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#fanfiction
oh-mother-of-darkness · a day ago
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Damian stared out over the city, legs swinging in the emptiness beneath him while he waited for directions. In his earpiece, his father ran down the list of team members, assigning positions as he went. 
“Black Bat stays with me. Red Robin, take downtown.”
“Yep,” said Drake’s voice. “On my way.”
“Nightwing, move south and wait for my signal— and keep Robin with you.”
Damian opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again, confused. He wasn’t with Nightwing now. They were, to Damian’s dissatisfaction, most of the city apart, more than that if Grayson moved southward. Damian was flying solo for the night, and the only person actually with Nightwing was—
“Did you… mean Hood?” Grayson asked.
Father clicked out of the voice channel immediately, without finishing his instructions. 
“Did he— wow,” said Drake, into the sudden silence.
“He did,” said Grayson. “Maybe something came up?”
“It didn’t,” said Cassandra. “We’re fine.”
“In that case,” said Drake. He exited the channel himself without completing the thought— if, Damian added to himself, you could apply the word “thought” to anything happening inside Drake’s head. Damian didn’t personally believe you could. 
The rest of the team followed Drake’s lead, disconnecting one after the other until Damian was the only one still at the regular frequency. He sighed and clicked out himself. He had some idea where the others had gone. 
“—genuinely do not care,” said Todd’s voice, as Damian entered the secondary channel, “what you or anybody else thinks about it, because it’s not my name, and as a matter of fact I—”
“Oh come on,” said Drake’s. “You clearly do.”
“I don’t, and if you even think about bringing it up again, I’ll come over there and—”
“Can’t believe he left,” said Grayson, cutting off whatever threat Todd intended to make. “He didn’t even finish his orders.”
“He’s typing them,” said Cassandra. 
“Can he hear you?”
“Yes.”
“But not us, right?” Drake asked. “He still can’t access this channel?”
“He can’t,” Grayson confirmed. “Say whatever you want.”
“What if we all call Hood ‘Robin' for the rest of the night?”
“I’ll kick your skull in,” said Todd. “Thanks for asking.”
“You’re kinda being an asshole about this.”
Oh good, thought Damian, shifting idly on his ledge. It had been over a week since the last all-out household conflict. He’d been getting bored. 
Todd laughed sharply into his own microphone. “You know what? I’ll own that one. I am an asshole. You still have to call me by the right name, Red Robin.”
“Here we go,” muttered Drake.
“See how I used the name you chose? Even though you’re twice the asshole I am, and I’m seconds from punching you, and it’s a stupid name?”
“It’s— you picked it out!”
“And I’m owning that one too! It’s a bad name!”
“I’m not a huge fan of your current one,” said Grayson, “if we’re being honest.”
“God, don’t you start.”
“You named yourself after the Joker, Hood. It’s sort of uncomfortable.”
“Uncomf—” Todd began, half-laughing in a way that made Damian hope that Grayson wasn’t standing within Todd’s reach. “Uncomfortable? I really can’t stress enough how very little I care if my name makes you uncomfortable.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t next time. Shut up.”
“Whatever. He didn’t do it on purpose, anyway. He probably just slipped up.”
Damian nodded in agreement, out on his ledge where Todd couldn’t see. Father’s reaction had been too extreme for the mixup to be anything but an accident.
“He can try harder then,” said Todd. 
“Or you could chill,” Drake suggested. “Batman called Nightwing the wrong name yesterday, and he didn’t lose his shit about it.”
“Don’t—” Grayson began. 
“That’s it,” said Todd. “That’s it, I’m done, I’m— let go of me.”
“No,” said Grayson. 
“Let— fine! I changed my mind. I now actively hope my name makes you uncomfortable. Go to hell.”
“There already, I think,” muttered Grayson. 
“Ha-fucking-ha,” spat Todd. 
Damian heard a brief scuffle on both their lines and wished, absentmindedly, that he had a visual on whatever rooftop they occupied. Whatever they were doing, it didn’t last long— a few moments later, both Grayson and Todd were back, as if they hadn’t been fighting at all. 
“Did he call you Robin?” Todd asked. 
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I kinda like it,” said Grayson. “Feels like he’s, I don’t know, thinking about old times.”
“Same,” said Drake. 
“I’m not speaking to you,” said Todd. “But to Nightwing, yeah, that’s my point. I don’t want him thinking about old times or— or calling me the wrong name because he—”
“Because he only recognizes who you used to be?” Damian put in. 
“Exactly. Hello, Actual-Robin.”
“Hello.”
“Incoming,” said Cassandra. 
Every line in the frequency chimed collectively as they all received the same message: a paragraphs-long essay from Father with the rest of their instructions. Damian skimmed through it, looking for his own assignment, then pushed himself off the concrete, up into a standing position. 
“Goodbye,” he said, switching back into the regular channel. 
-----
Anonymous asked:
a conversation about names (hero names, real names, pet names, car names *cough*batmobile*cough*, anything)
-----
Happy birthday to me :)
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of-house-atreides · 2 days ago
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He Said, She Said | Part 4
Summary: Jake Lockley has entered the chat
Pairing: Steven x reader x Marc | Jake x reader
Words: 3069
A/N: Please remember that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there. Also this isn't beta read, and barely proof read. I hope you like it! Please do leave feedback!
Warnings: mentions of death, spoilers for Moon Knight episode 6
Masterlist
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
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Steven buried his face in your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, clinging to you like an invisible force would come to pull him out of his bed. You held him tightly against you, knowing it reassured him to know you’d stop him from leaving you, even though you both knew Marc couldn’t be stopped if he took over the body.
He had revealed his last secrets, or at least you hoped he had.
Khonshu, Egyptian moon God, fist of vengeance, regenerating suit… it had been a lot to take in. And you felt like you were still trying to wrap your mind around it all. But you knew it was harder on Steven. It seemed like all you were doing now was try and keep Steven from falling apart. He had seen Marc at work that night. He had seen him kill. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the people Marc had killed ever since he had become Khonshu’s Avatar. The guilt was eating him alive.
“That’s why I didn’t want to tell him,” Marc had growled at you, like it was your fault he was killing all these people. “They’re murderers, predators! They deserve it.”
Whether they deserved it or not was not for you to decide, and you chose to trust Marc, you chose to believe he was right, not only that he was right, but that he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t lying to you. Because killing bad people was one thing, killing innocents was another.
Steven didn’t seem to care about the distinction. They were people, it wasn’t Marc’s place to take their life. You argued that if anyone could make that decision, it was a God, which had kept Steven quiet for a moment, as he realized perhaps you were right, perhaps only a higher power such as Khonshu could bring true and real justice.
And although he had tried to fight Marc on his nightly activities – putting a stop to Khonshu’s appearances which scared the hell out of him – you could tell he could feel the blood on Marc’s hands.
The only thing that seemed to settle him was you, your embrace. He was attached to you like he was a part of you. Always wanting to touch you, like he doubted you were real, like he doubted any of it was real. You made sure to always hug him back, always whisper he was all right, that everything was going to be okay.
And although you couldn’t know what the future held for you, you said it like you meant it, because you wanted everything to be all right and you would have done anything to make it true.
But that wasn’t up to you. And perhaps you should have known you had no control over any of it, because Marc owed a debt to an Egyptian God after all, and perhaps you should have known they had no control over it either, but it still surprised you when they disappeared from London. When they disappeared from your life.
You came back from work one day finding Steven’s flat empty. It didn’t worry you at first, you thought Steven was at work. But then night fell on the city, and still, neither he nor Marc showed up. They didn’t come back that night.
Or the day after that.
Or the day after that.
Or the day after that.
You had gone to the police, had filed a missing person report, had asked help on social media, had done everything you could think of until it all felt hopeless and you woke up one morning in Steven’s flat with a feeling in your chest, a pain shooting through your entire body from your heart. He was dead. They were dead. And you didn’t know what to do.
You didn’t want to move on. You felt like it wasn’t over, like you could maybe find a God or a witch or an Avenger to help you bring them back. You wanted to do all of that, but you didn’t know where to start, where to look, who to talk to.
You came back from work one evening feeling completely empty and defeated, with the aim to drop on Steven’s bed and fall asleep wearing one of his sweaters, crying into the pillows, but when you pushed your key into the hole, you noticed the door was already unlocked.
At first you thought someone had broken in and stolen everything you had left of him, of them, and your heart would have shattered completely had it been true. But then the door swung open, and you came face to face with Marc.
Your heart stopped as you saw him and you dropped your purse on your feet. He gave you an apologetic look as he saw the pain on your face and quickly his features disappeared to allow Steven’s to take over.
“You’re here,” he breathed out as he launched himself towards you.
You were frozen in place, shock having paralyzed you as tears appeared in your eyes.
“I’m so sorry, oh, you have no idea what we’ve been through… I was so worried you wouldn’t be here when we came back, so worried…”
“Steven,” you let out in a whisper and he moved back to look at you, taking your face between his hands. “What… I thought… I thought you were dead…”
“Yeah,” he chuckled sadly, “yeah, me too.”
You were too stunned to even comprehend his words and he didn’t wait for you to respond as he took your hand and dragged you inside his flat. He sat you on the couch and started explaining everything to you. His words collided with each other inside your mind as you listened to him, to his story, and you only understood half of it. When he was done he could see you were still thunderstruck, your grief clashing with your confusion, your love being torn apart by reality, you felt like you were losing your mind. He kneeled at your feet, placing his large hands over yours resting on your lap. He called your name softly and you blinked. All the information he had just given you about where he had been and what he had been doing had given you a severe headache and you shook your head, your tears flying away, your doubts and grief disappearing under a veil of emotional exhaustion.
“You’re alive,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I missed you so much.”
Anger surged through you, hitting you like a wave, as it ate your pain away. You backed away quickly and slapped him hard across the face, the gesture taking him by surprise in more ways than one. But the look in your eyes caused him more pain than your hand meeting his cheek.
“Wha-“
“How could you do this to me?” you spat as you stood up. “You disappeared! For days!”
“I- I’m sorry, I couldn’t… We had to…”
“I don’t care what you had to do! Couldn’t you call me? Leave me a text? Anything to let me know you were okay? That you were coming back? Couldn’t you do that when you landed in Cairo?”
“I would have. I wanted to. I didn’t have control of the body…”
“Your phone is Marc’s phone, isn’t it?”
“Actually… his phone is my phone…”
“Marc!” you called, making Steven jump as you startled him, “Marc!”
You watched Steven disappear before you as Marc took over. He opened his mouth but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I told you, I had a debt to repay.”
“A text message, Marc! Just to let me know you’d be back!”
“I didn’t know if we would!” he shouted back at you, startling you this time. “I didn’t know we’d survive this. And we didn’t… We… We shouldn’t be here.”
As he spoke, Steven’s previous words echoed inside your head, reminding you of the fact that they were shot and brought back to life by Osiris himself, in a unique miracle that probably didn’t happen all that often.
Shame took over you, washing your anger away. Now you felt bad for yelling at them, they whom had basically just saved the world and died doing so.
“But all we wanted to do was come back to you, I swear,” Marc continued as he placed his hands on either side of your face. “We thought about you every day, praying we’d make it back, praying you were okay. Safe.”
A shaky breath escaped you as you grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him towards you, burying your face in his chest, breaking in tears.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you. “It’s all over now. It’s all gonna be okay. Normal.”
Normal.
You scoffed, as if you didn’t believe it.
But it was. It became normal. You had a boyfriend, two-in-one as Steven had said himself jokingly once. You settled into a routine. It was similar to the one you had before, except Marc wasn’t leaving the flat at night to be the fist of vengeance of the Egyptian moon God anymore. Marc and Steven got along really well, switching easily, sharing each other’s lives, sharing you.
Steven had started writing a book about what had happened, saying he might publish it one day if it turned out to be any good, that it would make a good fictional story. You thought it was a good idea, that it would be therapeutic for both of them to write down their experience, their trauma.
Steven’s writing kept him up late at night, and you had gotten used to going to bed alone, but waking up with their strong arms around you. You had forgotten that feeling, forgotten that knot in your stomach when you woke up alone, Steven or Marc nowhere to be found in the flat.
But one night that feeling returned as you woke up in an empty bed once more, and that knot returned when you saw the light in the bathroom, your mind suddenly bringing you back to that night you met Marc. You quietly made your way to them, they had their hands in the sink, their back turned to you.
“Marc?” your tired voice broke as you called for them.
They froze, their head tilting to the side slightly as they acknowledged your presence.
“Estas despierta, preciosa?”
You chuckled as you took a step closer, putting a hand on his arm.
“Is that Spanish?”
Your eyes fell on his hands and your heart sank as you saw the blood-soaked shirt he was trying to clean.
“Marc?”
“Not Marc, querida.”
Not Marc. Not Steven.
Shit.
He must be that third one they were afraid of. And now you were afraid of. And he could see it through your reflection in the mirror. He chuckled.
“I know you’re bad at keeping secrets,” he said. “You made Marc tell Steven the truth. Well… some of the truth.”
“Marc doesn’t know about you.”
“He doesn’t need to know.”
“I think he does.”
“He won’t like it. Steven won’t like it.”
“That’s what Marc said.”
“And he was right.”
“But look at them now,” you said and he scoffed. “Why is there blood on that shirt?”
“Ah, you saw that, did you?” he sighed. “That’s too bad, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
Your eyes grew big as your heart skipped a beat and you gulped as you took a step back, your feet moving on their own. But as you were about to exit the bathroom he caught you by the arm and pulled you towards him. You yelped as he pushed you against the door frame, pain shooting through your spine. You trembled under him as he watched you with a wicked smirk.
“Relax. I’m kidding,” he chuckled as he let you go. “Name’s Jake,” he said, bringing a finger to his forehead and nodding at you. “Nice to meet you.”
“You have a weird sense of humor, Jake,” you sighed with relief.
“That’s not the worst thing about me, preciosa,” he replied as he turned back to the sink and resumed his previous task.
“Do I want to know what is?”
“No, so don’t ask.”
“I think I can guess.”
“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m guessing the blood on that shirt isn’t yours.”
“You’re guessing correctly.”
“I’m guessing Khonshu is working with you now, and Marc and Steven don’t know.”
“Another correct guess.”
“Why? How can you do this to them? They wanted to be free of him!”
“And they are,” he shrugged. “But I liked the job too much,” he said with a smirk as he winked at you.
“You like killing people?”
“Bad people, who deserve to be punished. Wouldn’t you?”
“No, I wouldn’t like killing people.”
“It’s not about killing people. It’s about killing murderers. Rapists. Pedophiles… people who escape the corrupt justice system.”
“I don’t wanna know about what you do at night, Jake,” you sighed.
“Eh, you asked, cariño,” he shrugged.
“Why don’t they know about you?”
“I’ve never met them.”
“You share a body,” you reminded him with skepticism as you crossed your arms over your chest.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
You rolled your eyes. You weren’t sure you liked him very much. In fact, you were pretty certain you didn’t like him at all.
“So what are you going to do?” you asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to tell them?”
“Are you?”
You sighed. “I can’t not tell them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they will find out one day and when they do they’ll be mad!”
“But they’ll be mad to know I exist too. It’s a… lose-lose situation, as they say.”
You frowned. “Is that why you don’t want them to know? You’re afraid they won’t accept you?”
“I don’t need to test that theory, preciosa, I know they won’t. I’m everything they’re against.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong, you thought. They will be mad and they will want to put a stop to it, and you doubted Khonshu would let that happen, so they’ll just become his Avatar again, or worse, they’ll refuse to allow Jake to do his work and anger the moon God and who knows what will happen then…
“Did Khonshu know you’ll still be his Avatar when he promised them to let them go?”
“You know about that? Yeah, he did.”
“But how come you haven’t met them yet? They talked about a headspace they have, in their mind, where they can meet and talk together… why aren’t you there?”
“I’m locked out.”
“Why?”
“Because I have my own headspace. I can see them, they can’t see me.”
“But why?”
“Aye, cariño,” he sighed, “you ask a lot of questions.”
“And you don’t answer any of them…”
“Look, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, it’s better if they don’t know, because they’ll hate to know.”
“But it’s the truth. And they will find out one day. What if you get hurt one night? What happens then?”
“Khonshu’s suit will protect me.”
“And what happens when Khonshu finds a new Avatar?”
“My guess is, I’ll disappear.”
“What? Why?”
“Because what else am I supposed to do?”
“Listen, Jake, I’ve been reading a lot about DID, like, a lot, you guys are a part of a system, you have to let them know you’re here!”
“So they can fight me and Khonshu every step of the way? It’s easier this way.”
“It’s dishonest!”
He scoffed. “I’ll get over it.”
“But they won’t!”
“They don’t want to know about me! They won’t like me. They won’t let me in!”
“Yes, they will!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ll make them accept you.”
He turned slightly towards you as he gave you a puzzled look.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because, Jake, you’re one of Marc’s alters. You’re a part of him. They need to know you’re there, and they need to know what you’re doing, before they wake up one night in the middle of a fight and get hurt! And they’ll be more likely to accept you if you come forward. You can’t wait until they figure it out by themselves. It’ll make things worse!”
