#put secret third thing in a reply or the tags I’m curious

[sunbentshadows]

TUMBLR HELP SETTLE A DEBATE

I have been with my gf for a while. Over a decade-while. Naturally, wayyy back when we met, before we were dating, I got her number and added it to my contacts.

Here is the, supposed, issue. Her name in my contacts is [firstname] [lastname] [cute picture]. She takes issue with this, because, “Are we work colleagues??? You’re using my GOVERNMENT name.”

(This is the name she goes by. In real life. Let me be clear.)

#put secret third thing in a reply or the tags I’m curious #also clearly this is a GOOF we are having fun with it all #gf poll #the results of this poll will impact nothing except for us teasing each other about it #me.txt

[official-kenralie-fanbase]

This post will be functioning as several things:

1) To inform you all that Chapter 28 of Perfect Match is out! Here's the link and yes, I know that I've skipped a couple of chapters but I'm too lazy to go back and make posts for them :) Tag list for the fic: (that people can actually see now!) @bronte-deserves-better @you-have-been-frizzled @axels-corner @marella-gossipqueen-redek @istanrandomfandoms

2) To convince you to vote for Kenralie in this poll and to read Perfect Match if you haven't already by posting a longer clip from this chapter :) I'm so proud of this excerpt, and you can read it even if you haven't read Perfect Match. I know Kenralie isn't going to win the ship bracket, but I'm still holding out hope that my ramblings about them for the past couple of months can maybe pull them into the third round? Hopefully? (Sorry Marelliana stans- I like them, and they'd definitely beat many other ships for me but just. Kenralie.)

Clip from Perfect Match Chapter 28: Secrets below the cut! For those of you who haven't read the fic, this takes place right after Mr. Forkle first talks to Oralie about Project Moonlark.

Kenric was so focused on his own thoughts, he almost didn’t notice as someone appeared in the street right beside his house, soft footsteps on the ground breaking the eerie quiet of the night. But when he did, he smiled. 

“Hey, Ora,” he called from his porch, and Oralie immediately turned around. Her expression was startled, like a child caught stealing candy from the pantry. “Sorry,” he whispered, rushing to the street to walk up to her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“It’s alright,” Oralie said, her expression slowly melting into normal. “What are you doing out?” 

“Just needed some fresh air,” he told her. “Where were you?” For the first time, he realized that she wasn’t wearing the same outfit she’d been wearing earlier, but just a tanktop and leggings. She couldn’t have been in a meeting with anyone at all important. It was likely she’d been going to meet a friend, but most of her one-time friends hated her now, a fact she’d cried to him about countless times. Maybe she could have been seeing family, but he knew how awful her parents were, and the one cousin she actually liked had betrayed her all those years before. 

“I went dress shopping,” Oralie immediately answered. “I didn’t expect to run into anyone, so I didn’t bother to put all that formal attire back on.” She smiled at him, though, so Kenric knew she wasn’t actually mad. 

“Well, what’d you get?” 

Oralie tilted her head to one side, examining him. “I found something I like, but it wasn’t quite my size, so the very generous store owner offered to adjust it for me. For an extra payment, of course, but I don't mind. She said it’ll be ready in a couple of days.” 

“Working hard, I see,” he replied, winking, and Oralie blushed. 

“I’ve been working hard all night,” she said. “I felt I deserved a break.”

“What project are you working on, again?” Kenric asked, genuinely curious. 

“Overviewing Foxfire curriculum,” she immediately answered. “It’s rather boring, but I’m managing. I’m almost done, anyway.” 

“So you’ve spent all evening working on it? Then went shopping?”

Oralie hesitated a second before nodding her head. 

Kenric might have been imagining it, but he thought he saw a flash of pain across her face. 

The kind of flash that happened when she lied. 

His theory was only furthered when Oralie took a deep breath, pressing a hand to her stomach. She’d described in detail how it felt when she lied -Kenric couldn’t even imagine dealing with those headaches and nausea- but now, if she thought she could hide it from him, she was mistaken. 

She hid the movement by adjusting her shirt, not meeting his eyes as she said, “I’m really tired, Kenric. I should get to bed.” 

As Kenric looked at her, he saw how exhausted she looked, and something in her eyes that looked like she’d gone through something that would permanently change her. That scared him more than the lie. 

“Are you alright, Oralie?” he whispered, stepping closer. Oralie looked up at him, and he saw tears glimmering in her eyes. 

There was so much he wanted to tell her. He wanted to say that he knew she was hiding something from him, and he didn’t understand why, but he knew she had a good reason. He wanted to tell her about Elysian and about his pointless search, and how much he just wanted to be done with everything ever having to do with the Council. He wanted to drop to one knee right now and ask her to be his wife, then they could live somewhere far away from all this, spending all their time together without rules and expectations and secrets. Just free to love and laugh and be, making their own life together. 

But he didn’t say any of that. 

He couldn't. As much as he wanted to.

So they just looked at each other, the secrets growing between them like a wall separating Kenric from the person he loved most in the entire world. He wished he could take an axe and smash the wall down, brick by brick, stone by stone, but while they were on the Council, he couldn’t. 

“I don’t know, Kenric,” Oralie whispered, her voice so hopeless it broke Kenric’s heart.

“What do you need me to do?” 

She looked at him, a tear streaking down her face. Oralie looked at him for a long, long moment until she finally spoke. 

“If someone gave you the opportunity to change the world, would you take it?” 

Kenric blinked once. 

“I suppose I would,” he said eventually. “If it changed the world for the better.” He saw the expression on her face and added, carefully, “But what would it cost?” 

“I don’t know,” she told him. “Might be nothing.” She stepped forward, putting a hand on his cheek. “But it also might be everything.”

Before Kenric could say another word, Oralie planted a gentle kiss right on the corner of his mouth before she walked into her house. She was gone before he realized what she’d said… and he was back inside his own house before he realized what it might mean. 

“Don’t be a hero, Oralie,” he whispered, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. He walked up to his mantle and looked at a picture of the two of them that she'd drawn for him. His arms were around her waist and their foreheads were pressed together, both of them smiling. They were so, so happy. He wanted to run to her house and show her the picture, telling her that this was what they could have together. No circlets. No Council hounding their every move. Just Kenric and Oralie. 

Kenric pressed his own forehead to the picture, wishing it was Oralie by his side instead of the cold paper. “You already have been. For me.”

She'd saved him from a life of loneliness and never feeling like he truly belonged. With her, he belonged. With her, he was someone. 

And he knew he had to trust her. 

That reminded him of what she'd said, and he slumped down on his couch, hoping someday she'd be able to tell him why she'd kept those secrets. And he could tell her why he'd kept his. Then they could have a life with no secrets, just like it should be.

He had no idea what he had in mind, or what she’d been doing. 

But he was pretty certain it hadn’t been dress shopping. 

He just knew he had to get both of them off of the Council before it was too late. 

And in order to do that, he had to find Elysian. 

#kotlc #kotlc kenralie #kotlc kenric #kotlc oralie #councillor kenric #councillor oralie #perfect match #kotlc fanfic #kotlc fanfiction #keeper of the lost cities

[sor-vette]

Want to read more about eight idiots sharing an apartment and fate? Welcome to "Life of 27" one and all collection of drabble requests set in "The Curious Move-In To Apartment 27"! Name the character(s) (the boys, the reader, Jae etc.) and the prompt and we'll take a side quest into what happened before, what happened in-between & maybe what could have happened.

! separate tag list from the main fic! let me know in replies if you want to be tagged

prompts by @/stranger-marauders, @/person-1n-progress, @/wholelottaprompts

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧

“You always make that face when you’ve done something wrong, so what did you do?” | Jae x reader, Jin x reader

“You’re warm.” | Namjoon x reader

“Your hair is so soft.” | Namjoon x reader (explicit)

“I’m not losing you again.” | Jin x reader

“I asked if you had to use the bathroom before I got in the shower!” | Namjoon x reader (explicit)

“You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that?” | Yoongi x reader

 “It’s too cold! Come back!” | Jimin x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

“It’s too early to get out of bed.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“It’s not a double date. We’re just third-wheeling.”

“No, no—it’s all right, come here.”

“I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“No one deserves to be alone.”

“I think I might be falling in love with you.”

“You know I’m always here for you, right?”

“Please talk to me.”

“I remember practising how to ask you out in the mirror.”

“I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but it’s not enough.”

“Is that my shirt?”

“Let’s just stay in bed.”

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“I want to marry you.”

“You can’t keep it all inside, you know? Bottling it up won’t do any good.”

“Hey, you’re not alone, okay?”

“You lost your chance.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing.”

“It isn’t up for debate.”

“I’m fine. Stop asking.”

“You said you’d always be there for me, so where were you? Why weren’t you there?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you’re hurting me, too?”

“Do I look like I’ve moved on?”

“I don’t remember a fight, a reason, so what happened?”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“What are you talking about? You’re married!”

“Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

“It feels like everyone forgot about me.”

“I’ve been alone for so long.”

“But you promised.”

“You weren’t supposed to laugh!”

“I loved you first.”

“You broke my heart.”

“We have to stop.”

“You left.”

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“I needed you.”

“Stay.”

“You meant everything to me.”

“I should have told you.”

“I miss you.”

“It should have been you.”

“I’ve got you.”

“Can you picture it? You and me?”

“You always know what to say.”

“My family thinks we’re dating.”

“You don’t need me.”

“I screwed up.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Well, if I tell you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

“You’re cute when you lie.”

“You’re freezing!”

“Dance with me.”

“Keep it.”

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

“I can’t be mad at you.”

“I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Am I too late?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I know I shouldn’t be here.”

“Can I kiss you one more time?”

“I want to believe you.”

“I’m trying.”

“Things will be different this time.” 

“Your parents invited me over to dinner.”

“My parents want to meet you.”

“How drunk was I?”

“Stop being so cute.”

“I’m different now.” 

“I’m not jealous.”

“I could kiss you!”

“I’ve got you.”

“If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.”

“I’m not going to run away from you anymore. I promise.”

“I’m here to help you.”

“I love you but this tastes like charcoal.”

“I will keep coming back for as long as you want me to.”

“It’s not childish. It’s nostalgic.”

“I didn’t realize you were so sentimental.”

“Would it kill you to be nice to other people?”

“You are never going to win with that attitude!”

“Thank you for never giving up on me.

“Oh, so you heard me when I said your show is on but not when I asked where you put my shirt?”

“You didn’t do the dishes...again.”

“I’m not being ridiculous, you are!”

“Not this again...”

“You’re delusional, your shoes are right here!”

“I swear on my life I didn’t eat your cake.”

“You ordered take out without me?”

“I made you your own dinner, why are you eating mine?”

“You know I love you, but it’s your turn to take the garbage out, and no, I’m not negotiating.”

“You don’t really think I’m getting annoying, do you?”

“You are the reason I see no hope in humanity.”

#ot7 x you #ot7 x reader #ot7 x yn #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #jin x you #jin x reader #jin x y/n #hoseok x y/n #hoseok x you #bts x you #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts poly au #bts soulmate au

[noritoshiikamo]

game over

pairing: noritoshi kamo + fem!oc genre: angst tags//warning: established relationship, wild gojo appeared // blood, character death, emotion distress, mention of shibuya  note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. note that i put descriptions of the characters i write so it would be easier for me, you’re free to imagine the character the way you seem fits! okay listen imma be honest i dont like this part that much dhhdbdjksncjddiem and im sorry if it sucks bcs istg i cant compete to part 1 and 2 of it so IM SORRY tagging @unabashednightmarepizza @sassyeahhhh @dok-ja @sukirichi [bold means i cant tag u idky :( lemme know if wanna be tagged in the next part] read the first part | second part | third part | bonus

few years ago;

“you’re fucking ridiculous!”

“you’re injured, how the fuck is it me that’s being unreasonable?”

she contemplated stabbing him straight to his chest. “i’m fine, leave me alone,” she hissed, holding on to her arm as she tried to limp away. second year jujutsu student noritoshi kamo wondered how the hell one could be this stubborn. with blood caked up on the side of her face, lips busted and bruising in the corner, not to mention the broken arm and probably twisted ankle, he could not understand how one could be this reckless and stupid, it’s almost ridiculous.

but here she is standing in front of him.

“you could’ve let me handle it,” he said, coldly.

she never turned that fast in her life; her limping leg suddenly worked fine as she hauled her ass, throwing both fists to his chest. the force put was enough to threw him back a few steps, he caught her wrists holding her from falling down. “stop acting like i’m so fragile. i can exorcist the curse just fine. you make me hate you so much,” she spitted, pure rage etched on her face, “just because i’m a girl, because i’m your girl, i’m weak. please, i am as good as you are, kamo.”

their faces were so close, he could count the freckles spread on her nose and cheeks. he loves her eyes the very first time he caught glimpse of it; one is a dull brown while the other looks like it carries the secret of the bright blue sea. this time, the eyes he loves looked hopeless, lack of the burning spirit she carried with tears threatening to spill. letting go of a wrist, his trembling hand brushed the hair coated with the blood back, carefully not to hurt her. “i never said you are bad,” he clarified, fingers busy brushing the hair back. his sudden reaction surprised her, and her body betrayed her thoughts as she eased in his arms.

he tilted her chin, his head was panicking as he realised that his brain was no longer controlling his movement as he leaned down and kissed her.

she tasted like blood.

she winced, pain aching on the swollen part and he apologized so quietly as he deepened the kiss. “nori-” her voice croaked as she swallowed his moans. he hummed, satisfied by the kiss. their foreheads rest against each other, the tip of their noses touched as they struggled to catch breath.

“stop being stupid. let me help you okay?”

“okay.”

slipping his arm under hers, he helped her walk, leading them out of the abandoned building they managed to exorcist. nothing major, a couple of pestering level three and four curses that them both handled well but their supervisor missed to tell them about the hiding level two curse that took them by surprise. she had become the curse’s main target.

if she would’ve just listened to him and stay close. he sighed.

“ouch, ouch,” she cried, clutching on her left leg, forcing him to stop. impatient, he slipped his hand under her knees, lifting her up in his arms. she apologized profusely, embarrassed to be such a burden to him. he brushed it off immediately.

“did you call them? told them that we are done?”

she gasped, “wait, i thought they’ll wait for us.”

he huffed, “you’re not that important, y/n. give them a call, please. i want to go home.”

kicking the door open, the moonlight shone on them as he carried her down to the bottom stairs. settling her down on the steps, he sat beside her, letting a long sigh. he watched as she took the call, letting them know that she was slightly injured, and they need to go back asap. she was visibly tired, and he was the same too.

he couldn’t help but to sigh at the way the moonlight enveloped her. he had loved her from the very first moment he caught his eyes on her; she caught him staring, called him out publicly and ignored all his advances. it took him a lot to court her. she’s a gojo, she can have anything and everything with the sky is the limit.

but one thing money could never buy is affection.

it started with little stuffs; noritoshi waiting for her with her lunch readied every day. it annoyed her but momo (who was secretly rooting for him) forced her to just do it. “it’s just a lunch,” momo said sheepishly. noritoshi would have them paired all the time for the missions. she’d accepted it with open heart. noritoshi would also teach her how to weld a bow and shoot arrows. she promised that she would go out on date with him if he taught her.

by the end of their first year, they became inseparable.

the idea of being apart from her hurts him physically and mentally. she took a sharp breath when he laced his fingers between her own, quickly telling the other person on the phone that she was okay. “it was just noritoshi,” she replied with a small laugh. their hands fit each other; his skin contrasted her slightly tanned skin. while his hands were rough from welding the bow and he kept his nail short and clean, hers were slightly softer with her nails painted prettily. this month she had her nails painted in pastel. all the girls’ day out with momo and mai had proven its importance. he was happy to provide her with his black card despite her discontent.

“analysing my hands now?”

he smiled slightly, “it looks very pretty. i guess i got my money worth. are they coming?”

she leaned on his shoulder, his own wrapped around her as she closed her eyes, “they are around the corner. i would definitely need another round this week,” she teased. kissing her forehead gently, he didn’t mind that his uniform was stained with her blood; he was glad that she’s safe.

“i’ll happily take you there.”

few years later;

noritoshi kamo almost lost his mind. the stadium was half destroyed, huge craters on the pitch with the sight of his wife nowhere to be found. he looked up to the black pitch curtain encasing the stadium area from the sky, a curse escaped his lips.

“where the fuck are you?” he grunted, scanning the area.

she is gone, his stubborn little wife. she could’ve just wait but annoyed that their dinner date was interrupted and eager because this was their first mission together as a married couple; she escaped his supervision. as they were dealing with minor curses outside, she decided to head on forward, leaving him to deal with whatever is left. he beat himself inside for letting her come, he could easily do this himself and send her home safely, but she blinked her eyes and he was weak. she always has her way with him.

his step stopped when he realised there was a shadow ahead.

“she’s pretty,” the thing said.

his blood ran cold, “what did you do to my wife?”

the curse let out a laugh. it was sinister enough to send chills down his spine. especially when he realised the head it was stepping on was his wife. her eyes were fluttering back and forth, struggling to stay awake. a howl shocked him, shivers down his spine at the painful whimpers her shikigami making. cursed spirits were devouring it alive, overwhelming it and chewing every part of its body. his wife was too weak to dispel the shikigami; it’s dangerous as the devoured wolf shikigami will drain her cursed energy by a second.

all shikigami linked directly to the owner; everything inflected to the wolf, she could feel it too.

he needed a plan.

hidden in his wedding ring was a retractable knife. he rarely carries blood bags anymore as his power solidified itself. the older he got, the better he was at using and controlling a small steady flow of his own blood straight from the tap. with a clap of his hands, the knife cut his hand enough to send blood shooting like bullets. the blood hit the curses straight to its cores, died out instantly on impact, but the shikigami was beyond salvageable. it let out one last howl, one last goodbye before dropping to the ground, half of his snout gone. she will be devastated, it’s her only shikigami she managed to tame at such a young age, but at least it has stopped the shikigami from stripping his wife’s cursed energy to its core.

the fire burning in his eyes only made the curse laughed. he kicked her body away, spurting blood out of her mouth. she was halfway close to death’s doorstep.

“i will fucking murder you,” he hissed.

“my blood is my power. it’s supposed to rot human, stripping its meat from the bone like acid. however,” the curse nudged her body, “your wife didn’t. humour me, did your blood tainted hers? tell me, i’m curious how.”

“are you going to chit chat because i don’t have whole day.” his blood dripped on the pitch.

the curse grinned, shrugging his shoulder. he kneeled, running his bloody fingers on her cheeks leaving trails of flowers pattern that dissipated immediately, “i’m not here to fight. i’m here to serve a warning,” he looked up to the tensed sorcerer, “for gojo satoru. tell him, we’ll be waiting for him in shibuya.” noritoshi’s face scrunched in confusion.

“we have no business with the gojos.”

“but she is. she could change her name, married you, but it doesn’t erase the fact that she carried gojo’s blood in her vein. she’s the bridge to your two clans. i’m just killing two birds with one stone. ruin the kamo clan’s relationship with gojos and hurt gojo satoru. all thanks to her,” the curse turned his back on him, his laugh echoed as he walked away. the dark curtain disappeared slowly as the ground rumbled. a perfect chance for noritoshi to strike if it wasn’t because of the cursed spirit’s words gluing him to his spot, “oh, kamo, i believe a congratulation is overdue. let me know when’s the baby is due, i would love to drop by personally.”

the pillar holding on to the roof collapsed sending wave of dust all over the place. noritoshi covered his face, coughing as he sucked some in, removing his coat as a shield. the cursed spirit was no where to be found.

“the place is going to collapse! i’ll get the curse, you go get her!”

a voice echoed and he caught a glimpse of blond hair running past him and noritoshi didn’t think twice as he sprinted around the cracks and holes. who was that voice or who was the curse, he couldn’t give a single fuck, he just wants his wife back. he was shaking when he got to her, arms immediately scooped her up in his arms. her chest was raising slowly, blood dripping on the side of her lips as she struggled to exhale.

“you’re going to be okay,”

he told her, but he wasn’t sure if he will ever be.

-

“can you turn down the stupid light, it’s hurting my eyes.”

the voice laughed melodiously, the light moved to the other eye repeating the same thing.

“as you can see, she’s awake, slightly weak, but she should be okay.”

another voice interrupted, “are you sure?” she gasped, excited to hear a familiar voice. “nori?” she called out, unable to open her eyes, relying strictly to her hearing as she reached her shaky hands out for him. “her senses might be slightly off, just let her do it herself,” the woman’s voice noted, and she felt annoyed. how dare you underestimate me, her mind scoffed.

“my senses are fine. see?” she claimed as she held noritoshi’s hand up. he smiled, gently rubbing her hand with encouragement. “thanks, shoko, we are fine.”

“i’ll leave you be then. call me if you need anything.”

she listened to the clacking of shoko’s heels, followed by the door opening and slamming shut. she jumped, but he held her hand tighter, reassuring her that it’s alright. “so why can’t i see?” she asked, confident that they are alone now. she felt the bed sunk a little on the left side, “you were high on anesthesia, i’m surprise you could even move your jaw to speak.” she felt a finger brushed her hair aside, breath loomed on her face and she could feel her own face reddening up.

“are you going to kiss me or are you just going to tease me?” his heart swell up, despite her shaky voice almost made him laugh.

“do you trust me?” his hand cupped her cheek gently.

she nodded eagerly, “always.”

“good.”

his kiss hit her like a waft of fresh air. every kiss felt like a first kiss to her that she couldn’t help to react so eagerly to it. his tongue slipped through her defense, overwhelming her taste buds with such strong taste of iron. it didn’t stop her. she knew what he was doing from start. he peeked a little, didn’t stop a second from kissing her as he watched his blood marking appeared on her face. her hands went up around her neck pulling him closer and he obeyed, deepening the kiss.

heal; his mind commanded.

after a while, she pulled back, being the one to break apart from the kiss first, her chest raising up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. her eyes were wide open now, fluttering lazily as she leaned back on the propped-up pillow. he wiped the corner of his lips, eyes on her as he watched the open wound on her face and arms slowly closed leaving the fresh healed red marks behind. he relaxed when he heard a thank you coming from her, as she checked her healed arms.

“i’m disappointed with you,” he finally broke the silence.

“really?” she frowned. he always does this thing where he will immediately go into lecture mood every time she does something that pisses him off. it’s almost like a game to her as she waited for him to explode, “right now? not even going to wait until i’m discharged. this is a new record, toshi. like shoko said, i’m fine.” he shook his head, “it doesn’t make it right. you always disobeyed me. ignored my orders, going about with your goddamn big head, you could’ve been killed.”

she rolled her eyes, noritoshi is being noritoshi, what a drama queen, she mentally rolled her eyes, “but i’m not,” she pushed her hair back, twisting it easily into a simple loose knot, “i told you, i am not weak.”

“your shikigami was destroyed, your blood was poisoned, 70 percent was already circulating to every part of your vein, i had to beg for the higher up to help purify your blood,” her smile died down. this game no longer feels fun for her. noritoshi was really mad this time. “you think it’s fun and all game but game over, y/n. you need to stop doing this. if you can’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

“leave me alone, nori, if you just going to nag, please i don’t want to hear it. i’m tired.”

it made him angry that she was taking his word lightly. running his hand in his messy hair, he felt like hauling his head to the wall.

“you don’t understand-”

she slammed her hand on the bed, interrupting his words, “no YOU don’t understand me, i’m tired of you babying me. i’m an adult, i am your wife, stop treating me like a fucking child! we have been married for months, but god you’re suffocating me.”

“i will when you stop endangering yourself. i will stop treating your like a child when you stop acting like one. you’re pregnant, for the love of god!” he threw his hand on the wall. the wall cracked from the force. “i’m what?” she felt the world stopped spinning. she was hundred percent sure that her ears and head were deceiving her. he removed his hand from the hole he made on the wall, his body shaking from the amount of anger building up.

“noritoshi, answer me! what do you mean- i’m not pregnant, i had my period this month.”

“you are,” he shrugged. he felt something hit him in the back; looking down he saw the fluffy white pillow sitting by his feet.

he pointed to the bedside table where a sonogram perched up against a tissue box. she was about to lose her mind. “this is not funny, if this is your mean way of fucking me up because i won’t listen to you then this is just fucking cruel.”

he marched towards him, his hand went down on his chin, forcing her eyes on him, “until you stop playing your stupid games, until you stop treating your life like it’s nothing, until you consider my feelings and my worries, as your husband is valid, i do not exist in your life,” tears fell down her cheeks, “like you, i’m tired too.

“nori i-“

he left her before she could say a word. she broke into sob; her chest was pounding so hard that the blood pressure monitor was beeping. the door burst opened but it was not the face she wanted to see. she was immediately hysterical. satoru managed to hold her wrist down before she ripped the tubes and needles off her arms. “no, no, i want nori. where is he!” she screamed as satoru held her down. “you need to calm down, it’s not good for the baby,” satoru cooed, but she was not having it. he turned to shoko, “her cursed energy is skyrocketing, she’s going hysterical, do something!”

“let me go!”

shoko held out a syringe, “hold her down.”

she screamed, thrashing so rough that she almost slipped out of the strongest sorcerer’s hands. she managed to get a needle out before she felt another sharp pain on her back. shoko pulled the empty needle out and they retreated away as she fell on her butt backward. she was reduced to a babbling mess, her eyes drooped as she struggled to fight the waves of sleepiness hitting her one after another.

