He lazily held his gun up at Talisa.

You watched her eyes widen and color drain from her face.

"If you try anything stupid, well..." Ramsay said, pulling the trigger.

Talisa screamed as the shot rang out, and a hole appeared in the wall feet behind her. Ramsay had just missed grazing her cheek.

Robb jumped up, lunging for his gun, but Ramsay pulled a knife from nowhere it seemed and buried it in Robb's sleeve, pinning him just out of reach of his gun.

Talisa was sobbing hysterically into her hands, and Robb was fuming. Ramsay glanced at the shocked, sobbing woman in distaste.

"Now. Do. We. Have. A. Deal?" Ramsay asked, fingering the handle of the knife.

"Yes." Robb said weakly, shoulders dropping.

Ramsay wrenched the knife from the table with a satisfied grin and held out his hand. Robb shook it reluctantly.

"Because I'm such a good guy, I'll give you a clue on your sister. Joffrey Baratheon."

Robb eyed Ramsay, snatched his gun from the table, helped Talisa from her chair, and ushered her from the room.

"Remember, if you speak a word of this, your graves are already dug!" Ramsay called after them with a malicious laugh.

Once they were gone you turned to your husband, as he took his hat back from you.

"The Lannisters don't have her though." You said bluntly.

Ramsay chuckled, "I know. But I like watching cops chase their tails. Now, let's get the fuck outta here. We have a long night ahead of us."

"What is this place?" You asked, snaking your arm around Ramsay's waist as he led you down a flight of cobblestone steps to a thick door. There was a small sign above the door that read "Naked Man".

Ramsay only gave you a smirk as he knocked on the door.

You glanced back at Damon, Charlotte, Matt, Tyene, and Alyn. They had all dressed like you and Ramsay. It was like looking back in time.

An eye hole in the door slid back. Ramsay pulled back his sleeve slightly to reveal part of his flayed man tattoo, "Bolton, party of seven. Our blades are sharp."

The eye hole slid closed and a few moments later the heavy door swung in and Ramsay led you into an underground club. It was dim, full of smoke haze, mostly older men, girls dressed in curve hugging floor gowns like yours, and an electro swing band on a wooden stage. It had to be the most upbeat, and yet elegant place you had ever set foot in. The floors were dark polished oak, the walls done up in more elegant wood work. It was cozy and yet regal. It was... classic.

Ramsay turned around, grabbing Matt by the tie and pulling him forward, "your night is on me." He released Matt and glanced at your group, "to the Seven Deadly Sins." He winked, looking past you and letting a wicked smirk grow.

You turned to see what Ramsay was looking at. There in a corner, smoking cigars and playing poker sat Roose and Tywin Lannister.

Ramsay gripped your hand and led you toward his father. You followed unwillingly.

He slid into an empty seat beside his father, grabbed a glass off a tray a woman was carrying, and pulled you into his lap.

He took a very long, exaggerated drink, set the glass down, pulled his hat off, and smiled sweetly at his father.

Roose eyed Ramsay in weariness. "Son. Don't ever see you here."

"Yeah, been awhile. What brings you to the city? You hardly ever come to the city... though I've had it that you've been here a lot recently." Ramsay said, dealing himself cards, and pulling out his cigarettes.

"Mr. Lannister and I had business to take care of." Roose said curtly, eyeing you over.

"Been keeping busy, Lannister? Heard you pulled some amazing feats last night." Ramsay said, glancing up from his cards, pushing them aside, and giving Tywin a calculating look.

"Yes. Stannis is lucky to have the men he still has. Though it may not remain that way very long." Tywin nodded, taking a drink from his glass.

Jaime Lannister slid into the empty seat next to his father. He glanced you and Ramsay over.

"Didn't realize all the Bolton's would be here tonight." Jaime said, taking a drink offered by a woman.

"Strictly coincidence. Now, which one of you is selling?" Ramsay shrugged.

"What do you want, son?" Roose asked rather dangerously.

"Just wanna buy drugs, old man." Ramsay replied giving his father a very innocent look, that could of fooled God himself. "You always got good shit on you. I need it for the night. Look, I'm feeling generous, I'll even pay double."

"I don't need your money, idiot. Take it and go." Roose hissed, pulling a neatly folded bag of fine white powder from his breast pocket and thrusting it at Ramsay.

"Hey, I may get you a 'Dad of the year' coffee cup for father's day this year." Ramsay chuckled, taking the baggie. "Guess I can still expect you Wednesday afternoon?"