He stared at you as he pondered your words, as he thought about the two options you had laid out before him.
“Things are already at their worst,” he said before turning back to the sink.
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve done everything they didn’t want to do. Because I wanted to do it. I’m different than them.”
“Different doesn’t mean bad.”
“I kill for Khonshu because they don’t want to.”
“What if you stopped?”
He scoffed. “Even if I wanted to, Khonshu won’t let me go. And I don’t want him to. I told you. I like the job too much.”
“I think it’s something you should figure out with Marc and Steven.”
“Steven will get scared. Marc will try and stop me.”
“Can he? Stop you?”
Jake let out an annoyed sigh as he took the shirt and threw it in the bathroom bin.
“He can be a pain in the ass, at most. What about you? Are you going to be a pain in my ass, hermosa?”
“Jake, you’re part of a system I love. I want to get to know you, be your friend. I want you to get along with them too, what you’re doing is unhealthy, for all three of you. And they will find out eventually. Just tell them now. I’ll help.”
“You really think you can make them accept me?”
“I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But it’ll be easier than hiding. Jake… you must feel so lonely.”
“I’m used to it,” he shrugged as he leaned back against the doorframe opposite you.
You cupped his cheek with your hand, which seemed to surprise him.
“You’re not alone Jake. Isn’t that the point?”
A sad chuckle escaped him. “They’ll hate me.”
“I’m sure you’re not that bad.”
“Oh querida,” he said as he pushed himself off the wall, trapping you between him and the doorframe, put his hand above your head and leaned forward, taking your hand in his and bringing his face inches from yours, “but I am.”
**********
Tags: @inpraizeof @simonsbluee @bibli0thecary @mariasabana @darkened-writer @sugarpunch-princess @missingartist96 @rintheemolion @laamaking @dcgoddess @mischiefmanaged71 @velvetberries @ajeff885 @heyyimlaynna @annalayton19 @jokai00 @evelynseventyr @that-yn-girl @lokisnumber1whore @crystalchrysalis19 @geliditramonti @kingtwhiddleston @wordacadabra @later-gators12 @hoemadegrace @love-on-the-murder-scene @darlingbravebelle @janebby @andrewgarfieldsbae @unofficialavenger90 @lady--lynn @galacticjoelle @theratscorner @katsueiwasaki
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runnning-outof-time · a day ago
Text
In the Time of Need | Tommy Shelby x Reader
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(gif by @theshelbycurse)
Request: yes by anonymous
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader
Summary: Both Tommy and (Y/N) have been through the hell of losing the person they cared deeply for. They meet and find themselves married to each other in order to settle a debt left behind in the span of a week. What starts off as a rocky union eventually turns into something beautiful thanks to a tree and the help of their kids.
Warnings: smoking, mentions of character death, arranged marriage, weapons
Word Count: 4016
A/N: I recognize that the beginning of this is rather brash ... but it’s fiction and I didn’t want it to get too long. That being said, I hope you enjoy! :)
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in stories similar to this one!
———
Two different pairs of men visited (Y/N)'s door on a day that started like any other.
The first pair were dressed in the same type of clothing that her husband would wear to work every day. The solemn looks they wore made (Y/N)'s stomach feel uneasy.
"Can I help you?" she asked, a bit of hesitance present in her voice.
"Are you Mrs. Matthews?" one of the men asked.
"Yes, I am," she nodded.
"Ma'am, I am sorry to inform you that your husband, Louis, had a horrible accident on the floor today," the other broke the news.
"What do you mean, a horrible accident?" (Y/N) questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion.
"I'd rather not disclose what happened. It was rather graphic. He...he didn't survive it, Mrs. Matthews," the man told her, a pained expression on his face.
"No..." she trailed off, her eyes widening as she took in the information. "No...that's not true. He's not dead," it felt like she was starting to spiral now. How could this have happened so fast; out of nowhere?
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the first man offered his condolences.
"Shilling and Sons will handle all of the arrangements," the other assured her, but she wasn't listening. It sounded like they were a million miles away from her at the moment.
"Ok. Ok. Thank you," she stammered out, sending a nod before she began to close the door. The men said nothing and turned on their heels to leave the stoop as she shut the door to the house. She then slid down it to the floor and covered her face with her hands once she was sitting. Only then did she let the tears begin to fall. Thankfully her daughters weren't home at the moment. She had no idea how she'd explain this to them.
Some time later, another knock sounded on the door that she was still leaning up against. She quickly raised her head from her hands and looked around, stunned from the sudden noises. Then she rushed to her feet, thinking that maybe the visitors she'd just had were actually just from a dream and that this was her husband knocking on the door. Unfortunately, she opened the door to see a second pair of men standing across from her.
These two men made her stomach flip. She could tell who they were instantly just by looking at the clothes they wore. They were members of the Peaky Blinders, and although they looked young, the expressions they wore still made her want to cower in the corner. "I'm not Italian and I know nothing of the Italians, please," she immediately began begging, hoping that they were just going around from house to house in search of information. Everyone in Small Heath knew about the war that was going on between the two families. The last thing she needed now was to get caught in the middle of it.
One of the men, who was tall and thin, looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. "The vendetta's finished," he informed her, which made her let out a breath of relief.
"Why are you here then?" she questioned once she realized that she didn't know the reason behind their presence.
"We're here to collect Louis Matthews' debt," the other man, who had a darker complexion, gave her the reason she was looking for.
"His debt?" (Y/N) asked with wide eyes, "I've just been told that he died and you're already here looking for his debt? Are you out of your right mind?!"
"I'm sorry about your loss, ma'am, but we need the money," the man who first spoke stated, keeping his voice low so as to not attract attention.
"I don't have any money. All that we got was what my husband earned, and now we don't even have that."
The two men looked at her before they shared a glance. "You're going to need to come with us," the same man spoke again.
"Come with you?" her words came out as a gasp.
"Yes. Please don't make this harder than it has to be," the other said, his tone growing more strict now.
"I have children who are coming home from school soon. I can't have them come home to an empty house," she tried to find a way out of the situation.
"We won't be that long."
"Why do you even need to do this?" she asked them then, "don't you have people with bigger debts to go find?"
"Your husband's debt was quite large. That's why our boss sent us here as quickly as he did. He needs that money, ma'am."
"Oh I'm sure your boss'll be fine," she couldn't help but scoff at the statement. Not for a second was she going to believe that they needed the money.
"Could you please come with us, ma'am," the one man tried urging her on.
"Before your children get home, and this becomes a much bigger problem," the other added.
(Y/N) looked between the two of them before she let out a sigh and grabbed her coat from the hooks behind the door. "This better be fast," she mumbled, wiping her eyes once more before she followed the two men to wherever it was that they were taking her.
"I don't understand, Mr. Shelby," was the first thing (Y/N) said after he laid out his plan to her.
"You have no other way to repay your late husband's debt. I need someone by my side as I plan to run for Parliament. It looks better for the polls when a man has a family," he explained himself again.
"Surely there must be a way for me to repay it. I...I'll sell my home if I have to," she said as she started racking her brain to think of a way out of the situation she was in.
"And have you and your two daughters living out on the streets of Small Heath?" he raised his eyebrows, tutting before continuing, "I don't think that'd end well for the three of you, love," he shook his head.
"My husband has just died, Mr. Shelby. He's not yet in the ground and you're here suggesting that I marry you to settle the debt he owes. Please try to see why I'm not falling at your feet like every other woman in this city does," she spoke through gritted teeth while trying to hold tears back.
He had no mind to hear what she had to say. His was already made up. "We will be married a week after your husband is buried. You and your daughters will come to live in my home. It is up to you whether they will change their surname or keep their father's. You will change your surname to Shelby," he laid out the plan. (Y/N) just stared at him with her mouth gaped slightly.
"Do you not know what it's like to be in love?" she asked him after a few moments had passed.
Tommy furrowed his eyebrows, her question catching him off guard. He was ready for her to agree to what he was saying and walk away. "Excuse me?" he asked her as he leaned forward in his chair.
"You're speaking to me as if I'm just another one of your men...as if this is just another business agreement. Marriage is not something you just throw around and wander into. It should be a union that is created out of love. So what I would like to know is do you even know what love is? Do you know what it's like to be in love?"
"I've been in love. She was taken from me," Tommy spoke in a low voice after (Y/N) had finished explaining herself. "And this marriage is a business agreement because it is benefiting the both of us. It may not be something that you agree with, or like, but it is the only way for you to settle your debt. You might as well accept it for what it is."
(Y/N) bit her bottom lip and swiped away the tears that had escaped her eyes. She couldn't let him see her cry. She had to let her anger win. "I do not care how you treat me, but you will act like a father towards my daughters. They do not deserve to lose out here because of a stupid debt. Do you understand that?" she told him, essentially laying out her terms of agreement.
"I understand," Tommy nodded his head as he grabbed a cigarette from the tin sitting on the desk. "In return, I am sure that my son will accept you as his mother. You are to treat him as such," he laid out his terms as he lit his cigarette, "but I'm sure you would have either way."
"You have a son?" (Y/N)'s voice was softer now. She hadn't known this information about the cutthroat gangster who ran the city in which she lived.
"I do. He's four," Tommy responded with a nod, tapping off the cigarette’s ash into the ashtray. "He needs a mother."
"I will love him like one," she told him, and in a way, she was agreeing with what he was proposing to her.
Tommy was quick to pick that up. "Then it's settled. We marry in eight days. You will move in right after."
(Y/N) could only nod her head, a silent agreement that she hoped she wouldn't regret.
——
(Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Thomas Shelby were married eight days later, just as he said they would be. And now they have been married for five months.
It was hard to try to explain to her six year old twin daughters, Isabella and Sofia, that their father had passed. It was even harder to explain to them that, in order to make things better for them — she explained it to them like this instead of telling them that their father owed this man a lot of money, their mother had to marry a new man. Thankfully, they were extremely understanding girls. They just wanted their mother to be happy. And while (Y/N) wasn't quite sure that she was happy, living in Arrow House was certainly much better than the home they had in Small Heath.
Charlie, Tommy's four year old son, was a sweetheart. He was a bit apprehensive to his new family members at first, but he warmed up in no time. He was happy to have two more children in the house to play with.
Tommy, on the other hand, never seemed to be home. And when he was home, he was locked away in his office. Half of (Y/N) wasn't bothered by it. This was a man who she was forced to marry so that his political standing could be boosted. But the other half of her wanted him to be around more. Wanted him to show affection to her. She never really realized how much of a doting husband Louis was to her until he was gone.
(Y/N) was sitting in the front room reading a magazine by herself. It was midday, and all of her wifely duties around the estate had been finished. She'd taken to them rather easily, which surprised her. It felt like ordering the maids in the home around was something that she was made to do.
It was quiet until she heard the yells of her two girls coming her way. "Mum! Mum!" the screams continued and got louder as they came into the room.
(Y/N) immediately sat up straight on the couch as she recognized the urgency in their voices. "What's wrong, girls?" she asked, glancing between the two of them.
"It's Charlie. He's hurt!" Isabella exclaimed with worry evident in her features.
"Charlie?" (Y/N) was standing in a second, "where is he? Is he hurt badly?" she started asking questions, her stomach dropping as she hurried through the halls to the side door of the house.
"He fell out of the tree we were playing in, mum. I don't know if he's hurt bad," Sofia chimed in as the both girls hurried their step to catch up to their mother. (Y/N) had taken off running to the child whose cries were getting louder with each step she took.
"Oh goodness, Charlie," she breathed as she dropped down by his side, "what's happened, love? What hurts?" she asked, her eyes scanning his body for any apparent injuries.
"My knee!" he said through his tears, pointing to his right knee. (Y/N)'s eyes fell to it and was able to see the nasty scrape that started at his knee cap and traveled down to the center of his calf. Along with that, he also had smaller cuts on his forearms and left cheek.
"Girls...one of you please go get some wet rags and ointment. Quickly!" she called to her daughters, and Isabella was the one to take off running first. "We're gonna make it feel better, Charlie. Just hold on a little longer," she told him in a soft voice as she hugged him closer to her chest.
Tommy was in his office when he heard a commotion happening outside. He immediately recognized the cries to be Charlie's, and his switch flipped. He rushed to open the drawer in his desk and grab the handgun that was stashed in there before he stood and hurried out of his office. With Charlie crying like that, he was assuming the worst. It was an automatic at this point.
"Charlie!" he yelled as loud as he could as he got onto the grounds of the estate. Ahead of him was not only the small child, but (Y/N) as well. They were both on the ground and looked to be hunched over. His heart rate quickened. Was (Y/N) hurt too? "Charlie! (Y/N)!" he called out to both of them, running as fast as he could towards them.
Hearing her name being called, (Y/N) glanced towards the house. "We're ok, Tommy!" she called to him as he slowed his steps so that he wouldn't run them over. "We're ok," she repeated, her voice calm as she glanced over to the revolver that was still held in his hand. "Put the gun away, Thomas," she told him, her voice firm, but soft as she locked her eyes with his. She could tell how frantic he was just by looking at him.
It took Tommy a moment before he realized what she'd asked him to do. "Yes," he breathed out as he quickly put it in his waistband behind his back. He made sure it was concealed underneath his waistcoat before his eyes found Sofia, who was staring at him with a fearful expression. "Come here, love. It's ok," he spoke to her softly as he hesitantly reached his arm out to her. She stood still for a second before she stepped into it, allowing him to pull her into his side and set his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. Dad was just worried," he told her while taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down. "What happened, (Y/N)?" he asked his wife then.
"Charlie fell from the tree. The three of them were playing in it when it happened. It was an accident," she told him as she cradled the boy in her arms. It was almost like she was shielding him from any other harm that could come. Tommy nodded his head, his eyes not leaving the two of them.
"Here are the things, mummy," Isabella ran back to the group with her hands full of the supplies (Y/N) had asked for.
"Thank you, Bella," (Y/N) smiled as she motioned for the girl to drop them on the ground. She then took one of the damp rags and held it to the scrape on Charlie's knee. The boy whimpered and clung tighter to (Y/N)'s shoulders. She didn't let up the pressure she held on it, but instead whispered soft, comforting words to him; letting him know that it was going to be alright.
Tommy stared down at her as she worked. There was something about watching her help his son that ignited something within him. Suddenly he was seeing her in a whole different light. He couldn't quite put his finger on the emotion or feeling that was filling him, but it was one that he surely hadn't felt in a long time.
"It hurts, mummy, it hurts!" Charlie exclaimed as (Y/N) held a rag with a bit of the ointment on it to his cuts.
"I know, love...I know. It'll only hurt for a moment, but it's going to make your cuts feel much better. I promise," she told him, her eyes catching his to show that she was telling the truth. Charlie sniffled a couple times before he nodded his head with his bottom lip jutted out.
"Are you almost finished?" the boy asked as (Y/N) was working on putting the ointment onto the cuts his forearms had.
"Yes. Just a few more," (Y/N) nodded, smiling slightly before she continued. "Ok, Charlie. I've got them all finished," she said a few moments later before she smiled at him.
"Thank you," he whispered, a smile gracing his tear-stained face as he reached up to hug her tightly.
"You're welcome, darling," (Y/N) told him, accepting the hug he was giving her. "How about we go inside and get some bandages?" she suggested once they pulled away.
"Ok," Charlie agreed. He didn't make any move to get up though, and that's when (Y/N) realized that he wanted her to carry him to the house. So she started to try to get up with him in her arms.
"Lemme get 'im, love," Tommy stopped her from moving much more as he stepped from Sofia's side to reach his arms out. "Come here, Charlie," he said to his son, who happily allowed his father to hoist him up into his arms. (Y/N) smiled at Tommy as she stood to her feet, allowing him to walk in front of her as she fell in behind him with Isabella and Sofia at either of her sides.
(Y/N) made sure to place bandages on all of the cuts that Charlie felt he needed them on — which was practically all of them, and he was ready to go back to playing as soon as (Y/N) gave him a kiss on the forehead. This time, however, he wasn't going to be going near any trees.
Tommy watched her bandage the boy up from where he was leaning against the fireplace in the front room. He kept his eyes focused on (Y/N) and what she was doing, and he still had that indescribable feeling coursing through him. Once she was finished and the boy ran out of the room to find his half-siblings, Tommy stepped over to where (Y/N) was sitting. "Thank you for going out there, (Y/N)," he said softly, suddenly feeling the need to thank her for helping with his son.
"There's no need to thank me, Tommy. He's my son," she responded. The way the words rolled off her tongue so nonchalantly made Tommy smile and place his hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) glanced up at him and sent a smile of her own before she placed her hand on top of his. Tommy's eyes snapped to hers as she did that, the look on his face now unreadable. (Y/N) could tell that he wasn't mad at her though. They held each other's gaze for a few moments before Tommy squeezed her shoulder and dropped his hold. He then made his way to the door of the front room so that he could go to his office again.