“tell him i’m sorry,” she croaked out, before everything turned completely dark.

the blood pressure monitor returned back to normal.

three days later;

“are you still going to ignore her? it’s been 3 days.”

“she needs to learn her place.”

gojo satoru disagreed. he eyed the head of the clan, shaking his head before standing up. he thought he could convince noritoshi kamo to visit his wife, but the man was as stubborn as- huh, her.

“i think she have learned enough, she’s miserable. you’re miserable.”

the man glared at the blonde man child, raising the cup of tea up for a sip. the tea doesn’t taste as good as the way she made it. he left her for 3 days and he found himself struggling to do everything alone. 

he, noritoshi kamo, 23 years old and the head of the kamo family, could not make a cup of fucking tea.

she always said that the best way to make tea depends on how long you let it steep. “too early and you won’t get the right amount of flavour,” she explained, her back facing him as he watched from the counter as she loomed over the stove, “but if you steep it way too long you going to burn the tea leaves and it will make everything taste bitter.” she turned around, a huge smile on her face that made his heart skipped a beat.

he frowned; the tea tasted bitter.

“she’s pregnant, she’s supposed to be crazy. you are supposed to be the wise one. she is going to carry your child for 9 long months, i can’t explain to you how long that’s going to be but she is allowed to be crazy.”

he dropped the cup on the floor when gojo’s hand grabbed him by his collar, pulling him up from his chair.

“now please, see your goddamn wife before i deck you in the mouth.”

“i will.”

satisfied with his answer, gojo’s demeanor changed and he was again the man child they all know of him. noritoshi could no longer focus on the report in front of him; not when his mind is full of her and only her.

would she forgive him? he wasn’t sure.

but he would spend his lifetime making up to her and the baby if that’s necessary.

#I FEEL LIKE THIS ONE IS JUST AINT IT AND I MIGHT REMOVE IT #jjk #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x y/n #jjk y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru #wild gojo appeared #tw blood #noritoshi x reader #i already have part 3.5 have written tho loool #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #writing: fics

[matbarzyy]

17 with Tito please!!

A/N: Trying to clean out my inbox from all the requests I got last time I posted a prompt list, hope you like it <3 The prompt was “I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

Word count: 1702

.

“Is that your daughter?” Anthony noticed your lockscreen when you checked your one last time before putting it away in your purse.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, feeling your chest tighten a little.

Jumping into the subject right at the start of the date wasn’t what you had expected. You hadn’t made it a secret that you were a single mom to a beautiful and smart two years old little girl, so Anthony knew what he was getting into when he asked you out, but you were still nervous about it. He was a year younger than you, and while that wasn’t much you also knew he probably had other things on his mind than taking care of a child. It was understandable, of course, but you were tired of having expectations when it came to men you were dating. If they weren’t ready to deal with the fact you had made a priority of your daughter, then you weren’t interested.

“Millie, right?” Anthony smiled, seemingly more curious about her than other men you’d met so far.

“Yes, she’s two,” you returned the expression but tried not to jump into too many details. “Still small but an absolute ray of sunshine.”

“She looks cute,” he complimented although he had only caught a glimpse of her.

You tried not to let yourself get too excited when he kept on talking and asked you more about her, but he seemed genuine and you both laughed together so much that you couldn’t help but let yourself get your hopes up. It was your first date in months that wasn’t an absolute disaster. Granted, you already had a few friends in common so you knew he had to be a decent person, but he was already more than you had hoped for.

It helped that you lived close to each other too, as you soon found out because he had walked to the restaurant too. It was still warm enough to stroll around the city without losing the tips of your fingers, so you were both making the most of it.

Two glasses of wine later, you were just about to order dessert and the date was going so well all of your stress had worn off. You were talking comfortably, most of the awkwardness made you laugh as you got over it, and Anthony was genuinely funny without ever making a misplaced comment. It was all too good to be true, but after the last three years of your life and the struggles you went through, you felt like you deserved this.

Everything wasn’t perfect, but it was nowhere near as disastrous as your previous dates and you felt like you could breathe again. Maybe your love life wasn’t completely hopeless, and maybe not all men were a nightmare to deal with.

“I can’t believe you think an apple pie is better than a brownie,” Anthony shook his head with a teasing smile, starting up a new debate on desserts now that you were both trying to pick.

“The brownie doesn’t even come close to the second place,” you had already worked out the hierarchy of the desserts on the menu in your head and the brownie was all the way down with the carrot cake.

“But it comes with ice cream!” He argued like that point would fix everything, so you laughed wholeheartedly and kept on going.

“Ice cream is for warm sunny days,” you stated, sure that it would get a reaction out of him, and his huff was just what you had expected.

“This statement is wrong in so many ways.” He rolled his eyes, tone still playful.

“Enlighten me,” you chuckled, leaning the side of your head against your hand. Your smile fell a second later when your phone rang, stopping him from replying. “I’m sorry, I have to take that,”

“It’s okay,” he nodded, leaning back in his chair and pretending to look at the menu again to give you a moment.

“Please don’t be an emergency,” you muttered to yourself but Anthony still caught it before you picked up. “Hello?”

You didn’t move from your seat as you listened to what your niece had to say. You let out some okays here and there as she talked, and Anthony watched the way your face fell a little bit more with every second that passed.

“I’m so sorry,” you bit your bottom lip. “I really have to go,”

“Hey, it’s fine,” he frowned at the look on your face. “Is she okay, what happened?”

“She’s sick, apparently got a fever and all that fun stuff,” you put your jacket on and grabbed your purse. “My sixteen years old niece is watching her and she doesn’t know what to do,”

“Let’s go then,” he nodded, abandoning the idea of eating dessert and standing up too.

You walked back to the front of the restaurant together, a waiter had already spotted you and was coming forward so that you could pay. You expected to take care of the bill, being the reason the date was ending early, but Anthony stopped you from reaching into your bag and handed his card to the waiter.

“I got it,”

“Thank you,” You replied quietly, not wanting to argue because it was bad enough already that you had to leave. “I’m really sorry I had to cut this short.”

“The night isn’t over, come on, I’ll walk you back.” Anthony didn’t let his mood go down and your eyes almost bulged out of your head.

“You don’t have to do that, it’s getting cold,” you felt awful for ruining the night, the last thing you needed was to make him walk further to get home.

“It’s late and it’s dark, I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.” He held the door of the restaurant open for you and you ducked your head as you walked past, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Thank you,”

You were quiet as you walked, a little hurried to get to your daughter fast although you weren’t in a rush to leave Anthony. Having him close was nice despite how uncomfortable you now were due to your family emergency.

His hand bumped against yours, once, twice. The third time, you knew it wasn’t an accident, so you looked up at him to find him stealing a glance at you too. A smile etched on his face and he linked your fingers while you went giddy all over.

“So,” he broke the silence. “How many dumb guys have ruined dates for you just because you have a daughter?”

“That obvious, uh?” You stared at your feet again, but the way his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand comforted you.

You wished you still had the confidence you used to have before you got pregnant. As much as it had taught you, there were still times when you regretted how easy it used to be for you to believe you were worth something on the dating scene. You had learned a lot with Millie, but you also stopped progressing in other aspects of your life.

“A little,” Anthony admitted and kept on walking at your pace. He could tell you were in a rush to check everything was okay at home, so he didn’t want to slow you down despite wishing the date could have lasted longer. “I knew about her when we met, I wouldn’t have asked you out if it bothered me,”

“Well, I used to assume that when I got asked on dates, but turns out it was too big of an assumption.” You chuckled dryly, making his heart squeeze.

Anthony felt for you in that moment. It was unfair that they had treated you that way for something you weren’t hiding. He could tell you were happy to have you daughter and you clearly loved her more than anything, but he could also see the shame you carried being a young single mother.

It wasn’t right that you were constantly receiving negative reactions for being the parent that stayed. You were the one trying your best to give your daughter the best life you possibly could, and Anthony couldn’t do anything but admire that.

The idea of being with you in the long run and possibly becoming important in Millie’s life had been on his mind for a long time before the date. It was a lot of responsibilities to take, but at the end of the day he had refused to pressure himself because of it. You were great and he wanted to get to know you, it was that simple. Only time could tell where the two would end up, and going out with you on a few dates didn’t mean he had to commit to anything immediately. He also knew that if you were the right person for him then he was ready to commit to it all.

“That’s me,” you eventually slowed in front of a building and came to a stop, unsure of what else to say. You hated how uncomfortable you were, the two of you had just clicked when you met up at the restaurant and yet you were stuck in an awkward silence now.

Anthony welcomed the interruption; he didn’t want to keep on overthinking things. “I know tonight didn’t end the way you hoped it would,” he said because that much was obvious, getting you to look up at him rather than anywhere else on the street for the first time since you had begun walking. “But I had a great time, and it’d be nice if we could go out again soon,”

“I-” you had prepared yourself to utter another apology, but his words took you by surprise and your chest went tight with nervousness. “Yes, I’d like that,” you breathed out faster than you should have and Anthony’s smile spread across his face, making his blue eyes brighten even in the darkness of the night. “I’m not sure when I’m free yet but, um-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled softly. The way you were fumbling for words and tried to hide your grin was endearing. “Just text me when you know, yeah?”

“I will.”

Tags (add yourself to my taglist here): @itrocksmysocks @kerwritesthings @pupsandpucks @barzysreputation @whythough1319 @smit41 @glassdanse @fiveholegoal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @thefootballfaithfull @calgarycanuck @heatherawoowoo (strikethrough means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

#anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #new york islanders #request #writing #anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier imagine

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Title: “Messy”

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Original Characters

Tags: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst, Breaking The Rules, Dean is Sam's Real Parent (But he shouldn't have to be), Dean Giving Sam a Childhood, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Meets a Cute Boy, Unwanted Haircut, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dean is 13 and Sam is 9

Summary: John leaves Dean and Sam alone at a motel the day before Halloween. Despite John's hard-and-fast rules about leaving the motel room, Sam convinces Dean to take him trick-or-treating. While they're out, Dean meets a boy who makes him feel like breaking the rules was worth it.

On AO3 Here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dean, you know the drill,” John says brusquely as he hoists the duffel over his shoulder. “Tell me the rules.”

Dean stands up from where he’s folding laundry on the motel room floor. They stopped at the laundromat this morning, John tossing Dean just enough quarters for two small loads before taking Sam along with him to the local library for research. They’ve been tracking a creature for days and John’s still not sure exactly what it is.

Dean would have loved to help with the books. Instead he sat in front of the laundry machine, exactly the same as the hundreds of others he’s fed with quarters over the years, and watched their clothes spin around and around. He noticed new holes in Sam’s jeans and socks when he moved them to the dryer. If his dad will let him use some of their wound-stitching thread, he’ll repair them after this hunt.

He faces his dad, posture straight and hands behind his back. “The rules are stay in the room, keep the doors and windows locked, don’t answer the door for anyone except you and Bobby, only spend money if I absolutely have to, and always have a weapon in reach,” he rattles off.

John nods, face impassive. “And the most important rule?”

“Protect Sammy,” Dean says firmly. He glances over to the rickety table under the window, where his scrawny little brother is filling out a worksheet. It’s part of the last round of homework their teachers had given them at their previous school, right before John took them out again to hit the road.

Dean quietly tossed his own homework in the garbage and told Sammy to finish every worksheet, because he was going to mail it back to the school and his teacher would check it. Sam’s even writing a letter in the cursive he’s learning to go along with it.

Dean has no clue what the address of the school is.

John pulls the Impala key out of his pocket and opens the door. “I’ll be out of cell range during this next leg. Check in date is Thursday. Don’t call for help until Sunday.”

Dean nods. John steps halfway out the door before turning back. He eyes Dean for a long moment, as if he’s trying to come up with something to add. Eventually he just says “I’m cutting your hair when I get back. You look messy.”

The door closes. In the silence of the room, Dean reaches up and touches his bangs. Just this morning, in the reflection of the washing machine door, he admired how his hair was curling a bit over his ears. It framed his face and made him look softer. Less skinny. More like the other boys he’d seen at school.

Oh well.

The Impala roars to life outside in the parking lot, and Dean listens until the purr of the engine fades away down the road. He looks at the half-folded pile of laundry at his feet.

“Tomorrow’s Halloween.”

Dean jumps a little. Sam’s right next to him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Dean pushes him away and drops onto the couch, nudging a balled-up pair of socks with his foot. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

Sam sits down next to him. “Dean, I think Dad forgot about Halloween.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He didn’t forget, Sammy. It just doesn’t matter.” He avoids looking at his brother, running his fingers over the ridge of threads barely holding together the hole in his own jeans.

“But I told James I’d be a doctor,” Sam needles. “He’s gonna be a pirate.”

Sam’s ability to instantly make friends always leaves Dean feeling half-proud, half-nervous. Sam was in third grade with James for less than two weeks, and he still talks about him constantly.

Dean thinks it’s better not to get attached. He just can’t bring himself to teach Sam that particular lesson yet.

He sighs and glances at Sam. “You know you can’t trick-or-treat with James anyway, right? He’s in Denver.”

Sam groans dramatically and flops against the hard backrest of the couch. His shaggy hair falls into his face. Dean looks at the longest strands, curving past Sam’s cheekbones.

“We can just do Halloween here,” he suggests, even though he knows “buying candy from the gas station” definitely doesn’t count as necessary spending.

Sam shakes his head where it’s still resting on the couch. “That’s not real Halloween.”

“We’ve never done a real Halloween, so how would you know?” Dean’s just buying time now, putting off the moment when he has to say “no.”

The stink-eye that’s sent his way is of epic proportions. “I watch TV, Dean.”

Dean rubs his face. “Sammy--”

“--Oh, please, Dean, please!” Sam shifts into begging mode, sitting up and whipping out the puppy eyes. His left eye is half-covered by hair. “I know we’re not allowed, but can’t we break the rules just one time? It can be a secret.”

They hold eye contact for a moment, but Sam’s more stubborn. Dean looks away first, his eyes falling to the laundry on the floor. Almost unconsciously, he reaches under the lumpy couch cushion next to him and lets his fingers graze the pistol stashed there. His stomach rumbles and he wonders how far he can stretch their last cans of soup.

Suddenly, a secret doesn’t sound so bad at all.

“Okay,” he says.

Sam must’ve not expected Dean to relent, because he’s silent for a couple seconds before whooping and launching himself at Dean. “Ahh! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Dean can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He hugs Sam back, the kid’s bony shoulder digging into his ribcage. After a moment, he pulls away and puts on his most serious face. Hands on Sam’s upper arms, he looks him straight in the eyes. “Sam, if we do this, you cannot tell Dad. Do you understand?”

Sam nods enthusiastically, still grinning. Dean digs his fingers into his arms. “Listen to me, or we’re not going.” He waits for Sam’s face to fall a little before continuing. “You can’t just not tell Dad, you can’t drop hints. You have to clean up all your wrappers. We can never talk about it. Do you get it?”

Sam’s eyes are wide now. He nods again, very small, and Dean knows he’s gotten through. He loosens his grip on Sam’s arms. “All right, then. How are we gonna make you look like a doctor?”

Sam beams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, they lock the motel room door behind them and head out. The neighborhood that starts a few streets behind the motel is pretty normal, as far as Dean can tell. The houses aren’t super big, but the yards are, and there are toys scattered on some of the lawns. The biggest house on the corner even has a tree swing. The big tree reminds him of the one in their front yard in Lawrence. He tries not to think about that too much.

It’s dark, and chilly -- they’re still in Colorado -- and Dean holds his jacket closed in front of his chest. The zipper broke a couple weeks ago. Ahead of him, Sam doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. His “doctor coat” flaps behind his legs as he skips down the sidewalk. It’s just a sheet from the bed that Dean stuck together with safety pins in a certain way (it doesn’t look like a coat at all, but the mirror in the motel bathroom was shattered so Sam couldn’t see it anyway). He hung their stethoscope from the big first-aid kit around Sam’s neck, with the express instruction not to lose it, and he emptied the rest of the first-aid kit onto the couch so Sam could carry the empty box with the big red cross and look professional.

Sam hasn’t smiled this much in weeks. Dean’s neck is crawling with the knowledge that he’s breaking rules, bigtime, but he shakes it off. They’re out now. It’s done.

Sam has already latched on to a group of kids making their way up the drive to a single-story brick house. Dean hears him introduce himself, sees him flash the big toothy smile that Dean told him makes him look friendly. The other kids compliment his stethoscope, and Dean relaxes a little.

Everyone in the group is wearing what looks like homemade costumes, too — there’s another bedsheet, draped over a short kid’s head like a ghost (if only ghosts actually looked like that, Dean thinks); and a long black coat, obviously from an adult, dwarfing a kid who Dean’s pretty sure is supposed to be a vampire. Sam, in his makeshift getup, fits right in.

Dean’s trailing behind the group, letting Sam do his making-friends thing, when he notices another older kid doing the same. He looks about Dean’s age, maybe a year older, fourteen or so, and he’s dressed like an angel with a blue halo made out of pipe cleaners. The rest of his outfit is normal, though — a t-shirt that’s printed to look like a suit and tie, under a regular puffy winter coat. Dean’s eyes linger on him as they follow the younger kids up to the house. When they come to a stop so Sam can ring the doorbell, the other boy looks over at Dean, too.

“Hi,” he says. In the yellow glow of the porchlight, his eyes look greenish blue. “I’m Al.” He reaches out a hand. Dean looks at it for a moment, then takes it. They shake. Al’s hand is warm and smooth, a stark contrast to Dean’s freezing, calloused palm. Dean wishes he could hold on a bit longer.

“Dean,” he replies, dropping Al’s hand. He’s not sure what to say next. That’s Sam’s area of expertise.

Luckily, Al doesn’t let him flounder long. “Do you live around here?” he asks, friendly and curious. Dean’s used to hearing that question asked with a thick layer of suspicion, usually out of the mouth of some nosy adult. He still gives his practiced answer, though.

“No, me and my brother are just visiting our grandparents for a couple days.”

Al nods, accepting the lie easily. “I thought I’d never seen you at school.” He points at the sheet-clad ghost. “That’s my sister Katie. She’s seven. It’s the first time our parents are letting me take her trick-or-treating on our own.”

Dean smiles and gestures at Sam, who’s holding the empty first-aid kit out to the homeowner for candy. “That’s Sam. He’s nine. Same deal for us.”

“I like his costume,” Al says. Dean bristles for a moment, until he realizes Al’s being sincere.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I like Katie’s too.” He sweeps his eyes over Al again. “Why are you wearing a fake suit with your halo?”

Al looks down at himself and laughs sheepishly, smoothing down the front of his t-shirt. “I wanted to do a toga with a sheet, but it’s way too cold. I just dressed up ‘cause Katie wanted me to. The halo was the quickest thing.”

“It works,” Dean assures him, suddenly wanting Al to feel good about himself. He shuffles his feet a little, kicking at the fallen leaves littering the walkway. Al smiles at him and something grows in Dean’s chest, a warm, glowing ball, making everything feel tight and tingly. He’s not sure what to do with it.

Sam appears at his elbow suddenly, much to Dean’s relief. He ruffles Sam’s hair. “What’d you get?”

Already chewing on something that looks very caramelly as it squishes between his teeth, Sam holds out the first-aid kit. “She gave me two big ones!” he announces around his mouthful. Two full-sized Milky Ways, one already half-unwrapped, slide around in the box.

“Cool,” Dean says. “Don’t get a stomachache.”

“They’re gonna get stomachaches,” Al says ruefully as Sam and Katie bounce down the driveway to hit the next house. “We should steal some of their candy, y’know, just to protect them.”

The word protect briefly jolts Dean out of his growing sense of relaxation and he sneakily pats his chest, feeling the sheathed knife tucked away in the inside pocket. He makes sure he can still see Sammy (now bounding up the walkway of the next house), and takes a breath. Everything’s under control.

“You okay?” Al’s looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together, a lock of dark hair falling into the crease. He has nice hair, Dean decides. Floppy and kind of messy, squished flat in the middle by the band of the pipe cleaner halo.

“Yep,” he says, forcing the cheer into his voice. If Al notices, he doesn’t say anything. They continue to follow their siblings through the neighborhood, leaving some distance so they can talk. Al tells Dean about school, that he likes science and hates history, that his favorite band is Journey, that he wants to play soccer but his dad wants him to play football, and that he wants to be a veterinarian.

“I like cars,” Dean says in response. “I’m not great at school. Not sure what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Not sure how to tell you that I’ll probably be hunting monsters for the rest of my life.

Al leans on the picket fence of the house that they’re currently waiting outside. “You could be a teacher,” he says.

Dean narrows his eyes at him in confusion. “I just told you I’m bad at school.”

Al shrugs. “My favorite teacher says he didn’t like school. That’s why he’s so good at helping us. He gets it.”

The heavy layer of clouds above them breaks, and a ray of moonlight lands across Al’s face. They’re standing between streetlights, so the silvery glow makes Al’s blueish eyes gleam. Dean finds he has to breathe a little harder than normal. He shakes his head.

“Nah, if anyone’s gonna be a teacher, it’s Sammy. He’s really smart.”

Al hums and pushes off the fence. Sam and Katie are moving on again. “I don’t know, man. You seem smart to me.” He pats Dean on the shoulder, the warmth of his hand seeping through Dean’s threadbare jacket.

In the relative darkness, Dean smiles so hard his eyes squeeze shut.

Eventually, they’ve stopped at every house in the neighborhood. Dean’s pockets are full of the candy that doesn’t fit into Sam’s overflowing first-aid kit. Al’s coat pockets are bulging, too. Sam and Katie run sugar-hyped circles under a streetlight while Dean and Al stand on the corner, looking at each other a bit awkwardly.

“Uh-- I’m glad we ran into you guys,” Al says finally. “You’re really cool.”

Dean’s glad that he’s the one facing away from the streetlight, because his cheeks heat up and probably look way pinker than they would from just the cold.

“You too,” he says. “Wish we lived around here.”

“Where do you live?” Al asks. “You know, just in case we ever take a road trip.”

Unless your destination’s my dad’s car, I don’t think you’re gonna run into me.

“Sioux Falls,” he says. “South Dakota. I live with my uncle.”

If Al finds that strange, he doesn’t pry. Dean could hug him. He wants to hug him.

Katie comes barrelling over, dragging her pillowcase of candy along the pavement. She’s huffing from running around, ghost sheet dangling half off her body. “Al, I’m soooo tired.” She flops against her brother. Sam comes trotting up behind her and grins at Dean. Dean tries to smile back, but there’s a lump in his throat, something that’s making it hard to breathe.

Al pats Katie on the head. “We should probably go home, anyway. It’s getting late.”

Still taking tight little breaths, Dean nods. “Uh-- yeah, us too. See if Sam can sleep off the sugar rush.”

“How long are you staying with your grandparents?” Al asks.

Dean looks at his feet. Weighs the pros and cons of sneaking out again. He’d have to take Sam; there aren’t actually any grandparents who could watch him.

He can’t risk it.

“We’re going home tomorrow morning,” he says, every word dropping like lead. Sam shoots him a confused look, but he ignores it.

Unless he’s imagining it, Al’s face seems to fall. “Aw, too bad. Wait! Hang on.” He rummages through his candy-heavy pockets until he pulls out a little spiral notebook and a nub of a pencil. He writes something on a page and rips it out. He hands it to Dean.

“Our phone number,” he says with a little smile. He steps forward and the streetlight catches his eyes again. Dean thinks that in the sunlight, they’d be bright blue. Al gestures at the paper. “You’ve got a phone at your uncle’s, right? Maybe you can call me sometime.”

There are way too many feelings jumbling around in Dean’s chest for him to say anything coherent, so he just nods. Al smiles wider. “Cool. I’m happy we met you.” He takes one more step forward and — Dean stops breathing altogether — wraps his arms briefly around Dean’s shoulders. He’s very warm. His hair smells good. Dean’s brain doesn’t catch up quite in time, and he misses his chance to hug back. The edge of Al’s halo brushes Dean’s forehead as he pulls away.

“Thanks for hanging out,” Al says, putting his arm around Katie’s shoulders and turning to go. “Have a good drive back home!”

Dean clears his throat. “Bye, guys,” he says lamely. Sam waves enthusiastically to make up for it. They stand under the streetlight for a long few minutes, watching Al and Katie go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam manages to eat every piece of candy by Thursday morning, which is the day they’re supposed to hear from John. Dean makes him eat canned vegetable soup in between meals of Mars bars and Skittles. They scrounge the motel room for wrappers, tossing them all into a big garbage bag that Dean’s going to throw into the dumpster outside. He finishes folding the laundry, counts the money to make sure it’s all there, re-packs the first aid kit, and puts the sheet back on the bed without the safety pins.

Anytime the unease creeps in about having broken the rules, he looks at his brother’s shining face and pushes it back down. He and Sam rehearse their story in case John asks them what they did and Sam even finishes all of his worksheets. Dean folds them up and hides them at the very bottom of his duffle. He tells Sam he put them into the mailbox in the motel office.

And every few hours, he pulls the folded little piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and looks at it. In careful handwriting, Al had written:

Alan Montgomery

(from Halloween. I hope you call.)

And his phone number.

