#and he was looking me DEAD IN THE EYE with the most blank and bored stare while he was shitting

[mintaikk]

I love how everyone has that defining moment in their childhood when they first realized/saw that the opposite sex has different looking genitals. I never had that moment because no one in my preschool knew how to shut the God damn doors when pissing

[enkvyu]

12:45am — gojo satoru ;

“cute earrings, where’d you get them?” shoko asks.

“hm?” still clinging to sleep, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the metal dangling from your ear. the sharp indents of its gem pricks you back into a memory. “oh, these. i got them from a friend last week.”

“friend? or do you mean boyfriend?”

shoko’s words are throwaway, her wandering eyes and yawn a clear indication yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."

shoko hums, shifting her cigarette to the other end of her mouth. her gaze flickers somewhere behind you and you almost look too, when her words pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”

“my type?” your mind blanks. “i’ve probably never told you because i’ve never thought about it myself. i mean, being a jujutsu sorcerer and all, romance is kind of off the table.”

shoko keeps looking at you, pressing you without words. you grimace and sigh.

"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good looking? someone who’s not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they'd have to be smart, but not book-smart, like, street-smart." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humour, someone who will make me laugh.”

“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”

you giggle. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”

“you'll always have me.” shoko says, grinning.

you push her shoulder but don’t deny it.

yaga walks into the classroom, cutting your conversation short. you spin around in your seat to face the front, eyes accidentally meeting gojo’s. he turns around too, and you reason that he was probably looking out the window behind you. you see getou snicker and whisper something in his ear, but gojo seemed to be having none of it, blatantly ignoring him.

seeing his face makes you think. didn’t gojo kind of match your type? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and maybe not academic smart, but he definitely carried an air of confidence when it came to fighting. and it wasn't a secret that he lightened the air wherever he went, intentionally or not.

with a start, you look back at shoko. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”

“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” shoko chuckles. “are there any more?"

yaga slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.

your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and predictable missions. by the end of the day, you can't even remember what you had told shoko early that morning.

when you enter the classroom the next day, you’re surprised to find gojo already there, seated at his table. his sunglasses hangs lower on his nose than usual and most curiously of all, a book is held in his hands. you’re not sure if he’s actually reading or not considering that pages were being turned far too quickly for someone reading “ordinary objects” by amie thomasson.

his eyes flicker to yours as you head in. “good morning.”

“morning. what’s with you?”

gojo clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”

your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my potted plant, gojo i told you to take good care of it!”

“i am taking care of it! it’s not dead yet!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i am.”

you narrow your eyes before looking away, dropping into your seat. “it better be. shoko got me that one.”

“speaking of shoko, is she not coming today?”

“i think she stayed overnight at the morgue.”

“is that so? perhaps i should write notes for her. i wouldn’t want her to miss out on class.”

you turn to him horrified. “so you did kill my plant!”

“i said it’s not dead!” gojo bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i simply worry for her.”

you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong?”

“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"

“well you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”

gojo leans forward. “yes?”

“crazy.”

he falls back in his chair, groaning, book forgotten and placed harshly down on the table.

you tilt your head. “where's getou, you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”

gojo peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”

“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch gojo mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.

he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.

you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favourite anime had delayed it’s upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with getou, leading to this strange attitude.

the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to getou's usual behaviour.

“are you trying to be like getou?” you try.

gojo whirs around to face you. “what?”

“well, you’re trying to be composed.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”

gojo remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.

gojo speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.

“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”

he doesn’t register your question. “you think getou is well-mannered?”

“yeah?”

“and calm?”

you nod. “more than you, at least.”

“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”

the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”

“oh my god, you do.”

“no? i mean, i think getou’s great and everything—”

“you think getou’s great?”

“don’t you?”

“you think getou’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think getou’s great.”

"what are you even saying?"

"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"

baffled, you flail for words. “are you jealous of him? that's strange, i didn’t think either of you would ever feel jealous of each other.”

gojo grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “me neither.”

the door to the classroom is thrown open and getou steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and gojo as you both watch him enter.

“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.

“nothing!”

“nothing.” gojo says and glares at him.

getou blinks.

“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”

“gojo’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”

“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. gojo, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”

"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."

"so i did do something. you're so predictable, gojo."

you snicker as gojo huffs and glances away, looking away out the window behind your head. his train of sight cuts right past you but you can’t help but feel slightly flustered as he looks on, almost like he was looking at you, so determined to ignore getou’s pestering.

subconsciously, you drown getou out too, your traitorous mind observing the blue in gojo’s eyes. you had always thought it was just one colour, but looking at it now, it seemed more like a kaleidoscope of blues, the many shades sparkling and dimming as he watched birds flutter outside the window, and you watched their shadows through his eyes.

something shifts, in the air or in the skies you don't know, and gojo meets your eye. startled, you hold the gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.

you look away hastily and inhale.

gojo glances to the front, oddly fidgety.

getou looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”

“nothing.” gojo says.

getou clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one either. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was and your realisation is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.

gojo clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”

at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns as you don't give him any other reaction.

yaga saves you from addressing his statement, walking into the room as the bell for class rang. "oh? you're all early, even you gojo. where's shoko?"

“she’s staying at the morgue because of the recent mission.”

“i see.” yaga nods. “then let’s start.”

your mind fails to work as you turn over gojo’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?

slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with gojo and the talk you had with shoko yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.

did that mean…?

someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked getou?

you watch gojo’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.

seconds tick past. yaga’s voice drawls on and yet gojo doesn't even spare you a glance.

no, maybe you were wrong after all.

just as you were about to face yaga again, gojo’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.

oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.

gojo has a crush on getou.

filler imagine based off of that One scene from the manga: "megane tokidoki yankee kun"

[bandgie]

On Your Knees

ONE | TWO

incel!Seungmin x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)

2.7k words

The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.

You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever. 

"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."

Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you. 

Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't not like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking. 

"Never eaten pussy."

"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"

Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."

"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort. 

The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."

"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange. 

To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking. 

"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."

It's worse than you could have imagined. 

The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man. 

"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"

Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."

Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."

The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer. 

"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."

Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.

A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.

"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice. 

"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today." 

This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."

If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave. 

But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."

Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him. 

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."

You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.

"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?" 

You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.

His Adam apple bobs.

"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."

For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.

"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining." 

His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against. 

You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.

Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine. 

"Shut up," he mumbles. 

You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.

"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?" 

Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.

It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt. 

The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it. 

Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"

Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.

"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.

You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."

Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.

Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.

His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"

Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue. 

To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-

"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."

And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?

Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face. 

It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.

"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"

Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him. 

Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head. 

You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."

He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively. 

Fuck, you taste even better inside. 

Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.

You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.

"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground. 

He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.

Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"

a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!

[mostlymihawk]

First Smile!

Buggy, Mihawk, Koby, and Shanks x GN reader

Prompt: The first time you make them smile.

CW: None

Buggy:

You hear puns on the word 'shit' all day long.

"Shit-tastic", "shidiots" "supershit", you've heard them all, and they're almost not even funny anymore.

(To Buggy's absolute dismay; getting you to laugh was the highlight of his day.)

Truth be told, it wasn't even the way you so casually said "Thanks to that little shit-bit of information you assured us was worth looking into, we've been sailing around for nothing!"

It was the way your face screwed up right after when you realized what you'd said.

He's laughing for a solid five minutes after.

"Ahh, that was good...What? Oh, just kill him. I've got better things to do than go on another wild shit chase."

Mihawk:

How to piss off the world's greatest swordsman in one easy step:

Kidnap the person he drags around for amusement.

Life is boring without you, therefore Mihawk is going to rescue you, no matter what.

You'd been an angry mess when Mihawk had first picked you up, but now, with a literal knife at your throat, your face is completely blank.

You know exactly how this is going to end, why bother pretending to be afraid when you know you're in absolutely no danger?

"Now, either you promise to back off, or-"

You yawn, and you only realize the script has changed when you feel more than see your kidnapper's head snap over to look at you.

"...Sorry. It's been a long day," you excuse.

Mihawk can't help it; he grins at you.

"How do you feel about marriage?"

Coby:

It's the compassion that gets him more than anything.

Having been captive on a pirate ship dreaming of being a marine, he does tend to have a "Criminals: bad. Marines: good." mentality.

You're a thief, sentenced to a few days' prison only, but you're on That side of the bars and he's on This side of the bars.

So it comes as a complete surprise to him when he's relieved of duty and he hears you say, "Have a safe trip home."

He can't find any deception in your eyes; you actually want your captor, your jailor, to make it home safe.

You explain that it's just common decency, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and he's completely, helplessly touched.

He smiles at you.

"My...my name is Coby. Look...look me up when you get out."

Shanks:

Shanks is having a remarkably bad day.

Dead civilian in a brawl, another mistake he can't take back.

It's frightening how used to it he's become.

He looks up with a confused frown when you come in, plunk a glass down on his table, and start filling it with booze.

"...How'd you get in the hold? Alcohol is forbidden without my express permission."

You make up the pathetic excuse that because the captain's morale was suffering and the entire ship's morale would suffer because of it, you taking the alcohol was for the betterment of the ship and its crew and therefore didn't need the captain's permission.

He can't help it: he smiles.

[angelsdxmise]

ORPHIC

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 when Bakugou is paired with a girl that’s not spared a glance for a project, he wants to explode. Why does his mind keep going blank when he looks at you then?

Contains: g/n reader, profanity, midoriya trying to be ur friend 😭. if I forgot anything, tell me please ❤️

a/n: oml 2.3k words. doesn’t seem like much but this is actually my longest fic and im debating a pt 2.. btw, send requests please! 💕

PART TWO

Monotone. Dead. Bored. Creepy?

When Bakugou thought of you, he thought these four words exactly. Unable to even recall the last time you smiled, laughed, or even spoke really. 

Not like he found any interest in you. He didn’t think of you on the daily, which is why he let out a groan at the announcement from Aizawa, saying you two would be paired for a research project on each other's quirks.

Which means you two are required to talk. Adding onto that, today was the only day you could work in class since there was no time or reason to put project hours into valuable class time.

“You have 10 minutes before the next bell. Go meet up with your partners, and no, I am not switching anyone.” Aizawa grumbled in his constantly tired state, slumping down in his sleeping bag and knocking himself out.