(Y/N) was still in the front room when Tommy re-entered it later that night.
“Thought you’d be in bed,” he said quietly as he shut the door to the room.
“Not tired yet,” (Y/N) responded, glancing up from her magazine just long enough to see him start to walk over to the couch she was sitting on. She looked over at him again after he sat down next to her with a sigh.
“About earlier today...” he trailed off, clearing his throat as he dropped his head to his hands, “I’m sorry I came out the way I did.”
(Y/N) knew what he was referring to. A slight smile graced her face before she spoke, “it’s ok, Tommy,” she told him in a soft voice, “really.”
“I tend to think the worst when it comes to situations like that,” he continued, not accepting what (Y/N) said. “And I know I probably scared you, and the kids, and I...”
“Tommy,” she cut him off, dropping the magazine so that she could grab hold of his hand and make him look at her. “You do not need to explain yourself to me. Ok? You were worried about your son...about your family,” she stressed to him, her eyes focused on his as she spoke.
Tommy held her gaze as he tried to think of what to say. After a few seconds yielded nothing, he lifted her hand that was connected with his and pressed his lips to her knuckles. (Y/N) couldn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering around her stomach. The half of her that needed his affection clearly coming out now. “I need to be better at us, (Y/N),” he told her then, his eyes still locked on hers.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“I haven’t been a good husband to you,” he lamented.
“I told you that you didn’t have to,” she reminded him.
“But I should be,” he fought her statement, “you deserve someone who cares for you and is there for you.”
“Tommy...”
“I’ve decided that I’m going to be that man you deserve,” he cut her off, leaning himself slightly closer to her as he spoke. “You ran right out to my son when he needed you, and I want you to know that I will not hesitate to be there for you if you’re ever in need.”
“That’s very sweet of you to say, Tommy,” she smiled at him, now noticing how close they were. She couldn’t help but glance down at his lips.
“‘S it alright if I kiss you, (Y/N)?” he asked softly after a few moments had passed.
His question made her laugh slightly. “Of course, Tommy. You’re my husband,” she reminded him, smiling as he then leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
This kiss was different from any other they’d shared. Their first, which was at their wedding, was very chaste and really only happened to seal their union. Virtually every other kiss they shared only happened when Tommy was drunk and would come to her after he’d been working. This kiss was pure and felt so real. It just about took (Y/N)’s breath away.
They pulled away moments after and rested their foreheads together. Neither of them said anything as they sat like that, their hands still intertwined from before. There was nothing more to be said...everything was starkly clear now to the both of them.
“Why don’t you come to bed, Mrs. Shelby?” Tommy suggested as he finally pulled back to look at her properly.
“I’d like that, Mr. Shelby,” she smiled as she copied what he called her, then allowing him to help her off of the couch, their hands still conjoined.
Tommy and (Y/N) slept in the same bed for the first time in their five months of marriage that night. They now knew that they could rely on each other wherever they were in a time of need. And that was something they were both very thankful for.
———
Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @julyzaa
MASTERLIST
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augustwritingchallenge · a day ago
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Here. We. Go! AU-gust 2022 prompt list just dropped! Go on and spread the word!
What is AU-gust? It stands for Alternate Universe August, and it is a creative challenge for everyone. Writers, artists, fans; anyone can join! Be sure to check out our FAQ for more answers! Join us on Twitter, AO3, Discord and under the tags #AU_gust and #AU_gust_2022.
Special thanks to yaoyorozoops for creating this year’s graphics!
[Image ID: 31 days challenge prompt list as follows: 1 Underwater, 2 Artist’s Muse, 3 Countryside, 4 Dinosaurs, 5 Teachers, 6 Fairies, 7 Science Fantasy, 8 Literal Hell, 9 Coffee Shop, 10 Space Academy, 11 Twisted Fairy Tale, 12 Candyman, 13 Reboot/Fresh Start, 14 Food Truck, 15 Hanahaki Disease, 16 Psychological Horror, 17 Annoying Neighbour, 18 Choir, 19 Spies & Assassins, 20 Space Colonisation, 21 Ghosts, 22 Surfers, 23 Infinite Loop, 24 Childhood Friends, 25 Mad Scientist, 26 Paparazzi, 27 Adoptive Family, 28 Unicorns, 29 Where It All Went Wrong, 30 The Good End, 31 Two of the above. You have three Jokers: Soulmate AU, Theatre AU, Yandere AU]
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fineredmist · 2 days ago
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G’day my name is Mick Sni’per Mentalsickness Kangaroo Mundy and I have short dirt brown hair (that’s not how I got my name) in a mullet that reaches my neck and dark blue eyes like hot springs and people tell me I look like Mick Dundee (AN: if you don’t know who he is get da hell out of there!) I’m not related to Saxton Hale but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a professional but I have standards. I have pale tan skin. I’m also an assassin, and I work at a remote base called 2fort in New Mexico where it’s the seventh year of the gravel war (I’m thirty-seven). I’m a marksman (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly red. I love Mann Co. and I get all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a brown vest with a matching glove and a red shirt, dark tan pants and brown cowboy boots. I was wearing orange sunglasses, a brown watch, a teeth necklace, and a brown hat. I was walking outside 2fort. It was hot and dry so there was a lot of sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of civilians stared at me. I put my middle finger up at them. 
“Hey Sniper!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was… Spy!
“What’s up Spy?” I asked.
“Nothing.” he said shyly. 
But then, I heard the timer counting down to the match and I had to go away. 
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fanfic-wonderland · 2 days ago
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He'll Kill Us Both {Sirius Black}
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Pairing: Sirius Black x Gryffindor!Female Reader
Summary: Being James Potter's twin sister is not easy when you're secretly dating his best friend...
Warnings: Mild Language, Smut
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The room is pitch black and quiet but (Y/N) has not lost track of the clock hanging on the wall opposite her bed. She tries to wait for it to strike midnight as calmly as possible but a pump of adrenaline is already making its way through her veins and she begins to feel impatient. It is impossible to stay still but the last thing she wants to do is make the wrong move and wake up her dormmates; she certainly does not need an interrogation right now. So far, she's been successful the numerous times she has snuck out of the room without drawing attention, except maybe for that one time when she was almost busted by Filch, but even then she handled it pretty well.
When it is finally time to go, (Y/N) gets out of bed quietly, slipping her shoes on and tiptoeing her way to the mirror. She can barely see her reflection but she tries to work with what she has, and she figures that brushing her hair and putting on a bit of perfume will do the trick. It's nothing too big, she's not going out to a fancy restaurant, but she wants to at least be presentable for whatever outcome she'll get as soon as she steps out the door.
She throws a coat across her shoulders and decides that she's ready to get going. The faster she leaves, the lesser chances she'll have of getting caught by-
"Where are you going?"
Bloody hell.
(Y/N) freezes on her spot. Lily is now sitting up on her bed, holding her weight on her left arm and squinting her sleepy eyes at the doorway. The door remains half open and (Y/N) considers leaving while pretending that she hadn't heard her but, knowing Lily, she wouldn't be surprised if the girl decides to follow her. She turns to the redhead with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Yeah," Lily replies. "What are you doing up so late?"
(Y/N) clears her throat. "I was just about to get something to eat. I can't sleep with an empty stomach."
Lily quirks a brow. "Seriously?"
"Yup."
Lily sighs in defeat while she settles back into her sleeping position. "You know what? I don't know if I believe you but I'm honestly too tired to care right now."
(Y/N) chuckles. "That's okay, just go back to sleep."
When she doesn't hear an answer, she assumes that Lily has fallen back into a deep slumber. (Y/N) lets out a breath unaware that she was holding it, then proceeds to exit the room while trying not to make any more sounds.
She knows the way by heart. She's done this so many times already that she does not need to look twice at which direction she's headed. She loves the quietness of the castle at this hour, and how comfortable she has gotten with the darkness of the halls. She's lucky that most portraits are sleeping and, when they're not, she sneaks past them as easily as spotting Hagrid in a crowd. It wasn't always like that but she's gotten to know them better with time. She learned from the best, after all.
When she arrives at the broom cupboard, It's empty aside from the brooms, mops, and other cleaning supplies. She rolls her eyes. Of course, he's not here yet.
"Am I too late?"
Sirius arrives almost twenty minutes later and finds (Y/N) leaning against the table pressed to the stone wall, reading the label from a gallon that she had found lying around. She looks up quickly and smirks. "Only a little bit."
"Sorry," Sirius locks the door behind him, and (Y/N) puts the item aside as she takes a step forward. "Remus was up late tonight and I had to wait for him to finally put his bloody book down and fall asleep."
(Y/N) laughs. "That's quite alright. We still got time left."
He smiles cheekily at her words and does not waste a second more as he pulls her close, capturing her lips in his as if they were magnets. Both of them sigh almost at the same time, happy to be back in each other's arms after being apart the entirety of the day. Having to pretend that they aren't dating in front of their friends takes a toll on them, even more now when a year has passed.
A full year of stealing glances, passing notes, brushing fingers, and sneaking out of their dorms just so that they can finally spend time with each other. It is exhausting, to say the least, but as soon as they find the embrace and the warmth that they long for during the day they realize that it is all worth it. (Y/N) cups his face when they pull away, staring into his tired yet glowing eyes. She loves staring at him from up close; she can take in every single detail and read every emotion just by the way he looks back at her.
Sirius is still smiling and It's so contagious that she doesn't realize she's doing the same until her cheeks start hurting. "I've missed you." He tells her.
"Have you, really?" (Y/N) questions in a teasing manner. "Just how much?"
"Perhaps I could show you better than I could tell you, don't you think?" His lips go down to her jawline, landing on her neck with a trail of open-mouth kisses. It is easier for him to take in her familiar floral scent this way. How he missed the way it fills his nostrils.
(Y/N) closes her eyes and her entire body shivers at the sensation. He does not give her a chance to speak as he begins to mark her skin with his teeth, gentle but with enough roughness to make a moaning mess out of her. Her arms wrap around his neck and her hands cannot help but grab a fistful of his soft curls. He lets out a low groan that invites her to tug harder at his hair.
When their lips meet again it feels more desperate, like as soon as they touched each other they realized that their time is limited and they have to make the best of it. Sirius backs (Y/N) into the nearby table again, where most of the cleaning supplies are, but when he lifts her up he throws them all to the side with a swift move of his arm. Her legs wrap around his figure and he grabs her waist, softly biting her bottom lip in order to gain another reaction from her. When he hears a gasp escape her lips he smiles to himself, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue past them and coaxing it with her own. Subconsciously, their bodies are grinding against each other, and (Y/N) can already feel his hard-on rubbing against her which makes it even harder for her to contain herself. At this point, however, she does not really care.
Their clothes are scattered on the floor within a minute. It's almost a natural instinct of theirs to do so, even more when they have no time to waste. Only their underwear remains intact until Sirius can't help it anymore and moves one hand down to touch (Y/N) through the soft material of her panties. He can already feel how soaked she is and that just gets him more excited to feel her completely against him, to have her in every way possible.
(Y/N) moans again as his hand sneaks inside her underwear, slowly moving his fingers up and down her core while he stares at her face. Her eyes are closed and her head is thrown back, and he can easily come undone just by the view of her giving in to the pleasure. She gasps his name as his lips find the skin of her neck once more, licking and leaving love bites around because in the heat of the moment he forgets that they have to be cautious about this. She seems to forget as well because she does nothing to stop him.
Sirius finally removes her panties and takes off his boxers, pushing them aside without looking at where they land. His eyes are only focused on (Y/N) because she is the only thing that matters to him right now. The only thing he can do is indulge in her beauty and enjoy it before they both part ways.
He aligns himself with her center, staring into her eyes as if silently asking for permission to go forward. (Y/N)'s too much in a daze to make up words so she just leans in to kiss him as a response, and it doesn't take him much to figure it out. She feels his bare back as she pulls him closer -although it makes barely any difference, they're basically glued together at this point- as he finally enters her. Her vision gets cloudier with every thrust of his hips and stroke of his fingers, and Sirius loves the way she clings to him. His mouth hangs open when the feeling in the pit of his stomach becomes almost unbearably good but he tries not to close his eyes just so that he can see her reach her high.
Their moans blend together as their pace quickens, both of them close to finishing but still savoring the moment as if It'll last for an eternity. When the wave of pleasure finally hits them their breathing gets heavier as they try to come down from it. Both of them are sweaty and sticky but it is no bother after such an intense experience that left them both happy and satisfied. Sirius brushes away a few strains of hair away from (Y/N)'s forehead, taking another long look at her. She looks worn out but is still grinning from ear to ear while staring back at him, his expression almost an exact copy of hers.
Half an hour later, they're back to being fully clothed. The atmosphere changes drastically; where there was once lust and passion in the air there is now a sort of sadness surrounding them as they sit in a corner of the room with their backs against the wall. (Y/N) lays her head on Sirius' shoulder while playing with his fingers. They've been quiet for a while until she breaks the silence. "I wish we didn't have to do this."
Sirius looks down at her and smirks. "Why, was I really that bad?"
(Y/N) smacks his chest playfully while he laughs lightly. "You know I don't mean that," she says, followed by a sigh. "This whole 'sneaking around' thing... I don't want to keep doing it. It's all your fault."
"And how is this my fault?"
"Well, you just had to go and become best friends with my brother." (Y/N) rolls her eyes.
Sirius chuckles. "Well, I wasn't really planning on falling in love with you, either. And besides, you have to admit that James is pretty irresistible."
"Oh?" (Y/N) raises an eyebrow, snuggling closer to her boyfriend. "Is that why you like me, then, because I remind you of him?"
Sirius clicks his tongue and raises his arms in defense. "Guilty."
(Y/N) laughs at him, planting a kiss on his cheek before going back to her original position. Deep down, though, she cannot brush away the hurt when she thinks about how they feel like they can't be public because her overprotective brother would probably murder them both if he finds out.
***
The next morning, (Y/N) covers up the very noticeable hickeys with a spell that she learned from her friend Florence ("It comes in very handy when a boy cannot keep his fangs away. Trust me." she had said one day.). So far, it has been effective, and this time it is no exception as the bruises on her neck and collarbone fade away effortlessly, leaving her skin intact. She smiles to herself, proud of her work, and at the same time, Lily barges into the dorm. "Hey, you ready to go?" she says.
(Y/N) turns to her and grins. "Of course."
"Are you okay?" Lily asks while eyeing the girl with worry. "You look tired."
And she is, she really is. (Y/N) and Sirius spent almost the entire night inside the cupboard, talking and laughing and avoiding being the first one to stand up. Neither of them wanted to leave. "Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't sleep too well last night," (Y/N) checks herself in the mirror, again, and this time she focuses on the bags under her eyes. Weirdly enough, she hadn't noticed them before. "But don't worry about it, I'm fine."
Lily nods hesitatingly and then her gaze drops lower. "Something wrong with your neck?"
(Y/N) panics as she looks down, but her bruises are still gone, luckily. However, her fingers are subconsciously running through the now empty spots and she stops the movement once she realizes it. "Nothing's wrong, Lily. You're being quite the motherly figure today, aren't you?"
Lily stares at her for a few more seconds before chuckling. "I guess I am. Anyway, let's just leave, yeah?"
When the both of them make it downstairs, three out of four Marauders are already in the Common Room. Remus is sitting at a table writing something down and Peter is sitting in an armchair while laughing at something that James just said on the couch in front of the fireplace. None of them notice the girls arriving until Lily clears her throat. The three of them look in their direction at the same time. "Well, hello, ladies," Although he's technically acknowledging both, James smiles directly at Lily. "Had a good night's sleep?"
Both girls nod as they walk toward them. Lily sits down next to James, much to his delight, and (Y/N) takes a seat across from Remus. "I think (Y/N) didn't sleep too well, though." Peter teases, mostly trying to get James' attention.
(Y/N) rolls her eyes but remains quiet. Thankfully, James does too, as he thinks nothing of it. Remus, on the other hand, is studying her face discreetly but before he can say something about it, they hear footsteps coming from the stairs.
All of them turn around at the same time to find the last person remaining so that they can finally make their way to Hogsmeade. "Morning." Sirius' greeting is followed by a yawn. (Y/N)'s heart flutters at the sight of him but she tries to keep her expression neutral. He does not look at her because then It'll be much harder for him to keep his hands off.
"Finally," James groans as Sirius scoots between him and Lily. "What took you so long to get up?"
Sirius rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "I didn't sleep well last night. If it wasn't because I could really use a Butterbeer right now I would've stayed in bed."
"Is that so?" Remus says, a certain hint of suspicion in his voice that no one but (Y/N) and Lily seem to notice. "So what were you doing last night that's gotten you so tired?"
Sirius's head snaps up and he turns to look at Remus but he accidentally makes eye contact with (Y/N) first before he can stop himself. She drops her gaze and tries to distract herself with the mesmerizing way the flames are swaying in the fireplace. "Come to think of it, I did wake up in the middle of the night and your bed was empty." James rubs his chin.