Thursday afternoon, Dean takes the candy-wrapper garbage bag out to the parking lot. At the last second, he pulls Al’s note out of his jeans. After a long moment of reading and re-reading it, he gently folds it back up and tosses it into the bag. He throws the whole thing into the dumpster.

But not before memorizing the number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John gets home late Thursday night. Before they check out of the motel on Friday, John sits Dean down on the toilet seat in the bathroom and pulls out his electric clippers.

While John has his back turned, plugging in the clippers by the sink, Dean pushes his hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands bunch up between his fingers and fall back down onto his ears. He remembers Al’s messy hair brushing his cheek when they hugged.

John flips the clippers on and the buzzing fills the bathroom. For the second time, Dean is glad that the mirror is shattered.

With every lock of hair that tumbles to the ground, Dean recites Al’s number in his head.

“There,” John says gruffly, after the floor and Dean’s lap are littered with honey brown strands. “You look like a man again.”

Dean stands up, brushing off his jeans. His head feels cold. “I’ll get a broom,” he says.

He’s halfway out the bathroom door when John says “Dean.”

Dean freezes, already wondering where he left a wrapper, how John found the garbage bag, if Sam let something slip. He slowly turns back. John’s wrapping the cord around the clippers.

“I need you to come on the next hunt. We’ll drop Sam off at Bobby’s.”

Bobby’s, where the telephone is. Dean’s heart beats hard for a different reason now. He tries to look casual. “Are we gonna stay for a bit?”

John’s already shaking his head before Dean’s done talking. He pushes past him and drops the clippers into his duffel bag on the bed. “No. We’ll be on the road for a while.” He stops and looks at Dean. “Weren’t you going to find a broom?”

Dean loads a dustpan with his hair and empties it on top of the garbage bag in the dumpster.

He whispers Al’s number again.

#suptober21 #sorry for the angst #it's Hating John Hours over here #Al is not intended to be a time-traveling Cas btw #I just liked the idea of a pipe-cleaner halo and of Dean having a type #Anyway Dean is Sam's parent #Fuck John Winchester #Dean deserved a cute teenage boyfriend #spn fanfic #ficlet

[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

part iii

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL:

Logan Tremblay escaped from Saint Clair Orphanage around one month ago—and he’s torn up with guilt about it and leaving Finn behind.

Dorcas realizes that Logan is getting his stash from the dangerous Carrow twins.

The two go off to Sirius and James’ party at Shack Beach.

Dorcas is surprised by Marlene, and we can see that there is some sort of rift between them about leaving this island and Dorcas selling Crucio.

Once the Gods show up at the party, Sirius is surprised to see Luke Deveaux and Remus Lupin among James’ company—he’s never seen them in The Hollow before. It startles Sirius into a memory of the last time he saw Remus, the last day he was at school.

Luke mistakes Saint and Sirius for Crucio dealers, insults Saint, and him and Sirius fight. We learn Luke’s dad is in jail and that Sirius’ old abusive home life is common knowledge.

As the party breaks up, we go further down to a dark part of the beach where Logan, having taken Crucio, sits with a phantom Finn, asking Finn why he made Logan leaving him behind. Leo finds Logan that way, exhausted and in tears, and takes Logan home with him.

The next morning with James, Remus, and Luke at Remus’ house, we learn that Luke’s dad is in jail for fraud. They go to breakfast at the Hogshead where Thomas works—and won’t sell Luke any Crucio. When James asks where he gets it, Thomas tells him to go talk to Dorcas or Kasey Winter, who is the other supplier and the boyfriend of Lily and Marlene’s friend, Natalie Darcy. James spots Lily out the window. Lily won’t talk to him, but James seems to want to and convinces Lily to meet him at Gryffindor club later.

Logan wakes up in Leo’s warm bed, goes to The Lion where Leo works, and learns that Leo’s father died in a storm—and that Leo won’t say anything more than that.

“Something’s wrong,” Lily said. “I can tell, Marls, come on.”

Marlene sighed, looking at Lily on the bedspread and kicking her door shut behind her. She set the popcorn on the bed between them before carefully climbing on herself to sit across from Lily. 

“Well, what’s wrong with you?” Marlene said, popping a kernel into her mouth.

Lily tilted her head. “Deflecting.”

Marlene put her hands over Lily’s between them. “James is a really good guy, Lils. And you’ve liked each other since we were, what, eleven?”

Lily just shook her head. “I asked you first.”

Marlene just looked at her. “It’s…not big.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

Marlene hesitated, looking down. She took a deep breath. “I got into college.”

Lily blinked. “Not big? Marlene! Congratulations!”

“And…” Marlene sighed again. “I haven’t told Dorcas.”

“Well,” Lily began. “Well—well, why not?”

“Because that’s not how she wants to leave this place,” Marlene said, picking at a stray thread. “Because she wants to just…run free. I don’t really understand what she thinks is going to happen, no matter how much money we have, I just…I know she doesn’t exactly have college in mind.” Marlene looked back at Lily. “What I mean is, I know we haven’t talked about it.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “You should talk about it.”

Marlene raised an eyebrow right back. “Says the girl who’s been avoiding James for an entire month.”

Lily winced. “That’s—different. We’re not together. We just…”

“Had sex.”

Lily slapped a hand over her eyes. “Oh God. It was so good.”

That startled a laugh out of Marlene. “Then what, pray tell, is your issue?”

Lily let her hand fall. Her eyes looked sadder. “Wouldn’t it be easier to be happy about getting into college if you weren’t leaving anything behind?”

“What?”

Lily looked down at the popcorn.

“What, Lily Evans?” Marlene said, louder. “Jesus fucking—Lily.”

Lily sighed and got up. “I know. Look, I need to get to the Club for dinner. My parents—and James, I…” she sighed. “Fuck, we have a lot going on for what was suppose to be a peaceful summer.”

Marlene laughed, half-heartedly. “Yeah, we do.”

~

Leo was pulling the key out of the lock to The Lion when a voice spoke.

“Did your dad really die in a storm?”

He froze for a second, listening to the crickets singing in the falling darkness, then turned, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. Logan was standing a few feet away.

“That’s really just a rude question,” Leo said. “Like, seriously.”

“I’m an orphan, I’m curious about people’s parents,” Logan said, then smiled a little, sarcastically mostly, at Leo’s face. “You don’t have to pretend like you don’t know what I am.”

“Why do you take Crucio?” Leo replied. He walked forward until he was face to face with Logan, looking down at him. “Why do you sell it?”

Logan’s stance shifted. “That’s really just a rude question.”

“Huh, is it?” Leo said. “Well.”

Leo watched Logan’s eyes track his hands as he pulled his backpack off.

“What are you doing?”

Leo pulled out a take-out bag, top rolled closed, and shoved it into Logan’s chest. “Let’s go home. You can eat while we walk, I already did.”

Leo stalked into the dark, not sure why he cared so much, and waiting for Logan to follow.

“What made you come back?” Leo asked and hoped he wasn’t now talking to himself.

“I didn’t know I was suppose to stay,” Logan replied. “I thought you just thought you were doing me a favor.”

“Pretty sure I was,” Leo glanced at him. He could see his necklace resting against his neck, over Leo’s old t-shirt.

“I’m fine.”

Leo shrugged. “Okay, you’re fine.”

They walked in silence, save for Logan crinkling the bag open and pulling out his dinner.

“Fuck,” Logan said, mouth full. “What is this?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile. “My own creation.”

“It’s—The Lion doesn’t have this on the menu.”

“No,” Leo agreed. “I said it was mine.”

“Don’t you want it on the menu?”

“I sort of maybe want to run The Lion one day,” Leo said. “Better to have some secret ammo.”

Logan scoffed. “Seriously?”

“It’s not so strange,” Leo said. “It’s a great place. It helps a lot of people—why are you looking at me like that?”

Logan shrugged. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who isn’t trying to get off this island.”

Leo took a breath and kept walking. Suddenly, he wanted to tell Logan. He didn’t know why.

“I can’t,” Leo said. “There’s too much here.”

“Like what? Some good food, beaches, and an orphanage? An island full of people who seem to hate each other?”

“My dad’s work was here,” Leo said before he could stop himself.

“Your dad’s work,” Logan repeated.

Leo didn’t look at him when he nodded. “The Voldemort.”

Logan opened his mouth as they climbed the porch steps to Leo’s house, but Leo held a finger to his lips.

“Not in front of my mom,” he whispered, and got out his keys.

~

“What are we doing with ourselves tonight, hot stuff?” Saint said.

Sirius looked over at him from his mattress and held up the bottle of whiskey. “What, we’re not doing something right now?”

“We are,” Saint looked at Sirius in the mirror, face framed by the dozens of golden necklaces hung around the vanity’s frame. They were a sharp contrast to the chipping paint and uneven legs. The mirror itself was a little warped. Saint clipped a third necklace around his neck. “But I was just asking.”

“Why don’t you steal silver?”

“I don’t like silver,” Saint smiled in the mirror, then spun himself around on the stool. “And I look good in gold.”

Sirius smiled, too, taking another sip of the whiskey. “Yes, you do.”

“Well, I’ll keep them on then,” Saint said. “If we’re staying in.”

Sirius snorted. “Why do you steal them if you can’t wear them anywhere?”

“Because,” Saint clasped a fourth. “I look good in gold.”

“Okay, okay,” Sirius laughed. “But we need food.”

Saint raised an eyebrow. “But we have whiskey.”

“I have work in the morning,” Sirius sighed, sitting up. “I can’t go to bed on whiskey.”

Saint looked at him in the mirror again. “Pulled pork from The Lion?”

Sirius nodded slowly, but he was watching as Saint began to take each necklace off. “Do you remember when I came to Grimmauld?”

Saint draped the gold carefully over the mirror. “You mean when you were eleven and scrawny?”

“And you were a dick and scrawny?”

Saint made a tisking sound with his teeth and tongue. “I was never scrawny. But I was a dick.”

“You are a dick,” Sirius laughed. “Sometimes.”

“Why are we reminiscing?”

“I just…” Sirius began. He looked around their room, at the dusk slanting through the cracks in the boards and the summer breeze through the open windows. “Are we going to be doing this when we’re seventy instead of seventeen?”

Saint’s shoulders stiffened. He turned slowly in his chair. His brown eyes were calm and studying.

“Doing what?” Saint asked.

Sirius put the bottle down and sat up, facing him. “Saint.”

“What else do you want to do?” Saint rose, head tilted.

“I think we should leave,” Sirius said, eyes following Saint’s until Saint was standing over him. “You’re in danger here. We both are.”

“The orphanage can’t get me if they can’t catch me,” Saint said. “And your parents don’t look for you.”

“Take your necklace off,” Sirius said.

Saint raised an eyebrow. “Go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Neither can I.”

Sirius shook his head. “We’re—it’s different.”

“Sirius…”

“The only thing stopping us is cash,” Sirius said. “Dorcas can lone something to us—”

“Oh? That’s the only thing stopping us?” Saint said. He dropped on knee on the bed, and then the other, seating himself in Sirius’ lap. “Then tell me something, Black.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and settled his hands on Saint’s hips. “Anything.”

Saint’s fingers wound themselves through Sirius’ hair, tilting his face up towards him. “What would we know about the rest of the world?”

Sirius leaned up and let Saint kiss him. It was slow and lingering.

“What do you know about anything except what’s right here,” Saint said into their next kiss. “Running around in this tiny little circle of land.”

“Saint…”

Saint pushed Sirius onto his back, pinning his hands above his head.

“I like it here,” Saint said. “We can predict what happens here.”

“And no one can leave?” Sirius said softly.

Saint’s expression flickered. Sirius knew he was prodding gently at a sore spot. They both were. It felt good sometimes, like a bruise or a paper cut. Neither of them wanted to lose anyone else.

Sirius relaxed against the mattress. He looked up at Saint quietly. “I’m not leaving.”

“You just said you should.”

“I said we should.”

Saint narrowed his eyes a little. “We should not talk about this.”

“You never want to talk about it,” Sirius said and closed his eyes when Saint bent to kiss his neck. “Saint, if you do get caught again, you said they don’t let you out. Not even when you age out.”

“Maybe it’s true. Maybe I’m right,” Saint tilted his head and looked back down at Sirius again. “There were kids much older than I was and, well, I haven’t seen them around, have you?”

“Why?” Sirius asked. He sat up, holding Saint closer against him. “Do you know?”

“Maybe it’s all they know. Maybe they don’t want to leave.”

“So, then shouldn’t we—”

“No,” Saint cut him off. “They don’t let you out. Only I can do that. For myself. I want to be free. I do.”

“And are you?” Sirius said softly, pushing Saint’s hair back from his forehead. Saint closed his eyes, leaning into it.

Saint pressed his lips together and kept his eyes closed.

“Saint,” Sirius whispered.

“I don’t want to talk,” Saint whispered back. “I don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Sirius said. “Okay.”

Saint opened his eyes. They flit to Sirius’ mouth, then back to his eyes. “Can we?”

“Of course we can,” Sirius said, dipping his fingers lightly into Saint’s shorts. “We always can.”

Saint nodded softly. “Okay.”

Sirius pulled Saint towards him and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Saint’s bare back and Saint melted towards him. Their kisses were like they always were, frantic, a little playful. Saint traced Sirius’ lip with his tongue, fingers digging into his hair. Sometimes, this was just how they spoke to each other. Sirius pushed Saint’s thighs so that they straddled him more firmly.

“What do you want to do?” Sirius said, holding him closer.

“You know,” Saint breathed. He dragged his mouth down Sirius’ neck as Sirius pulled him down to the mattress.

Sirius remembered the first time they had done this. He also remembered when it hadn’t been an option, when they’d barely known each other and, besides Saint agreeing that Sirius could have one of Grimmauld’s rooms, hadn’t spoken. It had taken them a few months to so much as eat a meal together.

“I can feel you thinking,” Saint panted out as Sirius kissed his way down his chest. “Stop doing so much of that.”

“Maybe you should do more of it,” Sirius said, scraping his teeth against the muscles around Saint’s hip.

“No, thanks, sweetheart,” Saint sighed out, his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

Sirius couldn’t help but smile a little as he unbuttoned Saint’s shorts. It was such a Saint thing to say that it warmed him, just as the familiar feel of his skin did.

Sirius knew that Saint, for all his acts and plays, felt more than anyone Sirius knew. Saint still grieved for the family that had abandoned him, and sometimes Sirius thought Saint even grieved for the family Sirius had known and lost, just out of proximity to them.

Sirius knew that Saint stole to steal back what had never been his. Sirius knew it didn’t work—and Sirius knew Saint know that, too.

Saint let out a shaky breath when Sirius took him into his mouth. He was filling fast and Sirius relished in it. This…this worked.

“I’d miss you,” Saint panted out. “If you went, I’d miss you.”

Sirius pulled off and sat back on his heels, hand going to rub himself through his shorts before he slipped out of them, tossing them to the floor.

“You seem to have heard something I never said,” Sirius fell back on top of Saint, catching himself at the last minute to hover above him, and pushing their cocks together. “I wouldn’t leave you behind.”

Saint just clutched Sirius closer, his next breath a moan as Sirius rolled his hips, a little sloppily, and slow.

“Stop thinking,” Saint said.

Sirius bent to kiss his neck, sucking blood to the surface of his skin. “You brought it up again.”

It was always the same with Saint. A much needed consistency. Saint’s hips knocked his, they fought each other for the upper hand, usually laughing until the slick slide of their cocks became the only feeling they could think of. Saint never held him as close when he came. He went soft and melted away against the mattress. Saint did, however, chase Sirius’ mouth, knowing that kissing brought Sirius over with him. Sirius pressed his hips down hard against Saint’s oversensitive, spent cock, the way Sirius knew he liked. Saint jolted, teeth biting down onto Sirius’ lip, making Sirius come in thick stripes between them. They dropped beside each other afterwards, shoulders pressed close. It was always the same, but Sirius always felt good after. Safe. Neither of them were leaving, and maybe that was a good thing.

“Fuck, you always make such a mess,” Saint laughed, staring down at his stomach. “At least this is your bed.”

Sirius just closed his eyes. The room smelled of sex now, and of the ocean. He was sweaty and wanted a swim. They had hours and hours until dawn, though. Sometimes the nights felt useless and too long.

“You like it,” Sirius said.

Saint curled onto his side with a sigh and kissed Sirius’ shoulder. “Dinner in an hour.”

~

James looked up from his coke and peanuts the moment Lily and her family entered the Gryffindor dining room.

“She’s here,” he said to Luke.

“Yeah,” Luke drawled, twisting a cherry stem between his fingers. “I can see that, Pots.”

“Shit,” James breathed. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Bet you fifty I can tie this with my tongue.”

James drank the last of his soda, crunching a few ice cubes. “That’s a stupid fucking bet.”

Luke shrugged. “Bet I can.”

“I have to go.”

“Dude,” Luke laughed a little. “She’s gotta have dinner first.”

James stood. “She can have dinner after. She promised we could talk. I need to know.” He looked back at Luke and his blackened eye. “Don’t do anything stupid. Wait for me here.”

Luke rolled his eyes, then looked at the bartender. “Olli, come on, man.” He pushed his own coke forward. “Just a little little bit of rum in this next one.”

Olli shook his head, smiling. “Deveaux. Your mom will kill me.”

“My mom doesn’t give a shit.”

James left the conversation behind, taking a few steps forward.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Evans,” James smiled, hands in his pockets. “Petunia. Lily.”

“James! Hi, sweetheart,” Mrs. Evans smiled. “Are your parents here?”

“Oh,” James looked behind him, then back at her, smiling and pushing his glasses up. “No. Just me.”

“And Luke,” Lily mumbled, eyes going behind him.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” James sighed, cursing himself. “And Luke.”

“Mom,” Lily said, glancing at Mrs. Evans and the rest of her family. “We’ll be right back, okay? I’ll meet you at the table.”

Mrs. Evans nodded. “Yeah, all right, honey. It’s buffet style tonight, do you want me to make you a plate?”

“No, I’ll make it,” Lily said, and looked at James, gesturing towards the open patio doors. “James.”

“Coming,” James said. “Cool.” He looked at Petunia, who looked skeptical, to Lily’s parents. “Bye. Thank you—or—bye.”

The night air was warm as Lily let him outside and down the stones towards the cupola and the sea. She didn’t look at him as they walked, and James was afraid to speak. He wanted this to go the way she wanted it to, even if he was desperate to know what was in her head. It had been such a good night. Had she really not felt the way he had?

Lily stopped only when the cupola stopped her tracks. The dark waves were gentle tonight.

“Okay,” Lily said. “Go ahead.”

James blinked. “That’s it?”

Lily turned and looked at him expectantly.

“Lils…” James said, then laughed a little, exasperated. “Lils, we had sex. And—I know it wasn’t just sex to you. I know because it wasn’t just sex for me. I…look, it’s fine if you don’t want to date, I’d never make you do anything, but I just…I don’t understand. I’m an all right guy and… and when I asked you, you seemed…”

“It’s not you,” Lily began then groaned, turning back towards the cupola’s railing. “Or—maybe it is. I…James, you…your family…they are this island.”

James stared at her back, perplexed. “What does that mean? Like—their money? What?”

He watched Lily’s shoulders slump. “It means I need to get out of here. This bubble, these people. These divides, these fucking neighborhoods.” She turned, her green eyes beautiful and determined. “It’s like we live in clockwork and I can’t stand it.”

James looked over her face. “What, so I’m all gears and cranks, and that’s it?”

“You’re one gear,” Lily said softly. “You’re part of it all. I know you go to The Hollow and stuff, you hang out with Sirius Black and…”

“You hang out with Dorcas,” James countered.

“That’s not—”

James took a step forward. “So, we both cross boundaries—”

“What boundaries?” Lily said, voice raised. “They don’t exist! That’s the clock part!”

“They exist here,” James said firmly. “And, Lils, whether you like it or not, we’re here right now, and so why not break something? Sirius is nice. He’s troubled, but he’s nice, and I like Sirius. I went to school with him for seven years and now he works for my parents, I’m not going to pretend he’s not there. I want to be his friend. Saint’s a little weird, but he’s fine. Dorcas and Marlene are great together. This is our island, why not do what we want?”

Lily shook her head. “This isn’t our island. This is an island.” She wrapped her hands around her arms in the night breeze. “And it’s a small one, and there’s an entire world out there.”

“Lily—”

She looked away from his face. “And I’m sorry, James, I—you know I like you, but I need to leave when we go to college and I need to leave with a fresh start. No clockwork.”

With that, she brushed by him. James stood there, frozen, listening to her sandals get softer as she walked down the path, back towards the bright lights of Gryffindor Club. James thought of her parents back that way. And then his own parents, no doubt arriving soon. Their beloved club. Their title of one of the oldest names on the island. He didn’t blame Lily for not wanting to carry that with her. Not really.

“No clockwork,” he said softly to himself, and sat down heavily one of the benches.

~

Saint came out of the Potter’s house with a glass of water for both of them with his eyes firmly telling Sirius to keep it cool. Sirius recognized that look from too many almost run-ins with the cops, or marine patrol.

“What?” Sirius said. He downed half of his glass in one go. The sun was high and hot against his bare back. He handed the glass back to Saint and leaned on the long pool cleaner. “De parler.”

“You’ll never guess who just arri-ived,” Saint sang softly. “Tweedle-hot and tweedle-hotter.”

“Who the fuck are they?”

“Black!” James called, jogging down the steps to the flat stones of the pool ground. “You guys don’t mind if we’re out here, do you? We’re gonna practice some shots on the rebounder.”

“We,” Saint muttered, bending to clear some leaves from the filter.

Remus and Luke came out of the house after him, all three in their swim trunks. Luke stared right at Sirius, eyes hard. Remus looked at him more softly.

“It’s your house, Potter,” Sirius said.

James shrugged. “I’m just asking.”

Sirius watched out of the corner of his eye as the three of them walked over to where the bundle of lacrosse sticks lay, along with a bucket of balls. Luke picked up one first, punching out the net of his stick. Sirius noticed that someone had wrapped his knuckles. Sirius’ own were bare and aching a little in the sun, the split on his lip, too. Luke glanced over at them again.

“How’s the face, Black?” Luke said across the pool, and whipped the lacrosse ball forward. It landed squarely in the center of the trampoline material before bouncing back for him to catch again.

Sirius looked at Luke’s black eye. “Fine.”

“What, had worse?” Luke asked.

“Oh-kay, my turn,” James said and nudged Luke out of the way and looked at him and Remus. “Wagers?”

“Thirty for ten out of twenty,” Remus said. “Each.”

Luke turned away from Sirius and Saint and scoffed. “Just thirty?”

Remus smiled, tilting his head. “For now.” He walked over to a speaker and plugged his phone in.

Sirius kept his head down, focusing on the pool and the music as they cleaned. He watched as they hurled the ball in hard arcs every time. They laughed, and argued over who got to choose the next song. Saint and him raked the pool clean.

“I hate this song,” Saint kept mumbling to him. “And this one. And this one.”

“You don’t know this song,” Sirius murmured back.

“It’s a new hate.”

“I need more water,” Sirius sighed, and handed the pole to Saint before turning towards the house.

“Wow,” he heard Saint call to the boys from behind him, and closed his eyes. “You guys are like hamsters on a wheel with that thing. Love this song, too.”

“Well, thank you, Saint,” James laughed. “That’s nice of you.”

The shade of the house was a relief and Sirius took a moment in the cool kitchen to take a breath. He hated this. He hated the way those guys made him feel. He hated himself for feeling the gnawing self-consciousness at all. He had a job to do. That was all. It didn’t matter that they didn’t, that they were out there tossing a ball and catching it again all day.

Sirius shook his head to himself and went to the cupboard, grabbing a glass and holding it against the water filter on the refrigerator.

He was watching it slowly fill up when a throat cleared from behind him. He looked up to see Remus standing there.

“Hi,” Remus said. He was breathing hard from their workout. He was eyeing Sirius carefully.

“We’re allowed to come in here for water,” Sirius said, and turned back to his almost filled glass. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“What? Oh—no, no, I wasn’t.”

Sirius took his glass away and stepped to the side. “It’s all yours.”

Remus was still a little opened mouthed, and he took his own glass to fill.

Sirius didn’t really want to leave the shade of the kitchen, and it seemed neither did Remus. They stood there, on opposite sides of the counter, drinking their water.

The Wolfsbane, Sirius’ mind was chanting. Ask.

“I wasn’t,” Remus said again. He glanced up at Sirius and took another drink.

Sirius nodded. He didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

“Lupin,” came Luke’s voice from outside. “Jesus fuck, hurry, it’s your shot and I’m about to take back my money.”

Remus set down his drained glass in the sink. “See you out there, Sirius.”

Sirius watched him go. The memory was back.

Are you okay? Sirius, right?

The sun felt good against the chill that the words brought.

“What was that?” Saint whispered to him.

Sirius shook his head. “What was what?”

“Are you guys almost done?” Luke said, crossing his arms over his chest. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat. “I sort of want to take a swim.”

“Well, what do you know,” Saint said. “There’s an entire ocean out there, Deveaux, and it’s all for you.”

Sirius, not wanting to fight again but recognizing it in Luke, said, “I clean this pool every other day. You can swim while we do it if you want.”

James thwacked Luke hard on the back of the head before cannonballing into the opposite side of the pool. He surfaced again to place his glasses on the side, then pushed off, floating on his back. Luke glared at Saint for another moment before sitting on the side and putting his feet in.