Roose eyed you and nodded, "of course. Wouldn't miss it."

You looked daggers at your father in law, thankful Ramsay couldn't see from your angle in his lap.

"Come on, doll. Let's leave the grumpy old men to their boring game. The young lion is cheating anyways." Ramsay said, nudging you to stand, and nodding at Jaime with a polite smile.

He gripped your hand and led you across the club, out of sight of Roose, to the table the Boys sat at.

"Right, kid. Hope you know what an honor it is to be here. I mean both literally here," he motioned around the building, "and officially being apart of the Bastard's Boys."

Matt gave a nod, looking a bit dazed.

Ramsay tossed the baggie he had got off his father to Alyn. "Six lines."

Alyn nodded, pulling his wallet and sliding a credit card out.

"Do you swing?" Ramsay whispered in your ear as you turned your attention to the band playing.

"Yes, actually. It's my favorite." You replied, turning back to him.

"Man, I knew I married you for a reason." He grinned, pulling out his wallet and pulling six crips bills from it. He passed them around, rolling his as tightly as he could.

"To a night you will never remember, or forget." Ramsay said, winking at Matt, snorting the thin line Alyn had carefully slid across the table with the plastic card.

Something about watching Ramsay snort cocaine was slightly heartbreaking. You knew he had used many times over the years, but he had never done it in front of you, and often assured you he only drank, popped pills occasionally, and smoked marijuana since "falling in love" with you.

You stood there watching him drop the rolled up bill on the table, bury his face in one hand, and clutch at his chest with the other. He shook his head, dropped his hands, and turned his eyes to yours as his pupils blew.

"Oh fuck." He muttered, taking a seat and staring at the table.

Alyn clapped him on the shoulder, "just give it a minute. Inhaled too hard is all."

You watched everyone succumb to the high from the blow. You felt like an outsider slightly. You made to sit down when Ramsay gripped your hand and rose from his chair.

He ordered a round of drinks for the table as he led you past the bar and to the dance floor.

"Pretty soon I'll be too fat for this." You said with a sad smile, as you fell into the fast paced steps with him.

He twirled you and pulled you into him, biting at your neck, "until then, though, I will take you dancing whenever you want."

"How is it that you are the most charming and horrible man I have ever met?" You asked, feeling slightly breathless already.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it." He replied, also seeming rather winded. Though it may have just been the drugs. You weren't sure.

Three songs later you had to call it quits. Ramsay returned you to the table, and left you to get you a glass of water.

You glanced around the place, seeing your group scattered, enjoying themselves. It made you smile. Ramsay set the glass down in front of you, taking a seat beside you and pulling your chair closer.

"What's on your mind?" He asked, throwing back his drink.

"You." You said slowly turning your gaze from the room to him.

"What about me?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his brows slightly.

"I dunno. You're different. Not being so murderous or threatening. Treating Matt to, what I'm sure is a very expensive night, and... I dunno. I don't know how to explain it." You said, running your eyes over him.

"All of us spent our eighteenth birthdays here, and he's a Boy now. So, I thought I'd extend the hand. I take care of those who work for me. Sometimes that means doing things like this." He replied with a small shrug.

You nodded, turning back to the crowd, giving a tiny gasp as Tyene climbed up on a table, shouting to get everyone's attention.

"Hey! Tonight we are celebrating a birthday. And the birthday boy needs all your support to help him blow out his birthday candles!" Tyene shouted, as two bartenders set a towering birthday cake on the counter.

Alyn and Damon were helping a very inebriated Matt to the cake. There were a few catcalls and jeers from the crowd.

On the third attempt Matt managed to blow out all the candles, which was greeted by clapping and whistles. Mostly by the older men who took delight in watching a stupid kid make a fool of himself, while trashed beyond belief.

"Cake then?" Ramsay asked.

"Please." You nodded, giving a smile.

"I need a kiss first." Ramsay said, reaching for your face and pulling you toward him.

You placed your lips to his, kissing him deeply. He moved his hand from your cheek to grope and grab at your breasts.

"Stop it." You hissed against his lips.

"You like it." He grinned back, letting a small moan escape him as you slid from your seat to his lap.

"How pissed would your father be if I fucked you right here?" You asked, kissing along his jaw.

"Mm, so pissed." He panted, tipping his head back.