"I was taking a walk," Sirius answers a bit too quickly. "I couldn't sleep so I snuck out."
(Y/N) suddenly feels two pairs of eyes on her: one is coming from the boy sitting across from her and the other is coming all the way from the redhead sitting on the couch. She does not look at any of them because she has a feeling that they know something they shouldn't. "(Y/N)," Lily speaks up, and (Y/N) almost jumps on her seat at the sound of her name. "I forgot something in the dorm, could you help me look for it?"
Gulping, (Y/N) nods and follows the girl to the stairs.
When they're back at the dorm, Lily turns to face (Y/N) and takes out her wand, pointing it at her. "Revelio," she says quietly. The hickeys on (Y/N)'s neck slowly come into view once again and Lily gasps. "Oh my God, I knew it!"
"I can explain-"
"Oh, stop it," Lily cuts (Y/N) off before engulfing her in a tight hug. When she pulls away, she is beaming. "It's about damn time you guys started dating."
(Y/N) stares at her in disbelief. "What do you mean?"
"Are you kidding me?" Lily chortles. "You two have been liking each other since forever, it was so obvious! How long have you guys been...?"
(Y/N) blushes. "Since last year..."
Lily gasps louder. "And you didn't tell me?!"
"We wanted to keep it a secret from everyone because James will kill us if he finds out."
"Oh, please, I'd like to see him try," Lily scoffs while folding her arms across her chest. "He can't keep you guys apart just because he's your brother. In fact, he should be happy that you're dating someone he's close to and not some other random boy he doesn't know."
(Y/N) has a hopeful look on her face. "You think so?"
Lily places a hand on her shoulder. "He has no other choice but to accept this unless he intends on losing you both."
When they both go back down, the three boys are still trying to fish up answers from Sirius; his excuse about not being able to sleep did not work on them as well as he wanted to. James can tell that there is something else that he's not telling them and his first guess is, "Were you with someone, perhaps?" He wiggles his eyebrows.
As Sirius shakes his head, (Y/N) makes her way to the front of the couch. "Yes," she says impulsively. "He was with me."
The room goes silent after she speaks up and she almost begins to regret it. Sirius' eyes are huge, almost like they'll pop out of his face at any moment, Peter's jaw almost reaches the rug beneath their feet, Remus leans back on his chair and watches the scene in amusement, and James is silent. At first, he thinks that she is joking but, as soon as his eyes fall on the marks on her neck, he goes pale. "What the fuck?"
Sirius stands up in a hurry before James can blow up on him. "James-"
"Why were you with my sister, Sirius?" James growls.
Sirius gives him an apologetic look before sighing in defeat. "We've been... kind of dating for a while-"
"Nope," James shakes his head furiously. "Absolutely not. I'm not having this."
"I know you don't want to hear it but..." Sirius walks over to (Y/N) and grabs her hand. A jolt of electricity runs through her but she's not sure if It's because they're finally going public or if It's the adrenaline of doing something like this in front of her brother. "I love your sister. A lot."
James stands up as well while clenching his jaw. "Get your hand off of her-"
"James," Lily calls to him firmly.
He turns around to look at her and she narrows her eyes at him. He huffs. "Lily, I can't allow this. It isn't right."
"Why isn't it right? Because you say so?" she tilts her head questioningly.
James opens his mouth to speak but closes it once he sees (Y/N) scooting closer to his best friend. She is glaring at him but tears are starting to form in her eyes. "I'm not doing anything wrong." She says quietly.
"Come on, James, they're not hurting anyone," Remus adds. "Besides, you're with Lily. Why can't (Y/N) do the same?"
James lets out a long breath before scratching the top of his head in frustration. He knows that there's nothing he can do about this. "And this has been going on for how long now?"
"A year!" Lily blurts out excitedly. Sirius and (Y/N) look at each other and he raises an eyebrow at her. She smiles innocently.
"Bloody hell," Remus chuckles. "And we never noticed."
James sits back down. "Tell me about it. I feel like an idiot right now."
(Y/N) approaches her brother. "I'm really sorry for not telling you sooner. I knew you wouldn't be too excited about it."
James sighs for the longest time. He's quiet for a moment before he says, "It's okay, I guess. Just... as long as you guys keep the PDA to a minimum in front of me then... I guess It's fine."
He mutters the last part very quietly but (Y/N) still hears him. "Really?" she beams.
James rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."
Lily squeals in the background as (Y/N) hugs her brother tight, thanking him more than once because she still cannot believe that he (and everyone else) knows about the relationship now. It feels like a large weight has finally been lifted off of her shoulders.
(Y/N) then turns to Sirius, who still seems to be processing everything that just happened, and she hugs him as well. When she looks up at him with the biggest smile he has ever seen on her, Sirius cannot help but grab her face and kiss her like he always does when they're alone. Only this time it feels different, because he knows that they do not have to hide anything anymore and he can kiss her and hug her and hold her hand whenever he feels like it.
"WHAT DID I JUST SAY?"
They pull away immediately. "Sorry, mate," Sirius clears his throat, both of them trying to keep a stern face. "Anyway, Butterbeer?"
All of them agree at the same time. They make their way to the exit; Remus and Peter walk out first –"Guess It's just you and me buddy." Remus says while patting Peter's back-, then James and Lily, and then (Y/N) and Sirius. He wastes no time in interlocking his fingers with hers and they smile to themselves, almost like they're too shy to look at each other.
It feels like a new beginning for both of them.
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justa-pjo-donut · 2 days ago
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Does anyone else while looking for a fanfic just
Sees a good one, bookmarks it, and carries on looking
Then like a week later you remember it and start reading it and it's actually pretty good, then u grt mad at yourself for not reading straight away and waisting time
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angelic-ish-phantom · 2 days ago
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Dannymay15
Ghost Biology
Sam keeps notes about Danny.
This is not a weird thing to do when your friend is half-dead in her opinion!
…That doesn’t mean, she’s going to tell him about them though.
Not because it’s creepy in any capacity! But because her observations aren’t exactly on his powers. Just, other things. Little details that she doesn’t want to point out lest they freak Danny out.
For example, she’s pretty sure Danny doesn’t actually need to breathe. He just hasn’t noticed.
And that would be a concerning thing for her to know when he doesn’t, but it isn’t because he just… forgets to breathe a lot of the time. She doesn’t think he gets anything out of doing it.
However, Sam’s noticed he breathes at an almost-human rate when it gets warm. Maybe, it helps regulate temperature.
There’s also how sometimes, Danny is smarter. Or well, maybe not smarter, but… he processes things faster, he’s remembers more. He also gets fidgety, observant, and more prone to sensual affection.
And the state is something he visibly shakes off. He’s said before that his core was something akin to a ghost brain. She wonders if there’s any dissonance between how he thinks with his core and his brain…
Is it even actually thinking if he’s using his core. It’s a strange though. She wonders what it would feel like to hop from one form of thinking to another, much more foreign one.
There’s another thing she doesn’t think Danny has looked at long enough to notice. His hands are sharp.
Plenty of ghosts have claws, but Danny hands, his gloves, they sharped at the end like the fingers themself have pricked at the tips.
She first noticed it when he’d once used them to pry open the metal of Skulker’s suit with a casual easy, but he clearly hadn’t thought much on it, hadn’t dwelled on the action.
There’s also the fascinating thing that is his suit.
Danny can take it off just fine, but when he’s in a situation where it gets cut, he bleeds. Like it’s his skin that’s been cut.
She wonders often if him having skin under it is something he does actively. He feels the through the suit as well. She pinched his sleeve once to make sure he wasn’t just feeling through it.
She thinks it’s become something like a hide, but it’s definitely more sensitive than that…
Another thing she’s noticed is Danny growls. It’s a low, rumbling, angry sound from his chest that picks up whenever he’s stressed or annoyed. It’s extremely hard to miss if you aren’t paying attention.
When he’s fighting or in danger, they’re much louder and tend to change pitch with his speech. Its really cool actually.
Something similar to this that Danny has noticed is the purring. She’s pretty sure he only realized, because she and Tucker couldn’t just not tease him over it.
He only ever purrs around them. At first she thought it was something he could only do when he felt safe or relaxed, but he also uses it as a comforting venture towards them without realizing.
He also insist that the sound is just his core vibrating and decidedly not purring. He is wrong.
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a-gal-with-taste · 2 days ago
Note
https://twitter.com/witchy_writes_s/status/1524318871888539648
I feel like this would be right up your alley
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Oh, Okay. I see you, reawakening my love for the enemies-to-lovers troupe~
Warnings: SFW. Language, enemies-to-Lovers, Firelight!Reader (plagiarizing a bit from @chickenparm, go read Squeeze so I don’t get sued), canon-typical violence/injuries, banter, a Slow-Burn on fast-forward mode
The first, immediate reaction, is to laugh. Hysterically, maddeningly so, for such an offer is nothing short of pure absurdity. But it's just too absurd for you to even commit to your instantaneous reaction, and instead you just let out a barking sound that's somewhere between a chortle, and a wet, sticky cough, "What?"
"It's cliché, I'm know." Silco is at least honest about it, though he doesn't look you in the eyes as he focuses on his hands, keeping the blood-stained bandage to your torso. Not as much red as when first applied, but enough that made even his non-existent brow furrow, in a rare show of perturbation, daresay concern. Apparently your luck was so shit, you didn't even have to move all that much for the stitches to reopen...
Your musings are cut short, when his eyes dart up to yours once more. As if the second spent from them was too long. "But however predictable my offer may seem, it is an offer I mean, as sincerely as you believe-me capable of. Without strings, or less-than-desirable motives you may accuse me of... I simply ask one thing of you..."
Join me.
If he had said that, the very first time you had been face to face with him, you wouldn’t have even given the time to cackle at the absurdity of being offered a position at the side of the Eye of Zaun. No, you probably would’ve grabbed the mask he had knocked-off your face, and smashed it into his stupid face over and over until it became mush.
It’s what any other Firelight would’ve done. It’s what you should’ve done, as you had scrambled back up to your feet, all under the hawk-like glare of Silco. Unmatching-eyes never wavered from your face, of which he seemed to be committing every detail of into his very-memory, as your hand frantically reached for a knife that - of course - had fallen during the unfortunate hoverboard crash. Knifeless, every nerve in your body was in preparations to lunge when Silco, the overlord and Shimmer tyrant of Zaun himself, tilted his chin up, looked you dead in the eyes and said, “You are far too old to be playing dress-up. Playing babysitter, then?”
Your mask was in his long-fingered hand.
It was a sight that should’ve filled you with far more disgust, but instead, you only felt annoyed at the most evil man in the Undercity, swiping your tongue around your mouth and spitting down far-too close to his boots. “I want that back.” 
“Very well.” He didn’t hand it to you. Not immediately. “Most of the Firelights are little more than children. I wasn’t aware they had a babysitter.” “And I wasn’t aware you conduct interrogations like they’re idle conversation,” You counter back, shifting on the balls of your feet. To lunge at him, end his reign and secure freedom and victory for Firelights, and Undercity alike, or to turn and run; you aren’t sure. The sounds of ambush on the shimmer-shipment are still going strong, but the weight of Silco’s unyielding gaze on you is even stronger. 
Your body doesn’t know what to do; fulfill the mission by taking out the head of the snake, or allow yourself to be charmed by the serpent. 
It’s decided against your will, when you storm a couple steps forward with a snarl on your lips and a panic in your step as you reach out, swiping at the mask yourself. Gloved fingers pinch the edge of your mask tighter and come up to pinch around your wrist as well, tight and as unyielding as his gaze as you glare up at him with plenty of fury, and no small amount of sudden-dread.
Silco continues to look down at you, seemingly unbothered that a quarter of his shipment has been ravaged, all his men are engaged in violent fisticuffs with a gang seeming hellbent to tear his operation down, and one Firelight, within striking - killing distance, gazing up at him. He’s unbothered by all of this, almost lazy in the way his gaze drifts down from your face, to your uniform, and his fingers wrapped around your wrist. He hums, dangerously-thoughtful, and meets your eyes again with a simple question on his lips, “What’s your name?”
It’s not the only question on his face, but you decide to ignore the one in his eyes, and respond to the one from his mouth with a definitive, instant, “Fuck you.” 
With the loosening of his fingers on both your mask and wrist, you snatch yourself away with both still in-tact, turning with your swift retreat and barreling away from the unlucky sidelines where you had crashed, back towards the sound of battle. Sounds which, even with the bitter call of retreat soon following, are far sweeter sounds than that of the faintest chuckle of bemusement that carry in the wind behind you, and the unspoken question in the Eye of Zauns gaze.
It’s a question that’s silently repeated the next time he corners you.
Or rather, sits beside you. Taverns are your weakness, one that you indulge with the recent defeat, and other budding developments - specifically, ones that have to do with the man reflected in the  half-full glass you bring up to your lips, to empty completely. Hands freeze like the blood in your veins, but you don’t turn to watch the rest of his approach, nor the soft hum as he settles onto the stool beside him. 
Instead, as the now ungloved-hand raises in a silent order for a drink of his own, you complete your mission and bring the rest of your bourbon to your lips, suffering the burn in silence when he begins to speak. “This was quite risky... The common belief is that the Lanes have Eyes, or so I hear.”
“And the best booze in the Undercity. Thought it’d be worth it.”
You try to convince yourself that’s not a laugh you hear, but it’s a sound that’s too low to be the tinkering of ice-cubes clinking in the glass placed before Silco. Silence reigns shortly after the not-laugh that slips from his mouth, and as he pleasures himself with taking a tip of the finest the bar has to offer, you chance a glance over your shoulder, attempting to see if you can spot the very gang-member who is going to break through the crowd at Silco’s orders to haul you off to Gods-know what kind of fate.
“Is it?”
“Hm?”
“Is it worth it? Trapezing about in a mask, risking death and embarrassment, all for the sake of... what? Shattering a handful of Shimmer vials with rebellious teenagers?" You bristle at such a plain dismissal of the cause - the Firelights weren't just some petty streetgang, looking to get rid of the higher-competition. You tell him as much, tone rather curt as you turn to him. "This might shock you, but eliminating your drugs from further damaging our streets isn’t just a pass-time of ours,” You snap coolly, bringing your quietly refilled glass back to your lips, and ignoring his eyes that follow the movement. “We’re fighting to free the Lanes, to keep them safe and protected-”
“Several-thousand in property damages, fighting openly in the streets and sapping at the most profitable business Underground, means ‘safe and protected?’” He sounded more curious than anything, but Silco was clearly unafraid of the glower you gave him in response to that shred of bemusement in his tone. “It’s better,” You hiss through your teeth. “Then doing nothing, and leaving the Undercity to rot while you line your pockets.”
“The pragmatism, I can appreciate. There’s a necessity for there to be a base amount of violence and destruction, in order to inspire change," Silco smiles as if he has any idea how it feels, and catches your glare with a glint of his own mix-matched eyes as he brings his glass to his lips. Cool amber slips past them, and he hums at the flavor on his tongue, with eyes that never leave yours and...
You hate it.
You hate being under the attention of the Eye, not just because it's wrong in every sense, not only because nearly every muscle in your body is yelling, screaming for you to turn and run from his attention...
But there's a tiny, slim, speck of a part of you, that wants to stay right where you are, and stay in his gaze forever.
"And what would you know about inspiring change?" You whisper quietly, and Silco let's out a scoff thats far too bemused. "Except for the fact that Shimmer-overdoses certainly weren't the norm around here in the years past, I doubt you and your goons have been as inspiring as you like to think you-"
"What was the last Enforcer raid? The last time Topsiders paraded our streets like a source of oddities to gawk at? Can you remember the last time you remembered a Topsider being amongst our streets, at all?"
You hate the fact that not only he says these calmly and matter-of-factly, but the fact that you can't actually recall. Silco continues on, after admiring your frustration for a beat as he swirls his glass in hand, "I admit, it's crude and often distasteful methods that win-wars, allowing circulation of drugs to bring strength to even the lowest among us... but in these years, I find myself enjoying victory over vials and papers, in compared to over bodies."
"Yes, because Shimmer is devoid of a body-count."
"Its not perfect," Silco readily admits, with something almost akin to apologetic in the way he shrugs one shoulder. "Additional research is always needed. Alternative options are consistently debated, however, outside perspective would benefit in easing out the more negative-effects that Zaun seems to naturally draw onto itself..."
"You think you can talk your way out of the mess you've created?" You sputter, and immediately grow quiet when he chuckles. A low, rolling sound that slips smoothly through the air - it's thin enough to wrap around your own attention, and commanding enough to hold on tight.
You're going to be hearing that sound for days in your mind.
"With the boy? No, he seems more inclined to silence me than to hear me... and he's not the one I would wish to converse with, in the journey to find a middle-ground."