Bakugou huffed as he spotted Kirishima and Kaminari throwing a thumbs-up his way, smiling and winking at him. He was already thinking of how to kill them but set it aside as he made his way over to you.

Uninterested is an understatement. All you did was stare at your notebook with your head resting on your palm. Occasional sighs came out if anyone was lucky that day.

Bakugou took the seat in front of you and faced you in his chair. “L/n, are you dead or something?” Fury built up inside of his head as you didn’t even spare him a glance.

He slammed his palm against the desk, and you flinched at the sound, finally looking straight at him. Of course, it filled his ego in the slightest when he scared someone. “Meet me at my dorm at 5:30. Don’t be late, extra. I’ll tell Aizawa you’re slacking if you even dare giving me extra crap.” He grunted. 

“Ehh.. mkay.. I guess.” You muttered. Your eyes turned away from him and looked out the window as if you just wanted to get this over with. It wasn’t necessary to look at Bakugou anyway, you could feel the wrath coming from him. Did I just make him more mad?.. What did I say? You pondered as you avoided his hellish and terrifying gaze to say the least.

Bakugou scoffed before he could get to screaming at you for no reason. He stood with his hands in his ridiculously baggy pants and sulked away as you sighed and thanked your guardian angel.

Unfortunately, 5 came faster than you had thought. You wanted to cry as you put your face in your pillows, really not wanting to deal with someone like him.

He was unfit for you. You distanced yourself from everyone for a reason, there’s too much noise, unnecessary excitement, and a waste of your time. These were the things you thought to justify your actions.

The truth was, you wouldn’t be lonely if you chose to. The most insistent ones were Mina and Hagakure, a friendship that you believed the devil brewed up in hell just so they could annoy the absolute shit out of you.

They did seem truly disappointed when you continuously declined their advances.

I guess I do feel a little bad..

The clock hit 5:24, and you groaned as you sat up in bed to grab your laptop and notebook, stuffing it in your bag. You let out a strained sigh and made your way to his dormitory.

You hesitantly raised your fist up to the door, quickly knocking and awaiting a response.

Is he not here? you stared at the door, a bored expression on your face although you wanted to rip all your hair out at what was lying on the other side.

 

“Door’s open.” A raspy voice came from within. The handle turned and you were met with Bakugou and his materials to get the project done sprawled out on the bed. You felt like a lost puppy.

“Are you gonna stand there or work on this?”

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you took skittish steps toward his bed. You carefully moved a few things out of the way and put your back against the wall, and took your laptop and notebook out. You nearly died when you forgot your pencil and came to the conclusion that you’d have to ask for one.

It’s just a pencil.. I’m fine, right? Oh god.. I’m gonna jump out the window. You sprawled deeper into your demise. A voice snaps you out of it and you realize sweat is forming on your hairline. “I already added you to the slides. You’ll do the bottom half and I’ll do the first including the introduction. Got it, extra?” 

“Sure..” You gulped, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t get mad at you for just a silly pencil, right? Surely that’s ridiculous.

“By the way, do you have an extra pencil? I kinda forgot mine just cause—” You felt something hit you right in the forehead, thankfully on the eraser side. “Are you kidding? Can’t even bring a pencil. I’m failing this for sure.” He growled, a hint of malice in his tone as he glared at you.

“It’s just a pencil.. relax.” You shot back at him.

“Don’t tell mE TO RELAX!!” 

“Oh my god, you’re turning red from how angry you are.” You snickered. Why are you entertaining this? “I know practically enough about your quirk, so I’m clear for my slides. No help needed.”

“Hah? How? I’ve never spoken to you a day in my life.” He asked. A bead of sweat glided across your cheek as that was one of the worst questions he could’ve asked.

What actually happened was that you had asked Midoriya for his notes on Bakugou. Truthfully, you thought you had said, “Hey Midoriya, can I see your notes on Bakugou?” but you assumed that Midoriya must have thought you were going to stab him to death if he didn’t give you what you wanted, due to how monotone and serious your tone and voice was.

You debated between saying Midoriya or no reason at all. If you went with the second option, he would probably think you're a stalker. You cared about your reputation even if you didn’t have many people around.. which made people assume things about you without anyone telling them what was true or not.

“Don’t get mad because I know he’s your absolute nemesis. Midoriya gave me his notes on your quirk and how it works.” You muttered out, a little stammer in your voice as you realized Bakugou was giving you an, “I’m going to kill you and that damn nerd” look. 

Your eyes wandered away from his as he tried to keep his cool when he realized he was staring a little and observing you.

You did have emotions and weren’t a robot. In fact, you were kind of charming. You were expressive when you spoke to someone too. He blinked out of his trance when he saw you take your notebook and open it to underline the most important details about his quirk. 

“Are you gonna explain your quirk to me or not?” He growled, trying to forget the fact he was just crushing on you for a moment.

You fought back a dramatic sigh “Right..”

You stretched your back and cracked your knuckles as you came to a realization.

What time even is it?

You look down to the corner of the screen. 7:42 PM. Good enough. I’m not surprised we haven’t talked for 2 hours despite the fact we’re sitting next to each other.. You close your laptop and it seems to bring Bakugou’s attention to yourself. 

“What’re you doing? There’s still more work to be done, extra!” He hissed, a deadly look sent your way. “I’m.. leaving? We’ve been at work for over 2 hours straight.” 

“And?” Bakugou toned down a little suddenly. Wait, why the hell am I trying to get this random to stay? He thought.

“And I just so happen to have the desire to leave, so bye.” She quickly got up and closed the door while leaving before he could protest further. 

A sigh of relief left your lips upon being free from his room. God, talk about being nervous. You walked back to your room, set your bag aside, and flopped face-first on your bed. 

You rolled over and could feel sleep creeping upon you, and you accepted it although you realized you hadn’t changed into your pajamas. Oh well, tomorrow was the weekend anyway.

The sun rose and you could hear the birds singing a familiar tune, as they did every morning. Light peeked through your drapes as you let out a tired groan. You could hear the chatter of your classmates downstairs. A yawn left your lips as you sat up to stretch your back.

Deciding between passing out again or showering and starting your somewhat lazy day, you choose to freshen up and wear pajamas for your day. You wanted to finish the project quickly so you could have the rest of the day to not worry about due dates or grades, so you decided to tinkle your slides a bit on your own time.

You also worried about Bakugou’s aggression and malice while drying your hair some more. “Wonder who put a stick up his ass.” You chuckled to yourself as you applied your skincare.

Your classmates didn’t seem to spare you much of a glance when you walked into the kitchen, as per usual. You did want it this way, right? Even if it hurts you a little when you realize they were spending time together. Even if it hurts when you realize they made breakfast for everyone.

Bakugou, Asui, and Koda weren’t downstairs but you had seen leftovers for them on the counter with their names on it.

You did not find yours, and when you realized a bit of embarrassment dared to show on your face. As you were sulking off to spend your day in your dorm, bored, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“L/n?” 

You turned around and were met with Midoriya's face as he held a plate of food. Wonder what he needs me for. “Yeah..?”

“I saw when you were coming down since you came a little after I did, and the class left me some of the food but I wasn’t really hungry and didn’t see any out for you so.. are you uh.. hungry perhaps?” Midoriya stammered out with a small smile. You had the tiniest smile on your face. 

“Sure I am. Thank you.” You chimed. You never would’ve thought Midoriya was paying attention. But, that’s what he did right? He paid attention to every little detail. What you and Midoriya had both failed to notice was when Bakugou came down to get food and was staring directly at you from where he stood with his friends.

He felt a hint of jealousy at the sight of Midoriya being able to get you to smile. A small hint of regret at not coming down earlier and being the one to offer food. But, Bakugou doesn’t do that nice crap. It’s a waste of time.. right? So…

Why did he start to get a desperate desire and drive to make you smile like that at him? To show any sort of emotion? And why is it that he wanted the specific emotion to be happiness?

Walls of anger dissipated when he looked at you. He was staring. Again. Have you always been this enchanting? You made him question his thoughts. No way he was falling for some extra who barely even had emotions.

He didn’t know if you were opposites or similar in some ways. 

He snapped out of his trance once again, attempting to focus on the conversation his friends were practically begging for him to join. You started walking away a little while after having a little chat with Midoriya. 

And boy, did he look really happy after he spoke to you. Bakugou has never felt more.. irritated. Midoriya was getting another thing that he wants. Another accomplishment and doing something Bakugou can’t dream of doing.

God, what was he saying? Why was his mind so hyper-focused on you?

Little did he know, you’d been sweating because you could feel his eyes practically burning your flesh away. You had to admit to yourself, you were growing to enjoy Midoriya's presence after that meeting.

He sighed and dismissed his friends as they groaned and Sero barked out a “Did you really think he cared?” as he left for his room.

Finally, upon his arrival, he closed the door behind him and sat on his bed, lost in his thoughts. He thought of how you would be in fact, meeting later today. A growl left him as he denied his emotions. Of course, he could never care for some extra who just so happens to be attractive and in the same class and just so happens to be similar to him in a way.

Of course not. A waste of time is all it is. He doesn’t have time for you. 

Right?

7/4/24 ~ Thank you for reading, please consider reblogging/liking/following, or if you want a pt. 2. 🫶🏽

[kimetsu-chan]

~can’t sleep headcanons~

A/N: I’ve been sleeping crappy the past three nights and tn I extra doubly can’t sleep, so ofc I’m writing this at 4 am 🤩 (I apologize in advance for any mistakes made—)

Characters: Akutagawa, Fyodor, Dazai, Ranpo

TWs ⚠️ reader cries, bc I cried(Fyodor, Dazai), Nicknames (Myshka)(Fyodor) (Belladonna, Donna)(Dazai), GN!Reader

Man, being tired is rough—

Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

Akutagawa most likely wouldn’t notice right away

whether that be because he is asleep, out of the house, or just busy in general

but he would come home one day to you laying face down on your shared bed, spread out like a star fish

he’d raise an eyebrow at you before checking if you were awake

once he confirmed that you were, he would question why you were up so late

and in your tired state, you would unintentionally retort back with unusual hostility in your tone

“[Name], why is it that you are awake at two in the morning.”

“Why are you just coming home from work at two in the morning.”