"Good." You purred in his ear, hiking your dress up enough to straddle your husband.

He slid his hands to your hips and gripped hard, as you ground against his pants.

You felt him stir in his pants as he shifted to push his hips into you.

You took one of his hands, sliding it up your dress.

"Gave you a grand to buy underwear and you aren't even wearing any." He said with a small, longing groan as he ran his fingers against you.

"Just wanted you to know that I'm ready." You whispered, biting at his neck.

He shifted I'm his seat, to undo his belt, "how ruined are these pants?"

"On a scale of not to embarrassingly, I'm going to have to go with embarrassingly." You smirked, nipping his ear.

He grinned, peaking his eye open. "We need to move over a couple tables if you're wanting to piss off my father."

"Well, move us." You replied.

"When did you become the bad influence?" He chuckled, cupping your ass as he stood, bringing you with him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing and nibbling at his ear, you made to respond when someone cleared their throat bringing you back to reality.

You pulled away from him to look around.

"Down here." A voice said.

Both you and Ramsay looked down to see Tyrion Lannister.

"Little man." Ramsay chuckled, sitting back down.

You gave a sniff, sliding back into your own seat and fixing your dress.

"Sorry to interrupt. I'm not usually one to be a cock block, but I would hate for such a young, beautiful couple to be caught off guard with their pants down."

You stared at Tyrion, raising a brow.

"What do you mean?" Ramsay asked.

Tyrion nodded at a group of men watching you and Ramsay.

"Fuck them. Jealous fucks." Ramsay said, glaring back at them in malice.

"All the same." Tyrion said, taking a seat at the table.

Ramsay pulled out his cigarettes and offered one to Tyrion, who took it.

"What brings you here?" Tyrion asked, lighting his cigarette.

Ramsay nodded at Matt, who was being held up by Tyene, who was laughing wildly. "Kid's birthday. All my Boys and I spent our eighteenth birthdays here, and so I thought I'd bring the kid as I made him an official Boy this afternoon."

Tyrion watched Matt through his mismatched eyes, a small grin on his face, which was heavily cut and bruised.

"What happened to you?" Ramsay asked bluntly.

Tyrion sighed in his exhale of smoke, "Stannis' little escapade last night. Had a hell of a time trying to keep things together, then father, of course, swooped in and saved the day."

"Ah, fathers. Always stealing the thunder. Aren't they the worst?" Ramsay nodded.

Tyrion gave a bitter laugh, "I will drink to that."

"Hear hear." Ramsay said, turning in his seat to catch a waitresses attention.

She set two glasses down in front of Ramsay and Tyrion, offering you one, but you waved her away.

"Where's your bitch of a sister?"

"Probably off gloating over Stannis' defeat last night." Tyrion shrugged.

You watched Ramsay give a sweeping glance over the room and frown. He sighed, pulled his gun, placed it in your lap, slipping his hand in his pants pocket as he stood up.

You caught the glint of metal as he pulled his hand from his pocket.

"If you'll excuse me." He said, stalking off, grabbing Damon by the elbow as he walked by.

Confused you turned in your seat, seeing the group Tyrion had warned about harassing Matt and Tyene.

Tyrion gave a tut, watching closely as Ramsay tapped the closest man on the shoulder and hit him squarely in the face without a word as the man turned to face him.

Alyn swooped in as Ramsay and Damon tackled the group of men to the ground.

Tyene tugged Matt away from the brawl. He tripped over a chair and fell backward, hitting his head on a the table.

A single gunshot rang out, silencing the room at once; Ramsay standing abruptly, running his hand over his chest and giving a small sigh.

Roose stood there, gun raised, eyes narrowed.

"Ramsay, get out of my club." He snarled, his voice hardly an octave above a whisper that seemed to carry around the room.

Ramsay made a noise, wiping his bloodied lip on the back of his hand, motioning at the men picking themselves up off the ground.

"What of them? They started it!" Ramsay said in a voice of forced calm.

"They are here as my guests." Roose said as if it settled the matter.

"And I'm here as your son!" Ramsay raged, stepping into Roose.

"Get. Out." Roose hissed, narrowing his pale eyes to deadly slits, pushing the barrel of his gun into Ramsay's chest.

"I will remember this. I take back what I said about father of the year." Ramsay said through clenched teeth, a manic grin threatening to show.