Glass hits the table - not cracking it, but firmly left on the countertop, and left unfinished as you move off your stool. Silco watched, amused, and once more his fingers come up to lock your wrist like a shackle... a warm cuff, for you realize, suddenly, that he came ungloved. "It's not impractical," He comments to your stiff-form. "Wars have been resolved with much less than polite conversation. And in any case, you've sat here and listened to me for several minutes already..."
Eyes stubbornly fixed towards the exit, flicking instinctively to the scattered patrons for those that are just waiting for Silco's order, and you are so focused that you nearly miss the soft breeze of warm air brushing the shell of your ear when he leans close.
"Imagine how much we could talk though, if we spent not a handful of moments, but an entire evening? I believe we would get much done, don't you?"
There's another question there, beneath his words and, if you turned, you would see it in his eyes. But you don't entertain it, not with the one he whispered screeching your mind to a halt, and keeping it prone and useless when his thumb, warm and calloused, rubs a slow line over the pule-point on your wrist.
Up. And then down. Slow, methodical, and with care.
"We shouldn't."
"We shouldn't." Silco agrees in a low murmur. "But we could."
"... I can't."
That laugh is going to be the death of you - the laugh, or the feel of his breath tickling the skin behind your ear, you offhandedly acknowledge that one of those two things will be your undoing. "Somehow I doubt there's a force-alive that can stop you at anything you want to truly do." Silco muses, at the same time his fingers slip from your wrist, with one final, trailing touch along your veins. "You can. And if you decide that you do, you'll know where to find me."
You're released, freed, and give no opportunities for him to take hold of you again, darting from your barstool like life and sanity depends on it.
Despite being the improv drinking-partner of the Eye of Zaun with you as a Firelight, somehow, you know your life is still assured. Perhaps even protected.
Your sanity, however, seems to be something Silco relishes in breaking apart every time you meet. Whether by design or by coincidence, every part of you that vehemently, totally and utterly has resigned to loathing every-part about his existence, is left frayed at the seams every time you find yourself at his side again with every meeting.
And you met him again. Many, many times after that.
The bar is a favored place of yours, but never your regular - a Firelight is always ever adapting, always prepared to be on the move, never settling, and yet you find yourself making something of a third-home at that same counter. First once, than twice, and then more times than you can recall. But what you can recall, is that every time, Silco is there. Seated right beside your own, a glass already in hand, with a drink already fresh at the counter.
He swears he wasn't waiting. And after one of your many visits, you swear you weren't arrive early because you want to.
"Just like you aren't showing up at the same bar for the pleasure of my company?"
His quiet chuckles break you every time. The low-mirth in his smiles when you remember who he is, what he is, and make no attempt to hide the scorn in your tone.
"Exactly."
“I see.”
You hate the fact that he only smiles, truly smiles, when your speech dips from conversation to rhetoric, from cautiously treading the line between critique and rhetoric against the Eye. You loath the idea that he finds your impassioned hisses and glowers amusing, and you hate the fact that, slowly, with every passing visit, those feelings of scorn and words of hatred start to fade.
The words and feelings fade, but the way Silco smiles at you never does.
And you hate it, you swear you do. Or, at the very least, you know you should. But for whatever reason, you don't.
You could blame the liquor or the situation. You can blame the way he seems to have you charmed, how Silco's low words and smooth smiles have done their duty in wavering your loyalty to the point that it's shaken. You even try to blame your fading loathing for the Eye of Zaun, on the fact that there dares to be improvement on the streets.
Shimmer is being diluted. Excessive dosage is becoming rarer by the days, and weeks that follow the meets you share with him. Some Firelights even claim, bewildered and suspicious, that sales are being moderated almost carefully.
When you had stormed into the bar that night, snarls and accusations on your lips, with fury in your eyes, Silco didn't break your sanity with a smile, not this time. He broke it with an ungloved hand, sliding over yours and squeezing, once. "I told you. We could get much done between us, if we only talked."
You knew, one way or another, that simply talking with the Eye was going to destroy you, one way or another. And when he succeeds in it, Silco doesn't win with a knife jammed into your heart, like you had always suspected.
He wins, by simply gazing at you with that ever-present question in his eye, as he raises your hand to brush his lips along your always-bruised knuckles.
Join me.
It's a question you always see, rather than hear. He never says it, but it's spoken in his eyes all the same. With every smile he shows as he silently files one of your complaints for later uses, with every press on his fingers brushing, resting along your skin, and eventually, becoming a constant that warms your skin every time you sit at the bar, a single palm flat on the counter, with his own coming up to cover it with his own. 
Joined, rather minimally, by body. But with every passing meeting, every glance you spare out of the corner of your eye to him between conversations of work, of the Undercity, of histories, of yourself and than one-another, you know what Silco’s asking.
He wants you to join him, and with every passing meeting, you’re finding it harder and harder for your own eyes to keep telling him no.
Unfortunately, you’re so worried about the conversation going on between your gazes, that you neglect the fact that Silco is not the only Eye in the Lanes, and that the Firelights have some of their own. 
There’s no warning, and like you and Silco, that rather important conversation is not spoken through words, but fists, and the venom-filled look that’s given to your crumpled, broken and dangerously-prone body in the alleyway, before you are left for crows. 
“Nngh... g-gotta give them props,” You manage between red-lined teeth, swallowing back another whimper at the delay of local-anesthesia as a needle works to stitch up the brand-new slashes that will leave scars on your side. Diluted or not, assurances that it was wholly medical and not the recreational brand, you’d rather bleed-out than take the Shimmer. “They... they didn’t waste much time.”
“No, they didn’t,” Silco murmurs, green and red following the doctors hands as he works. The flight to the metal-table, or even the discovery of your body in the alley, is something you can barely recall as you struggle just to keep your eyes open. What you do recall, is that you were only about an hour later than the silently-agreed upon meeting time at the bar. 
It should infuriate you, that Silco so-clearly assumed that you would always be there, to arrive at his side so readily, when in reality you owed him nothing. 
There’s a warmth instead, in your chest and around one of your hands as you watch Silco’s expression. Natural-brow furrowed, face stony and unreadable, save for eyes that flicker to watch every movement of the doctor’s work. Eyes that are barely shielding the unspoken emotions finally glance up to you, and that curtain fades to show his dark-rage, fury, promise and...
Yes, and worry. Worry for you, and you know there’s little point in denying or admonishing him for showing you such weakness.
Instead, you simply croak out one request. “Don’t.”
His jaw twitches with the way his teeth grind in seething fury, before motion stills entirely from him as you squeeze his hand, not entirely out of pain as a needle digs into your skin to close the gap in your side. “Silco,” You murmur, voice growing weaker, and also stronger, with how apt his attention is fully-directed onto you. “Please. Spare them.”
“I should. It would send a message.”
“Exactly, you wanna... p-paint bigger target on my back?”
You held his hand until darkness at your vision blurred and faded him from sight entirely. But though he says nothing, the small, tiny points of seagreen and red remain in your sight long after blackness fills it’s edges, and the words in them say more than enough for you to slip into slumber without fear for your now ex-comrades.
There’s also that familiar question in his eyes. It seems ever-present now, from the moment you awaken in a bed far too fine, in a location far too panic-inducing that you instinctively reached out, and wrap tightly around an awaiting hand of the man at your side. 
From that moment, the moment he guided you up to limp your sore, aching body into sitting up, and soon standing. A question radiates in his gaze, with every moment you spend in the snake’s den, and every moment where instead of restoring your demolished honor with the Firelights by ending him, you stay close to the side of the serpent.
And like any other charmer, Silco speaks in words swear and alluring, unhelped by hands easing away the pain of re-opened stitches. “We could do well, together. We are well together.”
“Could name a few that don’t think so. Think you might know them, kicked my ass a few times for that very reason that we were seen together?” Your sarcasm is unappreciated, but you are only admonished with the pressure of his hand squeezing around yours as he raises a brow. Your voice catches, because while he also looks unimpressed, Silco also looks firm in his conviction, making your own waver.
“We... I shouldn’t.”
Your voice is growing weaker. Resolves are crumbling quickly, as Silco only continues to stroke his thumb over the edge of your lip, and gaze down into your eyes with that same, ever-present, never spoken question.
“We can. You can.” A beat, and then he leans down, hand slipping from over your side, your body, until it’s soon tracing the contours of your face. A face you know he’s memorized in it’s entirely, but his eyes drop briefly from yours as his thumb, ungloved, traces along your bottom-lip. Taking in the sight of them parting, before his eyes jump back to yours, only that one question in his eyes as he murmurs quietly, “Look how far we’ve gotten already just by talking. Imagine how much more we could achieve.”
You swallow. His fingers don’t leave your bottom lip and chin. “You... Shimmer’s always going to be a problem.”
“Undoubtly.”
“My... The Firelights...”
And then, with the quietest breath of your name, washing over your face in a warm breeze, he simply asks it:
“Join me.”
He speaks with his mouth; finally giving voice to the question he’s been asking for a long, long time with his eyes. Eyes that have never wavered in his conviction, not from the moment he saw the willing-nature you showed, and the willingness you showed to talk.
It’s not enough, what he’s done already. It’s different, but you know it’s not nearly enough for what the Undercity needs. Silco on his own is not enough to inspire change, but, selfishly, you’ve started to believe that perhaps the two of you together, can make a better effort.
You also have selfish reasons. It’d be silly to lie and pretend they were all noble and thinking only of Zaun’s best-interests, and not just what you want. 
From there, it’s an easy decision, and one you don’t verbally respond to. Instead, you answer the once-silent question with a silent-action of your own, and you push yourself up onto your elbows, matching his hand on your face with one of yours on his own.
In the end, you imagine a verbal-response is unnecessary. Silco can surely hear the yes, in the way you kiss him then. 
-
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saytr · 2 days ago
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Based on Chapter 8 of "Sewing Sentiments" by @frostedpuffs
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get-your-fics · 2 days ago
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Down the Rabbit Hole
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Summary: "I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir, because I'm not myself, you see." —Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
Pairings: Jake Lockley x fem!reader, Steven Grant x fem!reader, Marc Spector x fem!reader
Word count: 1.6k
Warnings: Kidnapping, allusion to non-con and violence
Note: this is a continuation of "Through the Looking Glass." i said i'd post it by the end of the day and i delivered! thank you once again to @nephilxterra for inspiring this!
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Steven let Marc front when they found her.
Jake had been good at covering his tracks until they found a crumpled business card for a self-storage facility in the bin (which Steven quickly pointed out should’ve been in the recycling). “I wonder where he got that idea from,” Steven mumbled.
Marc shot a glare at his reflection.
Steven let Marc front even when he was a little too snippy with the receptionist. He let him front as he walked down the long hallway, passing unit after unit looking for the one that matched the number the receptionist gave them. Fluorescent lights flickered above him, and the only sound in the otherwise soulless storage facility was the loud thud of Marc’s heavy boots against cement.
He let Marc front, but he was still there, watching in what few windows there were streaming some much-needed light into the building. If Steven was fronting, his heart would've been pounding in his chest, and he’d be biting his nails down to the quick.
Marc stopped in front of the unit bearing the same number as the one they’d been given. He grabbed the lock and tried as many combinations he could think of that Jake would use. But each time he pulled on it, it didn’t give. He cursed under his breath.
“Try her birthday,” Steven said.
Marc looked down at the shiny metal of the lock. “What?”
“Her birthday,” Steven repeated, and then he told it to him. “It’s worth a shot.”
Marc sighed. “What the hell?”
He turned the numbers on the lock to correspond with her birthday. His eyes went wide when it clicked, and he pulled the lock away with ease. There was a moment where both Marc and Steven seemed to go on pause. Just how much of their time in the psych unit together had Jake spied on?
Marc reached down to grab the handle, but froze. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered, though his voice still carried in the empty hallway. “I think you’d be better to take the lead. I don’t have much of a comforting presence, and she’s more familiar with you.”
But Steven refused. Marc was accustomed to witnessing the horrors of humanity, first in the military, and then as a mercenary. Steven didn’t think he’d be able to stomach whatever was waiting for him on the other side of that roll-up door.
The metallic screech as Marc lifted the door was deafening. He stood up straight and stared into the darkness, the light from the hall spilling in and illuminating the floor in front of him. He felt around on the wall for a light switch, and when his fingers brushed against it, he flipped it on.
Light flooded the unit, and Marc raised his hand to shield his eyes, squinting. When his vision adjusted, he lowered his hand and stood up. He drew closer to the wall opposite him. It was plastered with news articles about the massacre at the psych unit and missing posters of her. There were a bunch of polaroid photos too, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw who they were of.
They were all of her, but not as he remembered her. In them, she was bound and gagged, covered in bruises, glassy eyed and shiny tear tracks down her cheeks. There were some of her naked, too, and in compromising positions. Marc stopped when he got to those. He couldn’t go any further, for his or Steven’s sake.
He tore himself away from the wall and examined the rest of the unit. There was a rack full of guns on the far wall and all sorts of weapons: knives, scalpels, hammers, drills. The blood drained from Marc’s face. He was really hoping he wasn’t using any of those on her.
Marc saw Steven staring back at him from the polished surface of a metal table. “Is she not there?”
He spun in a slow circle, scanning the room. “I don’t see her."
“She has to be there.” Steven paced back and forth, a crease between his brows. “Where else could he be hiding her?”
Marc wanted to snap at him for pacing — it was a physical manifestation of the rising sense of urgency he was feeling — but he held his tongue. He hated to think that they came all this way, that they got their hopes up, for nothing.
And then, he heard it. It was just a soft tinkle, but it was there.
The rattling of chains.
He whirled around and slowly approached a crate in the corner. He kicked it aside, and it made a loud scraping noise as it slid across the concrete floor. There she was, curled into a ball in the corner and hugging her knees to her chest.
She stared up at him with frightened, bloodshot eyes, her lashes damp with tears. She was dressed in only her hospital gown, and it was torn, practically hanging off of her body in tatters and smudged with mysterious brown stains that he really hoped were dirt. She had dark bags under her eyes, and her face was gaunt and dewy with sweat. Even in the unit during one of her episodes, Steven had never seen her look this bad.
“Please, I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked, like she hadn’t spoken in days. “I’m sorry for hiding. I know I shouldn’t have.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Marc said her name name softly and kneeled down so he was eye level with her. “It’s me, Marc. You’re safe now.”
He reached out to touch her, but she shuffled away from him, pressing herself further into the corner. She flinched and raised her arms to shield herself. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “No more, no more.”
Marc’s gaze landed on the thick, heavy shackles clasped around her wrists chained to the wall. Bruises spanned the length of her arms, some faded and healing, and others brand new.
Marc stood up and backed away from her. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he whispered. “I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise.”
He looked at his reflection on the table, where Steven was stock still. “We have to get her out of here fast before he comes back,” he hissed.
“But the chains,” Steven pointed out.
“Oh, really? I didn’t notice until you mentioned them,” Marc deadpanned.
Steven ignored him. “He must have a key hidden somewhere.”
“We don’t have time for that.” His gaze landed on something amongst the rack of torture devices. “We’re getting her out now.”
He marched towards the rack, determination in his stride. “Marc, wait,” Steven piped up, his voice rising in pitch. “Marc, what are you doing?”
Marc grabbed the handsaw off of the rack and turned towards her. She locked eyes with him. “I’m gonna help you, alright?”
Her hands scrambled at the walls on either side of her, nails dragging against the brick. “Please, don’t!” Her eyes were welling with fresh tears, her bottom lip trembling. “Don’t!”
Marc raised the saw above his head. He grabbed hold of the chain, gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white as he brought the saw down. She clasped her hands over her ears as the incessant shriek of metal grating against metal filled the unit, squeezing her eyes shut. Marc gritted his teeth so hard he thought he’d grind them to dust. His hands ached, but he didn’t let up, not even for a second.
After what felt like hours had passed, the chain snapped in two, breaking free from the wall. Marc dropped the saw, and it clattered noisily against the ground. “Go.” He gestured to the open door. “You’re free.”
“Marc, what are you doing?” Steven seethed. “You can’t just let her go out there by herself!”
“She’ll be safer on her own than with us,” Marc snapped.
Steven fell silent. He knew he was right. They couldn’t even keep her safe from themselves.
She lowered her hands and looked up at him with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights, almost like she was waiting for him to make the next move or tell her what to do.
“It’s okay,” Marc encouraged her. “You can go now.”
She slowly rose from her crouched position. She tiptoed past him, her knees shaking like they were going to buckle and give out at any second. She eyed him the whole time, like she was waiting for the moment that he would turn on her and reveal that it’d all been some test.
When she made it past him, she broke out into a full out sprint, running as fast as her weak legs could carry her. She caught a glimpse of light filtering in through a window in the hall, her first glimpse of natural light in who knew how long. She’d long lost track of how much time she’d spent in that unit.
Then, there was a hard tug on the other end of the chain, and she went falling like the carpet had been yanked out from under her.
She landed on the ground with a hard thud, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She wheezed breathlessly, her head spinning. She groaned as she rolled over on her back, her entire chest aching like she’d been hit by a car. The fuzzy dots clouding her vision started to clear as his face hovered over hers, all hard lines and grim features.