His mouth would instantly shut, not used to your annoyance

you would almost immediately apologize with a distraught expression on your face and he would immediately understand

seeing the reason for your stress, he quickly dismissed your earlier words

he would be quick in showering himself before slipping into bed with you and wrapping his arms around you

he didn’t really like physically affection often, he had a tough guy facade to hold up. But he guessed he could make an exception for you

Fyodor Dostoevsky

This man doesn’t sleep much either, so he doesn’t bother scolding you for it

he is likely the only one to actually be helpful about it

he would be working away at his desk in your guys’ room, and he would hear the rustling of sheets behind him

he would turn in his chair to look back at you with a blank expression

Fyodor had heard your struggles to sleep during previous nights, but tonight, you finally seemed to have had enough

he got up when he heard you angrily adjust your pillow, and made his way to the bedside before crouching down beside you

he saw the angry expression you bore on your face and blew on your face to wake you up

your teary eyes opened to glare at him and he realized just how frustrated you were

he reached out to wipe those tears before they could fall as he spoke in a quiet voice

”Now, now, Myshka, what’s with the tears?”

“‘m s’tired… but I can’t sleep no matter how hard I try-!”

Fyodor would hum in understanding, you were just exhausted

he stood back up all the way and figured he had some time to spare

he pulled you up and made his way to the kitchen with you tiredly clinging to his arm

”Let’s have a glass of milk, that should help.”

Dazai Osamu

He’s probably dead asleep beside you, and therefore won’t be of much help

there is also a good chance that he is the reason for your lack of sleep

this man will be sprawled all over you. And I mean all over you

he would have one leg thrown over yours, he would have his arm(s) wrapped around you in some way

he just has to be touching you

he also moves around a lot

which you normally don’t mind, but adding that to already not being able to sleep, geez you were frustrated

dont get me wrong, he is perfectly capable of being still and to himself in his sleep

he just doesn’t want to-

he can’t help wanting to be in constant contact with his precious Belladonna all night

but when you nudge him awake with tears ready to fall from your eyes, he instantly throws his wants out the window

he’d frown and wipe your tears away before asking what was wrong

“Oh ‘Donna— why are you crying?”

“I can’t- sleep, and you’re movin’ around s’much and it’s not helping..”

You didn’t mean to make it sound like it was his fault (even though it kinda was-)

but I’m your exhausted state, you couldn’t control it

instantly filled him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead

“I’m sorry ‘Donna… I’ll be still, I promise”

Ranpo Edogawa

Just like Dazai, he is likely the reason you cannot sleep in the first place

I headcanon that he is also a super restless sleeper in the sense that he moves a whole bunch

and maybe even kicks

so imagine you’re tired, and almost falling off the bed because he is taking all the space

deciding that you had enough, you grabbed your pillow and a spare blanket and trudged over towards the couch before plopping your tired self right down on it

you closed your eyes with a huff when you tucked yourself in, and began to drift off when you felt a weight on you

you opened your eyes to see Ranpo looking down at you

there was concern in his eyes, despite the unserious-ness of his statement

”[Name]? Why’d you leave? The world’s best detective needs his cuddle buddy.”

You quickly explained the reason of his absence and he nodded

you waited for a few seconds for him to leave, but he just stayed on top of you and made himself comfortable

“I guess I’ll just sleep on top of you then!”

His weight was actually kinda nice, and he was making an effort to be as still as possible

you eventually were pulled to sleep with the sound of your lover’s soft breathing in your ears

A/N: these were fun to write 🥰

but they took an hour—

n e ways

it is now almost five in the morning so I might as well just be up for the rest of the day 😃

Reblogs with tags are appreciated!

[barbika1508]

A dead man, a criminal. Prisoner. Murderer.

Word Count: 14,1k

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F! Reader

Genre: Action, Romance, Smut

Summary: Your typical-ish ‘breaking Sebastian out of Azkaban’ fic with a bit of angst sprinkled in, but also porn with some plot to put a cheery on top.

Authors Note: Use of MC. I’m sure there are mistake but oh well, otherwise please enjoy my twist on a classic Sebastian Sallow fic. I say classic as it feels like one to me.

Steady breaths. Steady breaths. Steady. Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.

‘’It's rather odd.’’ a pause follows ‘’They usually send tougher blokes for these things. No offence.’’

I don't bother turning to the guard and his comment, feeling his eyes run up and down my body, the extra layers I've put on doing their job making me look more robust. Even with the Polyjuice potion I’ve drank, resembling a man of a smaller stature with added weight to look as non-threatening as I can, having chosen a muggle I’ve passed two months ago selling newspapers in London.

''None taken.’’ I offer a fake smile snorting, keeping up the acting letting my eyes shift around, the lack of my wand only slightly concerning the guard the only one armed between the two of us ‘’Happens a lot.’’ I grumble coughing as the muggle is a smoker it reflecting in my breathing as it’s becoming heavier the more we walk. My body is aching for rest.

‘’I can imagine.’’ he shrugs, not seeing the glare I send him, being offended in the nameless muggle’s name instead. I flinch as someone suddenly screams at the top of their lungs, the voice carrying around the hall, the cell doors after all wooden with small windows carved in them, bared by metal bars not leaving them open.

The shout is coming from a criminal and yet they are still made of flesh and blood like I am. It sends a nasty chill to run down my spine. It's going to follow me I already know it.

Incredulous as I was before - silently of course - I observe the guard who is completely unphased. He unlocks metal barred doors with a regular key, not using any magic letting us pass into the third section of the prison. The further in we are making it into Azkaban the worse the conditions are. Shouts, screams of pain, manic laughter are the few sounds that have been accompanying me since setting foot on this gods forsaken island.

Taking the moment as the auror wrestles with a new key, I look around the surprisingly lit corridor. With torches on the walls providing light, we’ve reached a section where there’s lack of natural lighting. So, following along the spaciousness my gaze takes me upwards.

Something I was warned against. Of course, curiosity killed the cat after all.

I sallow uneasy at the sight of what seem hundreds if not thousands of dementors swirl near the ceilings, their attention set onto us. Even with good distance between them and us, their mere presence is shattering. Ugly creatures. I feel my own will beginning to falter, bad memories itching to surface to the front of my mind. It’s hard to resist and has me putting in great effort and a deal of concentration to keep my thoughts blank.

‘’They must be sensing you.’’ the guard comments, his voice sounding unnatural in the once more quiet space. Glancing at him with a raised eyebrow he nods stopping to stand next to me ‘’You are faring a lot better than most blokes that come through. I’ll give ya that.’’

‘’In what sense?’’ I manage out following him, his words leaving me uneasy. But not rattled.

‘’Ahh even the biggest of the meatheads that do their bosses biding retrieving poor saps…’’ he glances back at me to which I nod furrowing my brows ‘’...tend to lose it for a few moments on different sections. Fear is a powerful thing.’’

Narrowing my eyes his words hold something deep to them. I’m getting his hint. Other than that, the man besides looking rather bored at times is quite unreadable I’m certain this place leaving effect on him as well. Keeping my observances to myself I trail along as I have been from the beginning, trying my best to ignore this body’s strain which I am putting it through.

‘’It can make you do bizarre things.’’ I say under my breath playing the character I envisioned for the man I am portraying.

The guard hums taking a turn to the right hands back on another keychain containing a few bizarre, shaped keys. Unique to the cells.

‘’It is your lucky day number 18031.’’ he speaks up unlocking the door ‘’Or unlucky given your future is still rather grim. From what I can deduct.’’ he looks back at me giving me a once over once more, along with an unnecessarily creepy and cruel smirk that I have to force out too to fool this lunatic.

The guard per instruction from before makes his way into the cell chatting happily with the prisoner leaving me alone outside. The warmth from the many torches is non-existent, a dangerous type of chill that rattles my bones begins to settle. Once more glancing up the dementors are itching closer in what I can describe is interest.

Cocking my head, I try not to focus on them too closely, clearing my mind of distractions, trying to stop jittering or the need to clack my teeth together. I’m already feeling like life is pointless, the weight of the world set on my shoulders once more. But that is the extent of it, the thrumming in my blood keeping me collected.

The lullaby I call it of my ancient magic is a soothing whisper in my ears.

‘’Ah there we go.’’ comes the guards voice pushing out the man not roughly but enough to get him moving. It takes everything in me from not reaching out watching as the bearded youngster catches himself from falling, his hands chained.

‘’Are the chains necessary?’’ I ask frowning, looking at the guard as he smiles locking the door.

‘’Moreso for you than us Mr. Blane.’’ his reply is of amusement ‘’He is a criminal, but I’m sure you’ve heard that from your boss already.’’

‘’A wandless one.’’ I raise an eyebrow checking the young man over, seeing his hunched form. He’s hiding his face behind long brown hair, the stripped ‘uniform’ he’s forced to wear too big on his form, full of tears. Barefoot he looks like he hasn’t bathed in forever.

‘’You’ve not seen a man brought to their knees by despair yet, have ya?’’ the guard chats as if we’re talking about the weather leaving the prison doors open turning towards the same way where we came from. I subconsciously fall in step with the prisoner giving the prisoner a few seconds of time, watching, and waiting for him to take the first step which he does.

‘’I have.’’ I admit the last 10 years not exactly easy.

‘’Different kind of despair then.’’ the guard hums beginning to unlock the doors ‘’Not to give any ideas but think of basic instincts Mr. Blane. Primal.’’ again the creepy smile is back, the guard’s eyes portraying cruelty he I’m sure has gotten scarily good at hiding. His change in mood is due to something he saw in me, I’m sure. A mannerism I did or an answer that made him switch from apparent boredom to genuine emotions. Which isn't reassuring.

I return the grin trying my hardest not to gag, the emotions swirling in my belly strong.

‘’Hmmm. Thank you for the lesson. I’ll keep that in mind for future encounters.’’

If I was in my own skin, I’d be jumping out of it. The cruelty of the situation the darkness, this prison the capital of corruption and soullessness, insanity sounding blissful even.

Even if the people here are the worst of the worst of wizard kind it’s all too inhumane. As we begin trekking forward with the guard whistling a song, I follow behind the two. The prisoner not having uttered a word, his whole-body showing defeat as he drags his legs, shoulders that are wide and filled slouched. Taller than me for a whole head.

Satisfaction brought the cat back.

The thought crosses my mind my gaze taking me upwards again, to the new dementors who are hovering above us as we make way. Unsettling. Anyone would be unsettled with dark creatures doing so.