He yanked Alyn toward him, grabbing at him, and pulling the bag of powder from him. He turned back to his father and emptied the baggie on Roose's shoes, flinging the empty bag in Roose's face. He dropped a pair of brass knuckles at his father's feet and turned to Damon and Alyn.

"Let's go Boys."

Alyn helped Tyene gather up Matt, and Charlotte appeared at your side, grabbing your empty hand.

You held on to Ramsay's gun and hat, not daring to make eye contact with Roose as you were shunted through the room.

The wind was bitter as you stepped out into the cold night. Ramsay relieved you of gun and hat.

Matt leaned against the wall as you emerged from the top of the stairs. He looked upset, running his hand over the back of his head.

"Sup?" Damon asked, looking Matt over.

"They... I... my shoe." Matt said, unable to string words together in his upset, drunk state.

You looked down to see Matt was only wearing one shoe.

#guns for hire #gfh #kee_writestrashh #AO3 fanfic #chapter 39 #39/90 #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton/reader #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton fic #modern ramsay bolton #modern au #modern game of thrones #Modern Setting #au modern #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fanfiction #mafia au #organized crime au #ramsay is his own warning #ramsay things

[keenregine]

Don't ask me for movie recommendations if you hate war related contents I can't promise but I will try, and I hope that's good enough to keep this pointless blog.   It has been what? Half a year? I'm in a situation where the internet is not accessible at the moment, the reason why I'm assuming the last time I've written something. Anyways, what could be an interesting tale to tell.   That took me couple of  minutes. . . I moved! And I'm loving single moment of it.  Call me weird all you want but I love the feeling of solitude especially in the comfort of having my own home. Because compared to where I previously lived, I have always felt like I'm occupying a rented room. Common areas for me, such as the living room and kitchen are somewhat restricted, this is based on my choice not due to any certain implications. Now I have all the freedom to decorate any part of the house. (as if I'm good at it, I'm trying to learn though) Never thought plants can be visually stimulating, whether they're plastic or real ones. If you ask me, I prefer the plastic ones. Low maintenance, no need to water, sing or talk to them. Plus my floor would not get wet every time I excessively and unintentionally drown them. I got quite frustrated with my cutie ass bonsai, even with my purest dedication to water it everyday, it still loses its leaves one after another. I initially thought, perhaps new leaves are growing; but it never did. It just went on from being thin to almost bald. You might suggest, the internet is there to provide some proper caring techniques for a silly little plant. I guess, I'm not really interested after all. Away we go to with the plastic ones! I meant plant, not person. Lol ohhhh.   Living alone is fun, rest assured. There are two options for me where to hang and slumber, that would be my bedroom and the receiving area. I never get to enjoy the living room in my previous home, why you ask? It's full of garbage. No kidding, maybe things that can't occupy much of the space in their room (which is already the masters'), the living room is the second option (kitchen is full, stock room is full, living room upstairs is full, even my own single space in the fridge has something that is theirs. So, instead of me enjoying other scenery apart from my four-cornered bedroom, it will be my stress triggered. Lol. And of course, I have no right or whatsoever to rearrange them or even complain about it. Sounds pitiful of me for saying this but before, my meals are always held on my bed or in a table beside it. Now it became the opposite, I have the privilege to eat in a freaking decent dining table, where I can properly sit down and where meals are suppose to be eaten. I might have previously mentioned, I may not be that kind of person who's into home arranging and stuff or if that's what it's called. I couldn't even say I've developed a sense of some Mom-like characteristics in terms of home keeping aspect, (child-bearing, not close enough lol), I believe this is only the starting phase because certainly there are tons of other areas I need to improve or showcase hopefully in the future.   Can't elaborate enough how much I felt the moment I moved out. If I was not pursued by a certain person I would not even have the courage to do it. Maybe there's a small part of me afraid of change, yet here I am. Big thanks.   