His lips cracked into a lopsided smirk, his eyes pitch black as they bored into her. "¿Realmente pensaste que podrías alejarte de mí tan fácilmente, querida?"
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Translation: "Did you really think you could get away from me that easily, darling?"
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tokoyamisstuff · 2 days ago
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La douleur exquise - (n.) the heart-wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable
Sinister! Doctor Stephen Strange x Reader
!MoM Spoilers Ahead!
In exchange for the Darkhold, Strange has to give his evil counterpart something that holds a way more emotional value.
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Warnings: Not Proofread, Mental Illness, Mentions of past Death and Murder, Self-Loathing, Hurt/Comfort, just me casually defending a Mass murderer Words: ~2000 A/N: Obviously you're replacing Christine in this Storyline, being a Researcher of the Multiversum and having been dragged into Stephen's mess.
"Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." - Master Yoda from Star Wars
"What did he say?"
You spoke before your mind could catch up on what you saw, however the strained expression on Stephen's face told you that the bargain did not went well.
The sorcerer hurried out of the ruins that once pridefully called themselves the Sanctum Sanctorum, his sentient cloak frantically moving with the all-surrounding mist of this forsaken universe.
"There's no other way but to fight him" he declares hastily and without further explanation. "Y/N, you need to leave. Hurry!"
"Wha-why?!"
"Just go!" the doc snapped at you, uttering some curses only for him to hear in between gritted teeth. After everything that had happened it might be just natural for him to behave this way, but something told you that a different reason was causing this internal struggle.
"Stephen..." you cooed with your most balming voice, knowing very well he'd be unable to resist it. You might not be the Y/N of his universe, but you did have an effect on the man that perfectly resembled your deceased husband nevertheless.
"Please, be honest with me. If this Dr. Strange has the Darkhold, he has the upper hand anyway. It's too dangerous to fight him alone. We can work this out together!"
"...what he wants is you. Are you happy now?!"
There was a long break of silence between his question and your response, but the answer was a clear and firm "Yes."
Strange blinked heavily, shook his head in confusion but your decision remained unfaltering. You took a deep breath before sighing deeply, and when you looked up into his eyes again he knew what this was about.
"An arrogant, egoistical cynic once told me that if it is to preserve stability of the Multiverse, our sacrifices mean way more than our survival." Oh, Strange knew this philosophy all too well - and right now he regretted every single syllable of it.
"Under no circumstances I'll leave you here with this monster" Stephen now growled, sending a menacing glare to the figure observing you from afar. "God knows what he'll do to you!"
"It's still you Stephen, and I'll always trust you to be a good person at the end of the day."
"Yes, but if my Y/N had never stopped forgiving me everything, I never would've changed for the better, if only a little! I wouldn't be the man I am now!"
"And I am proud of you for that, Stephen." You cracked a pained smile, taking a hold of his hands when out of a whim, you felt his forehead against yours, a sudden sensation of wetness in your hair.
"We can never exist in the same universe together without causing an inversion" you reminded him harshly, to make the goodbye easier.
"And anyways: I bet the Y/N in your universe is waiting for you to finally dare and conquer her once again. I must know, after all" you smiled widely, presenting your wedding ring to him.
"I-I've been nothing but terrible to her" Strange now sobbed against the fabric of your shirt, with you reassuringly putting your palms on his shoulder, squeezing them ever so slightly. "She's happy with someone else now. I-I don't deserve her, I-"
"Don't you ever dare thinking like that" you whispered with sheer certainty as you saw a silhouette lurking behind of the scattered window. "If you do, you'll end up just like him."
There was neither time, nor options - both of you had to accept this fact. So it was no wonder that slowly but steadily, the embrace would loosen and firm steps led you towards the entrance of the building.
You wouldn't dare turning back to face him one last time, fearing you might lose courage if you did. But when his last words reached your ear you froze, lower lip trembling in a desperate attempt not to be overwhelmed by those long lost feelings.
"Thank you, Y/N - for always saving me."
_____
Countless stairs led up from impossible formations towards the second floor, a red half moon on the horizon serving as the only light source was perfectly accenturating this most bizarre scene.
Amazing, how you vividly remembered this part of the Sanctuarum from your visits, fingers running across ancient tombs and relics that resembled the ones in your universe.
"Still as naive as always I see."
This cold yet familiar voice made you jump a little, eyes needing a while to adjust to the darkness as the Strange from this universe revealed itself from beneath the shadows.
"Good that you didn't hold on to him any longer" the man hissed, starting the conversation due to your lack of reaction, staring outisde to the still waiting Stephen. "I was already thinking about killing this one, too."
"Too?" you dared prying, even though you were sure to not want an answer for hearing it would break you.
"Yes, indeed." Your blood ran cold when his unreadable expression turned into one of sheer malice, almost as if proud even. "I've killed many versions of myself in cold blood, and after some time my original remorse got replaced by pure joy."
"W-Why would you do this?"
"Because they didn't deserve living my dream of having you, it's that easy!" Strange now screamed at you, the walls of the Sanctum shaking at his raw power.
"I'm human, not something one can possess." You wouldn't give him the satisfaction to see you cry, desperately suppressing the tears prickling in the rim of your eyes.
But it was so damn hard to not give in to your emotions while seeing someone wearing the same face as your lover, even though you know that this person is long gone...
...and it made you sympathetic with the man right in front of you.
Knowing that over and over again, someone else had the luck that the two of you were not granted must be torture - and also the most greatest temptation.
To just leave your universe behind and replace it with one of happiness and bliss, where you could have everything you wanted, even shall it be reuniting with the one you cared about most.
How hard must this soulcrushing guilt have weighted on his soul when he realized that his innocent wish to be with the one he loved damned billion lives to imminent demise? That a solution was so close, but the natural calculus of the Multiverse would not allow it?
But right now, did it really matter as long as you stayed in a universe that had already been destroyed beyond repair?
"Give him-"
"The Darkhold?" he took the words right out of your mouth, grapping the heavy chain that was connecting the book to it's holder. "It exacts a heavy toll, you know?"
"I believe in Doctor Strange." Every word hit the other Stephen's heart like sharp knives, knowing that he himself failed to resist it's temptation.
Without knowing the consequences, he had started using the Darkhold a long time ago with the simply wish of finding a Y/N to spend the rest of his life with...
...but when he realized what chaos he had unfolded, he continued searching for answers in the forbidden magic to undo his actions. He secluded himself in the Sanctum, his failures only made him more mad and vulnerable to the corruption of the Darkhold.
Unable to redeem himself, knowing that abducting a Y/N wouldn't fill the hole in his heart for she could never love the abomination he became, in a universe without any hope, he had accepted his fate - having found salvation in cruelty.
"Prove to me that you're really Y/N, and not just a trick by the other me." You raised a suspecting eybrow at the man, aware that his powers surpassed these of a 'normal' Dr. Strange by far.
His eyes widened in panic and disbelief when you hesistantly approached the man until you were but inches away from each other. Strange was towering over you, his calm outer demeanour unable to deceive you.
There was a beast raging on the inside, having taken over his mind to make the rest of his consciousness helplessly watch his rampage. He was erratic, constantly on edge and not held back by any morals or reason anymore.
However, if there was anything of the man you once knew left in him, there was no way you'd be afraid.
"Stephen..." You dared cupping his face in your hands, feeling that his whole body was shaking. "My Strange died shortly after our marriage - no happily ever after. I feel your pain."
 "You are just like her." Even his voice was quivering in sheer exasperation, unable to keep quiet sobs from exiting his mouth as his hands ghosted over your form.
The sorcerer inhaled sharply, visibly surprised when you took one of his hands and led it to the side of your face. You closed your eyes as you leaned into his touch, savouring the warmth his blackened fingertips still provided. "I missed you so, so painfully much, Stephen!"
"Not me, my love. The man you knew is long dead." This was the most sane line of though he had strung together in a long time now.
"But our love for each other preserves, even through the whole Multiverse."
Intertwining your fingers with his, you moved closer until his nose brushed yours, two hearts beating so loud as if to call out for one another...
...but then, his gentle touch turned into something else, making you buckle over in pain as he harshly grabbed your wrists.
"...even with this?" he spat bitterly, pulling you as close as possible for you to witness this disgusting third eye on the center of his forehead.
Just for the fraction of a second astonishment was visible on your features...
...but what actually caused Strange to back off was the genuine smile you showed him afterwards.
It was almost comical - how one of the most powerful sorcerers in the Multiverse seemed frightened by a woman he was crossing all laws for just to be with.
"You know what?" you chuckled as you gently poked his chest, making him wonder if you didn't understand the threat he was proposing, or maybe have turned just as insane as he was.
However, against all odds and logic, the affection in your eyes was all prevailing. "For someone always acting so tough and cruel, you're in constant need of care. You have the most pure, fragile heart, Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange!"
"I-I'm a menace, Y/N. I'm not in control of my own mind, I-" the man whined as you stubbornly wrapped your arms around him, your hug a naive attempt to press all the scattered pieces of him back together.
"It's alright, Stephen" you cooed as he held onto you for dear life, fearing that you were in fact just a conjuration of his twisted mind - disappearing if he was ever to let go again.
"You would never intentionally hurt someone. The Darkhold is no excuse for your sins, but it was the reason things went out of control. Punishing yourself with eternal suffering won't make up for all the misery you caused. But at least I can forgive you."
What an obscure thing fate was, he caught himself thinking as you softly grabbed the fabric of his coat, placing one hand on his heart as you made him lean to your height once again.
This was your magic, he could feel it surging through him as soon as your lips enclosed with his, breathing new life into this broken shell of a man.
"I love you, Stephen Strange. So free yourself and come back to me."
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professorrw · 2 days ago
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hiya, please can I request a Chris Evans x female!reader fanfic where the reader is a teacher and it's during the panorama so her classes are online and one time Chris thinks she's finished her classes so comes into her office. Chaos, fluffiness and awkwardness ensues. Love your work, thank you :D
...hi. it's been a while. but i'm back!! i'm sorry it's taken me so long lovely 😭 regardless, i hope you enjoy this <3
marvel masterlist
Title: Interrupting Online Classes
Pairing: female reader x Chris Evans
Warnings: none! fluff and cuteness + the pandemic
A/N: Requests open, check my request rules and who I write for that’s linked on my navigation! My taglist is open and I would love it if you would like, comment, and reblog!
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The pandemic had changed a lot of things in everyone's lives, especially yours. Being an elementary school teacher was no easy task but also now having to do your classes online it added a new set of challenges. Microphones being turned on by accident, being kicked out of meetings for no inherent reason, the internet being choppy: all things that you dealt with on the daily. No matter how difficult it was at times you wouldn’t change your job for the world. You loved the kids and getting to talk to them all the time.
It was a wonder that a simple school teacher like you could possibly be dating Chris Evans, but you were. Your romance didn’t start like one in fanfictions, a huge celebrity seeing you in the crowd and deciding then and there that you had to be together. No. You and Chris were childhood friends and had grown up together in Massachusetts, two peas in a pod. You supported his acting career and he supported your dream of becoming a teacher. Low and behold, you both got what you wanted.
None of your students knew about Chris for many, many reasons. Most kids knew who Captain America was and if your students knew that you were living with ‘America’s Ass’ (something that fans called him), they would go ballistic. So when you were having an online class you made sure that Chris was aware and steered clear of the camera.
Sometimes to tease you he would walk into whatever room you were having classes in and start dancing, which was his best effort to get a smile and laugh, but also distract you. The kids would sometimes ask what you were looking at, but you would have to tell a little white lie and say that it was your dog playing with a toy.
The school year was nearly over, and all the students were ready for summer. You weren’t giving your kids too much work to do and on the Zoom calls you were mainly just talking to them about their plans for the next two months. 
Everyone was so absorbed in listening to all the stories that you didn’t even realize your last class had gone over the regular time. It was nearly four o’clock and normally you would just be working on lessons, so Chris didn’t think anything of strolling behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.
“Hey honey,” your boyfriend said.
It only took a few seconds for your students to process who was standing behind their teacher. “IS THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?” one of them shrieked. ���OH MY GOSH IT IS!” another one said.
You turned around and looked at Chris who could only give the kids a bashful smile and wave. “Hi guys.”
“HI!” they all responded with enthusiasm. They were more excited about seeing Chris than they were when they saw your dog for the first time. The kids were so adorable you didn’t even bother to tell ‘Captain America’ to get out of the camera. More than one student had told their parents about the celebrity that had appeared on their Zoom call, and you could see them taking their phones out and recording.
“Are you married to Captain America, Ms. Y/N?” a young girl asked.
You didn’t even get the chance to answer when Chris chimed in with, “Not yet, but someday.” He kissed the top of your head, leaving you speechless.
“OOOOO,” the students said.
“Okay guys I think it’s time for Captain America to go fight some bad guys.”
“Aww,” they pouted.
“You’ll see me again, don’t worry,” Chris said before giving them a big smile and waving goodbye. He took three steps away to be just out of the camera’s view and looked at you and mouthed “sorry.” You shook your head and mouthed, “it’s okay.”
“It seems like Captain America needs my help! I gotta go but I will see you all tomorrow!” you said to your students.
“Bye Ms. Y/N!”
You ended the Zoom call and shut your computer. When you turned to Chris he was bashfully standing just a few feet to your left. “You are sooo done.”
“They’re never going to let me live that down, are they?” you asked.
“Nope. Those kiddos are going to ask you a million questions. Be glad you aren’t teaching much because they aren’t going to be paying any attention to school work.”
“I would just tell them that Captain America said they had to get their work done if they wanted to see him again,” you said.
“Isn’t that blackmail?” Chris laughed.
“…Maybe.”
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e-m-christina · 2 days ago
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Bubble Baths and Waffles - Daryl Dixon
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Thanks for requesting @bekyaka. Sorry it is a bit short, I have just been a bit tight for time the last few days!
Request: Something with Daryl x reader, y/n has a child (or baby idk) and Daryl is so sweet with them both 🥺 especially when y/n is visibly tired from being a new mom 💜
Warnings: Fluff, Daryl’s cooking, light nsfw I saw the oppertunity and took it, I’m so sorry. 
MASTERLIST – REQUESTING INFO
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You breathed in the cool night air as you made your way down the path to your home. Shadows of trees danced upon the cedar fence, dappling the wood as their damp leaves flickered like candles under the moon. A faint smile graced your exhausted face when the perfume of the summer blooms wafted through the air. You had spent countless hours trying to plant those trees, and the hard work seemed to be paying off. 
A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you reached the front door. Home at last. You had been out working every day on the crops for the last few months, as well as caring for your three-year-old, and you felt as though you would collapse at any moment.
Of course, Daryl did as much as he could to look after Hazel and the home, but he would often be gone for days on end, leading missions and supply runs with Rick.
Your day would start at dawn, when Hazel, your daughter, came bounding into your room asking for breakfast. Then, you would spend the rest of the day shifting wheel-barrows of dirt from one side of Alexandria to the other, chopping wood and bent over double, digging holes under the scorching sun.
Enid and Carl often babysat Hazel in return for some pocket money (aka loli-pops and comics), but that didn’t stop you from checking in on them every few hours. You’d come home late at night, absolutely run off your feet and make dinner, tend to Hazel and put her to bed before doing some housework. 
You knew he felt guilty about not being there as much as he would like to be, but you all had jobs to do. Speaking of, he had been gone for just over a week and a half on some run with Rick and Glenn, which was the longest time he had been away from you and Hazel ever since you arrived at Alexandria.
Sure, you were used to his frequent absences, but that didn’t mean you ever got used to the constant worry about whether he would come home alive or not. And you sure as hell never got over how much you missed him. You missed his touch and waking up beside him each morning. You missed his laugh, scent and voice. When he was away, the house seemed empty, despite you and Hazel living in it. 
“Mummy!” As soon as you closed the door, Hazel’s voice rang through the hallway. Before you knew it, a small pair of arms wrapped around your legs. 
“Hey, sweetie!” You smiled and lifted her up. Hazel’s big blue eyes beamed at you through her mop of curly hair. Before you could say anything else, the smell of burning filled your nose. “What’s that burning smell? Did Enid try to curl Carl’s hair again?”
“No.” Hazel shook her head with a giggle. “Daddy made dinner.” 
“What?” You frowned. Why was Daryl home three days early? He was supposed to be on a two-week mission with Rick!
“He made dinner but it was not nice. He is not very good at making food.”  Hazel’s giggle was cut off by a cough.
“I heard that, ya’ little traitor!” Daryl appeared in the living room with a tea towel thrown over his shoulder and a fake scowl on his face. “Come here, ya little rat.” 
Hazel wriggled free from your grasp, in attempt to escape her father, but he scooped her up. Her squeals and giggles echoed through the house as Daryl started spinning her around. The initial shock of seeing your husband home so early subsided and a warm, fuzzy feeling filled your chest as you watched them together. 
“Yeah, that’s what ya’ get when ya’ go and be a little snitch.” Daryl gently placed the dizzy child down before turning to you. 