“Come on, Devs,” Remus said, and jumped in after James. He surfaced and floated over to wrap his hands around Luke’s ankles, tugging a little. “I still remember when your mom couldn’t get you out of the water for cake at my sixth birthday party. You know you want to.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed, but then he was smiling, laughing a little. He swatted Remus’ hand and then dove into the water after him.

“Wow, it emotes,” Sirius said softly to Saint.

“Potentially,” Saint countered. “Okay, we’re done.”

They listened to the boys laugh as they put their equipment back into the pool house.

“Hey,” James said, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes. “You guys can come in if you want. That’s hot work.”

“We’re headed to Shack Beach with our boards,” Sirius said, flashing an awkward smile. “But thanks.”

“You surf?” Remus asked.

“No, Lupin,” Saint’s grin was sharper. “We just clean pools.”

Remus shut his mouth. Sirius shoved Saint.

“Yeah, we do,” Sirius said, looking at Remus. “Every morning.”

“Hey, you know what, Lupin,” Saint pointed a finger at him. “We see your boat sometimes—”

“We’ll see you guys later,” Sirius said firmly, giving Saint another push.

“Well,” Saint said over his shoulder. “Sirius sees your boat.”

“Oh,” Remus said, puzzled sounding. “I mean, yeah, I go out in the morning.”

Sirius turned. He couldn’t help it. “You go out?”

Remus nodded, treading water. “Yeah.”

Saint whistled. “Mystery solved.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth twice before nodding. “Okay. See you guys later.”

He heard Luke snort as they walked away. “That was weird.”

It was Remus.

They pushed through the Potter’s house and back to the driveway where Saint’s Jeep was waiting.

It was Remus out there.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Sirius groaned as they climbed onto the hot leather seats. “Saint, Jesus.”

“Mary,” Saint started the engine. “Joseph. Oh, I thought we were naming—”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“At least now you know. You can lust after a person, instead of a boat.”

“Drive.”

“It could be worse, you could be lusting after Lupin’s father.”

“Drive.”

~

“Tremblay, you’re back. I was wondering when we’d see you again.”

Logan looked down from the shiny crystal chandelier he was staring at, thinking about Finn. He wouldn’t need Felix today. He’d get to the orphanage before two, when they were let out into the courtyard for an hour.

His eyes found Alecto, who was smiling at him, if it could be called that. Every time his name came out of Alecto’s mouth, part of Logan wished that he was like some of the others that had been in the orphanage, like Finn—meaning without one.

“I’m back,” Logan said, standing. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

Alecto laughed. “Oh. He’s confident now.” She jogged down the rest of the grand staircase. “You weren’t like that a month ago.”

Logan slung his backpack off of his back and took out the cash he’d bundled. “Here.”

Alecto held out her palm for it, and Logan sighed but placed it there. She thumbed through the bills.

“This is all of it?” Alecto asked.

“Yes.”

Alecto reached out and gripped Logan’s chin, making him stare at her.

“Are you lying?” she said.

“You can count it,” Logan bit back, and shoved her away. He worked his jaw, sore from her grip.

She nodded, smiling. “All right, all right.”

The door to the left, framed in gold, opened as it always did. Logan caught Snape’s eye for a moment as he handed the bags of pink powder, rubber-banded together. Alecto took it from him, and Snape stepped back. A good soldier, Logan thought.

Alecto tossed it to Logan, who caught it against his chest.

“Sell it all,” Alecto said, watching Logan slip it into his pack. “Or don’t come back.”

“Fine,” Logan turned towards the door.

“I mean it,” Alecto said. “You think we don’t know what you’re doing in your free time?”

Logan froze. He felt his heart speed up, felt Alecto just behind him.

“How much do you think you owe us by now, Tremblay? With all the…free samples you’ve taken. I’m sure it was suppose to be the other way around, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that why you ended up here?”

Logan kept his eyes down.

“Or,” Alecto laughed. “I guess the real question is how badly you want to see that boy of yours again? And I mean really see him.”

“Don’t talk about him,” Logan grit out.

“Then remember that our deal doesn’t include your little freebies,” Alecto growled. “Now get out.”

Logan didn’t look back as he pushed out the door.

He waited until he was well out of sight of the Carrows’ manor before stopping in a narrow alley between houses. He dug his fingers into his hair and closed his eyes.

“Fuck,” he gasped aloud. His throat felt tight. Everything felt heavy. Logan scrubbed his fingers over his face before looking at his watch. It was 1:56. He needed to get to the orphanage.

Sometimes this island felt like a jungle, and sometimes it reminded Logan of the halls in Saint Clair. Salazar’s alleys were those hallways, only caked with grime. Saint Clair was the jungle in a rare clearing. Or maybe a clearing in a jungle. It made no sense, but there it was.

Logan looked from his crouch in the hedges of a nearby house as the door of the courtyard opened. Two o’clock on the nose. Two nuns came out, and then the first kid. They let the little ones out before the others, always. Logan watched the children grow taller, accompanied by some of the wards—not part of the Church, but older kids who were still there. Logan still didn’t know why. No one had ever said.

And then there he was.

“Finn,” Logan breathed, as if Finn could hear him. Even if he couldn’t hear him, Logan knew Finn would look for him. Already, Logan could see Finn glancing around outside the fence. He was holding a book. One of his tricks, Logan had learned. Logan had been too scared to come even close to the orphanage for the first week and a half, but then he had discovered that he could watch.

And then he had discovered Felix. Two Finns, one far, and one farther.

Finally, Finn found him.

“Finn,” Logan said again aloud. “Finn, Finn…”

Finn smiled, just a little, not too noticeable. He took his book and sat down against one of the benches. Opening it between two fingers, he held it on his lap, bowing his head a little to feign reading. Instead, he stared at Logan.

Logan's crouch dropped to his knees heavily. “Finn.”

Even from a distance, Logan could see Finn’s mouth move around silent words.

Hi, baby.

And then Finn’s eyes turned sad. He jerked his chin forward a little.

Go, he mouthed. Go.

“I miss you,” Logan said aloud. “I’ll get you out.”

Finn shook his head. Logan… he trailed off.

“I’m going to get you out,” Logan said, and turned before he had to watch Finn disappear inside again.

#warnings: mentions of drugs but no use; mention of past abuse but not graphic at all ; #relic keel #relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #lumosinlove ocs #Luke deveaux #saint #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #James potter #lily evans #jily #dorlene #dorcas meadowes #Marlene mckinnon

[princessphilly]

if you still have a prompt spot left I'd love to read one with tk!

Open my heart

Give it to you

Tell the whole world that I'm in love with you

Whatever you want

Baby, I'll do

I know I don't want nobody else but you - Ciara - Promise

Related to Filthy Boy and A Very Filthy Holiday

The first gift was a stuffed Gritty. 

You oohed and aahed over it because you loved the loveable troublemaking mascot of the Flyers. Travis rolled his eyes but you showed off your little Gritty to everyone. However, you kept the note that came with it to yourself. It simply read xoxo, your secret admirer. 

You were the average girl living in Philly so you were surprised to have a secret admirer. But, it was two weeks from Valentine’s Day and you were a romantic at heart so you were ready to ride it out for as long as you could, even if your secret admirer ended up being someone you weren’t attracted to. It was the thought that counted.

The second gift, four days later, was a gift card to Teuscher’s in the Bellevue. You looked at the gift card in a bit of shock. It was for $100 so whoever was your secret admirer, they had some good taste. That night, after an awful practicum, you treated yourself to champagne truffles and dreamed of the Flyers breaking their losing streak. After his game at MSG, you told Travis about it and he looked disgruntled.

The third gift was a vinyl of your all-time favorite album, 1989. When you told the boys on FT, Travis rolled his eyes. Nolan smirked while making eyes at Kia and Kia giggled. Kia replied, “Whoever this is, they have good taste.”

On day four, there wasn’t a gift waiting for you when you woke up and you felt strangely disappointed. However, after you returned home from your shift at work, there was a bottle of rose waiting for you. When you posted a picture of the rose in the group chat, everyone was happy for you except Travis. He sent a meh emoji and you felt angry and sad. If your FWB was mad that you were getting gifts from a secret admirer, he should have asked you out before now. In your opinion, a FWB was not the same as a boyfriend.

Your fifth gift was a pass for a spa day at the Four Seasons. According to the card, you could get as many treatments as you wanted, literally anything you wanted for that spa day. It went from 9am to 6pm and it was for you and three of your friends. Kia mentioned that if you didn’t want to date your secret admirer, she would take them off your hands. Hannah just talked about getting a hot stone massage for the rest of the day. You decided not to mention it in the group chat. Travis sent you a couple of messages and a FT call but you decided to ignore him too. 

The sixth gift came five days before Valentine’s Day and it was the most practical gift yet. You were still a poor, soon-to-be graduating college student and you needed a new winter coat for the Philly winters. Your coat, while it had held up well in California, it was finally done this year. You whistled when you looked at the coat. It was Moncler and whoever your secret admirer was, they had money. You weren’t label conscious or anything but this was almost too much to accept. Then you saw the tags were cut and you sighed. 

For the first time, you felt a bit sad. It was obvious to you that your secret admirer wasn’t Teeks. The gifts were super extravagant and Travis wasn’t extravagant like this. The greaseball hick was more at home in sweats, t-shirts, and his ironic baseball hats. You bit your lip as you put on the coat. You were already this far in, might as well ride it out.

Today was Valentine’s Day itself and luckily, on a weekend. The boys were finally back in town after an extended road trip but you were waiting to see what your secret admirer got you for a final gift. There was nothing waiting for you when you woke up and now, it was 6pm and there was nothing here. Kia was out with Nolan and you were by yourself. Hannah and Britt had gone out for drinks and you were watching cheesy movies while staring at your phone. Teeks hadn’t called you all day even though his IG story said that he was back in Philly. Then you heard a knock on the door.

You quickly got off the sofa, brushing popcorn off your hoodie and shorts. Opening the door,  you gasped when you saw Travis. He was dressed in one of his game-day suits, his gray-green eyes looking intensely at you.

“Hi,” you said as you gestured for Travis to come in. Part of you were happy; his attitude towards the gifts you received this week had you spoiling for a fight. Reading yourself for a snarky comment, you were taken aback when Travis took a jewelry box out of his pocket.

Travis softly stated, “This is for you.”

You gingerly took the box, opening it to show a labradorite necklace. You gasped as Travis smiled. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day from your secret admirer. Be my girlfriend?”

You looked at Travis with wide eyes. The snarky troublemaking spark plug on the ice who you did very filthy things with looked very vulnerable. He rambled, “I know, it’s kinda backward but fuck, I really like you and I want to be the only one dating you and you’re the only one I want-”

You giggled as Travis rambled. Then you got on your tip-toes and pressed your lips to Travis for a second before moving back. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend. You had me fooled though.”

Travis blushed. “I had to play it off. Everyone kept chirping me, you know.”

“How did you get all of the gifts to me,” you asked, curious.

“Kia was in on it,” Travis confessed. Then he gave you another soft smile before saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

#travis konecny #fluff #romance #valentine's day lyric prompt blurbs #blurbs #drabbles #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #flyers #flyers imagines

[malewifegradyruewen]

An Untitled Original Work, Part 9

significantly shorter sorry about that BUT! y'all are gonna both love and hate me-

previous | next | masterpost

trigger warnings: swearing, death mention, light violence mention, ask to tag

word count: 1353

tagging: @fire-sapphics @damischs @zoyyanazyalensky @love-pyramus @silver-war @pencilwritesshiz47 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @mermistahawk @dirty-racoon @ttechnobladee @enbies-and-felonies @sophia-not-sofie @imaramennoodle @littlemisscupcake @cadence-talle @knifescythe @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @completekeefitztrash and lmk know if you wanna be added/removed!!

Sammie couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had she really just kissed Gina Weathers? How could she do that, when she didn’t know where her own heart lied? Didn’t know who had the key, and how to find them?

She hadn’t planned, it had just happened, and while she didn’t regret it, she wished it hadn’t happened. Her heart was confused, which made her stomach do flips and her head pound. It was unbearable, the way the mental confusion affected her physically, so that as her heart hurt, her body ached too.

Why, why, why had she done that? She liked Gina, sure, but she liked Logan too. And Gina’s adamant stance against Logan only added to Sammie’s confusion. What was up with that? Logan seemed genuinely nice, but so did Gina. What was the history? She needed to know before her stomach got any worse. She already felt like she might vomit.

hey just curious what’s up with you and Gina? we were talking and she acted super weird when i mentioned that you and i talk in english class

She sat down on her bed, looking up at the barren ceiling. If only she knew which box she’d packed her fairy lights and garlands in, she could start decorating her room. Then again, if her clothes were barely unpacked, what was the point in embellishing it?

She felt her phone vibrate in her lap, and she picked it up to see what Logan had said.

it’s complicated

how so? Sammie shot back.

it’s a lot. better if we call

okay you call me

Sammie’s phone rang a moment later, the caller id showing the picture she’d taken during English earlier that week. She accepted the call, and put the phone up to her ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey girl,” Logan said, her voice muffled through the phone. “Shut up, I’m on the phone!”

“Is your brother being annoying?”

“He’s never not. Okay, so you want the tea on me and Gina, right?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind telling me,” Sammie said, checking the time. 4:37, meaning her mom wouldn’t be home for a while. Sammie wouldn’t be interrupted if she started wandering the house as one does when they’re on the phone.

“Okay, so you know how middle school sucks? That’s when this happened. It was like, fall of seventh grade and I invited Gina over for a sleepover. We were like, best friends when we were little. My mom has some pictures of me and Gina when we were little, and they’re pretty cute. But anyways, seventh grade. She’s at my house and we’re talking about crushes, and I say I have a crush on Benji, and she gets all mad and says he’s hers.”

“Huh. Okay, keep going.”

“Yeah, so I drop it, and I assume she’s gonna let it go, but she gets pissed, like really pissed. So on Monday she starts spreading rumours that I wet the bed at our sleepover, and I’m gross and I bully her and force her to be my friend. So I just stop talking to her, plain and simple. Then she got all mad and now she hates me. Worked out fine for me, because Benji and I have been dating since right after eighth grade.”

Sammie didn’t know what to say. She’d meandered from her bedroom to the kitchen and was now sitting on the kitchen counter, unsure of what to say. Gina had done that? Were they talking about the same Gina?

“What?” she said. The confusion she’d hoped to abolish through this phone call had only grown.

“Weird, right? Bet she makes it out to be all my fault.”

“Actually,” Sammie said as she slid a bagel into the toaster, “she always avoids talking about it. It’s kinda weird, but I didn’t wanna ask anyone else in the group ‘cause that seemed… weird.”

“Well, it was just between me and her, but she dragged everyone else into it.” Sammie could hear the annoyance and hurt in Logan’s voice. She was trying to hide it, Sammie could tell, but she wasn’t doing a very good job.

“You guys used to be close, right?” Sammie asked, grabbing a jar of jam from the fridge.

“Yeah, we were besties all through elementary school, and all of sixth grade. That’s why this was so weird, because she’d never done anything like that before.”

“Really? That doesn’t seem like Gina at all.” The longer she and Logan talked, the more confused Sammie became. She finished spreading jam on her bagel and took a bite before adding, “She made it seem like you guys had only been classmates, never friends. Like, you were always in the same class but you never hung out.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question, but Sammie could tell Logan wanted to ask something.

“It always felt weird though. She was avoiding the conversation,” Sammie continued. “I dunno. Felt like she was trying to hide something more.”

“Sounds just like her,” Logan replied, the disdain in her voice leaking through the phone. “Always was one to bury her secrets.”

“What’s that mean?” she asked as she took another bite of her bagel.

“She hasn’t told you? Her mom died right before we started highschool. It was a shock too, a car accident. So my family went to the funeral, because there was a huge turnout and more than half the school was there. And like, I get it, if my mom died I’d be distraught too, but when she saw me she tried to punch me, and I had to leave. It was kinda fucked up.”

Sammie stopped chewing. There were a thousand questions in her head, but she couldn’t put words to any of them. They rattled around in her brain for what felt like a year, but was truly only a few seconds. Finally, she was able to ask, “Why?”

“Dunno.” Sammie could hear Logan’s shrug through the phone. “She just saw me and got mad. On the one hand, she wasn’t thinking clearly, because who would be after their mom died, but on the other hand, it seemed uncalled for.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But like, you didn’t provoke her? Say anything rude?”

“I’m hurt,” Logan said, sarcastically. “But no, I hadn’t even said ‘sorry for your loss’ before she looked at me and got pissed and tried to punch me. To be honest, I’m still not sure why.”

“That’s… weird.”

“Not who you thought she was, huh?” Logan seemed almost smug. “Makes you think twice. Don’t worry though, you can still hang out with her because I, unlike some people, don’t try to police who my friends hang out with. I might not like it, but I don’t try to dictate friendships.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” Sammie admitted after a moment.

“Look, dinner’s almost ready, so I gotta go in just a minute, but let me tell you one thing. There’s more to Gina Weathers than you thought. You can stay friends with her, because we’ve all made mistakes, and you shouldn’t get mad because of things she did to other people. Just…” Logan sighed. “Take everything she says about me with a grain of salt, okay?”

Sammie nodded before realising Logan couldn’t see her. “Yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Logan. Are we still on for next Saturday?”

“Yeah, and Ellison might stop over if you’re cool with that.”

“Not totally sure who that is, but yeah, I’m cool with that.”

“Awesome, see you tomorrow! Bye!” And with that, Logan hung up the phone.

Sammie sat in silence on the kitchen counter, the remaining third of her bagel getting cold. What more could she say, could she do? After kissing Gina and her conversation with Logan, she wasn’t sure how she could face Gina on Monday.

Even after moving five times and attending five different schools, Sammie could safely say she’d never been drawn into the drama so quickly. It had only been a week, but she could tell that her last two years of highschool would be the most noteworthy of all.

#Jolie's shitty writing

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 3!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Side note, I’m a grandma in a 22 year old body who doesn’t understand technology. If somebody can teach me how to get readmores to work on tumblr mobile, and possibly how to start linking the posts together, I’d appreciate it!

Also, the taglist is now full! Though if people want, I could try doing a supplemental taglist? Either in a reblogged or in a separate post to notify you? Let me know in the replies!

Damian Wayne, as it turns out, is almost very certainly the son of Bruce Wayne, who sponsored their entire trip to Gotham. There are only two official pictures of him that are clear enough to truly check against, but Marinette sees the eyes and she nods. “That’s him.”

Trixx, Pollen, Kaalki, and Plagg are scattered about the bed, napping and lounging. Adrien also lounges, catlike and crosswise with the bed, entirely over the pillows at their back. Chloé holds the laptop that Marinette is hovering over, even from her seated position with her much smaller stature.

“It would be you,” Chloé snorts. “Oh, let’s just traipse over to America for a quick class visit! Oops, my soulmate is the incredibly handsome son of the incredibly wealthy man who invited us here!”

“Still more believable than you, Miss ‘My soulmate and I have literally been standing two feet from each other for weeks because not only do we have the exact same friends, but we’re part of the same superhero group and never realized until Ladybug allowed us to learn each other’s secret identities.’” Adrien doesn’t move as he calls her out, lazily curled into the warmth of his two friends and the pillows cocooning him.

“I don’t think any of us can speak,” Marinette groans. “I’m living a cheap rom com, Chloé’s got all the plot elements of a high budget Shakespearian drama, and Mr. ‘Didn’t know I wasn’t straight until my soulmate mark was a guys name” is straight out of a b movie comedy.”

“At least I got my act together pretty quickly once it occurred to me that I could like guys too,” Adrien points out. “And now Jon and I talk all the time, and he even comes to Paris sometimes to see me, or we’ll meet up for my occasional business trips in America. Which reminds me,” he pulled out his phone, sending off a quick text, “he wants to come meet you guys. Next week, while we’re all actually on the same continent.”

“Kudos to you for shaking off whatever Gabe tried to stuff your head full of,” Chloé says. “Took me ages to admit that I was gay, and that was even WITH my soulmark and both Marinette and Ladybug constantly in front of me.”

“Feeling pretty objectified,” Marinette protests.

“Oh shut it, I know for a fact that you’ve basically been the gay awakening crush of every not straight girl in our class. And several outside of it. And that’s not even counting all the dudes that fall in love with you.”

“I still object,” Marinette pouts at Chloé.

“Objection overruled.” Adrien sits up. “Marinette. You’re like, the perfect crush. They have a warning about you in the introductory packet for Mme. Bustier’s class.”

“They do not,” Marinette gasps, outraged. “I wrote that packet!”

“And then the class unanimously decided you were too dangerous to be walking around without a warning sign,” Chloé pinched her cheek. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s still in the packet despite Lila’s best efforts to get it thrown out.”

That does make Marinette feel better.

“Damian Wayne resurfaces after year of being believed dead,” Adrien reads from his phone. “Gotham’s Newest Wayne: The True Son! These all read like tabloids but as far as I can tell the Wayne’s don’t tolerate stuff like that. So I guess it’s true?”

“I’m tired of looking him up,” Marinette groans. “Can we just leave it be?”

“Nope,” Chloé pops the P. “Congrats, Dupain-Cheng, this is what friends are for.”

“I wish I could talk to Tikki about it,” Marinette sighs. “Especially because I have literally never heard anyone talk about that- electric feeling when we touched. Is it a Ladybug thing?”

Plagg opens one big green eye. “Cool it, Spots. It’s definitely a Ladybug thing. You’re literally the reason these marks exist.”

Marinette sticks her tongue out at the mini god. “I just miss her.”

“Join the club,” he grumbles, closing his eye and going back to napping.

“Good news,” Chloé says, bringing her attention back to the laptop. “Searching your name very easily leads to you, and our class, and the fact that we won the contest. So, unless he decides he’s not ready to meet you, you’ll have the chance to find him at the gala. Or at Wayne Enterprises. Or at any of the places the Wayne’s own, which is two-thirds of our trip destinations.”

“Oh god,” Marinette says. “What if he didn’t want to find me?”

Adrien, Chloé, and four Kwamis hit her at the same time, shoving her back into the bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mari,” Adrien scolds her from his position atop the newly formed cuddle pile. “I saw his face too. If the boy isn’t already in love with you, he’ll be hunting you down just for the chance to fall.”

Trixx nuzzled into her side. “I may not be Tikki but all of us Kwamis know how incredible you are, Marinette.”

She sighed. “Alright guys, get off.”

———

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Tim already knew who the girl was, because he’d been curious when his favorite artist had started talking about the source of his newest looks.

But having Damian demand his help in searching for everything he could find on her, and then only asking for the bare minimum of information about her trip itinerary- Tim wasn’t an idiot.

“So. She’s your soulmate.” Tim takes a sip of the coffee he’d been working on, making a face and instantly setting it back down when he realized it had gone cold.

Damian carefully did not change his expression, but it wasn’t fooling anyone. “And so what if she is?”

Tim looked back at the monitor. “So nothing. Congrats, Demon Spawn. I’m happy for you.”

He barely caught the edge of the scowl the younger Wayne tried to hide.

“Hey, no.” Tim spun his chair to face Damian. “Look, we’ve had our differences and disagreements-“

“You had me on the superhero equivalent of a terrorism watch list,” Damian interrupted.

“And you literally tried to kill me within the first day of meeting me.”

“A byproduct of my indoctrination from birth into a murder cult,” His brother kept his face still but the tone was wry.

“You kept trying to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you!” Damian finally exclaimed, losing his collected demeanor. “Just-“

“Point being,” Tim stressed, “even if we haven’t always gotten along- haven’t ever, really- I’m still happy for you. Soulmates are a special thing. We all kind of thought you might not have one, with the way you always acted when Dick tried to ask.”

Damian forced down the immediate retort and looked at Tim. “I thought that maybe my dying would have prevented my name from showing up for them. And my teachings-“ he said the word with the inflection that meant he was discussing Assassin Upbringing rather than here- “were as such that most connections, be they familial, friendly, or romantic, were- unnecessary and even dangerous.” It felt tantamount to a betrayal of his younger self to confide anything in Drake like this, but... Damian really was, in many ways, a better and more mature person than the spoiled, aggressive, near sociopathic brat he’d arrived as seven years ago. He still kept the veneer of it up, but he was no longer the boy who needed to fight Drake to prove his worth as Bruce’s son.

Now he just waited for Drake to embarrass himself by passing out after staying up for far too long surviving on caffeine and energy drinks. Much easier.

And Drake didn’t ever seem as eager to blackmail and fight as Damian ever had, so he figured a small amount of vulnerability was a proper thank you for his discretion in finding Marinette.

Tim just took another grimacing sip of the cold coffee. “Man. In that case, even happier for you that you’re shrugging off yet another of the Child Assassin School’s upsetting and frankly terrible rules. Though as for the dying thing, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t actively die now that you have the mark.”

Damian shrugged. “Irrelevant now, as I will not be dying anytime soon, and neither will she. And she clearly knows that we’re soulmates.”

“Still confused about that,” Tim frowned, looking back at him. “You said there was an electric current between you? Or it felt like that?”

Damian couldn’t stop his hand from twitching, the memory of it clear enough to feel. “Yes. I don’t understand it myself either.”

“I’ll search around. See if anything comes up.” Tim handed him a pile of papers. “Here, the info you wanted on her itinerary, plus things I thought would be pertinent without going over whatever line you seem to have drawn.”