I’m no different.

Curiosity after all is not always worth it. Satisfaction even less. So, I redirect the impulsive thought of releasing some magic out to the corner of my mind, the dementors still presenting mystery to this day. In that regards we are similar. Because even though they present fear that has spread to every witch and wizard, here I stand walking beneath them still confident and reassured even wandless they wouldn’t harm me unlike my wizard kin.

My magic is telling me much.

Reaching the last doors takes us a while, our trek unhurried but briefed before we entered the first corridor. I have a hate/love relationship with patience. And the closer we are to the exit the carriage with which I’ve arrived in my sight the more my magic buzzes along with my excitement which I’m desperately trying to keep at bay.

The guard that accompanied me goes to talk to his buddy that’s keeping post at the entrance, the man looking even more uninterested sending us a brief glance only once as he signs scrolls, transfiguring a stone table from a rock nearby.

Glancing at the prisoner he’s still motionless standing next to me like a statue. His hair has grown long, past his shoulders, beard also overgrown. His skin like I mentioned is covered in dirt and grime some clear spots revealing faded freckles. Hmm.

‘’Alright Mr. Blane.’’ the guard cheers still in a jolly mood trotting over to me, presenting the scroll wide and open ‘’The paperwork and the prisoner as promised are all delivered in one piece.’’ and back comes the unsettling grin. The man is too proud of himself and his wrong doings.

‘’Ah that’s a good man.’’ I cough squinting as I read the death certificate bringing my left hand from the pocket of my coat bringing out the handkerchief, I’ve been holding to wipe my mouth as I read the entirety of the page, making sure of the details ‘’Splendid.’’ I continue letting out another cough a hiccup following. Oh no.

‘’Well at the end of the day, we’ve gotten quite the stroll out hey. Besides getting jobs done.’’ I cheer still wiping my mouth that’s beginning to tingle as are my fingers, the potion starting to waver.

‘’A lovely one at that admittedly. I’ve pegged you wrongly at first. You’re quite the brave man Mr. Blake.’’

I laugh with him fishing out a small bag of coins handing them over to him, his eyes practically sparkling as well as the bored guards as he comes over giving the prisoner a disgusted look but makes sure to stand away from him ‘’The amount is as promised lads. And this…’’ I reach for the trouser pocket and bring out 6 more coins splitting them between the two ‘’For your troubles and help.’’ I smile gratefully ready to puke my guts out, my skin literally crawling, my left leg beginning to itch unbelievably.

‘’Ahhhh Mr. Blane. How generoussss.’’ the overly joyed guard cheers, the bored one looking impressed ‘’The pleasure was all ours.’’

‘’Indeed.’’ the bored guard adds handing over my wand which was also made to look different, the redness of the wood of my wand masked into black wood along with the handle being switched into a plain one.

‘’Gentlemen.’’ I nod in acknowledgement ‘’Business calls. Have yourself a pleasant day onwards.’’ I greet and begin to walk ignoring the prisoner as the guard eagerly steps to him. I hear them both follow to the carriage, the Thestral’s patiently waiting.

Not entirely used to the big belly of this body I stumble and practically climb into the carriage. Beginning to sweat and not only from fatigue I start to wipe my forehead, smiling as the “nicer” guard ushers the prisoner into the carriage with me, making him sit opposite as I’ve sat with my back to the Thestral’s.

‘’Until next time Mr. Blane.’’ the guard greets looking up as I cover my mouth the trembles happening all over my body. I play it off with a nod and another cough, the guard getting the message and closing the doors. Not wasting any time, I wave my wand magic the Thestral’s neighing in reply pulling us forth, the movement rough having me grip onto the seat as we practically launch into the air.

Waving my wand, the tinny curtains of the doors close shut as I try to catch my breath sitting back feeling very uncomfortable in this body, the grumbling getting louder and obnoxious, brown eyes peeking at me.

My breath gets caught at the sight of them. And my smile is instantaneous.

‘’Sorry about this…’’ the change in my voice is noticeable getting higher pitched, but lowering quickly as if one was changing the frequency on the radio ‘’...this will probably be uncomfortable for the both of us.’’

And with that, I attempt at shrugging off the oversized coat I’ve got on, barely managing it as my skin begins to morph, my eyesight sharpening from the dullness it has fallen into. The weight from the male anatomy is the hardest to disappear leaving me without air, the more my body reforms, hair prickling as it grows and regrows. Bones and limbs twist, organs readjusting. The heaviness in my lungs disintegrates and I’m left feeling like I’m breathing clean air after a long time.

The transformation back into myself leaves me winded and a bit lost for time. Because what feels like agonizing minutes, I’m sure it was seconds that passed. Sitting slumped against the carriage seat I look back up to meet my favourite pair of brown eyes, still unchanged in these 10 years.

I can see the bafflement in them.

And recognize the way his mind is working - a million miles per hour.

‘’Alright so we don’t have much time.’’ I find my voice clearing it by coughing a few times, simultaneously beginning to wrestle with the tie I’ve put on and the white shirt underneath ‘’The Ministry’s lookout is bound to meet us at one point. It’s routine for them to fly around to check any unwanted visitations near Azkaban…’’ I ramble undoing the clothing I’ve put on realizing how hot I’ve gotten as I strip down to my own simple shirt and blazer, along with pants and shoes that have already fallen off my feet.

‘’...so, let's get you into something more comfortable for the time being. And less obvious.’’

I begin to pick up the clothing placing it next to him, for him to wear as intended ‘’Gods, we should've been off already.’’ I grumble standing up, pushing open the seat grabbing my boots, along with another wand.

Turning forward I meet his eyes again offering the wand ‘’It's not yours I’m sorry I couldn’t retrieve it. But it's the next best thing until we can find you a new one.’’

But unlike how I imagined it, he doesn’t react. Still silent, a bit frighteningly so he stares at it mouth remaining shut eyes coming back to meet mine.

‘’Okay then amm…’’ I stumble dropping onto the seat ‘’No rush there, Sebastian. I’ll take care of you don’t worry.’’

With my boots on, I automatically reach forward but stop myself quickly realizing the boldness of my action, watching him scared for a second that he’s going to freak out. He doesn’t. He remains motionless staring at me unbreaking eye contact.

‘’I’m sorry I’m rushing you into this. I really am sorry. But I need you to change, okay? I didn’t break you out of prison to see you sent back. Can you please dress??? Do you need help?’’

He shakes his head at that and lifts his hands wordlessly ‘’Oh fuck, I’m so stupid I’m so sorry.’’ I rush reaching for my wand the concealing charm falling away revealing my wand properly ‘’Alohomora.’’

And just like that the chains fall from his wrist, his hands defined and a bit scarred.

‘’I’ll go outside okay, give you a moment.’’ Receiving back the faintest of nods and a completely unreadable Sebastian, I open the carriage door, the wind slamming into me but unmoving me as I make quick work of climbing onto the empty seat, another illusion charm breaking to reveal no one driving the carriage. Sparks of blue like magic visibly to my eyes only.

Checking the surroundings luckily clouds are beginning to gather, a storm brewing the smell of it thick in the air. Turning back seeing nothing but ocean underneath us I let myself smile a little, as I pick up on thunder grumbling.

A knock to the ceiling of the wood brings me back to reality, setting me back into motion of sliding back into the carriage. Instead of entering I rest one foot on the second step, holding onto the railing atop of the carriage hanging from it practically as I peek inside taking Sebastian in.

The clothes are lost as was his prison uniform but makes him look less, wild in a sense. His eyes hold more intensity to them.

‘’Okay.’’ I begin noticing he hasn’t reached for the wand I let for him picking it up ‘’You’ve got no reason to but, will you trust me?’’ I ask his eyes going to the wand then back to me ‘’Trust me Seb??’’ I try, sliding the wand into the sleeve of my blouse where I have my own wand holster.

After two heart beats Sebastian nods, to which I mimic him turning sideways.

‘’Alright. It’s just you and me.’’ I repeat the words automatically, this having become a mantra the past 10 years before I did anything foolish and dangerous. Scooting to the doors preventing them from closing I reach back with my hand offering it to him.

‘’Place your foot behind mine and hold onto me, okay?? Really tight!’’

Focusing on what I must do next, I don’t pay him mind. I don’t even know if he hesitates or not. Not even the way he slides his hand in mine. I only know for sure when I feel his hand, I grab onto him firmly switching to holding one hand with my right, left keeping us upright as he presses himself behind me. He’s a lot taller than I remember beard scratching the back of my head.

‘’Okay.’’ I say to myself more so, grasp on the bar of the carriage beginning to morph as I feel what I can describe is a pleasant heat of my magic coming to life, the support of the carriage disappearing as if a balloon was popped.

And just like that we are falling.

For a few moments that is. Sebastian’s hold tightens impossibly so crushing me onto him. And as ridiculous as it is, bizarre in the midst of the chaos, of the fear, anxiety, happiness, everything bubbling in me I can feel butterflies.

Upkeep his trust, and proceeding with the plan like I’ve said the carriage disappears. What’s left is my modified broom, which was the rod I was holding onto. Bending my knees, I twist it in front of me and slide it beneath us both.

It’s a move I’ve been practicing since my first flying days back at Hogwarts, the thought of falling of a broom instilling a weird fear into me. So, this move has been years in the making.

Successfully I slide it both underneath us, catching onto the foot holders I’ve readjusted to the front. It does pull us roughly forward and Sebastian lands on it to the side. But I’m prepared. I’ve literally obsessed over every possibility of this.

With a nudge forward and hold my iron grip on him, his hand intertwined in mine I pull him flat against me, twisting the broom to right our positions.

On a normal day the manoeuvre would call for a loud cheer, the accomplishment unseen by wizard kind. But not today. It’s not an occurrence in anyone’s lifetime to break people from Azkaban. And yet here we are.

So, upkeep focus is the priority. Flying Sebastian to safety is the next agenda of business. And with the cover of clouds and budding lightning, that’s the easiest part of today.

***

‘’Well…’’ I pause taking half a step back to observe my handiwork trying my hardest not to make any faces, as I continue running my fingers through his hair, the newly chopped strands sticking in all kinds of directions ‘’...given my limited experience in sheering a sheep once, I’d say it looks rather good.’’ I praise myself satisfied with Sebastian’s now short hairstyle.