Second half of this was written at home meaning I have an access to the internet, totally irrelevant but I just like to point that out. I woke up this morning with a jolt. For the first time ever, my laptop fell on the floor. If it was the old me it would ruin my entire day; present me would ignore it and move on. Why? What’s the point, it already happened. No matter how much energy I summon into thinking it was my fault (which it is), I’d rather spend that energy somewhere else meaningful. But fuck it fell, no scratches though. My life, my baby, my only source of entertainment, because it provides all the stuff that I need, Youtube, watching movies, writing. Can I be more careless than this? Yes, and also a bit melo dramatic. jinx! Hope I got you there. It’s wonderful how huge my bed now is. It could effortlessly occupy three average sized people, happened once when I had a sleepover few weeks ago, freaking works! I got excited when. I had to buy new sheets, I initially though it was a Queen size, but it was King. Valid reason I had to purchase extra pillows, it was never a big deal for me but then I figured why not. I had a this big size of a bed, but I’m pretty sure I always stay in one spot. So is my laptop desk along with the reachable charging cables; hence, I get to be more lazier than ever; top of the game. I discarded most of my old unused clothes, I have no intentions at all in sending back to the Philippines for charity purposes. I’d rather send them things they could actually use for their own and not some silly hand me downs. Once I send them a big package, . . whenever I say the phrase ‘big package’ I instantly think of Marshal Eriksen from How I Met Your Mother. Lily his wife told him, “You’re father sent us a big package”, then Marshal would reply, “yeah he did”. Wait, so I sent my family back home a big package containing things their requested, most are simple, and some that I’m sure they would like. Filled it up in a matter of days, but sent them in extensive delays. This was way before I decided to move. The moving thing was actually just a rush decision, I didn’t have the slightest consideration of ever leaving that wretched place. Oh now you called it wretched, that’s really mature of you Regine. You spend nearly half a decade of your life in there, no depth of gratitude and all. I don’t know if it’s a gift or a tragedy, you know me moving on so quickly not looking back from where I came from, whether those place gave me both good memories and bad. Typical me, leap of ideas. But anyways, this new house I moved in was on the third floor, no elevator. So by the time I reach my house, my pre existing tiredness would become double. I developed a certain breathing technique from my mountain climbing activities back then that is useful half the time right now. I should teach that to anyone who’s visiting me. 100% of people has the same out of breath faces when I open the door, can’t blame them. Some advantage of it is the proximity to the bus stop, but compared to the time frame I had before versus now is that I had to leave five minutes early as opposed to two. The stairs takes time even if it’s downwards; I can’t afford having a stupid unnecessary injury due to what? Hurrying up? Although that would give me several weeks of paid sick leave. Hmm, now we’re being a masochist. Apart from the bus stop is the grocery which I haven’t gone to many times since I moved, the gym where I only went once after several months, the park where I don’t have to physically visit because I can see it fully on my window which is awesome by the way. Before I end this boring entry in the hopes when I make a comeback I should’ve written something fun meaningful, disappointments is where I’m actually good at, so I’m gonna keep it perfectly that way. Okay, one more thing. Biggest shock of the day. I watched Rebel in the Rye movie for two major reasons; One, J.D. Salinger is one of my favorite classic writers and Catcher in the Rye book ultimately earned my gold stamp. Two, freaking Nicholas Hoult portrayed 'the' J.D. Salinger in that movie. Is he a prince of biopics or what, because he also did J.R.R Tolkien which was quite good. Same vibes if you ask me. The biggest shock that I'm talking about was Oona O'Neill. halfway the movie she showed up as Jerry's (J.D.freaking Salinger) girlfriend. And I thought, oh Oona was a pretty popular name back in the 40s huh, because to my knowledge Charlie Chaplin's last wife was also named Oona. Only to find out it was the same person. LOL jokes was on me. Spoilers ahead. They we're introduced briefly in a party, Oona rejected him initially, because she was self-absorbed at the time and only has the hots for successful men. Kidding (true story) Eventually when JD became minorly published, he finally got her approval, they dated, 1941 Pearl Harbor happened, he had to serve during WWII, D-Day in Normandy, news came out 18y/o Oona married world renowned 40 years her senior, successful * let's focus on the word succesful* Charlie Chaplin (whom I also loved). It's like connecting the dots. Fun game. But how come she was not mentioned in any of daddy Jerry's written biography. Should be none of my worries. Shocker huh.

[halfhumanscribe]

Mana Fog

Synopsis:   Elementals make for great bouncers when having to deal with a less than legal dance party and magical substance. RATING: T - Teen - Some light sexual content ORIGINAL PUBLISHING DATE:  2018

WORD COUNT:  2807

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Mana Fog by Inganno

There was something intoxicating about the smell of mana -  that smoky, sweet, almost perfume-like scent that tasted almost metallic in the air.  In its purest form, it had strange affects on people.  For some it was like a wakeup call, forcing them to zigzag from one place to another in an effort to be productive.  For others, and in small doses, it was as simple as a cup of coffee, entering into a split-second dream before waking up refreshed.  Though, when mixed with the right potions and elixirs, becomes a powerful panacea.