Damian took them, and very begrudgingly said, “Thank you,” before ducking out of the room.

He waited until he was back in his own room before flicking through them, finding the trip schedule and the hotel rooms listed, the names of her class and teachers, and finally a list of her accomplishments and a copy of the paper that had won her class the trip, authored by her.

He read through it, noting the names of her classmates and their own community efforts, and the way her own section in the paper was minuscule compared to both each other persons section and the list of accomplishments Drake had drafted.

One classmate had, if no less written than than any other person, a distinctly different tone to what Marinette had written, and most of her community building and service events were merely echoes or assisting what another person had done. Damian shrugged it off, as there were sometimes people who simply tagged along, and never put their own effort out there. Followers, and not leaders.

All in all, he found himself more intrigued than ever about her.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @jessigurl-design @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @kuroko26 @moonystars14 @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @area51qt @renscorpio @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @tired-butterfly @catthhay @shamefullove @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @bigpicklebananatree @abrx2002 @cici-schnee @multplelifes @shreky-boi @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person

#maribat #daminette #daminette soulmates #soulmate au #fanfic

[cals-laundry]

Dirty Laundry

“But what? But you have so you can't atone? But you have so you deserve nothing?” Sero asks, but Denki knows better than to answer. “In here, right now, you're Denki Kaminari, I'm Hanta Sero, and neither of us have ever made a mistake.” “You'll hate me when you do know.” “I don't care,” Sero pulls him closer, “I don't hate you now.”

NSFW -  Minors dni please!  Relationship: Denki Kaminari x Hanta Sero Words: 3,595 Tags: trans! Denki, vague mentions of cheating, light angst, self deprecation. AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31501247

Tonight wasn't supposed to go this way. Denki sips and grimaces before letting whatever vile liquid is allowed to pass for beer dribble back into the cliché red cup. Or is he grimacing because Shinsou is right there? He's happy to convince himself that it's the beer. It's the music. It's the lights. It's anything but the gaping, unhealing wound in his chest at the sight of Shinsou. He looks like he always does; bored. His hoodie is too big, his jeans, tattered, and his boots scuffed. He's leaning against a wall, either blissfully unaware or willfully ignorant of Denki, and Denki doesn't want to consider which it could be. He wonders now if he should have tried harder. His skinny jeans and sneakers are plain enough, but he's not even sure this big white t-shirt is his.

Before Shinsou can catch him, he weaves through the crowd and finds the closest group of friends he can, though on the way, he puts his solo cup on a random counter. The piss taste still in his mouth is enough to remind him not to drink tonight. By his friends, he can ignore everything. He can lean on Jirou, laugh when they do, maybe even actually talk to them. But at every glance around, Shinsou is in his line of sight, and every time, that wound in his chest wrenches open again, and months of memories, of pining, of “goodnights” will rush back. It's not Shinsou's fault; he didn't know he was flirting. At least, Denki thinks he doesn't know. In an effort to seem absorbed in the conversation, and not key them into his faraway mind, Denki stares at Midoriya as he recites some funny work story. He's absorbed enough that he doesn't notice a body beside him, not until he leans back against the wall as he laughs and it's too late.

“Hey.”

Denki swallows a stone.

“Hey,” he replies with a shaky smile.

“Can we...” Shinsou juts his head towards the kitchen. Denki's feet know better than his head that he'll follow this man anywhere. So he does. The kitchen is empty, bright, and best of all, quieter.

Shinsou leans against one counter, hands in his hoodie pocket, one ankle crossed over the other. Denki stands opposite, though without anything for fidgeting, he clings to the counter until his knuckles turn white.

“Are we good?” Shinsou asks, airy and light and perfectly fine.

“Yeah,” Denki replies, breathless. Had he forgotten how to breathe because of this?

“You've just been sorta quiet,” Shinsou shrugs, “I thought maybe I'd done something.”

What, was leading me on not enough?

“No way, man,” Denki smiles bright as a plastic doll, “we're cool.”

And Shinsou believes him.

For a minute, Denki wonders if he could confess. Or if maybe he could just forget it all and they could go back to “goodnights”. But that minute is ruined in a way only Midoriya can manage.

“Hey, guys!” he bobs into the room like he's just run a marathon.

His freckled cheeks are pink, and Denki would say something back, but Midoriya is looking at Shinsou in that way, that same way Denki looks at Shinsou. They share a small smile, one that tells him all he needs to know. When Midoriya takes Shinsou's hand, he really tries to be angry, but in the tiny look Midoriya sends his way, there's only a pleading not to do what Denki did with the last love of Midoriya's life. The two share quiet words with their noses touching and Denki's discomfort is surely obvious. So he does all he can do.

“Gotta pee.”

And he leaves. He runs. Because he's a coward now and he was a coward then and he was a coward then. He takes a shuddering breath and makes for the stairs. Up here, the music still bangs through his feet, but it's not as loud somehow. He glances at the choice of doors and opens one. Bedroom. The next; an office. The third, another bedroom, but- Laughter. Bright bubbling beautiful laughter that makes him freeze. A girl he sort of knows, Mina, and a shock of red hair he definitely knows are on the bed, all with folded legs and a black haired boy he doesn't know. Mina waves, but Kirishima's smile falters when he looks over. Nausea sinks into the pit of his stomach and he waves back at Mina before he steps back.

“Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom,” he squeaks, but Mina stands.

“Nope, me first!” and she runs past him, giggling and smelling of flowers.

The silence in her wake makes Denki's stomach churn further. Kirishima's clenched jaw doesn't help.

“I don't think I know you,” the black haired boy says, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

“M'Denki Kaminari,” he rushes out and the boy lounges onto one elbow

“Sero,” he says simply, but he studies Denki. And Denki knows because he can feel the honey slow dribble of his gaze on every part of him.

He tries to return it, but Denki's never been one for slow and sensual. Sero, however, oozes the idea. He's still laid on his elbow, and the front of his already low buttoned shirt came further apart with the movement. His pants are black and high waisted enough to show off his ankles. In short; he looks good. Denki's throat dries as he takes in the look, and Sero...Sero loves it. His head falls back a little, and his already wide smile widens somehow.

“I'm gonna go get a drink,” Kirishima's voice is devoid of emotion, and the shoulder check as he leaves says everything he does.

As he rubs his shoulder, nausea comes back.

“He's not a fan?” Sero's voice calls him out of his spiral.

“Heh, not really,” Denki laughs as if he doesn't know Sero would hate him too.

“C'mere,” Sero pats the bed beside him, “I don't bite.”

Denki sits on the edge of the bed, his side to Sero, and Sero regards him with another curious look.

“You've got secrets, huh?”

“I mean,” Denki snorts a laugh, a more genuine one, “doesn't everyone?”

Sero shrugs.

“Probably.”

“Don't you?”

“Probably,” he says again and shuffles himself so his chin is in his palm and his side is pressed into the bed fully, “does it matter?”

The bile of his own secret's rise in Denki's throat and he swallows it.

“If they're bad, maybe they shouldn't be secrets,” Denki swallows again, “if we're bad, if we've done awful things, shouldn't we warn people?”

“Are you going to do it again?”

“No.”

“You seem certain you won't make the same mistake,” Sero's head tilts, as if he knows something, as if he knows more about Denki.

“Once was enough,” Denki's voice is quiet.

“Here, you haven't made any,” Sero is brave. He trails his fingertips up Denki's arm like he's done it a million times.

“But-”

“But what? But you have so you can't atone? But you have so you deserve nothing?” Sero asks, but Denki knows better than to answer.

“In here, right now, you're Denki Kaminari, I'm Hanta Sero, and neither of us have ever made a mistake.”

“You'll hate me when you do know.”

“I don't care,” Sero pulls him closer, “I don't hate you now.”

“You will,” Denki gasps as his legs tangle with Sero's.

“Then let me enjoy you while I don't,” Sero kisses his neck first in soft lines that tickle. Each one steals Denki's breath a little more until he lets out a tiny moan. And that little moan reminds him of all the reasons he shouldn't be here.

He shouldn't be leaning on Sero. He shouldn't be enjoying himself. He shouldn't be-

“I can hear your brain over thinking it,” Sero mumbles before he presses another kiss to Denki's jaw.

“I shouldn't...”

“Is there someone waiting for you?” the words make Denki shudder.

“No,” it's one word but it shakes like a speech.

Sero pushes him but follows the motion, now hovering over Denki. The length of his hair is more obvious here as it hangs down past his cheeks.

“Then we're not breaking any rules,” Sero leans in close, maneuvers his hips so they're slotted between Denki's, and with his forearms against the bed at either side of Denki's head, brushes the blonde back from his forehead, “be mine for a while.”

Sero's lips are soft on his, and Denki's hands card through those silky tresses. It's innocent, really, but the bite in Sero's teeth when he nips at Denki's bottom lip, the slightest grip of his hair, the smallest roll of his hips, it turns it to something else, something lewd. And Denki loses himself in it. For the first time in 6 months, he's not thinking about anything; not his faults, his mistakes, his treachery. But the world around him is not so forgiving.

“Is Kaminari still-”

Kirishima's words die off, and the pair look toward him. His eyebrow raises and he snorts.

“Never takes long, does it?” the bite behind his words is venomous.

“Do you need him for something?” Sero asks, still chest to chest with Denki.

“No, I need to talk to you.”

Denki knows what that means.

“Wait for me outside,” Sero whispers before he pulls away and helps Denki sit up. He shuffles out the door, avoids Kirishima's gaze, and tries to swallow the self hatred when he hears Sero say: “So, what's up?”

That's enough. He walks through the house with his head down, prays for peace, but the moment of reprieve from his self-made torture was too much in the world's eyes.

“The fuck are you doing here?” the snarl in Bakugou's voice makes Denki jump but he just keeps walking, desperate to be away from the noise, the anger, the hate of it all. But Bakugou is only getting started.

“I asked you a question, dunceface,” Bakugou's arm lands across his vision and Denki ducks.

“What, you're still being a pussy about it? Should have fuckin' known,” Bakugou jolts back and suddenly is surrounded by friends who laugh, not at Bakugou, but at Denki. He should hold his tongue, he knows he should.

“It took two, Bakugou.”

Their laughter dies and Denki walks away before he can suffer the consequences of his loud mouth. Somewhere behind him, he hears the shuffle of Bakugou's boots and the hushed words of one of his friends; “he's not worth it.”

No. He's not. The night air is cold enough to sting his throat. It brings tears to his eyes, but they're cast aside with a wipe of his sleeve. He doesn't deserve to cry. He could go now. He could go to his own place, ignore Sero's offer, and instead, cry in bed. It would be better than this constant, sickening reminder.

“Ready?”

Sero's voice breaks him out of his pity party.

“For what?”

“We're going to my place, it's like five minutes away,” Sero shrugs, “we don't have to do anything you don't want to, and I promise, I'll get you a cab home. But I still want you to be mine for a little while longer.”

*

Sero's home is bright and very...green. The walls are pale and the decor natural and it suits him. Sero guides him through with a hand on his lower back, and it's only as the door opens that Denki realises where Sero is leading him.

“You can say “no” any time,” Sero says with a small kiss to Denki's shoulder. In the same breath, he lays on the low bed and holds a hand out to Denki to join him. Denki's mind races with what Kirishima could have admitted on his behalf as he takes Sero's hand.

Would he really be inviting him to bed if he knew? Sero pulls him down until they're tangled and rolls so they're side by side.

“Denki,” Sero breathes out, like he's discovered the name of a mystery song, a beautiful one that plagued him.

He kisses Denki again, softer this time, but without the background noise of the houseparty, his thoughts are so much harder to ignore. At the same time, Sero's curious hands are just as hard to ignore. The rough pads of his fingers tickle the skin of Denki's stomach and he laughs.

“Oh?” Sero smiles, “is that a real laugh?”

His fingers creep higher and now, the tickles are intentional. They shriek and laugh and wiggle around the bed together, until Denki pleads “no more” with tears on his cheeks. They fall beside each other, panting, and for the second time today, Denki's mind is empty. It's pleasant. With his eyes still on the ceiling, he reaches out, shy, as if he hadn't already tasted Sero's lips. He finds Sero's hand and from the corner of his eye, he sees the smile on Sero's face. He fixes his stare on the ceiling again and wills himself to stay here, like this, where it's safe and quiet. The bed moves beside him and Sero's chest presses to his shoulder. He sneaks an arm under Denki's head as his other hand lands on Denki's stomach. The mood shifts; the playfulness turns sultry and thick. Sero's hands are so busy; one toys with Denki's hair, the other dances over his stomach, well past his belly button. His lips press to Denki's ear and he nips at the lobe before he kisses his way down, a little lower, until their lips meet at the same moment his hand cups Denki's crotch. Out of shock and pleasure, Denki gasps, and his hips buck up against Sero's hand, but their kiss steals every sound. It takes a moment for Denki to realise how hard he's clinging to Sero's shirt, hard enough that he's stretching the fabric to the point of bumping it, but Sero says nothing, only traces circles that make Denki moan. Sero pulls back the barest inch.

“You're just the prettiest thing,” he murmurs as his fingers card through Denki's messy hair, “is that okay to say?”

Denki nods, terrified that his words have been stolen in favour of moans and pleas. Sero kisses his cheek as his fingertips press just a little harder and pure pleasure blossoms through Denki's abdomen. Sero kisses where he can, tugs his hair, bites marks that'll bloom by morning, and with every pass of his fingers, steals the breath right from him. He whines when Sero's touch leaves but he's soothed with a quiet “shh, it's just for a second,” as Sero undoes his jeans. With some wiggling and pushing, they're just low enough for Sero's middle finger to slip between Denki's folds.

“Wow,” he whispers – more to himself than to Denki – as he pulls his finger away. A string of glittering slick connects Sero's finger to Denki and if it didn't make Denki's mouth water, he'd die of embarrassment.

“Wow,” he mirrors instead.

Sero's nose against his cheek draws his attention and he turns back toward him. The kiss that meets him is harsh and sloppy as two fingers slip into Denki's cunt.

“M'gonna eat you out until you cry sometime,” Sero growls against his lips between kisses.

Sometime.

Sero is enjoying him. Sero doesn't hate him. And every vile emotion that was quelled by kisses crashes back into Denki's gut.

“Ser-”

“Hanta,” he says, breathless, “call me Hanta.”

“Hanta, you...didn't Kirishima tell you?”

Hanta's fingers slip from him and he stands from the bed. But he's not leaving; instead he pulls Denki's shoes off and tugs his jeans and underwear off the rest of the way.

“He didn't tell me anything because I didn't want to know,” he undoes his own jeans and pushes them down, slow enough that it aches.

“I don't care about what you've done,” he steps from the pool of his trousers and nudges Denki's legs wider with his knee, “I only care about what we do.”

Denki watches him with doe eyes, his lungs empty. Until Hanta captures him in another soft kiss.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Denki,” the tip of him presses to Denki's entrance.

“But here, you're a saint,” he presses in, eyes on Denki's.

“And fully intend to worship you,” his elbows rest at either side of Denki's head, they cage him but it's not claustrophobic. It's safe. It's warm and comfortable, and this moment – truly alone and utterly unhindered – is one Denki wants to repeat over and over, until it's all he knows, until his sins are forgotten and his mind is free of them. If Hanta, kind, wonderful, beautiful Hanta, can forgive him, surely he can forgive himself too? The steady rhythm of Hanta's hips and every praise he litters on Denki's skin are enough to make his mind go blank again. And instead of fighting it to confess, he lets his head roll back against the bed and he lets Hanta take him apart, piece by piece, thrust by thrust, until he knows nothing but pleasure. His moans are soft, cutesy almost, and Hanta tells him so.

“You get gruffer during sex, you know,” Denki giggles.

“Oh yeah?” he thrusts hard and Denki's giggles turn to a squeak, “how?”

“You're all growls and all that, before you were just so...restful. Now you're gripping the bedsheets so hard, they'll never sit right again,” Denki giggles again, but it's not genuine. Hanta chuckles, but it's a dark sound, and the tip of his nose tickles the skin of Denki's jaw and along his throat.

“Maybe I should be gripping that pretty throat of yours instead, hmm?” he rumbles and Denki whines.

“You want marks, pretty boy?” Hanta nips at the skin of Denki's throat, and the way his back arches, Hanta takes as a 'yes'. He sucks and bites and savours every piece of skin he can find, though he offers Denki no chance to return it. His whines are louder now and his nails dig into Hanta's shoulders, no doubt leaving marks of their own.

“You're squeezing me so much,” Hanta trails to a groan, “y'gonna cum on me, sunshine? Hmm?”

Denki nods frantically – he just needs that tiny push. And Hanta plays his body as if he's returning to an old passion and grinds his hips in a way that rubs Denki's clit just right. His toes curl and his back arches and he moans Hanta's name as he keeps pressing just where Denki needs until Denki's words die and he gasps for breath behind his arm. At that, Hanta kisses him again.

“I want to see that again,” he pants against Denki's lips, “I want to see that a million times, but God fucking damnit, you looked so good, I can't wait, I'm so close.”

Pretty fingers lace through Hanta's hair as Denki pulls him into another kiss.

“Please, please, please,” he repeats between kisses, “wanna see you cum, you're so good, you're perfect, please.”

It turns to nonsense, and Denki can't believe that it's his incoherent begging that has Hanta pulling out just in time to splash cum up the stomach of Denki's t-shirt with a whine of his name.

They stare at the puddle for a moment before Hanta laughs a little.

“Sorry, got a bit lost in it all,” stands from the bed to move off to Denki's side, and Denki follows on shaking knees.

“S'okay,” the bliss of the moment has passed. Denki can feel the dread of the eventual 'here's your cab fare' in the best case scenario, but as he reaches for his jeans, Hanta's head tilts.

“Do you sleep with jeans on?” he looks like a confused pup.

“No?”

“Then why are you getting them?”

“T-to leave.”

“You think I don't have intentions of having you for breakfast too?” he grabs Denki's waist and pulls him until the stain of cum before his eyes, “only if you want, that is. I'll give you actual breakfast too!”

He sounds like he's bargaining and Denki laughs. Really, this time.

“I-I don't want to get in the way or assume,” he says quietly with a kiss to Hanta's hair.

“Then let me be clear,” Hanta stands and pulls Denki's shirt up as he does, edges it higher and higher until he's free of it and casts it across the room somewhere, “get into bed with me,” he takes off his own shirt and presses it into Denki's hands, “and in the morning, I'll either make you breakfast, or make you breakfast. Or both.”

He kisses Denki's nose and skirts around him before disappearing out the door. The shirt in his hands is still warm. Denki sheds his binder over to where his jeans should be, and when he slips on the shirt, it smells like Hanta. Not like any cologne or specific scent, just him. He turns in the mirror and admires the way it dances over his thighs. It isn't until Hanta's hands land on his hips that he's taken from the moment.

“Looks good on you,” Hanta kisses the side of his neck and their eyes meet in the mirror.

The gaze is a hungry one first, but in those eyes, Denki can see understanding, kindness, and forgiveness. Hanta pulls him into bed, wraps an arm around him, and kisses the back of his neck for good measure. Hanta would know his secrets. But Denki doesn't doubt that he'll understand them. In the quiet snores, Denki finds himself comfortable and at peace for the first time in a while. All he can do is pray that it lasts.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #kaminari x denki #trans! denki #kamisero

[pendragonfics]

Thief Stole Your Heart

Paring: Bilbo Baggins/Reader

Tags:  gender neutral reader, no pronouns for reader, alternate universe - bookstore, alternate universe - modern: no powers, actual thief Bilbo Baggins, bookstore clerk Reader, knitting, marriage proposal, awkward flirting

Summary: Bilbo met Reader at a bar, and years later, they're still going strong. What happens when he enters their bookstore and starts acting strange?

Word Count: 1,616

Current Date: 2020-12-22

The first time that you met Bilbo, it was at a pub that both of you didn’t want to be in. With your cider in hand and his beer, you bumped into one another during a kerfuffle at the bar. Something to do with a drinking game between two young men, a tall blonde and a tattooed construction worker gone too far. Whatever it was, you were left wearing his brew, and he yours. Which led to introductions, apologies, and frankly was a tolerable exit from being the third wheel. When you explained you worked in a book store, he had introduced himself as an adventurer.

He didn’t appear to be the sort of man who was an adventurer. He had a trim haircut, clean face, and earnest smile. Wore an unembellished sweater, had a novel tucked under his arm and drank the same beer the whole night. Adventurer. It wasn’t until you realised he had come in the company of a notorious motorbike crew when it sunk in.

This man you had met, the kind-faced, soft, polite man was their…er…handyman. A man who was handy with his hands. In all honesty, didn’t bother you. You were quite the unadventurous type; you drank the same thing every time you visited the cafe, read the same magazines and lived a boring, safe life that kept you in a box. And Bilbo didn’t — and it was for that fact which made you intrigued.

Intrigued enough for the pair of you to remain in each others company for years. Three years and eight months of many a run-in and unplanned shenanigans, somehow, you and Bilbo were still together. You had seen each other in some strange places, too. He had cancelled plans to nurse you back to health (that time after food poisoning, or that time you had the flu or that time with that stomach bug), and you had been his plus one to his unpleasant and estranged extended family gatherings. But mostly, in all that time, you had worked your way from sales clerk to finally, the owner of Shire Softcovers & Hardback Bookstore.

Which led to where you were present. Sitting behind the register on a quilted soft stool, you perch with a ball of yarn between your feet, on the floor. It’s hidden to customers who enter the store, but to those who can hear the telltale cli-click, cli-click’s, you’re knitting. Usually, there were chores, but they were done. Usually, there were customers, but on account of the blustery mid-autumn Sunday afternoon, there were none. Usually, you would be on your phone, but it was flat — and you had forgotten the cord.

It was supposed to be a scarf, but no matter what you did, it wasn’t seeming to grow longer at all. If anything, you swore that the yarn was cursed. An artefact from a horrid hag from a long-gone era who hated knitting. But whatever it was, you kept at it; because it was better than staring out the window, and watching Doctor Peredhel chasing unruly teenagers from his clinic (although you knew you should agree with the older healthcare professional’s actions, it was amusing to watch aspiring graffiti artists misspell gonorrhoea).

It wasn’t until you realised the scarf was growing wider, not long when the little bell at the door tinkled. Glancing from your accursed craft, you met eyes with the newcomer to the store. But instead of it being a customer, it was none other than your boyfriend, and partner in crime.

“Bilbo, thank goodness you’re here,” you gasp, abandoning your knitting to rush to him. Dramatically, you kiss his cheek and pose like a starlet from the silent film era. “I don’t know what I would have done with myself if you hadn’t arrived.”

“Slow day?” He chuckled. Untying his scarf, Bilbo pecked at your cheek.

“The slowest, ” You agree. Straightening the already perfect display of political autobiographies, you add, “I honestly can’t believe it, Bilbo. Nobody at all today. Not even Mister Radagast or Tauriel.”

He raises an eyebrow and sheds his coat onto the desk. He’s wearing a dark green sweater underneath, and the collar of his shirt beneath is rumpled and not on the top. The pockets of his trousers seem full, with an outline of a phone and keys, but there are other lumpy shapes you don’t recognise. At the moment between your remark and the next to follow, he scratches at his left palm idly, his fingernails short and clean. Either his eczema is back, or he’s true to his word and truly has quit smoking.

“I don’t know about the old hippy,” Bilbo says. He takes your hand in his, and swings it somewhat awkwardly — to someone else, yes, but to the pair of you, it’s comforting — at his side. “But I saw Tauriel in the ’shop today. I think Kili invited her.”

You pause. “Tauri and Thorin’s nephew?” You bite your lip, mind full of unpinned threads working their way to conclusions. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

“They seem quite oblivious to it all, however,” Bilbo continues. “Maybe they’ll realise their feelings. Maybe not. They are young.”

“Is this your way of saying that we are not?” You inspect him, part curious, part suspicious.

He wasn’t always so clumsy with his words; Bilbo was a man of forethought, in both his private and work life. It paid off marvellously when he worked for the heist against the antisocial Mr Smaug (a rather awful venture capitalist whose hoard hurt the town for decades) and many other of the jobs carried out by the Oakenshield Thirteen.

“What?” He blinks. “N-no.”

You step around him, trying to see the side he’s favouring, but Bilbo reacts quick enough, circling you as you circle him. His left brow is raised as he watches you watching him, and you narrow your eyes, trying to read his face for clues.

But there are none.

“All right,” you hum, unsatisfied with the turn of events, “Keep your secrets.”

“I will,” he replies.

“Good.” You nod. “I’ll be over here,” you start walking toward the counter, back to the knitting you’d left, but all the while, your eyes never leave Bilbo’s. “…if you need me.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he responds too fast, and too high a pitch. “But…if I do need you…”

“I’ll be here,” you finish his sentence.

You continue the row of stitches, not bothering to unpick the problematic extra lines of knots you had put there before. As you resume knitting, the wool on the floor rolling about the stool, you can’t help but notice Bilbo as he strolls down the otherwise empty aisles of the bookstore. His hands are in his pockets, pushed deep so you can’t see an outline of anything else that’s in there. He walks from the adventure novels, past the self-help section, and further into nonfiction. You’re trying to pearl the stitches, focusing all of your efforts onto it. But all you can think of is that he’s in the photography section, which borders onto the wedding planning—

You leave your knitting once more, rushing to find Bilbo. You dart around the shelves, trying to find him. You try to stand as tall as you can to see over the shelves, but as low as they are, you can’t seem to see the familiar honey brown head of hair that belongs to Bilbo. You stop, and turn around, hoping he hasn’t snuck behind you in an attempt at a prank, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Lost?” He says, behind you.