Trying to remain positive I stand in front of him, his eyes unmovable from me not once fleeting elsewhere ‘’Hm.’’ I mumble and place my hands on my hips meeting his pretty brown eyes ‘’Feels better huh?’’

He doesn’t reply. He hasn’t spoken a word since the carriage. No scratch that since his cell. I’m not sure exactly what to think of it reminding myself over and over again to keep calm and give him time and space. Which reminds me.

‘’Ah yeah, the bath.’’ I point out the tub that I’ve filled almost to the brim with lukewarm sinking the tips of my fingers in it to test it out ‘’Alright. I’ve got many shampoos, over there…’’ He merely glances to where I point to the small stool, I’ve placed next to the tub ‘’...I remember you liking more woody scents, but I didn’t know exactly the brand you liked, so I bought a bunch for you to try.’’ I smile as I step over to him sitting in the middle of my bathroom, covered with an old towel as I’ve cut his hair leaving the beard up to him.

‘’There are fresh clothes for you, the one’s I gave you were for show and more of a universal size. We’ll get more to fit you better and to your liking when you’re ready.’’ I pass him over to the sink, letting go of the scissors on the porcelain surface, my own products neatly stacked to my liking on the free space of the shelving unit I built one day.

‘’And yeah.’’ reaching for my wand I wave it at the tub, speaking the incantation in my mind watching as the water begins to bubble and steam, trying not to let Sebastian’s deep gaze unhinge me ‘’That’s about that.’’ I smile wider backing towards the door ‘’Take as much of time as you like. I’ll go prepare us some food in the meantime. If you need anything I’m right behind the doors.’’

With that I’m grasping the doorhandle opening it but find myself hesitant with taking a step onwards turning back to the still mute Sebastian that doesn’t move a muscle. It’s as if he’s trying to tell me something while I’m stuck on a level of not being able to understand him. With a softer smile, I step outside with a heavy heart closing the door gently making my way into the kitchen from my bedroom.

My cottage is on the smaller side only having the basics, the addition of a study heaven sent. I send a glance around the spacious room that is the kitchen, entrance, dining room and living room all combined.

It’s a cozy little place to live in, with no noisy neighbours, or busy streets my location being on the edge of the village ensuring peace and quiet.

But tonight, for the first time since moving here the silence is deafening. Knowing who is on the other side of the wall. My body begins moving on autopilot peeling potatoes by hand instead of using magic, my mind keeps racing. It’s hard not to think of more scenarios, more what-ifs. Honestly its quite bloody hard trying not to spiral. Guilt always finds a way to interfere.

Before I know it, I’ve prepared the veggies and precut chicken setting it into the oven it firing up normally. It only comes after the tiredness from my actions as I slump into the chair at the head of the table facing the kitchen, so I’ll be able to see Sebastian emerge from my dimly lit room.

It feels unreal. Reality not sinking just yet - he is here. He is free. I’ve freed him.

The commitment of a crime - breaking a prisoner out of prison - still doesn’t sound bad in my ears. Logically its illegal yes, but I feel that I did the right thing. Because I did. I know I did. I’m just regretful it took me 10 fucking years to do so. Laws cannot help you even when proven right and wrong. Alliances are fickle matters. Money can’t buy you everything.

Shadows moving in the corner of my eye have me tense up, left hand shifting towards the movement, my wand forgotten on the clean kitchen counter. I keep forgetting it in places, wandless magic having gotten easier with training and life experiences. I somewhat relax at the sight of Sebastian emerging from the other room.

He leaves me stunned. With damp hair slicked back, and a clean-shaven face I’m able to see the progress of time on him. It’s not much which is why it strikes me all that more at how all the same he looks. He is on the skinnier side, eyes cheeks sunken, the boyish look gone and replaced by the serious and still wordless man that cautiously walks into the light, eyes fleeting towards the oven - or my wand - then back to me.

The clothes I’ve gotten him hang loose but not too much. They look a little short. He’s taller than I anticipated. But clothing is an easy fix. So is hair.

Despite the sullenness he’s still Sebastian. It's hard to explain it, but I see that spark in him even in the emotionlessness he’s portraying. Makes my heart ache so much more.

‘’You’ve made yourself a cozy home.’’ are the first words that he speaks. His voice is gruff giving a hint of not being used as the tone is low and raspy.

I glance around memories of frantic deep cleaning marathons I’ve spiralled into before setting out on getting him free, going through my mind as I shrug turning back ‘’Ehhh. A recent purchase.’’ I glance around again trying not to look at the trinkets I’ve picked up from adventures and work-related tasks.

At his silence but inquiring eyes I continue ‘’The quiet has its advantages. Or maybe it’s the old age in me, craving some alone time.’’

At this his eyebrows raise as he looks around again, observing the furniture, decor, pictures ‘’No significant other to keep company??’’

I want to snort at the obvious question: his train of thoughts is very similar to the old Sebastian I knew. I shake my head rolling my shoulders back as I lean against the chair, relaxing my feet and body getting comfortable ‘’Wasn’t on my list of priorities to be honest.’’ I scrunch up my nose watching as he walks over to the table, still putting distance between us.

‘’Hmmm.’’ he hums in thought eyes looking over my ringless fingers as if to confirm it ‘’You were always too brilliant for mere mortals.’’ he jokes my smile easily rising at the jab as I chuckle my heart fluttering at the soft smile that he graces me with.

‘’Ah it’s not even about that, and you know it.’’ I reply bringing my hands on the table together starting to fidget as I timidly look at him ‘’Did you…’’ I pause adrenaline and confidence having truly left me ‘’Did you by any chance get any mail?’’

He remains silent eyes breaking away as they look around the room more, the shift from one foot to another prompting him into walking slowly over, hands that previously rested on top of a chair, moving along touching the wood as he comes closer.

‘’You wrote me?’’ he counters with a question, face not giving anything away even if he looks relaxed.

‘’I did.’’ I say calmly ignoring the rise of my heartbeat as he pulls the chair out on my left and with caution sits himself down, body turned towards me.

‘’Sadly, I wasn’t granted those kinds of privileges.’’

Defeated at that, the comfort of Sebastian hearing from me all these years is slightly defeating as I’ve hoped my words would bring some form of comfort. When my owl kept returning with no letters, I’d assumed that he got them.

‘’I tried.’’ I begin licking over my lower lip ‘’I wrote to you.’’ I pause again looking at my hands not able to meet his serious face ‘’I tried opening an investigation for your case.’’ I send a glance to my right the cabinet containing all the documents I’ve gathered during the 10 years to free him. ‘’Even with the right connections I – I’ve had to resort to other measures.’’ I frown raising my right hand reciting the right levitation charm watching as a thin brown folder levitates into the air and makes its way over into my hand.

I finally turn to Sebastian trying not to backtrack at the intense look he’s giving me. The emotionlessness has me on edge, but even more so it’s his stillness. I know him as being animated always full of life and mischief too, his cunning knowing no bounds. Its why I was always drawn to him, so easily agreeing to stupid plans.

‘’You’ve heard us talk. I think you’ve picked up on what transpired.’’ I turn the file over and slide it to him, his eyes unmoving from me as silence stretches between us.

And the more it goes on the more I feel like a little girl again. Uncomfortable, lost, anxious but the feelings I hate the most are insecurity and helplessness. With a look he’s drawing that out of me. Lucky or unlucky my employment has provided me with years of practice, and a ton of experience to leave nothing out as I hold myself composed, straightening up even sitting proper in anticipation for an attack. I don’t exactly know how else to hold myself by, the work of an Unspeakable wrapped in mystery for sure, but also layers of let’s call it character development that had shaped me into the person I am today.

Yet with the reminder of the last few years the trails tribulations, the triumphs, falls, accomplishments, deaths I’m being brought to a dangerous level of crumbling. Under those watchful brown eyes, empty but overwhelming at the same time.

‘’Last time I saw you, heard you – your cries were quite remorseful.’’ He taps his fingers against the table quirking an eyebrow. The memory burns freshly in my mind, aurors taking Sebastian away, Ominis holding me back with surprising strength as I protested and pleaded, begging for them to stop my cries falling on deaf ears.

‘’I think any 15-year-old would react like that when she saw the love of her life being taken away like that.’’ the truth pours out easily the quirk of his brow signalling I’ve caught him of guard.

‘’That’s quite the statement, Mc.’’ He observes, his posture giving hints of something akin to curiosity.

‘’It happens to be truthful.’’ I lower my chin a little still maintaining eye contact.

‘’Even after all that happened. After all I’ve done? After I’ve taught you the dark arts. Got you almost killed?’’ the words pour out of him the collectedness cracking.

‘’They say love is blind.’’ I smile at my own statement relaxing back into the chair.

‘’Mc.’’ He speaks my name seriously leaning forward for the first-time showing anger and frustration shifting in his seat ‘’I’ve manipulated you into doing my biding. Played on your nice heart, taken advantage thoroughly. I didn’t even think about consequences. You’re not daft. You’re aware of all of this.’’

I simply nod at his words smile still present ‘’I didn’t care about your feelings or wellbeing.’’ He adds on my shrug seemingly rising more out of him ‘’I would’ve done anything and everything to find a cure. Anything.’’

At this I tilt my head watching him. I’ve imagined him going of like this in my mind many times. My own imagination a lot more hurtful than the real thing truthfully. Even if his words are baneful, I find myself being okay.

‘’You never lied very well to me.’’ I find myself stating his lack of anything prompting me to go on ‘’I could always read you. I knew you better than you did yourself.’’ I hum after that Sebastian shaking his head.

‘’And here I thought I’ve been freed from the looney bin.’’

At that statement my smile disappears my fingers tapping on the table to rein him in ‘’No need for that, Seb. We both know what anger makes you do, your regretful-ness always leading you to grovelling.’’ I spit back. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists stance tense.

‘’I think between the two of us you’re the fool in this equation. You used to tease anyone to never underestimate me, and yet here you are.’’ I pause reaching for the pocket of my pants ‘’You know I’m not the one who put you behind bars.’’ Confidently I go on ‘’Somehow even with little privileges you’re a Slytherin after all. Its why you didn’t protest or react when the Polyjuice potion wore off in the carriage.’’