Most states had banned the use of mana as a recreational drug, only offering it as a watered down aperitif meant to replenish the body’s natural daily loss. The miniscule alcohol helped to stifle the effect of the drug, allowing it work as intended.  Too much alcohol mixed with mana, however, could be deadly, making it both easy and difficult to regulate on the market.  As such, pure mana was always difficult to come by.

Though, if one were to go to the dark alleys, black markets, or say… a dance club hidden away by illusionary magic, one might find an ample supply of the stuff.  It was never a surprise to go to a dance club, or “alternative” bar, and find even a small amount of mana wafting in the air.  But some places, it hung like a fog.  And for these places, it was never surprising to find special kinds of bouncers employed for the night.

“It’s like fuckin’ candy, man,” the water elemental hummed as he soaked in the air around him.  He floated above the crowd, circling the room, keeping an eye on anything troubling or questionable.  “I could be here all year…”

“You’d get mana sickness, Soa,” the fire elemental said, also above the crowd, but leaning against the wall, with his feet planted firmly in the air, as if there was something flat and hard to balance on.  “That shit sucks.”

“Would totally be worth it though, Myto,” Soa giggled.

He let out a contented sigh.  Water vapors escaped his mouth, showering those beneath him in a cool mist of water and diluted mana.

Elementals thrived on mana, but much like mortal beings, were subject to the laws of the land.  Luckily, they were given large discounts at the markets to help them cope.  It was their life essence, and without it, they would surely die.  It also had the same effect on them as it did on mortals – though, not quite as strong.

Myto took in a deep breath, absorbing the mana in the air.  His vision blurred for a moment as he assessed how strong the fog was.  The flames underneath his clothes turned out a sharp blue before fading into a mild green. Like Soa, he was swept away into the mana’s embrace, but was coherent enough to do his job.

“Something wrong?” Soa asked as he floated toward his friend.

Myto nodded.  “There’s definitely more than one color in the air.”

He looked past Soa at a wood elemental, dressed in a tank top, stationed by the door.  Myto flickered his flame green three times, alerting the other bouncers to the danger. The wood elemental sighed in the distance and consulted a wind one next to him.

“Go watch the door while Udr blows all this crap away,” Myto said, pointing to the door.  “The host is gonna go ballistic.”

Soa lazily flew over to the door, helping the wood elemental with his bouncer duties, as the wind gust and whirled around the dance floor, sweeping skirts and shirts upward, collecting the fog into a typhoon that was jettisoned out the door.

The scent of mana was extremely disguisable, so they could only hope no one outside would call them on it.  The last thing any of them needed was a raid.  It was only meant to be a night job for the four of them; it didn’t need to be anything else.

The owner, a tall tan man with slicked back raven hair and sunglasses (“In a nightclub?  Really?”) appeared from behind the bar and approached Myto.

“I saw the lights,” he groaned.  “Somebody been adding to the soup?”

Myto nodded.

The human host groaned and pushed his sunglasses up, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Just fuckin’ perfect,” he groaned.  He didn’t say much else to Myto, pushing past him and heading toward the DJ on stage.

Within moments, the music was pulled and the lights were drawn up.  The patrons and dancers looked up to see the owner, Grecko staring down at them with a disappointed expression.

“Somebody out there fucked up and decided to bring something extra to the party,” he announced over a mic.  “The rules were clear from the bouncers as you walked in.  Party’s over.  Get out.”

He threw the mic over his shoulder, which the DJ caught.

Within moments, the elementals had begun rounding up people and pushing them towards the door.  Angry dancers and threats erupted from the usual trouble makers, which were subdued with the usual methods.

“They knew what to expect when they came in,” Grecko sighed.

After a quick ten minutes, the room was empty, and left the usual sty after a busy Saturday night.  Grecko took a look around and shook his head.  He walked over to the spare closet in the corner of the room, kicking out the two teens making out in it, before grabbing the broom and dustbin.

Soa followed behind and got the mop.  Udr was still outside, trying to get as many loiterers away from the building, while the wind elemental, Murin assisted.  Myto helped to pick up any large garbage lying around, as well as help the DJ get his equipment to his car.

“Sucks about tonight,” the DJ said as he closed the back of his van.

Myto shrugged and added, “We’re getting paid either way.”