You turn once more, and standing as if he had been there the whole time, Bilbo tosses a small box in his hands, catching it with ease. His eyes are on you, but the box still falls and rises in his hands perfectly. If you didn’t know his occupation, you would be impressed by the hand-eye-coordination that goes into the party trick. But still, you are impressed, and slightly out of breath from the surprise of it, and you feel somewhat confused as to his behaviour.

“I can’t believe I messed up that segue,” Bilbo says under his breath, catching the box. He doesn’t throw it again; instead, he fiddles with it, single-handedly. “It was supposed to be —” He runs his empty hand through his hair, and slowly, sinks to his feet as if he’s to tie a shoelace.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is shaky.

He frowns, from his knees. “I suppose I’m just down here. You know. With a little box that I bought, and I thought of you and all that I love about you.”

“Bilbo…” you whisper. “I—”

He blinks, a furious blush coming across his face. He sighs and starts to stand up. But before he’s at his full height, you sink to your knees and take him in your arms. It was supposed to be something soft, something romantic; because it had taken you too long to realise what he had been alluding to, and disheartened, he was backing out of it. But instead of the gesture you wished to show, it came out somewhat…like a football tackle, or like a security guard to a thief.

“What was that for?” Bilbo asks, confused, from the floor.

You fumble for the box beside him, and awkwardly, atop him on the itchy carpet of the bookstore, you hover above him, wishing to not crush him. He laughs, softly, and you lay your forehead against his chest, the laughter consuming you too.

“I love you too,” you say, through the laughter. “And I’ll have you and your little box if that’s okay with you.”

#bilbo baggins #Bilbo Baggins x reader #Bilbo Baggins/reader #Bilbo/reader #Bilbo x reader #Bilbo lotr x reader #Bilbo lotr/reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit x reader #pendragonfics #chaotic--lovely #gender neutral reader

[navyhyuck]

week one | previous | masterlist | next

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: hi hi hi fellas here’s the first part (technically, since the other one was an intro) <3 uhh a little fun fact! this project mentioned in this chapter was one that i actually had to complete last year (before corona lol) and i thankfully got a good grade on it even tho my teacher swore on all gods that it was very difficult,, he also let me put up nct posters in the classroom <3 enjoy :) [also, i may have missed some tags!!! if you aren’t here and you sent in an ask before, please do so again since it’s been some time since i last updated this!! ty mwah]

wc :: 2.2k

taglist: @childofthecycle @takoyakkun @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cherry-jaemin @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

There have been far too many unfortunate events unfolding in your day so far, starting off with the stupid guy that had parked just a little into your spot (that still had you thinking more than you had to do for any science test, and you were highly tempted to just smash the car instead) and then moving onto your English class where you were given a pop quiz on the third act of Romeo and Juliet, and then finally, the situation you’re in now.

It’s the last period of your day, which is supposed to be the most laid back in certain cases, but you’re slumped in your desk in the AP Chemistry lab room for a new assignment of partners. You’ve already attempted to convince Mrs. Choi to let you continue being partners with Chaeryeong, who was looking equally as gloomy from the opposite side of the room, but she had passively dismissed your request with something that went along the lines of ‘expanding our knowledge as a class.’ Not only did that sound like bullshit to you, it actually was, but you didn’t do anything more than stay put as she called out the assignments of partners.

“...Chaeryeong and Jisoo. Beomgyu and Yuna. Y/N and Jisung.”

You’re frozen at the sound of your partner’s name, slightly expecting your teacher to pair you up with one of the overachievers that usually sat in the back and talked shit about the ‘untalented’ kids, but you’re also pleasantly surprised. Turning your head, you meet the said boy’s eyes from a distance, shining into yours before a smile spreads across his face almost immediately. You return one back (probably forcibly from the shock you’re experiencing of the Han Jisung actually recognizing you and smiling at you) before whipping your head back to the front, gulping deeply.

Fuck.

“Now that we’ve split into pairs, there is a list of chemical compounds on this table. Come up with your partner and choose one wisely. After everyone’s chosen, I will tell you what your assignment is.” Mrs. Choi gestures vaguely with her hands, turning away as the rest of the students move around to find their partner. You stay planted in your seat, eyes barely staying open as you quietly continue to try and calm the beating of your heart. You’re sure that it’s not healthy, the erraticness overflowing to every single vein and artery in your body until you’re filled with the filling remembrance that your teacher just paired you up with the single most attractive boy in the school. Well—you purse your lips, thinking about that Hyunjin guy from yesterday—Jisung still causes more heart palpitations than some new guy could ever.

When you deem yourself safe enough to finally use your legs without thinking about falling, you stand up, meeting your partner halfway in the middle of the classroom. He doesn’t say anything at first, possibly because you’ve found a newfound interest in your dirty Converse, but he chuckles as a few seconds pass by, making you look up. “Hey there, thanks for looking at me. Wanna go choose a compound?”

You blanch at his choice of words, but you nod slowly. “Uh-huh, yeah. Sure.”

You learn later, alongside Jisung, that your assignment was to successfully convert your chemical compound into another, with exact proportions being massed properly. Just as you listen to Mrs. Choi going on and on about proper dilution, you slowly start blanking out into the space of ‘why did my dumbass decide to take this class’ and ‘this isn’t worth the pain that I’m receiving.’ Thankfully, Jisung has an equally shocked look at his face as the explanation continues, and you’re sure that there isn’t a way the two of you would be able to complete the assignment properly. There was no way; it was practically impossible.

“I just want to remind you guys that this is definitely possible! Students have succeeded well in the past years! You and your partner should be working together as efficiently as possible, which is why I mixed it up a little this time. There should not be any distractions, understood?” Mrs. Choi finishes, nodding as if someone had actually answered her rhetorical question. “Also, I’ll be grading you on how well you manage your time, so if there’s unnecessary chit-chat, that’ll be points deducted from your grade. No exceptions. Got it?”

You think maybe she’s referring to the time you and Chaeryoung accidentally fucked up the entire experimental process by forgetting to set a timer (it was because the two of you were preoccupied by a TikTok dance, though you would never admit it to anyone), or maybe the time that Jaehyun guy almost set half the chemistry lab on fire by not disposing of chemicals properly. You’d think the school would be a little more careful considering they’re letting teenage students handle dangerous chemicals, but thinking of the time that your teacher told you it was fine to handle acid without wearing gloves, it clearly was never a practice.

You and Jisung start to prepare, with you carefully reading through the reaction process several times and measuring out the chemicals as precisely as possible while Jisung handles the rest of the equipment, bringing over pipettes and scales. As the two of you continued working for the rest of the class period, only till the very end did you notice that you were, possibly for once, actually using all of your class time properly.

“Are you going to homecoming?” Jisung asks as you set down the beaker on the scale, startling you with a non-chemistry related question. If you were being honest, you hadn’t thought about it; homecoming wasn’t too big of a thing at your school to begin with, plus, there wasn’t even the cliche dance that everyone thought they’d get as kids. It was one of the first home games played by the football team (which was pretty shitty, for the record) and they crowned a homecoming king and queen every year. Honestly, it was usually a bore.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. Maybe constantly reminding yourself every two seconds that Han Jisung was speaking to you would help, but you couldn’t get over it. At least not today. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He hums thoughtfully, taking the beaker from you as you pass it along.

“Have you ever gone to a swim meet before?” His question sounds rather interrogative in nature, and he seems to notice, stumbling over his words for the first time. “Um—I mean, have you gone to any of our swim meets before? You see, I’m on the team and I feel like I’ve seen you before at one of them, and it’s fine if you have gone! I’m just curious.” He holds up his hands in defense as if he’d said something wrong, the chemical splashing around in the beaker as you widen your eyes.

“Fuck, be careful,” you retrieve the object from his hand, placing it down safely on the table to ensure you weren’t going to take after the setting-the-classroom-on-fire guy. Jisung watches as you do so, perhaps overanalyzing the fact that your gloved fingers brushed past his in that moment, now an apologetic look forming over his face. “Sorry, you were about to spill it on yourself.”

“No, it’s fine!” He replies, the volume of his voice attracting attention from the nearby classmates, including Chaeryoung, who gives you a small smirk. You return a pointed glare in her direction, trying to calm down as you realize you’re overheating from the situation at hand right now. “Shit, sorry, that was kind of loud.”

“It’s okay, Jisung,” his name tastes unfamiliar on your tongue, only having been used around Ryujin earlier. Ryujin, you remember, my best friend that’s practically in love with the boy standing in front of me. “I’ve been to your swim meets before, I mean—no offense but—who hasn’t? You guys are undoubtedly the best team in school, who wouldn’t want to watch?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he chuckles wryly, sounding a bit forced. You decide to ignore it and continue working on the project. Thankfully, your teacher gave the class a few days to work on it, or else it would be essentially impossible to finish. “Wait, aren’t you usually there with your friend? The one with the blue hair?”

You raise your eyebrows, somehow already feeling just a little more comfortable around him. He isn’t as stuck up as you expected, and he definitely doesn’t act like a cocky little shit either. Most importantly, he seems to be just as nervous as you. A small smile forms on your lips. “You mean Ryujin?”

“Ah, yeah! Her.”

“Ryujin and I usually go to watch swim meets together, or at least, she drags me around everywhere and that’s one of the places I’m forced to go.” You chuckle at the memory of her towing you towards the pool, swearing that she’ll buy you a hundred dollars worth of milkshakes for the next month if you keep her company. She never kept the promise, but you still remember the feeling of watching people competitively swim. More importantly, the seven most popular boys in the school at the time. “But I go voluntarily now. I think everyone has to have some sort of school spirit, right?”

You look up at him, your eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights and you don’t notice, but Jisung gulps, avoiding your gaze after a split second. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Totally, definitely.”

The conversation awkwardly ends there, a little weird but better than having to continue talking about how many times you’ve seen him backstroke his way to a medal. You’re not sure if Jisung even knows how popular going to a swim meet is, because when you ask him, he answers with: “I thought all sports got the same audience.” They don’t, that’s confirmed, unless the dance team was performing as well.

The bell rings a few moments later, finally signalling the end of the day with a deep sigh from you. You clean up as quickly as you can, bidding your new partner (and maybe friend) a goodbye to the rest of the day. As you yank out your phone from your bag, going out into the hallway towards your locker, you spot Chaeryoung from the corner of your eye, brushing past you dramatically with a whisper of:

“You’re whipped already.”

dear y/n love,

this is my second letter to you. hopefully, unless you didn’t receive the first one for some reason. but if this is the second one, hi! i hope you had a great day today and if you didn’t, i hope you feel better. i think you probably find this weird, the love letter sort of thing, it’s super cliche and everything so i’d get it if you decided to take this and, like, throw it out or something. but please don’t! please don’t throw it out, i’d be very upset. not that you’d know anyway, but :)

you’re also probably wondering, ‘why is this guy sending me stuff without telling me who he is?’ well, i’m glad to say that i have a purpose. it is, well, just to make you happy. life is hard, ya know, and i don’t think a lot of us would be able to get through everything without someone by their side. not that you don’t have anyone by your side! i’m sure you do, you have friends and family that support you as well, but since i unfortunately do not fall into either of those categories, i have to resort to written letters.

anyway, i’m ending this letter quickly considering my class is ending in hmm, like four minutes? i want to make enough time to get to your locker and give it to you, hopefully without you ever noticing, but if you did end up finding out who i am…just forget about that part. yeah, like my face and all? erase that memory from your pretty head. i’m so sorry, i just realized how much i just didn’t get to a point with this letter at all.

in a few days is the homecoming game, and i may or may not have a little surprise waiting for you there. if you’d like to come, that’s awesome, if not, that’s perfect as well. i know the last thing you’d do is trust someone you don’t know, and it might be a little hypocritical of me to say this, but trust me. in the least creepy way, i will say that yes, you do know me, maybe not as well as i know you. shitttt that sounds so creepy, i deeply apologize. i’m just your secret admirer, that’s it, not a stalker omg. now it sounds like i’m a stalker. okay, anyway.

please come to homecoming, i won’t reveal myself to you just yet (maybe not ever, but it depends) but i have something waiting for you. it’s NOT a death wish, cross my heart, for real.

signed, jay

#inkidz #stayhavennet #kpopscape #skz series #stray kids series #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #skz fic #skz au #stray kids imagines #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids #stray kids high school au #skz high school au #okay everyone pray this shows up in tags <3333

[neon-junkie]

Sinners Prayer

Summary: Dutch has asked you and Micah to tag along for the evening at the Mayor's party, but the catch is that you two have to go as a pretend married couple.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 6557

Rating: SFW

Tags: Friends to lovers, Strangers to lovers, Fake relationship/marriage, Saint Denis, Shady Belle, Party, Dress up, Formalwear, Slow burn, First kiss, Flirting.

Notes: God I LOVED writing this, which is why it's sooooo long. I've had this fic idea lingering in my head for months now as I'm a sucker for the whole fake couple/marriage trope, but it feels so good to finally write this<3 

Obsessed is a strong word to use, especially when it's relating to a stranger. But maybe it was the right word because you found yourself swooning over this man over and over, despite barely ever speaking to him. You were in the same camp, sure, but that didn't mean much apart from sometimes riding by his side during a mission, or sitting on the same log as him at the campfire. You'd exchanged few words and you somewhat hoped it'd stay that way, knowing exactly the kind of man he was.

Was this secret obsession something to do with past trauma? your previous encounter with a toxic man that you thought you'd gotten over? or was Micah really just meant to be yours?

But seriously... Micah. Micah Bell. Micah Bell the third, in fact, because somehow his shitty family had managed to breed more than once.

You want to feel sick every time you see him, you really do, just like everybody else in existence does, but you find yourself gazing at him from the other side of camp every single day, so drawn to various little bits of him.

There's the scar on his chin, the one that starts at his split lip, and you're curious as to how he got it, but not as curious as to if you'd be able to feel it when you press your lips against his. You try to tell yourself that his facial hair is stupid, but he always keeps it so neat and clean, and you can't help but wonder what that 'stache would feel like brushing over your thighs as he kissed along them. And his hair, his scraggy shoulder-length hair, the dirty blonde locks that you just want to run your fingers along and grip onto if you had the chance to ride him.

You're doing it again.

You give your head a little shake as you snap out of your daydream, straightening your back and taking a swig of your drink. It's late, and you're enjoying a beer before bed after finishing your shift on guard duty. Micah's sat at his usual space by the campfire in your line of view, and thankfully you haven't zoned out staring at him else, well, that'd be embarrassing.

Micah also seems zoned out, staring at the fire with his hands dangling freely down his sides, one ankle crossed over the other. He lets out a sigh and rolls his head back, staring up at the stars before looking over at you.

Oh shit.

You quickly look away, taking another sip from your drink. You can feel Micah's gaze still on you, but when you do finally peek over, he's back to staring at the fire.

You've accidentally met his gaze a few times before, a mix of you meeting his, and him meeting yours. At least it wasn't always you staring at him, he seems to have an interest in you too, though the two of you rarely ever interacted. Micah had, for some reason, kept his distance from you, despite his blatant and poor attempts of flirting with other women of the camp. Maybe you just weren't his type? But then why would he always stare at you?

Your beer is finally finished and you turn in for the night, following your nightly routine and climbing under your blankets, only to stare at the tent walls and think about Micah.

Ugh. That man, if you can even call him one.

You're a sinner, just like the rest of this crazy bunch that you run with, but it seems whatever Gods float about in the sky continue to ignore your prayers, despite them being desperate.

Please, please can they just stop this attraction to him? Please. There were so many better men out there, a handful of which you run with, but you find yourself worryingly obsessed with this foul man, yet you can't seem to stop it.

You roll onto your side, letting your eyes fall shut and as always, drift to sleep with the hopes that you won't be obsessed when morning comes.

  Morning does come, and oh boy, does it hit you hard.

Dutch was quick to call you upstairs to the balcony by his room, telling you to finish your breakfast first, but hurry up as soon as possible.

"It's a party," Dutch tells you. "The mayors' party," Dutch smirks, raising his hands as if he was waiting for you to jump with joy.

"And...?" you question.

"Well. I've picked a fine bunch to tag alongside me, but I'm asking you specifically to help with a special task. Myself, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill will be mingling as singles, but we need a couple to go. We need a couple to weave their way in there with all the others and see what they can find. Maybe get invited to some fancy private getaway or... whatever it is those upper-class city folk do in their free time," Dutch explains, speaking with his hands as always.

"Dutch," you laugh. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm unfortunately single," you tell him as you shake your head.

"I know, just like the rest of camp, but I'll make suitable arrangements for you, my dear," Dutch replies.

"What about John and Abigail?" you ask, the only couple that springs to mind.

"I wouldn't dare ask them, not after that whole fiasco that happened with our dear boy Jack," Dutch says as he shakes his head. "You can say no if you want to, but I could really do with this."

You let out a sigh but then ask "what arrangements are you thinking?"

"Well..." Dutch begins. "I wanted you to be a part of this job to begin with, I knew that as a fact. You've got a good charm and I've seen you gussy up folks before. You know exactly what you're doing, and I need that strength right now," Dutch compliments, though his tone of voice and the way his eyes begin to avoid yours makes you fear for the worst.

"Trelawny's going to take you into the city to pick out a dress for you, the women have already said they'll help get you ready for the party-"

"Dutch. Who am I going with?" you cut him off, noticing the way he's avoiding the elephant in the room.

"I put a lot of thought into this, ___. I really have. I've gone through all the members of the camp-"

"Dutch," you sigh as you cut him off again. "Just tell me."

"Micah," Dutch says as his eyes meet yours. "Like I said, you can say no if you'd like. I just know the two of you would be able to make this work, and I could really do with this," he explains.

"Have you already asked him?" you question.

"I have, and he said he's happy with it if you're happy with it," Dutch tells you as he watches your expressions and body language, though you surprise him as you show no signs of discomfort.

"Alright, I'll do it," you shrug.

"Thank you, my dear," Dutch grins as he places a hand on your shoulder. "It's this evening. Trelawny will be waiting for you outside the tailors in Saint Denis, and make sure you're ready a little early. I want time to run through the plan before we set off."

  The Gods were definitely mocking you at this point, sat up there on their high horses, laughing and pointing down at you as they continued to worsen your situation. Really? A party with posh folk? And you have to pretend to be a couple with Micah? You barely know him for starters. What if you two really weren't meant to get along? The last thing you wanted to do was cause a scene after Dutch had asked you so kindly to go in there and fish out information for him.

Trelawny seemed in his usual cheery mood when you met him, helping you pick out something nice. Honestly, the dress is gorgeous, and you feel beautiful wearing it. You have no problem playing dress up, sometimes secretly looking forward to it as you rarely get an occasion to wear something other than your usual attire.

The women shower you with compliments as they help do your makeup, picking out some nice matching jewelry that compliments your facial features, along with a pretty necklace that seemed to draw even more attention to your cleavage. You haven't worn a corset in a while, and the sight of your boobs bulging up against your chest was clearly meant to be a distraction to try and lore out some weaker men. Maybe Micah would end up dragging them off to the side, only to knock their lights out and loot them for "looking at my woman!"

Ugh. Your stomach hadn't stopped turning like a stormy sea the second Dutch had told you who you were going with. You hadn't seen Micah around the camp all afternoon, probably mentally preparing himself for whatever shit-show that was about to happen.

Well, you were ready.

Mary-Beth was quick to run out of the house and draw everybody's attention, attempting to give you some kind of grand reveal, as if the camp had never seen you in a dress before. They have, but this was the fanciest you'd ever worn; with your hair up in a do that took all afternoon to keep in place, and jewels that perfectly matched the shade of your makeup.

"She's ready!" Mary-Beth squealed, attracting the attention of Dutch and Arthur as they lingered over, the rest of the camp perking up their ears and eyes. "Now, you better all flatter her 'cause she seems a little shy, and we spent all afternoon helpin' get her ready, but-"

"Mary-Beth, please," you sigh as you exit the house, not wanting the grand entrance that she would want. There's still a mix of oo's and aah's throughout the camp, and Susan is quick to rush over and take your hands in hers, looking like she's about to cry.

"My dear, you look so wonderful," Susan tells you.

"Thank you, Miss Grimshaw," you reply as you give her hand a little squeeze.

"She's right, ___. Trelawny and our women have excellent taste. Thank you, all of you," Dutch tells them as he speaks to the camp, then turning back to you. "Are you ready, dear?" he asks.

"Physically, yes. Mentally, no," you joke, though you're serious.

"Well, it'll have to do," Dutch nods.

"My my," a dreaded voice calls out. Micah's approaching, stopping just beside Dutch as he speaks to you. "Ain't no way you can go the party like that, sweetheart. You're gonna knock 'em all dead with them pretty looks of yours," Micah compliments.

Your stomach begins to turn again, though you begin to question if you should curse the gods or thank them, because the sight of Micah in a tux is one you could get used to. He's dressed like the other men, a smart black tux with a white shirt and bowtie. He's clearly had a bath, as his hair looks the cleanest you've ever seen it, nearly bunched into a low ponytail with a few loose strands shaping his face. Micah always keeps his facial hair clean, but it's freshly trimmed and perfectly shaped just underneath his jaw.

You notice Arthur already glaring at him in the corner of your eye. Why Dutch didn't ask Arthur to go with you was beyond your knowledge, but something tells you he has a deeper reason behind picking the two of you to go together.

"Thank you, Mister Bell," you softly reply as your eyes meet his.

"Guess that makes you Mrs. Bell for this evening," Micah smiles. "Don't it, Dutch?" he asks as his eyes quickly turn to Dutch's.

"It does! Now, let's all get going before we're even later than we already are. I'll go over the plan on the way there," Dutch huffs as he waves his gloved hands about, hurrying everybody along to the stagecoach that was waiting.

You're about to walk off, but Micah's sudden movement catches your eye. He offers you his hand. "Gotta look the part, darlin'," he tells you.

"Oh! I just remembered!" Micah says as he suddenly moves his hand away, reaching into his pocket to fish out a pair of gold wedding rings that he no doubt had stolen recently, specifically for this event.

"May I?" Micah asks, holding out his hand again. You take it, your soft palms gently settling in rough ones. He flashes you another smile, then flicks his eyes down to focus sliding the wedding ring onto your finger. The sight of that alone is enough to make your knees go weak, but you try your hardest not to pass out, and thankfully Micah doesn't seem to notice how lovesick you're feeling.

The ring is only slightly too big, and hopefully, you'll notice it if it gets close to slipping off. He quickly slips the other one onto his own finger, and takes your hand again, his eyes finally moving away from yours as he leads you over to the stagecoach, following behind the others.

  The ride there isn't too bad, and the plan seems simple enough. Steal nothing, only information. Only your 'husband' was most definitely not going to do that, even if he doesn't tell Dutch about it.

He helps you out the coach, gently tucking your hand around his arm as he walks with you into the party. Surprisingly, Micah didn't bring his guns with him, making a comment to you under his breath about how he doesn't trust anybody with them. That's understandable.

Dutch and Arthur head upstairs to do whatever it is they were going to do, speak to Jack's surrogate father or whatever, leaving you and the others to wait on the balcony.

You rest your hands on the railing, looking down at the mishmash of strangers below. Micah removes his hand from yours, resting it on the small of your back as he turns to speak to you.

"You nervous?" Micah asks.

"I'm sure I won't be after a couple of drinks," you joke, turning your gaze to meet his. You've never seen his expression so soft before, and have his eyes always been that blue? They're an icy shade, maybe a warning sign about his cold heart, but he's making yours burn up with his stupidly sweet smile and that stupid cute little ponytail that he just had to tuck his hair into.

"So now I gotta take care of my drunk wife whilst also lookin' for leads?" Micah jokes back, though there's something about him calling you his 'wife' that makes your stomach turn faster than it ever has before.

"I ain't gonna get drunk!" you laugh. "Your wife can handle herself, thank you very much," you raise your nose jokingly.

"You sure? Cause if I remember rightly, the last time you got drunk you tripped over and almost fell in the campfire," Micah chuckles, watching your expression drop. How did he remember that? That happened months ago!

"I'm a changed woman," you reply, "for tonight," you add.

"Sure you are, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins as he moves a few loose strands off your face. "Then after tonight, you can go back to fallin' into campfires."

"And would my dear husband not save me if he saw me falling into one?" you question.

"I ain't really your husband, sweetheart. Not unless you wanna keep that ring on and keep playin' dress up with me," Micah replies, trying to make it sound like a joke, but you both know that if you said yes, Micah would happily continue your fake marriage.

It's a good thing Dutch arrived when he did, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak, but you were thankful as you hadn't even thought of a reply.

Dutch gave you all another pep talk before shooing everybody off on their way, and you were thankful a server passed you as you reached the bottom of the stairs, taking a glass of champagne for yourself and thanking them, Micah grabbing one for himself also.

  Your hand finds Micahs arm and he walks with you a while, eyeing up any obvious leads as you pass through the strangers. You come to a stop at the back of the party, pulling Micah to one side as he rests his hand around your waist. God. You could get used to Micah having his hands on you at all times.