His breathing is becoming deeper, chest raising and falling noticeably ‘’You knew something was up. You’re not one to throw in the towel. Even after – after the circumstances.’’ I pause not wanting to mention Azkaban directly ‘’I have it on good authority that you’ve gotten some of my letters.’’ His breathing hitches my smile rising ‘’Like I said you can’t trick me Sallow. We’ve had it worse in our 5th year in some regards.’’

I get completely serious waiting for him to protest, waiting for him to raise an uproar as I’m sure he’s easily recollecting the events in our Hogwarts days. The thought of us being kids and definitely the definition of luck as the dangers we’ve faced would leave anyone else traumatized or dead.

I’ve been in the presence of dementors before, the ministry having random outbreaks, some of my missions having sent me to meet even worse creatures than them. Sebastian might have been alone for these past years dealing with happiness and joy being sucked out of him – for a fact I know especially now that he’s going to be okay. He has changed yes, grown as I did, but he has also managed to adapt to his surroundings. He didn’t let them take him entirely apart.

‘’Even with this…’’ I rest my hand on the table, knuckles against the wood opening my palm up we both watch as a fire like shape raises, the tingle of my ancient magic humming comforting to be brought to the surface ‘’…with what life has thrown at me…’’ I shake my head the magic rising ‘’…I’m…’’ the words die on my tongue.

Magic retracts itself disappearing into thin air leaving behind a warm feeling my offer to the once more stoic brunette a sad smile as I pull my hand back but place the small box from my pocket on the table ‘’You’re not alone.’’

My voice is strained as the oven begins to beep annoying loud providing the opportunity to look away and blink tears into nonexistence as I will myself to calm down, waving my hand in the familiar and automatic pattern as I watch the over, turn off its doors opening. The dish floats without a hitch onto the stove, the oven doors closing.

Glancing over at Sebastian his gaze is stuck on the unopened box and file. I sigh deeply steadying myself as I reach over and flicker the velvety box open revealing a simple silver ring pushing it to him. I tap the table twice, the indication for him to open the document. Which he slowly does reach for, opening it as if it’s going to attack him at any moment.

Placing both of my hands back on the table, I summon the wand I’ve gotten for him his declination of it before still a mystery to me. Catching the unfamiliarly weighted wand, I gently place it on the table right in the middle between us, the offering going unsaid.

Retreating my hands I reach for the other pocket of my pants, pulling out and putting on my own wedding band which is a fairly recent accessory I’ve started wearing.

Looking over at the silent man, his eyes are taking the paper in rapidly. Reading. Re-reading. Re-checking. The certificates. The ring. The wand.

‘’Nothing is set in stone.’’ I softly begin Sebastian still unmoving ‘’Except for the death certificate. That was tricky to arrange, more so than the wedding document. Oh, Merlin that was ridiculously easy.’’ Once more I shake my head letting out an empty laugh, surprised but not showing it as he has picked up the wedding ring his silence stretching for longer than I’m used to from him.

It slides me right back towards the edge, anxiety picking, the knot in my stomach twisting to a painful degree.

‘’L/N?’’

I nod immediately as his eyes meet my own ‘’I think my surname is rather nice.’’ I blur out ‘’No that Sallow isn’t but, it kind of defeats the whole ‘you’re publicly dead’ purpose.’’ I rant his face not changing ‘’I’m sure the daily prophet will mention your passing tomorrow.’’ I glance to the left at the clock ticking away, signalling its way later than it feels. It still feels surreal to have Sebastian in front of me.

He opens his mouth but closes it just as fast something bothering him, twisting his pretty face into a frown. It would be weird if he wasn’t bothered.

‘’Like I’ve said nothing is set into stone.’’ I raise my hands in surrender, Sebastian’s attention on the wand now. He’s watching it and not picking it up.

‘’I’ve used you.’’ His statement catches me of guard as anger sparks ‘’Need I repeat all the misdeed’s all the faults I’ve made you dealt with? I saw how scared you were of the ancient magic, I saw how it drained you and still I’ve pushed and pushed you, into exhaustion and numerous shaves with death without a pause. Heck, in the scriptorium after casting Curcio I left you behind in favour of exploring. Mc. Why?’’ he deadpans ‘’Anne my own twin sister sent me to Azkaban. Ominis my best friend didn’t hesitate to betray me. You…this is madness. You are mad.’’

He stares at me incredulous clearly having run these questions through his mind before. He rehearsed these words. Before me doesn’t sit a ‘notorious prisoner, a criminal from Azkaban’ anymore. Before me is sitting the Sebastian I know and love. With the same scared expression, same sort of desperation eyes pleading for things to make sense.

Hence why getting up is so much easier body moving on its own the scared boy I was infatuated with having the same effect on me, pulling me in towards the wildfire that he is. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t particularly react in any way as I step around the table and in front of him rising my hands.

Meeting his eyes my palms land on his cheeks. Gentle to touch thanks to the shower and shave they feel familiar in my palms and yet different. His body tense from emotions and racing mind going gradually into a relax state as he hunches forward, eyes blinking away tears.

I crowd into his personal space Sebastian making room by spreading his legs, welcoming as I brush my fingers into his messy hair, the motion making me feel 10 years younger as I’ve used to do this on the regular whenever we were alone together.

My heart all but leaps from my chest as his hands find themselves above my hips in a respectful place sliding over my back drawing me into a hug which I happily succumb to, holding him close to me only slightly self-conscious if he can hear how my heart speeds for him.

Otherwise, the surrealness returns, the overwhelming joy of finally putting my plans into motion of them being fruitful hit me. Closing my eyes I attempt at holding back tears, but it’s an impossible task with the way he’s holding onto me, guiding me as if I’m made of glass to sit in his lap rearranging us and yet not parting a millimetre away from one another, as he buries his face into my shoulder and stills, big hands splayed over my back as if I’m the one who’s going to disappear.

To be honest my hands are doing the same, grasping his clothes rougher than needed the reassurance not quenched entirely. So, I let the tears flow I’m sure dampening his shirt in the process, alerting him of my state only after a while since he makes the first move, calloused hands this time cupping my own cheeks, thumbs attempting to wipe away tears.

‘’I’ve not seen you cry ever dearest Mc, and I’m the one who makes you cry so easily??’’ a spark of mischief fizzles in the end his hesitant smile words causing me to huff an awkward laugh, as I look up towards the ceiling trying to will away the tears.

‘’It’s merely a side effect of a heartfelt reunion.’’ I let out some air looking back at him feeling hope creep into my heart which is unnerving ‘’Long distance and all.’’ My voice cuts off in the end the humour not at all humorous.

He hums in response I think feeling the same sentiments as I am, preoccupying himself with getting acquainted with me again. I know I’ve changed, its only logical. We are not kids anymore. I let him indulge as one hand continuously caresses up and down my back, the other touching my lose hair, temple, nose, cheek and so forth meanwhile I do the same taking my own selfish time in admiring him so up close, blissfully ignoring reality the bubble we’ve fallen into, serenity. A slice of Eden dare I say.

Its once his hand parts from my face and find my left hand, that he speaks again ‘’This is not how I’ve imagined my marriage would start.’’ He begins softly voice still containing raspiness to it, fingers tracing and rotating the wedding ring on my finger ‘’Rather unorthodox.’’ He muses in the end blessing me with a genuine smile.

‘’It’s quite fitting for your brand.’’ We both grin and my tease ‘’And like you’ve mentioned before. I’m not meant for mere mortals. Let alone being one for tradition or normalcy.’’ I let my ancient magic sparkle watching as he stares in wonder at our joined hands the blue like flame illuminating his face into a pretty blue colour.

‘’And yet you’re bestowing the sacred privilege of not only honouring me with your last name but taking me rather shamelessly as your husband?’’ he looks incredulous the more he speaks sort of holding his breath in a sense to see if I’m suddenly going to change my mind ‘’A dead man, a criminal. Prisoner. A murderer.’’

His handsome features twist into a frown showing disgust and what he’s thinking about himself I’m sure holding more vile words back. Unphased and already having expected this I keep calm, and with my right free hand reach for his occupied hand retaking the wedding ring I’ve picked for him twisting it between my fingers a trick I’ve learned from a muggle magician, slight of hands handy even in the wizarding world.

‘’To me you are just Sebastian.’’ I admit smiling watching his eyes glossing over lower lip trembling briefly ‘’I’ve obviously made my choice haven’t I. I’m giving you a choice of your own. You can accept it or refuse it, regardless of my actions and feelings because this is about you and your life from this point onwards.’’

The pause is heavy in the air, the coldness from the dementors making a fleeting appearance as I’m reminded of where he is coming from after all. He’s not the Sebastian I know not entirely, even if I am drawing him out slowly. Hence my fears are justifiable.

‘’You’ve taken one life, Seb.’’ I whisper lowering my hand searching his eyes ‘’In self-defence.’’ I pause again gulping down the knot in my throat ‘’You’ve no clue what I’ve done since you’ve been gone.’’ I give him a sad smile, looking between us at the way he’s holding my hand ‘’You have not paused to think that I might be dragging you back onto the wrong path. That I’m not who I appear to be. That I might be the bad guy here.’’

His relaxed body tenses the more I talk, expression once more dropping all emotions as he hardens eyebrows furrowing as intensity sparks behind his eyes ‘’You could never be.’’ He’s quick to hiss, gentle hands tightening the shake of his head warming me.

‘’Oh, but I am.’’ I drop both my hands in my lap, his own not leaving me for a moment ‘’I’ve earned many names in the years of my employment at the ministry.’’ He gets taken aback by that my smile lighter ‘’Professor Hecat had an eye for detecting certain potentials in students. Even the ones with good intentions.’’

I wait for him to figure out, to make the connection which he does brilliantly fast ‘’Mc…’’ he speaks my name sweetly to which I shake my head.

‘’I hold no grudges or ill against you Sebastian. I never had.’’ I straighten his hold unmoving ‘’I had this feeling ever since our youth that we were always meant to be.’’ His eyes widen ‘’It may be delusion from my part, but I do not regret the things I did with you, or the things I had to do to get you out.’’ Its frighteningly easy to slip into the serious persona I tend to wear as an Unspeakable. I hate that I’m doing it to him, switching up emotions not really comforting him as I should be.

But he needs to know the truth.

‘’You’ve always been on my m…’’

Unable to finish the sentence I’m startled into silence as his lips meet my own. Of course, it’s a rather surprising move I think for the both of us, as he doesn’t entirely commit to it his slightly chapped lips moving shily. He retreats as quicky as he came, eyes panicked as they search my own.