“I hear that!”  He walked over to the driver’s side and hopped on in.  “Wanna ditch a little early and come hang with me?  I’m starving.  Going to get some pancakes or some shit.  What do you say?”

Myto smiled, giving a breath chuckle as he folded his arms.

“You’re sweet, but I really gotta finish cleaning up.  Grecko has his hands full already.  Besides, I have a feeling your wanting more than just a midnight snack from me.”

“You think so?” the DJ laughed.  “Well, I am actually hungry.  Whatever else happens would have been up to you, not me.  But I am playing at the Tree Root on Wednesday.  You change your mind, I’ll be there.”  He ended it with a wink before heading off.

Myto watched him drive away, his smile spreading a bit further, before heading back inside.

The room had been almost cleaned up by then, with Murin and Soa handling the rest of the cleaning duties, and Udr and Grecko discussing their pay for the night. Myto rubbed the goofy smile off his face and approached Murin and Soa to help them clean.  About an hour later, the room was clean again, with Grecko smiling that he’d get his rental deposit back.

“We’re heading back to the apartment,” Murin said as he sat perched on Udr’s broad shoulders.

“Hold on, I’ll come with!” Soa exclaimed as he closed the cleaning closet and sprinted to meet up with them.  “You can finish with the legalities right, Myto?”

The fire elemental shrugged.  “Don’t I always?”

“Great!  We’ll see you at home!”

The three left after saying their goodbyes to Grecko, off to their home a good hour away from where they were.  Luckily, elementals could fly at low altitudes legally, so it made it easier to get home across the next state over.

“Four men, living together under one apartment?” Grecko interjected. “Doesn’t that get cramped?”

“Most of us are always wandering around doing something.  It helps we’re all binded elementals, so we’re used to being around each other all the time,” Myto explained as he sat next to Grecko on the stage.

Papers and such were spread out, with Myto acting as a witness to make sure Grecko didn’t do anything iffy with the usual paper work.  Iffier, anyways.  The party was technically classified as a high-volume birthday party. The renters didn’t need to know anything else.

“And we’re not men.”

“Hm?”

Grecko looked up from tax forms.

“You’re not men?” he said with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not men per say.  We just assume the form of men.  Whatever is most comfortable for us, you know?  I mean, we’re just floating fire, and water, and whatever when we don’t have a form, so why not, you know?”

Grecko nodded, half interested.

“Must make getting lucky kind of difficult then,” he said, trying to make conversation.

“Not at all,” Myto laughed.  “I can make genitals if I want.  Just depends on what my partner has in mind.  I can even adjust the temperature of my fire.  See?”

He put his hand under Grecko’s cheek, causing the man to jump away for a moment.  Though, he didn’t feel any heat coming from it.

“Try not to do that over the paperwork, okay?”

“I can control it, don’t worry.  I’ve had a good two centuries of practice.”

“Well… see that you do,” Grecko sighed before following it with a grin.

The two passed what little time they had, chatting about the paperwork, the party, and the little odd jobs they both did.  Grecko working on lots of nightly club jobs, but never having a steady one; Myto and his friends running all over the country finding any sort of work that paid decently.

“Why do you keep these mana parties blue?” Myto asked as he looked out onto the empty dance floor.

The explicit instructions at the start of the night were that the mana in the air was to remain blue, and not be mixed with any other color.  Somebody in the room released something else into the air, causing the party to bust.

“Blue is the most calming and least reactive of the bunch,” Grecko explained. “Yellow just makes people jittery and angry sometimes, and green has been known to cause hallucinations, even in small doses.  Red, well… red is just an aphrodisiac and used mostly for cure spells in the absolute smallest doses.  Blue is just easier to manage, and it’s the cheapest one to deal with if we get busted. Last time I got busted, I think I got hit with around $14,000 altogether?”

That was still a lot of money, Myto thought to himself.  He was about to inquire further, but Grecko already beat him to the punch.

“Before you ask – Red is over $30,000 usually, and green is around the $70,000 range, and yellow is without a fine.  Yellow will get you in jail in an instant.  So yeah, blue is the way to go.  And it’s such a negligible footprint in the bloodstream, most cops don’t even care.”

That explained it.  Myto hummed, impressed.  Grecko knew his mana, which definitely showed in his professionalism.  Most other mana parties, non-magic using humans had no idea what to expect with the substance.  This one did his research.

“Hey, check this out, though,” Grecko said as he reached into a backpack behind him.  He pulled out a small oblong, corked vial with a clear substance inside.