"You see anything obvious yet?" you ask Micah before taking a sip of your champagne. At least it was decent, not having that awful cheesy flavour that cheap bottles had.

"I ain't been lookin'," Micah replies, making you snap your eyes over to his with a little scowl on your face.

"What?" you ask.

"Hard to focus on a bunch of snobby strangers when I got this pretty woman clinging onto me," Micah grins. You realize that your hand had come to rest on his forearm as his hand had found your waist, clinging onto him a little too tightly, your body practically pressed up against his. At least the two of you looked like a couple.

You go to take a step back, but Micah is quick to pull you against him more, holding you firmly in place. "I'm jokin', sweetheart," he tells you. "I've spotted a few here 'n' there."

"You better not be lyin'," you tut.

"You not trust your own husband?" Micah smirks, chuckling even whilst he has a sip of his drink. "Besides, we ain't even planned our story yet. How we gonna mingle with other couples when we don't even know how we met? Or when we got married?" Micah asks.

He's right, the two of you had no time to prepare your story, but you're far from earshot of these strangers, so now would be a good time to get your stories straight.

"Well, what have you got planned then? Seeing as you brought this up?" you question.

"Nothin'," Micah shrugs. "I figured I'd ask my lady, seeing as you women tend to fantasize about these situations." You can't deny that, because little does Micah know, you've had a few fantasies about the two of you getting together for quite some time now.

"Do I look like the type for romances, Micah?" you ask.

"Do I?" Micah replies. Good point.

"Well..." you sigh, trying to think of a few ideas. "You plan how we met, and I'll plan our wedding?"

"Sure, darlin'," Micah nods as he finishes off his drink.

"Wait here. I'll go get us a refill," you say as you take Micahs empty glass, finishing off your own, and wandering off back into the party to find your next round of booze.

Micah watches you leave, tucking his hand into his pockets to fish out a cigarette to enjoy whilst he waits and ponders.

  Finding a server wasn't hard, and you thanked them as you swapped your glasses over. On your walk back you overheard another couple talking about how they met, saying she was a server on one of the ferries and he was there to gamble, only he ended up spending the night distracting her from her job.

You find your way back to Micah, who's just finished his cigarette, stomping it out on the ground with his polished black shoes. "I picked you up at a bar," Micah tells you as you hand him his drink.

"What? No," you scoff, scrunching your face up at the generic and boring backstory.

"What else you got then, sweetheart?" Micah asks before taking a sip from his drink.

"I just overheard a couple say that they met on one of those gambling ferries. She was a waitress and he spent the whole night chattin' her up."

"You wanna steal their backstory?" Micah tuts. "Dutch said we shouldn't be stealin," he says as he shakes his head jokingly.

"We'll just change it a little... I was a bartender and you spent the night chatting me up," you suggest.

"A woman bartender?" Micah questions your suggestion.

"Times are changing, Micah. It's believable," you reply, getting a little defensive.

"I didn't mean it like that," Micah says as he raises his hand. "I like it. And we met 4 years back, got married in April last year. How's that sound?" he asks.

"Good," you nod, realizing that you'd done each other's jobs rather than the ones you assigned. "You ready to mingle?" you ask him.

"Fine," Micah sighs.

  Neither of you wants to do this, both forcing a fake smile and kind accents as you speak to the strangers. After an hour, you haven't found much, a few mentions of summer homes and private boats, but nothing within the area.

You're a few more glasses in, beginning to feel ever so slightly tipsy, but you needed that buzz to help you get through the smugness of these strangers.

"You want another?" you ask Micah who has barely sipped on his current one. He's only drunk a glass less than you have, but he doesn't seem affected, though his tolerance is probably higher than yours.

"I'm alright, my love. I'll wait here for you," Micah tells you as he moves his hand off your waist, letting you wander off into the crowd.

You're still not used to the pet names, but you hope they continue to roll out of Micahs mouth, seeing as you no longer had that sickly feeling in your stomach. It seems your nerves had finally calmed down, being replaced by a warm and gentle buzz instead, though that's probably the alcohol in your system.

You thank the waiter as you take another glass and turn to leave, but overhear the most hideous voice you've ever heard call out to the same man you just thanked. You attempt to walk away, but quickly stop and look over your shoulder, face scrunching up at the sight of quite possibly the rudest woman you've ever seen, if you can even call her a woman.

She drones on and on, insulting this poor stranger that was only trying to do his job. God. The way she spoke to him made you sick, and before that little voice in the back of your head can stop you, you've already approached her and cut her off, attempting to speak to her sweetly.

"Are you an entertainer?" you ask.

"What on earth are you yapping about?" She questions as she looks you up and down in disgust.

"Well, it's a very good act you've got going on here. Playing the stereotypical obnoxious upper-class woman, though I wouldn't recommend performing it when you're not on stage," you respond, acting as if you genuinely thought she was a man in drag.

"Well, I never!" She squeals. "You've got some lip on you, little girl. Do you now know who I am?"

"Oh, I do apologize, madam. What's your act called? Maybe I'll drop by to hear you squeal on stage next time I pass the theatre."

You can't hold back the grin creeping across your face as the stranger's face turns red, her huffing and puffing attracting a handful of eyes nearby. Thankfully, the poor served had managed to sneak off, so at least she wouldn't take it out on him any more than she already had.

She goes to open her mouth again but is quickly cut off when Micah appears by your side.

"Oh, I do apologize for my wife's behaviour," Micah says with a wave of his hand. "Sweetheart!" he says as he turns to you, putting his arm around your waist and beginning to walk you away. "What have I told you about feeding the animals?" he says in clear earshot of the woman.

The both of you don't get to see the woman explode as you rush off, but your grins are as wicked as each others as you lead Micah to the back of the party, giggling devilishly.

You can still hear the woman protesting as she's asked to leave, and is eventually dragged out, which was more than satisfying to watch. The party returns to how it formerly was, the strangers barely looking your way as it seems you'd done everybody a favour.

Your eyes meet Micahs, his arm still wrapped around your waist as your hand rests on his shoulder, your body pressed against his. Both of your grins remain there as the two of you look at each other, suddenly realizing just how pressed up you were against your 'husbands' body.

"I ain't seen that fire in you before, sweetheart," Micah tells you.

"There's a lot of me you ain't seen, Micah," you reply.

"Ooooh," Micah sighs as he chuckles. His head dips down slightly, speaking more directly into your ear but far enough that he can still see your reaction. "Well if you'd be so kind as to show me," he flirts.

Your knees feel like giving up on you, and you're thankful that Micah's grip is tight enough around your waist to hold you upright. You go to open your mouth and invite him to find out, but you're cut off before you can even make a sound.

  "Mister and Mrs. Bell?" A familiar voice asks. Both of your smiles fade as you turn to see Dutch standing there, his brows slightly furrowed. "What the hell was that?" he whispers through gritted teeth.

"She deserved it," Micah shrugs, his voice returning to his usual tone as he softens his grip on you.

"What happened?" he whispers.

"Dutch, trust me, anybody would have done the same. It seems I did everyone here a favour," you reassure him.

"I don't care if she deserved it or not. Just stop drawing attention to yourselves, please!" Dutch hisses.

Micah raises his hand innocently, "sure, boss," he says.

"We'll keep quiet," you add on.

"Thank you, now go and mingle," Dutch attempts to force a smile, waving his hands about as he encourages you to head back into the crowd.

He doesn't walk away, so you're forced to drag Micah back into the handful of strangers and continue where you left off, doing whatever you can to find at least a little something to take back to the camp.

Thanks for ruining the moment, Dutch.

  The whole time you're speaking to these strangers, all you can think about is the flirtatious glisten Micah had in his eyes when he said that line. His hand is around your waist once more, only you're well aware of the way his hand is slowly trailing down you, eventually resting on your tailbone, a little too close to your ass, though you wish he'd move his hand a little lower.

A stranger quickly thanks you for having that woman kicked out of the party, and your bitching session about her is cut short from the loud bang coming from the sky. You almost drop your drink, surprised to hear what sounds like gunshots, only to turn and see the sky glowing an array of colours.

They're fireworks. You've heard about them before but never seen them, and despite how pretty they are, you wish they were a little quieter. Sure, you're a gunslinger, but loud noises still make you jump, despite being somewhat used to them.

Micah stands almost directly behind you, moving his hand to your hip as he pressed his body against yours. You relax against him, your back pressed against his chest and shoulder. Micah places his empty glass on a tray that trails past him, using that same hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face, catching your attention as you move your gaze off the fireworks.

"You think we're doing a good job, sweetheart?" Micah asks.

"A good job of what, exactly?" you reply.

"You know exactly what I'm on about," he chuckles. His gaze was soft on you to begin with, but it softens out even more as you make him laugh.

"I think we're doing well, but we can always do better," you flirt.

"Oh?" Micah smirks, picking up on your hints. "And how are we gonna do that, my love?"

Micah boldly places a gentle kiss to your temple, your heart fluttering as his 'stache brushes against your skin, a lot softer than you thought it'd be.

"Well, for a start, you could kiss my lips rather than my temple," you reply, just as boldly as his move.

"That so?" he smiles.

"It is so, darling," you reply.

"Just you wait," Miah grins, kissing your temple again. "I ain't gonna let that happen in the middle of these folk," he explains.

"That's alright, Mister Bell. I can wait," you reply as you rest your head against the crook of his neck, angling upwards so you can continue to watch the fireworks.

Micah places another kiss to your temple before wrapping his arms around your waist, enjoying the way your hand rests on top of his, the other one still holding your glass. He continues to place gentle kisses against you every so often, holding your back firmly against his chest.

Little do you know that Micah's heart is also racing just as fast as yours, his stomach feeling just as sick and his knees feeling just as weak. All those times he'd accidentally met your gaze from across the camp were times when he'd been admiring you, watching you from afar as he tries to figure out a non-creepy and non-cheesy way to talk to you.

When it comes to one night stands and quick hook-ups, Micah will blurt a few stereotypical pickup lines out and hope for the best, but he's been lovesick the second he saw you, and his feelings continued to grow the more he saw your personality come out within the camp. He felt a little jealous at first, finding a woman who's just as good with a gun and knife as he is, but the thought of "but what if she was mine?" struck his mind, and he then decided that he just had to have you.

Micah struggles to talk to women, he's barely interacted with them, and it's even worse growing up without a female role model in his life. But the camp continued to move and hunt for money, and when Micah found out that Dutch was invited to the mayors' party, he finally saw his chance. Despite trying to recommend taking another set of hands along, without Micah making it obvious that he wanted an excuse to talk to you, Dutch quickly picked up on what was going on and decided to stir the pot even more.

Originally, Micah just thought Dutch could do with his help and maybe take one of the ladies, but Dutch is smart and picks up on little things like the two of you admiring each other from afar. Dutch grinned as he thanked Micah for his suggestion, and then said he could do with a fake couple there so they had all their options open. Micah was quick to dip his hat over his face and blurt out "sure boss, I'll leave it to you," scurrying off when he realized that he'd dug this hole a lot deeper than it was meant to go, but he swallowed his fear and went along with it.

  And here the two of you are, Micah leading you over to the gazebo at the back of the mayors' house to have a "little talk about the leads we've found." There's another couple stood on one side, but the gazebo is big enough so if the two of you stand on the other side and speak under your breaths then they won't hear you.

"Well, what you think?" Micah asks as he gently removes your hand from around his arm, holding it lightly in both of his hands as he leans back against the railing, crossing one ankle over the other.

"We got a few bit here 'n' there. It ain't been easy," you shrug. It seems that despite every single person here being an obnoxious prick, they had their guards up around strangers, not letting things slip out too easily.

"But have you had fun?" Micah chuckles.

"I've had fun playing dress-up with you, Micah," you grin, noting the way Micah's fidgeting with the ring on your finger, probably slightly nervous.

"We can always do it again some time," he flirts. "Maybe go to one of them fancy poker games they host at the saloon here," Micah suggests.

"Oh, I bet you'd enjoy that," you giggle. "Gambling, liquor, and me sittin' on your lap."

"How could I not enjoy that?" Micah asks as he stands upright. "But is it a sin if I do enjoy it?" Micah asks, his tone turning slightly stern as he looks into your eyes.

"Do you want it to be?" you ask, watching as Micah moves your hand from his to rest on his shoulder, his hands finding your waist.

"I ain't really bothered, sweetheart," Micah tells you with a little shrug. "Sin or not, I'll have you on my lap, so I'll be happy," he adds.

"You know, we ain't gotta play dress up again just for you to have me sit on your lap," you flirt as your other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, slowly wrapping around his neck.

"Don't say that, darlin'. Cause we both know that you'll get tired of me constantly takin' up that offer," Micah jokes.

"You think I'm gonna get tired of you, Mister Bell?"

"You might," Micah says with a shrug. He moves one hand off your waist to gently cup your chin, making sure your eyes are on his. "Mrs. Bell," he says with a grin, noticing the way your heart flutters at the sound of it.

"I bet you I won't," you smile.

"We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

"We will, Mister Bell."

Micah gently moves his hand from your chin, gently brushing it along your jawline as he cups it, his thumb rubbing slowly over your cheek. You melt into his touch, and the sight of that is enough to pop Micah's patience.

He finally dips his head down, gently pressing his lips against yours, though he's not surprised when you begin to kiss back, deepening the kiss. Micah's hand moves from your cheek, joining the other one around your waist as he holds onto you, pulling your body against his.

Despite how firmly his lips are pressed against yours, his moustache is a lot softer than you imagined, running against your upper lip, lightly tickling you. There's the strong taste of champagne on his lips, and a faint taste of tobacco on his tongue as he slides it against yours. It's a good thing Micah has your body pressed up against his, holding you firmly, as you can feel your knees getting weaker by the second.

Micah lets out a soft sigh as he moves one hand to gently cup the back of your head. Your fingertips brush against his low ponytail, a style that you hoped to see him wear again. Maybe he'll keep it for this upper-class poker date that you'd both just planned, and even though neither of you said it was a date, the way you were gazing at each other says otherwise.

  There's a sudden cough, and that's when you realize that someones been coughing to get your attention a few times now. You were far too engulfed in locking lips with your 'husband' that you didn't notice poor Arthur standing a few feet away, trying to get both of your attention.

Micah momentarily breaks the kiss to mumble "go away, Morgan," before bringing your lips back to his, continuing where you left off.

"We're leavin', Micah," Arthur tells him in a stern voice.

Micah ignores him, and although you feel bad for Arthur being there, you're not willing to break this kiss for anything. You've waited far too long for this.

"You two, come on," Arthur sighs, and Micah finally breaks away from you.

"Fine," Micah frowns as his gaze meets Arthurs. Arthur ignores his attitude and walks off, heading through the slowly-dispersing crowd to find the others.

Micah doesn't say anything but flashes you a cheeky smile as he offers his arm once more. You take it, and he leads you through the party, meeting the others who are already climbing into the stagecoach when you arrive.

Micah does most of the talking on the way back, telling the others about the few leads the two of you had found. His hand rests on your knee the whole journey back, and Dutch seems to notice it, smiling to himself.

When you arrive back at camp, Micah offers you his hand as he helps you down from the stagecoach, and despite being back, his hand still lingers in yours whilst you say goodnight to everyone.

"You want me to walk you home, Mrs. Bell?" Micah jokes.

"Oh, you're so kind, offering to walk me ten steps," you giggle.

Micah does it anyway, stopping outside your tent.

"I err..." Micah gulps, his eyes flicking around the camp, then back to you. "I had fun tonight. Now I know we didn't get many leads, but I still enjoyed myself."

"I did too. Maybe we'll make up for our losses when we go on that upper-class poker mission," you smile. Micah's eyes widen a little.

"You were serious about that?" he asks, a tint of doubt to his voice.

"I was. But I understand if you're tired of pretending to be my husband already," you jokingly sigh, bringing a smile back to Micah's face.

"I ain't ever gonna get tired of it. But if you're up for it, then well, I guess I better start lookin' for a way to make it happen," Micah replies.

"You let me know as soon as you find it."

"Anyway, I ain't gonna keep you up. You get to bed, sweetheart," Micah says as he takes hold of your hand, placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

"You still ain't learned where my lips are, have you?" you flirt, watching Micah's eyes light up at your comment.

"I guess you better show me then, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins, his face dipping down to meet yours as you lean up to kiss him, your arms wrapping around his neck once more.

Micah doesn't keep you up for too long, softly kissing you goodnight and finally letting you turn in. You hear him walk away as you close your tent flaps, taking your time to get undressed and get ready for bed. The whole time you're changing, your stomach is still turning with butterflies, in shock at tonight's turn of events, even though you adored all of them.

In some ways, the Gods finally did answer your prayers, giving you the sinner you fawned over rather than taking your feelings away. Either outcome would have been fine, but you definitely preferred this one, especially now you had a date lined up.

Maybe those romances that Mary-Beth reads aren't so silly after all.

#this is honestly my fave fic ive ever wrote #i am in LOVE #im SO proud of this #like not to suck my own dick but its fucking lit #rdrwriting #inktober #inktober 5 #sinners prayer #micah bell #micah bell/reader #micah bell x reader #micah bell/you #micah bell x you #my rat husband #fake relationship #fake marriage #slow burn #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #fluff #first kiss #rdr2 #rdr 2 #Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #saint denis #mayors party #shady belle

[stachmousworld]

Meeting the Personal Assistant (final part)

Pairing: Black!Plus size!YN x Bucky Barner

Tags: unprotected sex, choking, mention of edging, chastity cage, restraints, cockwarming, cockring.

Words: around 4000

(The dividers come from @/firefly-graphics.tumblr.com)

She started packing as soon as the ambulance left with the Sergeant’s body. She watched, numb, as James Barnes’ body was transported. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. And it worsen when she saw Steve’s face.

Pale. Stricken.

She hadn’t been able to say a word and stood by her table completely silent. She hadn’t wanted their attention to be on her. She actually feared their reaction. There was no way she wasn’t going to be fired. And all that because she hadn’t remembered a fucking appointment. One single appointment.

She looked for the piece of paper and found it nowhere. Did it really matter, anyway? She gave a once over to her desk and bent to check her drawer.

“What are you doing?”

She almost hit her head when she heard mister Stark’s voice. She struggle to stand up and almost fell when her heel got stuck on the carpet.

“I’m packing, sir.”

Stark watched her eyebrows furrowed. “I can see it. But why are you packing?” He glanced at the mountain of stuff in her box. She didn’t really know if she’d be able to hold or she’ll have to do two trips, which she didn’t want.

“Are we really doing that, right now?” She asked in hope that he’ll drop it.

Stark walked closer and grabbed one of her stress balls from the box. “Humor me. Why do you think I’d fire you?”

She sighed. “I didn’t warn you for the meeting, which almost caused a third world war and your friend probably fainted because of me. So, I may not be the smartest cookie in the world but even I can tell that it’s over.”

Stark hummed, a small smile playing on his lips and threw the ball in the air and caught it as fast. “There were so many things wrong in what you said. First, you are far from being stupid. If you truly think we employ every average Joe and Jane in my company, I’d be disappointed. Also, considering how Miss Potts was my assistant and is now CEO of the company, you too may be lucky.”

She let out a brief laugh. “I’m not sure Miss Potts would be happy hearing that you’re already planning a coup.”

Mister Stark handed her the ball. She rose an eyebrow barely irritated by his usual quirks. She grabbed the ball and felt something smooth underneath.

“What -”

It was the paper from earlier. When did Stark take it?

“Is nothing weird about the paper?”

She read the paper over and over again without finding anything suspicious.

“Take your own agenda and compare both,” he said, with a gentle and patient tone.

With trembling hands, she scavenged through her pile of stuff. Her cheeks grew warmed under his gaze. She muttered under her breath as the leather book was unreachable.

“Need help?” Mister Stark asked amused.

“No,” she grunted. She shook the box and peered into it. There it was. Regaining a sense of confidence, she picked it up, and browsed through it. She scanned both papers attentively.

“Do you see it now?”

She was about to say ‘no’ when she finally noticed a few differences.

“It’s not the same. It’s not the same writing,” she said, appalled. She grabbed her glasses and put them on.

“You give me some sexy librarian--”

“Sexual harassment seminary, Mister Stark,” she reminded him with a stern, disapproving voice.

She glanced when he didn’t retort and saw him shuffle on his feet like a guilty kid.

“Do I want to know?”

Mister Stark smiled, sheepish. “Not my fault I like bossy people.”

“Still not appropriate on the workplace, I’m afraid.”

He grunted dramatically.

“So, going back to the point.” She waved the paper. “She lied. What does that mean for me?”

“You’re not fired. I thought that was clear. I can’t fire you for something you didn’t do.” He waved at her box. “You should put everything back because you are not going anywhere, and I’ll use restraints if I have too.”

A smile played on her lips. “Do you realize that all the things you’ve been saying so far can be interpreted differently. And send you straight to the anti-harassment seminary.”

He shrugged. “Been there done that.”

She raised her eyes to the sky and repressed her laugh. “Unbelievable, Mister Stark.”

Stark crunched his nose. She knew he hated that she called him ‘mister Stark’ and would rather be called by his first name. Something to do with how many times she’d save his ass from a bunch of paparazzi and from condescending shareholders. She also had to babysit him for a few years now because in his creative binge he’d lose track of anything and would often faint from hunger and exhaustion. It was a surprise he was still alive. Fortunately, he met someone, Steve Rogers aka Captain America aka the ultimate mother hen, otherwise mister Stark would have been entirely too lost.

“You’re such a kid. I should’ve fired you.”

He leaned and peered inside her box.

“I don’t know what kind of kids you’ve seen but there are two things they don’t get,” she said with a mischievous smile.

Stark raised his eyes, curious. She stood up tall and wrapped her arms under her boobs, pushing them up. His eyes were drawn like a moth to the light. He closed his gaping mouth.

“Well, your arguments are solid.”

He wasn’t moving at all. Now she had opened the door, Tony jumped on the occasion. His eyes were glued on her cleavage.

“You do realize that I’ll fill a report, right?”

“One for a penny, one for a pound,” he replied, nonchalant.

“What would your husband say?”

“Steve is as bi as I am and even he wouldn’t deny how smoking hot you are.”

She sucked her teeth. “Can I fill a report on your husband even though he doesn’t work for the company?”

“He’d die.” A beat of silence. Tony raised his eyes to hers and smiled like a wolf. “Do it. He’d be mortified because it is my fault. And he’d punish me later…” He caressed his goatee. “Maybe find a way to stuff my mouth.”

She was already regretting this conversation. She’d forgotten that Stark was a master in shameless innuendos.

“One day, I’ll get you,” she whispered, falsely annoyed.

“You know you love me, though.”

She rolled her eyes and started unpacking her box. In silence. Stark was still watching her. It was unnerving.

“Don’t you have anything else to do? Avenging, maybe? Going to the hospital where your husband bff is?”

“I’m waiting because you are going with me.”

She almost dropped her favorite mug. A Howling Commando limited edition. Mister Stark almost had a heart attack when he saw her mug. He had been a bit sarcastic but fairly surprised that she knew and loved the Howling Commandos. Who wouldn’t? Especially Cap’s sidekick. But that was a secret.

She would never reveal to anyone that she used to have a fairly big crush on James Buchanan Barnes. She even had the real dog tags.

It was a gift from an elderly person she used to take care of. She hadn’t even known he had known any of the howlies; so imagine her surprise when he gave her the dog tags. It has taken a few months to check if they were the original. She hadn’t wanted anyone to take what was precious to her and to give it to any museums. It may be selfish, but she didn’t really care.

Since then, she wore it every day. Some days like right now, where she wore a pronounced cleavage, she’d place the dog tags in her bra.

The cold metal was harsh against her sensitive skin and she reveled in the feeling. There was something so primal in wearing someone’s belongings. Even though the person wasn’t aware of it.  

Seeing Sergeant James Barnes walk in had almost brought her to her knees. It was by sheer will that she didn’t hyperventilate and faint. Gosh…it would have been so embarrassing.

It didn’t help that Sergeant Barnes had been so charming and somewhat shy. He said she reminded him of a fresh brioche, and the way he gazed at her…so hungry and ready to pounce. If the other bitch hadn’t been there, she’d probably act recklessly. She would have jumped on him and maybe suck his dick.

She took a deep breath and avoided Stark’s inquisitive eyes.

“Let’s go. I’ll do the rest later.”

He threw his hands in the air and smiled. “Finally.”

They made their way to the elevator in silence. Only then, did she realize something.

“Where are we going?”

Mister Stark zipped his mouth and pretending throwing the key. She groaned. She should definitely demand a raise.

They were at the hospital. She had tried to get out of this situation, even pretending that she had an emergency. Tony had put his foot down and cut through all of her lies.

“Why am I here again?”

Stark was typing quickly on his phone. “Buckaroo would be really happy to see you.”

There was something in the way is said ‘happy’ that was worrisome.

“But why?”

Stark raised his eyes. His nostrils flared and she knew she’d hit the jackpot. If she could annoy him that much, she’d be able to get the truth out of him.

“You’ll see.”

He gave her a sardonic smile before returning to his phone. She grunted under her breath and stomped her feet.

“A kid…” Tony joked.

“I’ll tell mister Rogers and he’ll punish you.”

“Don’t threaten with a good time.”

“You won’t laugh when I’ll tell him about chastity cage, and edging.”