He meant the kiss I know that much. Its written all over his panic-stricken features and eyes. This is where the prison has left a mark on him, turning the flirtations and overconfident Slytherin to an insecure man holding me firmly and yet blushing at a mere peck that he so clumsily delivered.

Breaking the poor man’s torture, I end up closing the distance initiating the kiss gently, timid lips still unsure as they follow my own, a tremble to them prompting me to wrap my arms around his shoulders to hold him closer in reassurance. Or it might be my own insecurity still gnawing at my subconsciousness. Emotions are a tricky business.

For the moment being, the sweet slow drag of our lips is enough to keep me grounded. To appreciate the sacrifices made, the overthinking and panicking at times, the survival methods the both of us had to resort to. It matters not in the end as long as we are back in each other’s arms. And if that makes me bad, morally grey as the whispers in the ministry are floating around – I’ll be the villain. Gladly. As long as I get to see Sebastian. As long as he’s alright. Dare I hope for him to be happy finally.

Slowly parting he follow suit chasing me for a fracture of a moment. The small action has me smiling as I lean my forehead against his, running one hand through his hair trying to hold back, and calm my breathing and the beating of my heart.

‘’I’ve missed you.’’ my voice comes out unfiltered ‘’I’ve missed you so much, it ached.’’ I grasp his hand with my other one placing it over my heart ‘’Hurt. It hurt so bad, Seb.’’ Blasted tears make an appearance as I give space to look at him his own expression crushing as he looks so sorry and dejected.

‘’Oh darling…’’ he whines gulping, thoughts I’m sure all over ‘’Just you and me yeah??’’ he whispers upkeeping eye contact ‘’Remember? I made a promise.’’

I close my eyes at the memory. The memory holds joy as it does tragedy. The stupid fool that he was, he followed me one night when I stumbled upon a camp of poachers. The hero he wanted to act just got in the middle of things. It took one second of distraction from my part, one bloody second that he got struck with a nasty hex that left him instantly bleeding and unresponsive.

That brough a whole another aspect to my ancient magic as a thunderstorm raged for the rest of the night. He narrowly escaped death only thanks to me finding the by then deceased wizard’s wand, breaking it to relive him of pains, and a good 2 Wiggenweld Potion’s to get him semi-conscious.

Having had to reveal the room of requirements and thankfully learning enough healing charms to ‘mend’ him together his promise befell through a fervour he had. But his smile was bright, genuine a bit aloof. He meant every word he said.

And right now, he’s being deadly serious waiting for my response.

‘’Even after all this time?’’ my voice comes out unsure, Sebastian immediately nodding bringing our joined hands upwards to which he presses a kiss to the top of my knuckles.

‘’I could ask you the same thing.’’ He smiles with ease drawing out a blush to flush over my cheeks ‘’You’ve waited all these years, haven’t you?’’ he hums as I nod not trusting my voice ‘’Found impossible ways to keep giving me hope. To keep me alive. Sane.’’ I can merely stare at him, ignoring my own trembling lips letting myself enjoy his touches and proximity ‘’Only you. It has always been only you.’’

Unlike the younger version of Sebastian who had shown his fire-y passion usually through kisses and rather daring touches now and then, this Sebastian still handling me like glass pulls me into his embrace, resting his head onto my shoulder hiding his face in my hair and momentarily from the world.

So, I follow suit, running one hand over his back caressing, the other finding its way into his curls the feeling of them, having imagined it to many times to count, currently a blissful affair.

‘’Let me see that ring.’’ He speaks up as I’ve seemingly lost my own voice, doing as he wishes parting only slightly to watch him accept the ring I’ve been holding onto this entire time, doubts nasty little critters as I like to not so affectionally call these emotions, piling and adding weight.

With a held breath, he examines the silver ring turning and twisting it around looking at it from all the angles, his lips painted with a faint lopsided smirk of amusement and mischief. He looks up at me the side of his eyes crinkling a bit.

‘’No flashy jewellery.’’ He quirks an eyebrow, cupping my ring bearing hand raising it to which his gaze falls into my own ring which he gently rolls around my fingers ‘’Always the one for practicality.’’ He chuckles retreating his hand to put his wedding band onto his finger. Only when it slides fitting onto his digit perfectly do I release the breath I’ve been holding.

‘’It’s not even about practicality.’’ I pout watching as he flexes his fingers, rotating his hand as if testing the feel of the band his definitely mischievous eyes landing on my own ‘’I’m not one for rocks it’s all.’’ I shrug attempting to cross my arms waiting for the onslaught of his teases giving in immediately as his hand intercepts both of my own.

‘’Just sturdy, powerful and extremely rare metals then?’’ again with the quirking of his eyebrow his comment reminding me how brilliant he still is. It didn’t take him long at all to figure out that our wedding bands, silver in colour have been made from like he said extremely, nearly extinct pieces of metal that took quite the ventures to get to them.

Not only have they meaning in the eyes of everyone as being symbols of our love and devotion to one another, but they provide us with certain magical enhancements.

‘’Not meant for mere mortals.’’ Once more I throw at his face wanting him to understand how much he means to me, his playfulness lowering a notch as he looks at me with affection. With more confidence in his actions, he leans in capturing my lips with his, the kiss syrupy as he takes his time as if to explore my mouth anew, hands finding themselves over my thigs where he grips onto my flesh and pulls me even closer.

I sigh into the kiss letting him take the lead, not minding his touches that grow bolder kiss paired with teeth and tongue reminding me of his teenage self actually who wasn’t afraid of trying out new things.

What has my brows furrowing is the thrust of his hips coming at random the full feel of his manhood clicking in my brain I shift in his lap in such a manner that has me wrapping my legs around his hips, the back of the chair providing an annoying blockade preventing me from wrapping around him.

As if he reads my mind – making me briefly wonder if he has become a legitimus – his hands slip underneath me his touch daring as its on my bottom. With a bite to my lower lip, he lets out a shuddering breath shifting getting up all the while holding me against him. The damned chair falls over causing a racket in the quiet house but leaves him and myself unbothered as his lips find their way under my jaw teeth grazing against my jugular the action arousing in some odd way.

‘’Oh Seb…’’ I groan as he presses a wet kiss to a ticklish area, his swaying prompting me to open my eyes, seeing the sunrise outside the window.

‘’You sound so beautiful.’’ He groans continuing with his ministrations ‘’And I’ve merely begun.’’ Cheeky is what he is, hands grasping my backside squeezing even.

‘’Oh.’’ I squeak ending up giggling at my own response, Sebastian ending up laughing with me, momentarily stopping his ministrations ‘’Ah Merlin. You’re still obnoxious.’’

On purpose I’m sure he delivers a slightly stinging bite ‘’Ouch Sebastian!’’ I try to scold him, his lull into a step side-tracking my thoughts as I cling onto him.

‘’And you are still, sensitive dear wife.’’ he smirks as I look down at him, his grin almost the same one that promises nothing but trouble. But his use of title, has a blush hitting me all over, heat practically washing over me. I see how my reaction pleases him, as he continues walking carefully. A hint of my old Sebastian is showing through the sparkles in his pretty eyes.

‘’I’m not sensitive.’’ I pout trying to keep calm and my head clear ‘’You always imagined that.’’

He chuckles as we walk past the doorway, the sun outside casting gentle rays onto the floor. It’s quite the miracle for it has been raining for months, and today out of all days it’s miraculously sunny.

‘’Ah. Sure yes. As your dutiful husband I shall agree on that and apologize darling.’’ He exaggerates making me muse as he stops and hovers over the bed.

‘’Now you are exaggerating Sebastian.’’

‘’Happy wife…’’ I put my hand over his mouth to stop him from finishing the sentence, as I giggle looking at him in astonishment.

‘’Don’t you even dare.’’ I warn letting go of his mouth in favour of grabbing him by his shoulders as he dips down ‘’Seb…’’ I gasp in fright as it begins okay, him bending forward but it ends up in me falling on the bed and him crashing into me leaving me winded from surprise but not the impact.

He burst into laughter whilst I do the same, covering my face for a moment looking at the ceiling above me, Sebastian shaking in my arm from laughter hanging half off the bed.

‘’That was rather…accurate for the two of us.’’ I mumble running my hands up and down his back as he begins to calm down, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly whole expression lifted and joyful.

‘’Excuse me then dear wife. This was not in my plans.’’ He giggles still greatly amused, only now readjusting himself off me, and manoeuvring the both of us onto the bed sideways still as he doesn’t put any distance between us.

‘’I would sure hope not.’’ I smile cupping his cheeks ‘’Fear not dear husband, I am not made of porcelain.’’ I raise my eyebrows ready for his teasing. He takes a different course, in the form of closing the distance kissing me with more vigour, remaining soft in his ministrations his hand oddly in place.

I kiss him in return trying to calm down my shuddering breath as he steals it literally. Even as I cannot uphold my head upright and fall to lie down, he follows eagerly pressing pecks, kisses over my jawline cheek, cheekily kissing the tip of my nose eyes half closed as he admires for a moment and then returns to reward me with the slow drag of his lips.

I let my hands drop in the meantime, rubbing them over his clothed back. He’s still wide like he used to be, but he has lost his muscles that were built thanks to Imelda’s rigorous training for quidditch. And our adventures too. Not only did he lose his bulk, but also his strength which was proven a few moments ago. A reminder that he has gone through something traumatic.

So due to his hesitant touches, and to be honest my loss of patience I bring my hands forth, over his arms to the front, finding the buttons of the collared shirt I’ve got him to wear. Luckily, he didn’t bother with the waistcoat, so my intention gets quickly realized as I undo the garment.

He breaks the kiss due to my touched, his breath hitching as my hands come in contact with his chest, one of his hands grasping my wrist gently stopping me in my ministrations.

‘’Mc I…’’ he pauses looking between us instead at me, his cheeks, and ears flushed pink.

Wordless I understand him right now. Pulling my hands back I offer a big-closed lip smile his eyes turning to look at me in fright.

‘’It’s okay.’’ I speak softly grabbing the tucked part of my own collared shirt. He shifts in a way that allows me to pull it over my head which leaves me in my chemise, Sebastian looking something between frightened and aroused as he watches me.