“What are you doing home so early?” You grinned, engulfing Daryl in a hug. 
“We found everythin’ we needed, so we cut the mission short.” Daryl wrapped his strong arms around your waist and placed a kiss on the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed his familiar scent: cigarettes, pinewood and smoke. 
“I’ve missed you.” You smiled, pulling away a little.  
“I’ve missed ya’ too, darlin’.” Daryl pressed his warm lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you instantly melted into him. The familiar feeling of his mouth against yours relaxed your tired mind, though unfortunately, Daryl broke away too soon for your liking. 
“So,” you said, and a light smirk traced your lips. “You made dinner?”
“Well...” A pink dusting crept over Daryl’s cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought I’d surprise ya’ with dinner, but...I..er... burnt it.”
“It tasted yucky!” Hazel’s voice piped up from behind you and Daryl chucked a cushion at her. 
“Aw, that’s so sweet!” You smiled, pushing the dark hair from Daryl’s eyes before placing a small kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, it’s the thought that counts.”
“Jus’ wanted to make ya’ something nice. I know how tired ya’ are an’ everythin’ but I messed it up.” Daryl grumbled. “I found waffles though.”
“Waffles?” You said with a cocked brow. “For dinner?” 
“Why not? The wee one has been buggin’ the life outta me ever since I found ‘em. She wants waffles an’ cream for dinner.” Daryl shot Hazel a wink, who giggled and grabbed hold of your hand. 
“Please mummy!” Hazel begged, eyes pleading with you. “Please can we have waffles for dinner?”
“See whatta mean?” Daryl chuckled. 
“Alright.” You just couldn’t say no to Hazel, especially when she gave you those adorable blue puppy eyes. “On one condition: you have extra vegetables at dinner tomorrow.”
“Yay!” Hazel giggled. 
“I’ll start making ‘em now then,” Daryl said, trying to restrain the child that was trying to climb up his leg. “I already started runnin’ ya’ a bath upstairs. Dinner will be about half an hour.”
“I can’t wait to scrub this dirt off me. I must look like a bog monster.” You groaned, already dreaming of the warm water 
---
A content sigh escaped your lips as  you sank deeper into the heated lavender water, feeling it hug every inch of your skin so gently. Your eyes fluttered shut as the hot water began to loosen your tight, aching muscles. You didn’t know how long it had been since you had time to properly relax like that. A glass of dry red wine and a good book would have been just perfect at that moment.
Just when you opened your eyes, to grab the washcloth, you noticed a figure looming in the doorway. 
“Everything alright?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at Daryl. He only nodded, his eyes roaming every inch of your naked body as he chewed on his lip. You felt your heart speed up as he began taking steps forward, before finally taking a seat on the edge of the tub.
“I’ll do this,” Daryl whispered and took the soapy washcloth from your hand. “Ya’ just relax now.”
Your tired eyes drooped as Daryl gently scrubbed the dirt, blood and muck off your skin. His touches were soft, even lighter still when he washed over any bruises or cuts. 
“I’ll ask Rick to take ya’ off the worklist tomorrow.” Daryl’s voice cut through the comfortable silence. Your eyes flicked open and you turned to face him. 
“But I have stuff to do tomo-”
“Nah, it can wait. Ya’ deserve some rest and don’ try an’ argue.” Daryl flicked some water at your face.
“Well...alright then.” You chuckled. “Are you taking the day off too?”
“S’pose I could.” You watched as a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of Daryl’s mouth. “If it means that I get to have ya’ all to myself.”
You bit your lip as Daryl slowly dragged the washcloth from your shoulder, down towards your breasts. Your eyes flicked to Daryl’s darkened ones, watching them hungrily devour your body. A soft gasp fell from your lips when he gently grazed the hot material over the soft flesh of your breasts. 
“So damn pretty,” Daryl mumbled, leaning down to capture your lips in his. You latched your hands around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer as he bit down on your bottom lip. You moaned into the kiss when his hands returned to your breasts, this time without the washcloth.
Daryl’s hands expertly squeezed and pinched at your stiffened peaks, knowing exactly how to make you squirm beneath him. Your thighs rubbed together as the familiar warm sensation of excitement slowly began to build between them. Your mind swam, feeling his hot touch against your sensitive skin as the taste of his mouth overtook your senses. 
“I’ve missed this.” You gasped, loving how his light beard grazed against your skin. Your fingers tugged at his dark locks, making him growl into your mouth. Just when Daryl began trailing hot kisses along your jaw, a ringing noise echoed through the wall.
“Timer for the damn waffles.” He grumbled, pulling back. You watched with half-lidded eyes as he tucked a strand of hair from your heated face. You pouted, already missing his lips and touch against your skin.
“Oh.” You mumbled, wanting nothing more than to pull him back. 
“We’ll finish this later.” Daryl pressed a final kiss against your cheek before standing up. “Better go an’ take them outta the oven before I burn ‘em as well.”
“Alright,” you said, perking up at the prospect of feeling Daryl against you later that night. “I’ll be down in a few moments.”
---
The sweet smell of freshly made waffles hung in the air, making your mouth water as you reached the last step. It had been a long time since you last ate something that wasn’t leftovers or cold soup. You paused quietly at the doorway, smiling at the sight in front of you. Daryl held Hazel in his lap as he whispered ‘here comes the train’ before popping a piece of waffle into her mouth. Her giggles filled the room, as her father picked up another bit of waffle and pretended to eat it, before letting her have it. 
Watching the scene made your heart swell. Despite being run off your feet, exhausted and in the middle of the damn apocalypse, you couldn’t feel luckier to have such an amazing husband and sweet child.
Even if Daryl did burn the dinner.
--
Thanks for reading!
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iamcalmdammit · 2 days ago
Text
Forgiving || [Marc Spector x reader]
summary: After you threw him out for lying about being married, Marc can barely focus on his fight against Harrow. But once he's back in London, he's willing to do whatever it takes to get you back.
warning: NSFW start. I suck at smut but what the heck.
note: part 1 (Cheater) / What do you think? Feedback is always appreciated.
taglist: @polyglot-noodle @daughterofthequeen
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“Someone’s needy,” Marc noted huskily as you began to unbuckle his belt. You came to an abrupt halt and looked at him. He could see the hunger and lust in your eyes, you were dying to get more of him, and in all honesty, he was more than willing to give you what you wanted. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he told you with a wolfish smile.
Laughing to yourself, you went on, helping him out of his jeans and underwear before your hand slowly moved down to his cock. You ran the tip of your index finger along its length, teasing him with a playful look in your eyes, knowing full well what you were doing to him. Marc let out a frustrated groan as he watched you then suddenly grabbed your wrist and stopped you.
“Baby, grab it properly or take it in your beautiful mouth—I don’t care which, but stop teasing me or else I’ll lose my patience.”
“And what will happen if you lose it?” you asked with an innocent look in your eyes.
“You wanna know?” he breathed as he leaned in, hovering his lips above yours as he spoke. You nodded without hesitation. “I won’t give a crap about playing nice either, I’ll simply fuck your pretty brains out.”
With your eyes locked with his, you moved your other hand and repeated the previous move, a wide smile showing up on those gorgeous pink lips as you did so. That was more than enough to rile Marc up. His lips crashed into yours in a hungry, demanding kiss, his tongue finding its way into your mouth while he unzipped your skirt and pushed it on the floor. You knew exactly what he wanted so you took off your shirt without him telling you to, and Marc did the same in return.
He then picked you up and lied you down on the bed, pushing your legs apart so he could kneel between them. His open mouth moved down to your chin, then down to your neck, trailing all the way down to your belly button. When you arched your back for him, he smiled to himself and went back to kiss your skin again, moving even further down while his hands squeezed your breasts.
Your hips began to move around the moment he teased your entrance with his tongue, and he had to hold your hips down to keep you still while he ate you out. Your hand soon ended up buried into his messy hair, keeping him right where you wanted him to be. Marc couldn’t help but glance up at you for a moment, just to see the way you were trying to hold yourself together.
He couldn’t really understand why you didn’t want to let go, why you felt like you couldn’t enjoy the moment when it was only him in the room with you. Marc wanted to hear you whine and moan for him, calling out his name or begging him to fuck you already. But as he took a better look at you, he noticed that something was wrong. Your mouth was nowhere to be found.
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Marc jolted awake covered in cold sweat, as if he just woken up from a terrible nightmare. No, he wasn’t with you. He was alone in a messy hotel room in Cairo. Fuck. With Harrow and Steven around, he had enough things to worry about, but ever since you threw him out, he could barely sleep—and even if he did, he had these nightmarish dreams about you.
It was hard to focus on the task at hand with you constantly on his mind. And whenever he looked at Layla, he remembered the look of betrayal in your eyes. He had to figure out how to make it up to you, how to prove you that he didn’t want anything from his wife, only a divorce. For a brief moment he wondered if he could ask Layla to talk to you, to tell you that she wasn’t standing in your way.
But no, that would only complicate things.
Eventually, dying and coming back to life finally gave him an answer. Steven should be the one to talk to you. He knew about Layla, about the divorce papers, and to be honest, it was more likely that you would believe Steven than him. It was worth a shot. It was Steven who told you about Layla, it was his job to make things right.
By the time they were back in London, Marc was dying to get to the moment he could ask Steven a favor. A big favor to save your relationship. With this new, more harmonic partnership he had with his alter, Marc was sure they could handle that conversation together. Switching between themselves was seamless now, so if you really wanted to talk to him, he could easily front without having to fight for it.
Now Steven was in control of the body but it was okay. He had a job interview in the afternoon and Marc wanted to make sure he had the time to prepare himself. They were in his messy apartment, feeding the fish when he decided to ask for his help.
You need to help me.
Steven let out a sigh. “With what?”
With who. Y/N. I need you to talk to her, explain that there is nothing going on between me and Layla anymore.
“Why would I get involved in your business?”
Because I’m asking you nicely?
Steven snorted at this but remained silent for a while. It drove Marc crazy, having no idea what he was thinking about. Did the silence mean he agreed to do it? Or did his last question mean it wasn’t about to happen? This was confusing and nerve-racking. But then Steven let out a sigh and threw his head back to look at the ceiling.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said.
Thank you, Steven, I owe you one.
After the job interview—that went surprisingly well—Steven headed to your place to talk to you. He didn’t really know what he would say, but he promised to do it so there was no turning back now. When he stood in front of your door, he hesitated for a moment, but then he gathered his courage and knocked. At first he thought you weren’t home, but then you opened the door and your eyes narrowed when you noticed it was him.
“Marc, I don’t—”
Shaking his head, he put up his hands. “It’s Steven, not Marc,” he quickly told you.
“Oh. Hi. Um, come in.” You stepped aside, letting Steven enter your apartment. When the two of you walked towards the living room, you cleared your throat and asked, “What can I help you with?”
“I came to talk about Marc. Well, more specifically his relationship with his wife,” he began, gulping loudly when he noticed the anger rising in you. “Look, when I told you about her, I didn’t know everything. There’s nothing between them anymore, Marc filed for a divorce months ago.”
“He’s legally married,” you pointed out.
“Does that matter when they haven’t even seen each other in months?”
You nodded. “It matters to me. I’m the other woman in his life and I don’t want that role.”
“He doesn’t see you as the other woman. That’s the point, that’s why I’m here. He loves you.”
“Is she still here in London?” you asked uncertainly.
Steven shook his head as he began pacing in front of you to fight the stress that filled his mind because of the conversation he was having. “We haven’t seen her since Cairo.”
“Cairo?”
“Yeah, we—we were there for a short while, but it doesn’t matter now. Marc couldn’t stop thinking about you. It got us in danger and I would be a lot calmer if you two made up and left me out of your relationship in the future.”
Thanks for the help, Steven.
“Then take control of the body, mate, and talk to her yourself. I’m done doing this for you. It’s awkward,” Steven said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
You opened your mouth and raised a hand to get his attention. “Oh, no, don’t do this, I don’t want to talk to him,” you told him sternly.
But it was too late. Now it was Marc fronting and he had two choices left. Leaving or manning up and talking to you. He didn’t feel like fleeing so he took a deep breath and gave you an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I fucked up and I should have told you the truth at the beginning, but… I don’t know, it’s been over for me, I didn’t think it was important.”
“Go to hell, Marc,” you spat angrily.
“Just hear me out. Please,” he tried.
You buried your fingers in your hair and gave him a pointed look. “I’m done with your bullshit. I can put up with a lot of things, I never said anything about Steven or Khonshu, but you being married is where I draw the line.”
Taking a hesitant step towards you, Marc gulped. What else could he say to convince you? How on earth could he make you understand that now you were the only woman he wanted to look at, the only one he wanted more than anything in this world? The last time you had talked, he tried to kiss you, hoping you would notice the desperation in that kiss, that this was his way of asking you to stay with him. But that didn’t work. Maybe if he did it now, you would only get mad at him.
“What do you want me to do? How can I make you forgive me?” he asked, thinking that maybe this was the best approach for now.
“It’s not that easy.”
Your voice changed. There was a hint of softness in your tone, as if you were uncertain about this whole thing. Yes, it had to be it. The ice was breaking, you were probably more willing to resolve this now. Marc took a step closer. Then, upon seeing you not moving out of the way, he went even closer. One step at the time, he closed the distance between you and watched as your mouth opened a little. You wanted to say something, maybe to ask him to stop whatever he was planning to do, but no voice left your throat.
He knew the look he saw in your eyes. The lust, the desperate need to be close to him. He had seen it before, both awake and asleep. Very slowly and carefully, he raised his hand to brush his fingers against your cheek, glad to see you instinctively lean into his touch. He was right, you wanted him.
Then he went further by kissing you softly, testing the waters to see if he was right and you were really on board with this. Maybe, just maybe, you would forgive him once you were reminded of how good you two were in bed. When you returned the kiss, hesitant, but still needy, Marc couldn’t help but smile to himself.
He got you.
“I hate you,” you breathed against his lips.
“I know,” he said, his eyes burning a hole in you as he ran his fingers down your spine. “But we’ll make it work, I promise.”
When his hands found their way under your shirt, moving up to unhook your bra, you reached back to put a hand on his forearm and stop him. He hated it. He wanted you, he needed you so badly after all those dreams of having you in his bed. But you didn’t think the same way because you said, “That’s not happening today, I’m still mad at you.”
Letting out a frustrated growl, Marc pulled his hand away and took a step back. He didn’t trust himself as long as he was close to you. But despite his mind being filled with obscene images, the things he wanted to do to you, he nodded. “Okay, I get it. We’ll do it when you’re ready. But it means you’re ready to forgive me, right?”
“I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself,” you corrected him.
That was a start. Yes, he could work with that.
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imachildprodigy · 2 days ago
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down on your knees | james potter
warnings: smut, blowjob, oral sex, 16+
pairing; james potter x fem!reader
a/n: just realised i haven’t posted anything decent in four months, so here!
it was hard to believe that mere minutes ago you were in class, hastily scribbling down notes for your Charms class - yet now, you were on your knees; in a barely lit broom closet, with James’s throbbing cock down your throat and five minutes to spare until your next class.
“So good, Dove,” James seethed, his circular glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. His defined hands gripped onto your hair like a vice, pulling and grabbing onto your tendrils like a untamed dog on a leash. It was invigorating; tears welling in your eyes as the prodding tip of his member hit the back of your throat over and over again.
Slick coated your thighs, and your nipples were solid and hard through the material of your bra. You gargled around his cock; eyes rolling to the back of your head as you took him in impossibly deeper. James’s thrusts became sloppy, before he halted his moves; releasing hot spurts of cum down the cavern of your mouth.
You swallowed, looking up at him with a smirk, before sinking your teeth into the plush of your bottom lip. He patted your cheek, chuckling. “Meet me after dinner for your reward doll.”
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gorctzka · 2 days ago
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heyy i wonder if your requests are open; perhaps if not you can save it for later in case you wanna write it ehehe. could you write your third or fourth date with mason going to a food festival / carnival where he used to visit when he was younger and mason is so happy telling his story while having fun with you while sneaking up from people so they won’t recognize you both and he ended up kissing you for the first time. thank u and love your writing always.
thank you so much <3 also for requesting this, i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you have as much fun reading it love xxx
food festival - mason mount x reader
REQUESTS ARE OPEN // MASTERLIST
word count: 4.1k
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“Where are you taking me, Mount?” you asked after getting into his car and buckling up. You looked over at the man who was just pulling out of your driveway. The man who had just picked you up to take you on another date, your fourth date to be exact, since you met a fortnight ago. Normally you weren’t one to go on so many dates with someone in such a short space of time, preferring to stay apart for longer and give your mind more space to think about your feelings and decisions. But spending time with Mason made you forget all that because it just felt so good. Like the two of you had been best friends forever, having only been dating for a short time. It felt right. And you’ve definitely never had this much fun with another man.