His smile flickered. He nibbled his lower lip, eyes darting around. “Still a good time.”

“Are you sure?” She leaned closer to him. “How long can you hold, mister Stark? I’m sure mister Rogers can be very thorough about his discipline. With his mind and my knowledge…”

She leaned back and examined her fingernails.

“How much do you want?” He growled.

She caught a glimpse of mister Rogers coming their way. She stood up and waved at him.

“Your demise will be my reward,” she retorted sweetly.

His eyes grew wary.

“Tony,” mister Rogers said with a blinding smile.

It was hilarious to witness her boss jumping to his feet, looking quite anxious.

“Steve?” He squealed.

“Is everything okay?” Rogers asked looking at them.

She shrugged. “Mister Stark has told a few interesting things about him.”

Mister Stark glared at her.

“I can tell –”

“I will fire you,” Stark whispered.

“Are you sure about that?” She rose an eyebrow. Tony glared at her in silence. “Can you show me where the room where Sergeant Barnes is, mister Rogers?”

The blond man was still looking at them at loss.

“I’ll go with you,” her boss said through gritted teeth.

“The more the merrier,” she replied with her best candid smile.

The tension was palpable. Stark tried to cut her off every time she asked a question and pulled his husband closer to him.

They were in front of the room and she saw her boss sag. As if he thought it was the end.

“Mister Stark, do you have your phone with you?”

He looked at her, suspicious. “Yes, why?”

She looked at her watch and counted the seconds. Her boss’ body froze when a familiar ringtone played.

“You should take the call, Mister Stark. After all…you’ve been for this meeting for a long time.”

He looked at his husband than her.

“Tony, baby, I’ll be here when you come back. Go take your call.”

The smaller man was grimacing and if she considered the scathing glare, he sent her way, he’d make a pay later. They both watched him leave.

“So, what was that all about?”

“It’s time for phase D.”

Steve hummed. “What did he do?”

“Try to send you along with him to an anti-harassment seminary. I may have pushed his buttons and revealed a bit of our plan, but he’ll be fairly surprised.”

“A bit?”

“Edging, chastity belt.”

Steve laughed. “I wish I’d been there to see his face.”

“Don’t worry about that. You’d see it soon enough. Did you receive the paddle and restraints?”

“Yep,” he replied, proud.

“He won’t know what’s coming.”

“Nope.” He pressed a hand on her back and pushed her toward the room. “And…I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. Go. Bucky will be really happy to see you.”

Why did they think he’d be happy? And why did they say it like that? Before she could formulate a proper answer, she found herself in the room. Steve closed the door behind her.

She wiped her hands on her dress and walked slowly to the bed where Sergeant Barnes was. He was still asleep. She took the time to examine his face. Her fingers itched to trace the rough lines of his face. From his sharp jawline, to the valley of his cheekbones, and she’d brush his eyebrows. They looked so soft.

Too lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice his blue eyes watching her through long eyelashes.

She patted her breast where the dog tags were and took them out. She played with them absently.

The blue eyes darkened, and blood rushed south. His fingers twitched to touch her.

“I’m really a creep,” she whispered.

Bucky’s eyes went to the dog tags and he let out a gasp. His dog tags? How did she get them? He had been trying to find them since the Smithsonian denied having them. Which at the time had sounded like a big ol’ lie.

“I should give them to you when you wake.” She brought the tags on her lips and kissed them.

Bucky’s eyes grew wider when he felt himself get hard. He looked at his lap and watched with shock the tent on his hardening cock got bigger.

He let out a small breath and tried to hide his erection. The small movement attracted her attention. Her head snapped up and he was suddenly pinned down by two brown eyes.

“Oh oh,” she let out with a grimace.

Bucky smiled or at least tried his best while pressing his hand on top of his erection. Her eyes didn’t bulge from his face which was a relief. He ignored the way his erection twitched when she leaned back.

They stayed silent for a couple of seconds, none of them knew what to say. Bucky’s erection was still distracting, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to resist his urges to palm it.

“Well…here.” She handed the dog tags. Bucky looked at the metal in her hand and glanced back at her.

“You can keep it.”

“I can’t. It’s yours.” She dropped the dog tags on his chest and gathered her jacket and bag. Bucky stopped her.

“Keep them. I know you’d take care of them better than I. In my line of work, it’d be difficult not to lose them or have them stolen.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded and handed them back to her. She took them eagerly and a little unsure. Like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“You can put them back?” The words escape his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Back?” She squealed, embarrassed.

Oh.

“How long have you been awake?”

Bucky felt his cheeks grow warm. “I mean…I wasn’t actively trying to ogle you. You were there and I was –”

She leaned back and her face behind his hands. Bucky tried to rearrange himself as silently as he could but failed. He let out a desperate groan. Gosh…two erections in the same day. This was a day to be set in the stone. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug. His body and his mind worked perfectly well together, although it seemed to be at the wrong time.

She raised her head and gaped. Bucky froze. Her eyes caught the outline of his erection before he could really hide it.

“I’m sorry. I’m not a creep. Please don’t scream.” The words tumbled out of his mouth not really in the right order. He for sure believed that she’d scream and run away, insulting him or worse. What he hadn’t expected was for her to stay silent and to look somewhat interested.

“Okay.” She seemed to want to say something else but shook her head instead.

“You believe me?” He asked wearily.

“Well, yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s a normal bodily reaction. I know guys can pop boners for the random stuff.”

“You are not though.” Bucky slapped his hand on his mouth and closed his eyes.

“I’m not what?”

“You said that it was random but it’s not. You are in no way random.”

“What do…” A beat of silence. “Oh.”

Bucky spread his fingers and peeked through them. He watched her, still eying his cock.

“My eyes are up there,” he joked.

Her eyes snapped to his. She cleared her throat and looked away. It could have stopped there but Bucky was on a stroll. He’d have time to feel mortified later anyway.

“I don’t want you to pretend. If you feel unsafe or somewhat disgusted, I’m really sorry.” He waved at his clothed dick. “To be honest I’m not really ashamed –”

“I can tell.” She mumbled. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He exclaimed a little to forceful. “What I want to say is that, as a POW and a brainwashed soldier I wasn’t really in tune with my body.” He lowered his voice and gazed down. “Even after therapy and a dozen of medical consultation I couldn’t have an erection. At all. So yeah, I feel a bit mortified that you saw that but at the same time I’m happy because it means I’m getting better.”

He risked a glance at her. She looked at his face wistfully, the dog tags still dangling from her fingers. He was expecting a few questions on his condition or maybe she’d call bluff –

“Do you want me to help?”

It threw him off. Literally.

“Or not.” She gathered her bag and closet and stood up. “I’m sorry that was way out of the line. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

Wait a damn minute… Bucky’s heart was racing, and he was sure that his dick was so hard it’d cut through the cover.

“Wait!” He exclaimed, panicked. “Don’t leave.”

She froze. There were a million things he wanted to say. None could actually help with the immediate issue.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want it,” she whispered.

She was still back to him. The sudden distance between them felt like a torture. His mind still had warped up behind what she offered. All he could imagine was warmth, tightness and wetness. Wherever it came from he’d take it.

“Okay.”

She spun around quickly. “Okay?” She repeated surprised.

Bucky nodded frantically. He pushed the cover below his hips revealing his aching cock. He hissed at the lack of friction and from the cold air.

She stood there, mouth agape and all Bucky could think was how she looked like with his dick in her mouth. His erection twitched and he groaned.

“Ok, we are two consenting adults…” She pep talked herself. “I can do it. God he’s going to ruin me for any man.”

An ugly green-eyed beast roared in his chest.

“There would be no other man if you want me.”

She huffed in disbelief. “You don’t think that. You’d probably say that to anyone who’d promise to get you off.”

Bucky glared at her. “I wanted to ask you for a date before the other bitch triggered me.”

“Really?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I don’t call anyone “fresh brioche out of the oven”.”

She giggled. The movement made her boobs jiggle and Bucky lost track of his thoughts. Again. He waved his hand and motioned her to come closer. She surprisingly obeyed. He sat upright on the bed and untied slowly caressed her curves. He reached for the bottom of her dress and slowly took it off. She raised her arms and let the silky material drop on the floor.

Bucky liked his lips. He could come from the sight alone.

“Come here,” he ordered, with a deep voice.

She climb on the bed and sat on his naked lap.

Bucky moaned. Jesus it was getting too much already. Her hot cunt was pressing hard on him. He snaked a hand between their bodies and gasped when he met her naked wetness. Her panties had a hole. Big enough for him to fuck her without discarding them. Bucky’s toes clenched and his balls tightened.

“Relax, Sergeant.”

He came. Hard. His vision whitened and his breath grew shallower. He basked into this bliss and went limp.

“That was…woah.” She whispered amazed.

Bucky smiled softly, hands back on her hips. He pushed back onto her looking for any friction.

“Are you not overstimula—”

She moaned when Bucky rubbed her clit with the tip of his dick. He caressed her body making sure to capture each of her moans and gasps and pleads for more.

Her bras were soon off. She sighed deeply and it could have made Bucky jealous if it wasn’t for the sight. Her breast sagged down to their normal position.

“Jesus…” He let out in reverence.

He leaned forward and took one nipple in his mouth. He tried to fit the entire areole and moaned. He latched onto his newfound desire and didn’t let go until the nipple was sensitive. He released her nipple in a wet pop and gave the same treatment to the other.

Her hands went straight to his hair and she gripped and scratched his scalp. Bucky bit harsher un nipple. The reaction was immediate. She grinded, looking for more. Her hand went between them and she spread lips farther. Bucky buckled up as wetness spread onto his shaft.

He needed…he wanted…

He flopped back. “I need more…I need…”

She leaned on his chest and oh God did it feel good.

“Condom?” She asked out of breath.

Bucky shook his head. He felt his eyes tear up. Why…oh why…

“Please…” He begged. He cupped her face and pressed their forehead together. “Please…maybe just the tip?” He hated how tiny he voice sounded.

“Just the tip?” She repeated amused. She must have noticed his confusion because she explained. “It’s interesting to see that men even from last century give the same excuse in order to have sex.”

He sniffed and blushed.

“It’s okay, Sergeant. I got you.”

Buck felt more than he saw nimble fingers grab his dick. The tip of his dick bumped onto something wet and warm. Bucky shut his eyes, tightening his grip on her hips.

“Take a deep breath for me,” she ordered him.

Somewhere in his mind he found that ironic. He should have been the one to tell h—

His tip passed through a tight ring before sliding smoothly an unbearable warmth. Gosh…his eyes rolled into their socket and moaned her name.

“So big…” She moaned back.

He bit back his answers and thrusted experimentally. He slid a further into her.

“So fucking big…”

“All for you,” he groaned.

Everything clicked in Bucky’s mind and his instinct took over. He rolled them over swiftly and bent her knees on her chest. She barely got the time to react that he was thrusting faster, barely changing his pace. He went hard and deep, lost in the feeling of her around him, how she squeezed him perfectly and how her pussy sounded when he entered her. She gripped her legs harder, pulling them closer to her and started sobbing as he kept his quick pace and pushed deeper if that was even possible. Bucky didn’t dare look where they were joined, or he’ll come quick.

As he watched his dog tags juggle between her breasts, something dark and twisted snapped in him. His metal hand went to her throat, barely choking her. Instead of fighting him…Bucky felt her walls spasmed around him. He tightened his grip.

“Yes! Please…Sergeant…choke me…” She babbled. She raised her head and look down and moaned loudly. “Fuck…so big…so deep.”

Bucky slowed down and rolled his hips against hers. She hissed every time thrusted back in and stared straight into his eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked darkly.

She didn’t waste no time to answer. “Sergeant…James…Buchannan…Barnes,” she screamed as picked up the pace and pounded into her. Her body was now so loose and pliant. His cock fit perfectly.

Tears started running down her face as she gasped his name. Bucky almost roared. He leaned forward, not slowing down one second and kissed her. It was all teeth, and tongue. She let him ravage her mouth and pussy with no restraints. In return he swallowed each of her pleas like it was his to take.

An unfamiliar yet familiar sensation sneaked up on him. His balls tightened and his mind already started drifting.

He groaned in her ears. “I’m going to come…” His tone turned plaintive. “Please let me come in you.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She screamed. She gazed at him with wonder. Her eyes were unfocused, dried tears covered her face and she was covered in sweat and drool. Bucky squashed down his ill-times concern and chased his own climax.

It felt nothing like the first time earlier. It was like a sucker punch. But pleasurable. His breath hitched and his stomach clenched. Actually, his entire body seized under the pleasure. He kept thrusting until she came which didn’t take much time. As soon as the first spurt of his sperm coated walls, it triggered her own climax. Her walls spasmed around his dick and she cried his name.

Lick a puppet whose strings had been cut he fell on her, caging her with his arms. He rolled his hips as he kept coming.

“S’ good,” she muttered in his embrace.

“Never let you go,” he replied. “Mine.”

“Yours,” she replied half asleep.

The following weeks went in a blur. Bucky and his girlfriend. It felt so weird to think about it like that. They barely knew each other, but in his mind, she had always been his doll’. His girlfriend and he had gone to a few dates, with the certitude that now the sex off the table they’d be able to learn to know each other.

Well. At least they tried.

Date 1: The night ended with Bucky being sucked off in his car.

Date 2: Bucky was railing her from the back in the communal room.

Date 3: He had gone to a mission which hadn’t stopped her from sending a few videos. He nearly got kidnapped because of it.

Date 4: 69 became his favorite number.

Date 5 and 6: He lost a bet and had to suffer through two day of cockwarming. After his first fail, she had been forced to use a cockring. Let’s just say, he never took bets with her.

Date 7: Restraints. Wakanda’s best metal to hold him down.

Date 8 (the last): Voyeurism. She sucked him off while everyone was watching a movie in the communal room. He certainly had never come that quick.

After being almost being caught by Tony – of all the people – they slowed down their sexcapades and really tried to stay platonic. Emphasis on ‘tried’.

They only lasted a week.

End

#bucky barnes × black!reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky x poc!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader

[serena-hart-09]

A Story’s Analyzation Chapter 2 : A New Morning, for Old Evenings...

It seems I completely forgot to add notes (and one more tag) to the last chapter.... *slowly runs away embarrassed* Please excuse me of my mistakes, this is my very first work..... And yes, I don’t have an editor. All the typing and editing is done by me..... so expect some (maybe a lot of mistakes) in my works. As it is, I am posting all the other chapters from ao3 and finally post the new chapter by tomorrow..... I hope you enjoy this chapter! Have a great day ahead! (P.s. I would really like some fic writing advices/suggestions!)

*****************************************

“What is this a set for a horror film?” Mc says looking at the mansion in front of them. It was a big mansion but it felt cold, creepy and too much eerie. “Mc, this the House of Lamentation.” Satan says while looking at them with curiosity. Mc lets out a small “oh”.  Mc looks at Lucifer and asks him, “Hey, what about my stuff? You know like clothes, etc. etc.?”

“They are already transported in your room.” He replies as he unlocks the door.

“Eh? Really?”

“Yes.”

After entering all the other brothers except Lucifer and Mammon retreat back to their rooms. “We’ll meet each other tomorrow, sweetie!” Asmodeus looks at them with the same sparkling eyes from before. “Yes, we will if you stop trying to get in my pants for a damn second.” They say uninterested not even looking at him. “My how cold!” he continues with very concerning face as if saying ‘Challenge Accepted’. He gives them a flying kiss before finally going back in his room.

“Be very careful with that one, human.” Mammon says while looking at them seriously. Mc looks at with shock, “Aww, it seems u care for me!”

“Wha- I don’t!”

“You do!”

“Shut up, you crazy human!”

Lucifer coughs loudly to get our attention, “We shall now show your room, come follow me.”

“Alright!” They say with a cute face. Lucifer looks at Mammon who is blushing and mumbling how cute were right now.

********

“This is your room.” Lucifer looks at them with a smile who is ignored by the said human who is excited as a child on Christmas. “Woah! This is so cool!”

Lucifer doesn’t know if to feel offended or to smile at their cute excitement. While being lost at his current confusion, Mc’s voice draws him back to reality, “Hey, is there anything else I need to know?”

“A-ah yes, your RAD uniform and other clothes are kept in the closet.” ‘Di-did I just stuttered?!’ Lucifer thinks to himself. “Tch” he looks at the wall of vines as if to will them on fire for this embarrassment. He then looks at Mammon who was behind him was trying his best not to laugh at his brother. Lucifer glares at him which makes Mammon feel as if he lost 100 years of his life. All while this is happening the human looks around the room. They finally look at the RAD uniform in the closet. “What in the hell is this, monstrosity of a cloth?”

“That is the uniform, stupid human.” Mammon looks at them snickering.

“If this is a uniform, why is it so……” Mc drifts off as they don’t have words to describe the uniform. “Seriously, whose design is this? Most importantly, who approved of it?”

“Stop complaining about the uniform. You will wear it even if you don’t like it.” Lucifer says with ‘oh scary and commanding voice’. Mc sighs, putting the uniform back in the closet. The look at them.

….

“Uh, guys?”

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you going back in your rooms? Because I am gonna change out these clothes.”

Both of them look at them with shock as if they remembered something very important, they forgot. Lucifer says nothing but a small goodnight. Mammon stutters out how it’s the human’s fault he forgot.

“They are quite cute!” Mc thinks aloud after finally searching for their clothes and changing into them. ‘Well let’s see what happens tomorrow……’ they think as finally slumber takes over them.

******

“Good morning…” Mc says finally coming down in the dinning room from their room and also from finally wearing the disaster of an outfit that is called as the uniform in this place.

“Good morning Mc, Darling!” Asmodeus calls them across the table. “Good morning and please leave me alone if you are still trying to get me on your bed, cause I’m not in the mood.” They say as they take their seat. “Well, good morning to you too, Mc” Satan speaks as he enters the room, they nod at him with a smile. “Good morning, Beel.” they say as the said man in eating his breakfast with a lot of speed. Beel too, nods at them as if say ‘yeah good morning’.

“Good morning, Mc.” Lucifer greets them across the table sitting on the chair like a king drinking his coffee, “the one thing I forgot to mention was that we take turns in the kitchen to cook for our daily meals. Now that you are also a resident of this house it’s only fair for you to take a turn as well.”

“Ah, yes I will.” They say with a tired smile.

“Hm? Did you not have a good sleep?” he looks at them.

“Do you want to hear me complain about the uniform, again?” Mc dead pans at him. Some small snickers and laughs could be heard from the residents sitting the room.

“…..No”

“Alright.”

Lucifer looks around the table as if something is missing, “brothers, where is Levi-”

Just then the door opened with a loud bang. ‘Seriously, they should stop entering dramatically with a bang. Does this family have drama in their veins instead of blood?’

“MAMMON!” the new male with indigo coloured-hair is angrily walking towards Mammon who is flustered. “Ah, here comes the tax collector” he says while trying to run. But before he could he the man is already at Mammon’s throat; he goes on about saying how he wanted his money back from Mammon so he could buy a figurine.

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed, what have you done now?” Lucifer asks pinching his nose bridge.

“Avatar of Greed?” Mc asks.

“Yes, Mammon’s the Avatar of Greed and the second eldest.” Satan fills the blank in Mc’s question.

“Second eldest?”

“Yes, we are seven brothers in total. Lucifer the eldest of us, Mammon the second eldest, the guy who is trying get his money from Mammon is Leviathan third eldest Avatar of Envy, me the fourth brother, Asmodeus the fifth brother and Beelzebub the sixth brother……” Satan says with a hushed voice while looking at them with a serious face.

“Wait, but you just said there are seven of you-”

“GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SCUM!” Leviathan….?..... screams at the top of his lungs. This makes Lucifer angry and lash at them “BOTH OF YOU BE QUIET! I’VE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES NOT TO FIGHT DURING MEALS. IF YOU CONTINUE THIS BEHAVIOUR, I’LL HANG BOTH OF YOU FROM THE CHANDELIER FOR REST OF THE WEEK!”  this seems to quieten down both of them and they sit down.

After a moment of silence……

“Aaaah! Lucifer a stranger! Why is a stranger here?!” Leviathan screams yet once again while pointing a finger at Mc. Lucifer holds his head in his hands as if contemplating his life decisions.

This time, Asmodeus decides to fill in Leviathan with the information and explain it to Leviathan in a very excitable tone even talking about how they did not got seduced by him and how ‘he will change that’. Leviathan looks at Mc as if looking at a tiger in a zoo for the first time and trying to ask ‘this one doesn’t bite right?’

After eating his breakfast, he goes back to his room it seems, while the others gather near the front door. Mc asks Mammon if Leviathan doesn’t go to RAD. “……He doesn’t like crowds.” Mammon answers as he looks at Leviathan’s room door with a frown.

********

“So, how was your rest of the first day here?” Diavolo asks with an excited tone and a giant smile. Currently Lucifer, Mc, Diavolo and his green-haired butler Barbatos who Diavolo finally introduced to Mc are sitting in the gazebo- like place in a garden between the RAD building and the Royal Palace.

“It was good. I am excited for the days to come.” They say as they sip the tea that Barbatos made. ‘I should probably ask him the name of the tea. It’s really nice.’ Regardless, of the first impression that Barbatos had it seemed that he was polite if not a little friendly with Mc.

“Great! Anyways, what do you in Human World Mc?” you can literally see the stars of excitement in his eyes, “Pardon my excitement, its just this is my first time talking to a human!”

Mc chuckles at this, “I don’t do much, I am scientist, I create some magical implements for the officers at the place I work at.”

“Oh? What is this place you work at?” Lucifer asks curious at the mention of magic.

“Was it not mentioned in my file? The student file, I mean.” they look at him with a question mark on their face.

“Ah, no. It wasn't there for some reason.”

“Lucifer that is dangerous you know. I mean what would happen if it wasn’t me but a mob boss or someone dangerous?” Mc tells Lucifer in a slight teasing tone.

“…..”

“But anyways, what place do you work in?” Diavolo with a bright voice trying to change the subject.

“Hmm….. Let’s say a police force or the Organization but instead of arresting those without magic they arrest the ones that misuse magic for their own good by destroying people’s life in the process. I help them by creating new useful implements and providing with said implements.” They finish as the bring the cup to their lips to drink their tea.

Diavolo looked like he was over the moon after hearing the new information. While Barbatos’s expression was unreadable. Lucifer was between curious and doubtful.

“I do write Novels under an alias as well.”

“Really?! What type of novel? What is your alias?”

Mc smiles at this, “That’s a secret!”

“Aww….”

“At what position do you stand in the Organization?” Barbatos asks with a knowing smile.

“Ah, one of the Founders.”

“Founder? You created the Organization?” Diavolo asked excitedly.

“Yes, with my friends to be exact. After graduation my friends and I used to work for another police force until we revolted and things went a little out of control. When things became normal, we created said police force or rather the Organization.”

“Why did you revolt?” Lucifer asks them with an unreadable expression.

“….. Many people died even some my family-like friends too………. that place….. abandoned us to die…..not only that the killed a lot their own officers……we didn’t want more people to die that’s why………” they answer with sad and longing voice.

“Mc…. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, no don’t be you just asked it out of curiosity.” They give him a small smile. He continues to look at them, at their eyes to find an answer if they were really alright. They too look at him with concern in their eyes.

“Ahem.”  Diavolo’s voice removes both of them from their trance. “I truly apologize if we resurfaced some not so good memories.” He gives them an apologetic smile.

After that, they talk about everything else to change the topic from the past.

Mc happily talks about their favourite cuisine form the human world, and promises The Fantastic Three, that they will make it for everyone to taste. They also talk about their favourite cake and pastries all while Lucifer looks at them with softness in his eyes. Diavolo of course notices this and smirks at Barbatos.

….

Barbatos can feel the literal excitement of his Young Master. He sighs internally knowing of what’s to come…

Just then a pair of new people enter in the room. One them speaks “Greetings Lord Diavolo, Barbatos and Lucifer.” While the other one is hiding behind him  

“Yes, Good Afternoon Simeon. Mc, this is Simeon one of the exchange students from the Celestial Realm.” Mc extends their hand, “I am Mc, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Simeon.”

“Likewise.” Simeon shakes hands with them and smiles.

“Ah, it has been while, Chihuahua.” Lucifer’s smug voice is heard

‘Chihuahua?’ they think themselves.

“I TOLD YOU SO MANY TIMES I’M NOT A CHIHUAHUA YOU DAMN DEMON!” a childlike voice screams at him as a new person comes in Mc’s view. ‘Wait, a child?’

“Ah, this is Luke the Chihuahua, Mc. He’s the other exchange student from the Celestial Realm.” Lucifer says with a smug expression.

Mc looks at Luke. Luke looks at Mc. Mc walks over to Lucifer-

“Do Not Insult My Child.”

…………

………

…….

…..

….

…

..

.

‘Seriously, did they lost all sense by bringing a cute harmless child in such a dangerous game?

….

*Sigh*

Well, this story is quite chaotic….. it seems none them even realize that the Organization’s name wasn’t even mentioned. Well, I shouldn’t complain after all it does gives me an advantage for cutting some slack……

…

Huh? Who are you?

…

Oh, I see its you.

Tell me of your day, how was it?

…. Hm? Confused, are we?

It’s alright, I know who you are……….

…………….

………….

………

…..

…

..

.

Reader~. hehehe’    

#shall we date obey me #obey me fic #obey me #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #book of observation series