“What is it?” Myto asked, gently shaking the substance.

“Beats me.  A dealer up north sold it to me cheap.  Said he was working on deluding some for another buyer, and for some reason, this one turned all clear.  It’s kind of neat, right?”

Myto wouldn’t go as far as to call it neat, but it was curious.  The colors were there due to the mixing process. Science, alchemy, and wizardry had no way of turning mana different colors.  If they did, he had no doubt it would have already been weaponized for war efforts.

“How do you think they did it?” Myto asked.

Grecko just shrugged, putting his pencil down and putting all of his attention on the elemental.

“Want to do me favor and try a drop so you can tell me which one it is?”

Myto looked over at Grecko, gauging his face from the request.  At first, he wondered if this was some sort of trick. But Grecko looked honest – or at least more honest than other employers he had worked with.  Besides, it was a drop.  Just enough to test, and not enough to doing outside of give him a headache if it was bad.

He uncorked the bottle, and gentle tilted in toward his open mouth, just enough to let a drop hit his tongue.  He plugged the vial back up and passed it back to Grecko, who put it away, and strangely, pulled out a small yellow pill.

“Anything yet?”

Myto sat there, shaking his head.

“Nothing.  Maybe you got played?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Myto was going to offer his condolences for the lost money, but was immediately hit with a heat that enveloped him far more than his fire ever did.  It swept over him, changing him to a deep and powerful red, causing smoke of the same color to escape.

“Uh oh,” Grecko said under his breath, putting the yellow pill between both thumbs and index fingers.  He readied to break it, but was immediately tackled by the elemental, and pinned to the ground.

He didn’t get the chance to resist before the elemental placed his firey lips on his, breaking them for a second later as the red smoke from within Myto was passed onto Grecko.

Grecko felt his body erupt into a seismic flurry of lust.  Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than be enveloped by flame and filled with fire.  He rushed into more kisses, their tongue invading each other’s mouths, hands feeling and caressing at their necks and face.

Myto slid his hand under Grecko’s shirt, feeling his skin with a summer warmth. Grecko moaned and stuttered between breaths.  He kept one hand on the back of Myto’s head and another on the floor, sweeping away the papers.

At least, that was what Myto thought.  He didn’t notice Grecko bring his fist up high above the too of them and slam it on the ground.

A disgusting scent filled their nostrils, and all the lustful energy they had escaped into a flurry of yellow and red mist from out their mouths.  Myto rolled to the side, clutching his mouth and nose, eyes wide, barely able to keep his own form.  Grecko gritted his teeth as he laid on his back, taking in large breaths, cringing at each one he took.

“What the fuck was that?” Myto yelled into his palms.

Grecko tried to pick himself up, but felt all the energy drain out of his body. He was able to look at the side of his fist to see the crushed cap of the yellow pill still stuck to it.

“Sulpher,” he said as he flicked it off.  “Smells like rotten eggs don’t it?  They use it for mana draining.  You’re anywhere nearby that has that stuff in the air, you’re going to have every drop of mana sapped out of you.”  He then remembered what Myto was.  “Are you okay?”

“Ugh…” the elemental painfully groaned.

Grecko sighed and eventually was able to get off the floor.  Though, the mana was drained from his body, and he had become weak from it.  He ended up having to drag Myto out of the room and put himself outside by the door. He stepped away for a moment, collecting his thoughts before heading back inside to grab all the papers that had been thrown aside, as well as throw down a potion that filled the air with a pleasant smell.

“I don’t have to mail this stuff off until Monday, anyways,” he sighed as he placed all the papers into his bag.  He then headed back outside to meet up with Myto.  “C’mon, I’ll get you home.  What state do you guys live in now?”

“Wyoming,” Myto sputtered.

A good four-hour journey via his pickup.  How Grecko envied the archetypes who could fly.

“Sorry about that,” Myto groaned as he suddenly felt wind hit his face.  How long had they been on the road.  When did he pass out?  Last thing he remembered was being dragged out of the dance room. “That’s never happened before with a drop of mana.”

Grecko glanced at him for a moment and then back to the road.

“Don’t sweat it.”

The vial with the clear mana was then chucked out the window.  It shattered and spilled onto the road. Without enough room to breath, it faded into the air, becoming nothing before it could find someone to spread its love.

End

#writing #short story #fantasy #Ing's stories #contemporary fantasy