“There’s a food festival I used to go to every year when I was younger. I thought it would be nice to go there?” He looked over at you briefly with a questioning look, even though you had told him to choose where you would go this time. It still made him nervous, because he didn’t want to give the impression that he was boring or anything.
“Sounds good.” you smiled and rolled down the window, because despite the air conditioning, the air was still too hot for your taste.
“Really?”
“Of course, I’ve never been to a food festival before.” you replied, and although you hadn’t known each other that long, he could hear the truth and excitement in your words. That put him very much at ease. When it was quiet for a few moments, your mind drifted to previous dates and the moment you met. It was at a Chelsea game that one of your friends had dragged you to, as she’s a lifelong Chelsea fan. And when she heard that one of their star players followed you on Instagram and sent you a message, you couldn’t say no as she was almost more excited about it than you were.
Since you were also something of a “famous” person, it was mostly the type of people you used to date. But never an athlete, the media and some of your friends always portrayed that as one of the worst things ever. Still, you couldn’t resist when he asked you out. When those honey brown eyes looked into yours, with that special glint in them, and the smile on his lips, the only thing your mind could make out was, “Yes.” And after he had taken you out to dinner, bowling and the movies, here you were.
“Portsmouth, right?” you asked, puzzling him with your question. He had to think for a moment about what exactly you were asking, but a smile crept onto his lips when he realised.
“Glad you’re not just pretending to listen.” he said to you as he stopped at a red light and caught you staring at his arm lying between the two of you. You’d never been so attracted to anyone before, wanting to touch him all the time in some way. You wanted to run your fingers over his skin or intertwine your arm with his when you walked next to each other. But you didn’t do anything because you didn’t want to cross a line. Though you just didn’t know that he felt exactly the same.
“Mhm... I also remember you saying that you can’t eat everything, so what are you doing at a food festival?”
“Shush, let’s keep this between us,” he muttered, looking away again as he saw the light turn green out of the corner of his eye. “We have all day, so I’m probably only cheating twice, really.”
“All day? Wow, look at you, I thought you were a busy man.” you replied, thinking back to the last few dates when he didn’t have that much time because of training in the morning or afternoon or the next day. But you’d be lying if you said the thought of spending the next few hours with him didn’t excite you. You would have a lot more time than on your previous dates, but you already felt pretty close to him, so you were definitely looking forward to what might happen during the day.
“Well, I can always make time for you.”
“Bet you say that to every girl.”
“Only the really pretty ones.” you had to bite your cheeks, but eventually you couldn’t help but laugh at his words, even though it was nothing special. Another thing that kept happening all the time, him making you laugh. And also the opposite, although most of the time you both tried to stifle your laughter. But deep down you already found a place in your heart’s for each other’s laughs.
When you arrived and got out of the car, you had to walk another ten minutes because the streets were closed because of the festival. Luckily you got there quite early when it wasn’t so crowded yet. While you continued talking about each other’s lives to get to know each other even better, as you did already on the drive here.
“Wait!” said Mason suddenly after a few moments of silence and ran the few metres back to his car. He left you standing there, watching him with a furrowed brow as he grabbed something from the back seats before running back to you. With a sheepish smile, he held two caps and two pairs of sunglasses in his hands.
“I just thought it would be better if people didn’t recognise us right away.” he shrugged, trying to dismiss it as no big deal, feeling a little embarrassed at the thought as you now looked at him somewhat aghast. But in fact, the more you thought about it, the more you were glad of it, because the early sun was already shining incredibly hot on your head.
“I don't think it’s going to work.” but still you took the plain black cap from him, which had a Nike logo on it, but only visible if you looked closely. Once you had it on — staring at the floor as Mason watched you intently, his heart warming a little when he saw you wearing one of his caps — you took his sunglasses as well, even though neither of them were your favourite, it was better than nothing.
“Maybe you should’ve put the sunglasses on first.” he laughed, watching you struggle to put them on as you groaned because both the cap and your hair weren’t cooperating. “Here, let me.” He waited until you handed him the sunglasses and asked you to hold his so he could have his hands free. When they were free, he gently and slowly put the sunglasses on you. He did his best to make your hair fall perfectly over them, and the action and his touch on your skin made your stomach break out in butterflies, causing you to fall into a kind of trance for a moment. As you kept looking at his face, him looking incredible even behind the darkened glasses. The sun hit his face and the freckles decorating it perfectly.
“You know, people will probably go crazy when they see me wearing your stuff.” your words made him smile and he felt proud at the thought that people would see you together someday. You were the most beautiful woman from the inside out that he had ever met. One he would love to date and one day tell the whole world about.
“They suit you.” he admitted, avoiding your gaze. His shy and nervous, but at the same time flirtatious and sometimes cocky behaviour always made you like him even more. The combination of the two was one of the most attractive things about him that you had been able to discover so far.
“Come on.” he nodded his head, indicating to you that he was ready to keep walking. You both had to fight the urge to intertwine your hands as they felt like two magnets desperately wanting to be together. But you both thought that the relationship wasn’t there yet, so you didn’t, lest you ruin the whole day before it had even begun.
“Do you see that?” He walked slowly for a moment, pointing in some direction, but you couldn’t see anything in particular. You shook your head, whereupon he put his arm around you and moved down to your height so that he was close enough to see that he was pointing in the right direction. The feeling of him being so close to you made your stomach burst into butterflies once more. “There. The pink thing?” You searched for it with your eyes for a moment. Part of you wanted to drag it out longer, to feel him near you longer, but finally you nodded with a hum to let him know you saw him too.
“I think that’s the ice pan roll stand, I used to get so excited when I could see it from here.” he explained, quickly feeling a childlike light flare up inside him. And the excitement in his voice only made him fall deeper into your heart.
“But what’s so special about that festival?”
“There are about a hundred food stalls?” he said wryly, as if you could have answered that question yourself, at which you rolled your eyes. A cheeky smile made its way onto his face whenever you did, because he loved to tease people in any way he could. “Apart from that... I don’t really know,” he shrugged, “I didn’t have much free time when I was younger because I went to school and then had to drive all the way to training and back home, so summer was the only time I really got to spend time with my friends.”
“So you never stole your parents’ booze and snuck off with your friends in the middle of the week?” you asked, to which he let out a laugh. You looked into his eyes for a moment, saw the wrinkles on his face and the dimples forming before you turned back to watch the path you were walking.
“Nah, nah not really. Did you?”
“Definitely. Walking around all night having deep conversations and laughing about everything was my favourite thing to do.” you admitted, stopped walking just like him as you approached the first food stalls.
“Sounds fun.”
“It was. We should do it one day.” you dared to say, not knowing if he even wanted you in his future in any way. Of course, he flirted with you all the time, which should be a good sign. But since he had been doing it since you first met, you feared that he just did it all the time and with everyone. But the smile he tried to suppress by pursing his lips told you that he wanted it too.
“Deal.” He held out his hand for you to shake. Using any excuse to make physical contact with you, even if it was only for a few seconds. Feeling like a little boy again around you, who once he touched your hand, never wanted to wash it again. “But you know what else we should do?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Pizza breakfast.” he turned you around by the shoulders so that you were now looking at the same stand as he was. There, on a blackboard, was written exactly what he had just said.
“Pizza with bacon and egg? Sounds disgusting.” you muttered and turned to look at him. His eyes widened at your words, his mouth open in shock. The sight made you laugh, for today was the most genuine side of him you’d ever seen, as he let out the child within. He was already feeling completely comfortable in your presence.
“You are so wrong. You’ll love it, come on.” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him to order without thinking about it, as he was in his moment. But that only made you want to hold his hand even more. He loosened his grip again as he ordered, quickly dismissing you with a “You can pay on our next date” when you wanted to pay yourself. Something he just said without thinking about it, but another thing that made you smile for the rest of the day.
“Not yet.” he groaned when he saw two men wearing Chelsea jerseys in the street and was afraid they might recognise him. Of course he loved taking photos with the fans, but he knew what the media would do if anyone found out you two had been seen together. So he quickly pulled you behind the stands with his free hand, causing you to giggle in surprise, and waited there until they passed.
“Can you run?”
“I’m not running with a pizza in my hand, Mason.” you snorted and his eyes twinkled when he heard you say his name. “It was worth a shot.” he muttered, pouting overdramatically and putting a hand on your back. He nodded over to a place where you could sit down before he led you there. The hand still sitting firmly on your back.
“I think we’re safe here.” he said and sat down on the bench opposite you, puffing. The bench was a bit secluded from the others and fortunately on the side, so there shouldn’t be many people walking past it. “I feel like a teenager again sneaking around here.” he said casually, biting into his pizza and pointing at yours, silently telling you to do the same.
“So this is what you did when you were younger?” you asked with a smug smile on your lips as his cheeks reddened at the memories in his head. You also took a bite of the pizza, which was surprisingly much better than you would have thought. You then gave him a thumbs up, which made him laugh.
“Mhm, I used to come here with my parents and sneak away after a while to join my friends.” he took off his sunglasses, as he didn’t need them at that moment, and took another small bite of the pizza. “And if we saw them on the street, we ran and hid.... Oh, and I even had my first kiss here.” he raised his eyebrows as he remembered, almost shuddering at the somewhat embarrassing memory.
“No way,” you laughed and tried to swallow the pizza as quickly as possible so you could ask him what was on your mind. Seeing that he was already nodding at your words. “How old were you?”
“Um, around fifteen, I guess?” Mason replied, “It was behind one of the stands, but I can’t remember exactly which one.” and tried to avoid talking about it further by continuing to eat his pizza. Silence then reigned for a few minutes while you both finished eating.
“Now ice pan rolls?” he grinned as you finished, at which you widened your eyes, causing him to laugh in return.
“How much do you want me to eat today?” you laughed and got up to take the paper on which your pizza slice was lying to throw it away. But when he saw it, he himself quickly got up and went to the bin to throw it away for you. Effortlessly, he was a gentleman, as he always has been. That too was high on your list of things you liked about him.
“Not too much, I’ve already seen my friends puke several times because we ate too much.” he laughed as you wrinkled your nose and muttered a little “Great”. Mason waited for you to stand up and considered holding his hand out to you, but then decided against it. He blamed it on the fact that someone might see it, rather than the fact that he was too scared to do it. “We can walk slowly and stop for a moment at the live music, don’t worry.”
And you did, you just enjoyed each other’s company and chatted with each other. Mason spent most of the time telling you stories about his childhood, which you couldn’t complain about as you could hear his adorable laugh every time. In between all the hours of conversation, you passed the time eating everything from ice pan rolls to sharing churros because Mason said he could get fired if he ate too much sweet stuff. In the end, you guys decided on burritos as your last meal. Mason, of course, chose a fairly healthy one to end the day.
“Where should we sit?” you asked, turning around and seeing that none of the benches were free anymore, because it has become much later and much more crowded. Almost so crowded that you could no longer walk around properly.
“I know a skate park five minutes away where we could go?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows, waiting for your reaction. The usual smile made its way across his lips as you nodded. He then gave you directions for the thousandth time that day.
“Do you have some stories to tell about this place too?” you almost shouted as you walked through the crowds. And all their voices, coupled with the music, made it hard to speak. You thought of holding on to him so as not to be separated, but before you could even finish that thought, you already felt his arm wrap around you because he was thinking the same thing. He held you close to him and reassured himself that you would not be lost by putting his hand on your waist and keeping you safe beside him.
“Not so many.” he murmured near your ear, his breath tickling your skin, making it hard to breathe for a few seconds. You both knew it was better not to speak over the loud noises and kept the words safely in your head as you walked towards the place he had mentioned and away from so many eyes. You both exhaled deeply as you turned into one of the empty streets, and now only needed to walk that short distance, until you could take a break.
“We went there a few times and watched the sunset.” he finally answered your question, “Another thing to add to our list.” the words made your head spin again, because something inside you told you not to get too deep into it before it was too late. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hide from the connection between the two of you, because it felt far too good to be ignored.
“How romantic.”
“I’m quite the romantic.” he shrugged, looking at you for a moment with a teasing smile on his lips. His arm was now swinging at his side again, instead of still being wrapped around you as you desperately wanted. “And have you tried skating too?” you tried to change the subject so as not to give away how his words affect you.
“Yes. I ended up going to hospital.” he admitted, at which you laughed. Before you could see the skate park come into view, after you rounded a bend. As soon as you reached it, he ran up the first ramp he saw and sat at the top. As he did so, he looked down at you and saw you standing at the bottom looking up at him, one hand over your eyes because of the sun.
“Come on, Y/N. Just run.” he said, encouraging you, but also holding out a hand in case you needed to pull yourself up by it for the last few metres. But you did exactly as he said, holding your burrito tightly in one hand as you ran up the ramp. With a proud smile, you successfully sat down next to him. As you ate, silence reigned again, but even that felt comfortable.
When you were both finished, you took off your sunglasses and cap, not wanting the beautiful evening sun to be obscured any longer. Before you sat back and leaned on your hands. In doing so, you accidentally touched his hands, causing you to snap your head at him, mumble a sheepish “sorry” and quickly move your hand away from his.
“Don’t be.” he replied. At first you thought he was just being polite, until you felt his hand move closer to yours again. At first he just grazed it before it settled on yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin. The sensation made you smile broadly, you turned your head away from him to hide it, which didn’t escape his notice. He was so effortlessly the sweetest guy you’d ever met and you couldn’t help feeling that he was a perfect guy from a romance novel that had been given to you.
“The view is really fantastic.” you said after a few moments. Your attention wandered to the view in front of you, some trees standing on a perfectly green meadow that was just being hit right by the sun. Behind them, a small piece of the sea could be seen, sending a fresh breeze that you were grateful for.
“It’s even better from here.” he said more to himself, but finally he said it out loud. He was watching too, only from a different angle, looking at you instead. At how perfectly your hair blew in the wind. At how perfect your side profile looked, how he would love to trace and count all the marks on your face for the rest of his life. To how your soft skin felt under his, making his insides just crave for more, to feel you on every single part of his skin. Which brought a smile to his face, a smile he couldn’t wipe away since the first moment he met you. Everything in him longed to make you his, to have you in his life forever, even though he barely knew you. But he felt like he knew you in and out at the same time. Feeling as if you were a missing piece of him, of his life, that he didn’t even know was missing until he found it.
At his words, you turned around with a confused look on your face because you didn’t understand what he meant when you were sitting right next to each other and saw the same thing. But when you realised he was staring at you, that confused look quickly disappeared and turned into a breathed and shy laugh as your head dropped down. You lifted it again to look at him as he snorted at his own words. But you knew he meant it when he wouldn’t stop looking at you, just not able to bring himself to avert his gaze. Now he was also studying the other half of your face and how it looked from every possible angle, wanting to imprint each one of them in his memory to contemplate forever. With every second you looked at each other, your bodies were screaming to get closer without you being able to do anything about it.
And before you knew it, your faces were so close that your noses were almost touching. When your eyes fell on his perfectly pink shaded lips, he couldn’t help but close the distance. Mason’s lips gently rested on yours, surprising you and taking the air from your lungs. A smile tugged at his lips as you deepened the kiss, pushing all doubt from both of your minds. You were sure it was right, that it was what you both longed for without realising it.
You both laughed as you moved away from each other, giving your hearts a moment to realise what had just happened as they felt like leaping out of your chests. You felt even more comfortable around him now — if that was even possible — and sat closer to him, daring to lean your head against his shoulder for a more comfortable position. Your heart beat even faster as his arm wrapped around you in return.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I think I could sit here for another three hours and do the first thing of our list.” he replied, wanting nothing more than to sit there and watch the sunset with you. In fact, he wanted to watch every sunset on every day for the rest of his life with you.
“Me too.”
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justa-pjo-donut · 2 days ago
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What my parents wanted
A Christian, straight, girly girl, nice daughter
What they got
A atheist, aro lesbian, more of a man than a man is , extreamly saractic and a tad of disrespectful with an unhealthy addiction to reading fanfics
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khonshus-wife · a day ago
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My life today (will be put into mk quotes later)
——————
*Me, mindlessly waking to the restroom at school*
*trips on my croc, almost face plants*
Me: F**king shit, Khonshu
*Khonshu, sitting at his altar in my room*
Khonshu: What is the bug accusing me of now
——————
*working on math work*
*gets cold all of a sudden and puts coat on*
Me: F**k off khonshu
——————
*fire drill, outside waiting for it to end*
*feeling something itchy on my ankle*
*bends down and it’s a ant biting me*
*wipes it off*
Me: Khonshu I swear I’ll trade you for a corn kernel and replace you with Anubis.
——————
*at home, lighting Khonshu’s new candle*
*candle flame shoots up*
Me: Holy F**k calm it Khonshu, I didn’t put a new offering down and you decide to burn down your candle
——————
Yes I have an altar for our moon god, yes these really did happen today, and yes I blamed them on him. He’s dramatic.
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wordfather · 11 hours ago
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reaching a hand into the fictional universe aquarium and plucking up a few characters by the back of their necks and then plopping them down on my desk so i can put them in whacky situations
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