‘’I understand, okay?’’ I say slowly as if I’m talking to a frightened creature grasping his hand. I bring it over to my left shoulder pushing the sleeve of my chemise lower to reveal the ugly burn that stretches over my skin ‘’We don't have to do anything. Don't force yourself. We can stop. It's okay. But know that I don't want you any less. You're still you, and I'm still me. Nothing’s changed.’’

As if weak he bends down, resting his forehead against my own. His hand still on my shoulder begins to gently caress my skin whilst I bring my own back to his chest listening watching him intently for any sign of rejection. Not showing any, I proceed to touch him with utmost gentleness tracing over his stomach, chest feeling his bones all the more. This time around I kiss him in distraction, as I push the shirt over his shoulders.

Half expecting him to freeze, I’m left pleasantly surprised as he gets up and begins to push off the material, discharging it behind us. As he sits on his knees above me chest noticeably moving as he’s breathing heavily, I’m the one who’s left admiring him.

Even covered in tiny scars, scraps and hair, he’s still my Sebastian. Even this fragile and tired looking I see the fire in his eyes.

‘’Ohh Sebastian!’’ I exclaim following with a fit of giggles as his veiny hands, which I notice only now reach for the belt of my trousers. I leave my hands to rest next to my head smiling at the manhandling that he is doing.

‘’You said you weren’t fragile.’’ He taunts licking his lower lip, as the belt comes undone and is pulled off, his hands clumsy as he tears the button of my trousers off.

‘’I am not.’’ I agree watching him delighted in how he begins to pull down the clothing along with my winter socks ‘’Are you in a rush darling?’’ I bite onto my lower lip, watching as he gets rid of his own pants, rather clumsily kicking them off ‘’My, my what a pleasant sight to be blessed with.’’ I arch an eyebrow looking him up and down.

He’s quick to climb back atop of me this time nestling his hips between my legs, delivering a kiss to my shoulder the action surprising me making me blush ‘’Hey that was my line Mc.’’ He swops down to kiss me but briefly as he rolls his hips into me leaving me lost for words and my thoughts derailed at his sudden boldness.

‘’You’ve grown daring over the years.’’ He notes breaking the kiss, returning to leave kisses over the other side of my cheek, descending down my neck ‘’Shameless?’’ he asks beginning to roll his hips against me, the lack of clothing much more revealing obviously.

It’s not that our undergarments are see through, but they are made of light materials. Which enables me to fully feel him against my core. And o my gods…

I groan at a particularly prominent thrust, which pushes me higher up Sebastian not leaving for a moment, simply continuing with whatever he has in store the deviant now proceeding to mark me above my collarbones.

‘’Fearless.’’ He speaks up pressing kisses against my scar, his lips his touches making me flinch initially. But he’s holding me down tenderly, pushing the chemise lower revealing more of my skin. Revealing more of the imperfections – scars I’ve earned in his absence.

‘’You are giving me too much praise, Sebastian.’’ I frown a little, letting my fingers dance over his chest, and to his sides, his hipbones.

‘’Not nearly enough.’’ He raises above me, looking like a man entranced re-connecting our lips together, this time letting his tongue run over my bottom lip making me hum in appreciation. Growing confident due to his actions, I wrap my legs over the back of his thighs attempting to press him harder against him, his rhythm now stuttering as I grab his arse, squeezing.

He breaks the kiss offering a mischievous smirk ‘’Diabolical. Absolutely diabolical.’’

I grin at that, showing him my tongue to further entice him. Which works perfectly. He grasps my hand like a gentleman actually, prying my hands away from his still perky ass pinning my arms to the sides of my head smirking down at me not breaking eye contact.

‘’You are the love of my life.’’ The statement has me blinking a few times as I look up at him stunned ‘’My everything.’’

Unable to respond Sebastian takes the lead, taking the approach as he did in the beginning. His hold, his closeness, his kissing all gentle and slow. It gives me the sense as if…as if he’s imprinting this into his memory. Because the more we progress, and his hips begin to rut against me harder, the more I have this feeling as if he is plagued by something.

And I understand it. Giving into him, relaxing on the bed letting him take what he desires even if that means my lips will remain bruised, and climax delayed. It’s all about him.

‘’Oh Seb…’’ I moan into his mouth, shifting my hips to accommodate him further seeing the need in the glare he offers. His freckled skin is so prettily flushed, hair messy, and skin slightly damp as the room grows hotter ‘’You feel so good against me…’’ I encourage nodding pulling my right hand away to push the lose strands from his forehead smiling as he kisses my wrist in the progress, panting softly.

‘’Missed you…’’ he says strained, moving us his hardness I’m sure throbbing as it makes a mess out of me rubbing against my clit on and off again rising tingles under my fingertips ‘’…my pretty girl.’’ I smile at the compliment, dragging the top of my nails down his chest his shudder loud as he intakes breath quickly, his left hand grabbing a hold of my thigh twisting it higher the change in position making me throwback my head, as he parts my soaked folds even through the now ruined fabric.

‘’So pretty…’’ he pants biting into his lower lip, head falling next to my own. He keeps moving, and my hand keeps progressing, finally reaching the band of his undergarment, slipping my fingers inside the dampness ‘’Oh MC!’’ he suddenly grunts, as my fingers barely touch his hot and leaking manhood.

His hand like before is quick in catching and stopping my own from progressing, as he convulses and twitches, hip stuttering regularly.

Caught off guard I merely watch him dumbfounded as something warm and wet grazes against my fingers and palm, his hold preventing me from doing anything else. So, I remain still and accommodating until he slows to a gradual stop, still twitching now and then even as he releases my hand, letting me examine the fluid.

‘’I think I’ve died.’’ He utters into my neck, his breath ticklish making me smile as I bring my hand to my lips and taste him ‘’Oh I’m definitely dead.’’ His voice dips lower.

Peeking at him he’s looking at me as if I’ve put the stars in the sky, while I click my tongue ‘’I don’t think so husband dearest.’’ I smile affectionally, pushing him lightly of me and to the side, rolling on my left to face him, fingers wiped on the comforter.

‘’This must be it. The afterlife.’’ He dramatically chats ahead rolling onto his back sighing whilst I get up following him, pushing down the chemise further revealing my torso entirely, sitting next to him. He peeks at me, eyes taking me all in blush returning immediately ‘’You fair maiden, like a siren coating me into a demise I’ll gladly plumet into.’’

I grin at his poetry dipping down to kiss him gently, his right hand warm as it settles over my lower back resting there ‘’That would make us both dead.’’ I point out musing ‘’I for one am enjoying my married life very much.’’ He perks at that.

‘’A dream come, true.’’

I remain close bend over, half resting on his chest admiring him ‘’Oh its very much so a reality.’’ I begin sighing contently tracing his face with my left and free hand ‘’You and me, together again.’’ I pause to let it sink in ‘’Never to be separated again.’’ I silently promise, certain of my words as I know I will stop at nothing to protect him ‘’You are my everything too.’’ I admit seeing how his eyes slightly widen.

‘’My whole reason of being.’’ I whisper as I lean down, staring into his pretty eyes, my gaze slipping only to his lips and back up to capture them. He moans breathlessly into the kiss which is neither slow nor speedy. I keep it simple and rather, light as I focus on pushing the chemise lower whilst I climb onto his lap, my hair falling around our faces like a curtain.

‘’My Sebastian.’’ I break the kiss, imitating him from before but taking more time almost torturously so but in the best away possible as I kiss the corner of his nose, his temple, above his relaxed brown, then begin my descend down his cheek ‘’Handsome as ever.’’ I let my tongue dart out teasingly ‘’Drawing me in with your mere presence. Enough to keep me wanting you for years.’’ I groan, as I trace the side vein in his neck, still merely kissing him feeling how his hands push away the fabric of my chemise hands resting over my hips, trembling as I put a hold under his chin, directing his head in the way I want to. And he goes along with it.

He lets out little sighs, at the contact of my lips over his skin, specially whenever I ghost over a scar. I buckle my hips against his abdomen, his body jerking automatically which raises chuckles from him his whine loud.

‘’You even sound pretty.’’ I praise happily sitting up looking down at him. Seeing him breathless already, pleading eyes staring at me hair messy heart racing. Oh, how I’ve longed for him.

‘’Dashing.’’ I drag both hands, using my blunt nails to run down his chest watching as goosebumps arise over his skin ‘’Stunning, dapper, noble. There are not enough words to describe how amazing you are.’’ I lean down to steal a kiss giggling like a schoolgirl as I pull back Sebastian following. With a hand planted onto his chest I stop him in his tracks, winking. Lowering myself over his thigh I raise an eyebrow which I’m sure makes me look menacing as I can see his Adam’s apple bob.

‘’All I say it’s true. I’ve left you speechless.’’ I tease grasping the waistband, and without a second though pull down the fabric, watching as his manhood bobs up onto his stomach, body twitching again, his legs obviously in place as I’m settled on him.

‘’N-not true.’’ He gets out rising onto his elbows, as I observe the remnants of his release. Seeing there is to be a lot more movement and manoeuvring to get him rid of his undergarment, I grab the material and with some strength put into it tear it apart, Sebastian left with his mouth parted in a small ‘o’ shape.

‘’Ah it’s all very true.’’ I continue letting the now ruined material fall of the edge of the bed as I lie myself between his legs, my own hanging of the bed. Meanwhile I let my hands run up and down his thighs, smiling up at him ‘’I was never able to lie to you. I don’t see the appeal of trying it now.’’ I cheekily say, dipping down to press a kiss onto the side of his inner thigh, the muscles tensing at my ministration.

‘’Shhh relax, my love. Relax.’’ I encourage, looking up at him. I run my nails over his other thigh, whilst starting to suck lovely marks that will bloom later for a reminder.

‘’Enchantress.’’ He grinds through his teeth ‘’A divinity.’’

Thanks to his high praise I let my tongue out, dragging it over his thigh making a show of it ending up moving up like a predator keeping my gaze as such, chin tilted downwards as I lick at his half-hard cock the twitch immediate.

‘’It’s merely me, Sebastian.’’ I say in a low tone, grasping his manhood with my right hand rising it up taking it in, the veins, the head, everything only after looking at him. He looks destroyed already, something I always dreamed of seeing ‘’Only me.’’

And with that I experimentally suck on his tip, the groan he lets out sounding like someone is strangling him whilst his body tenses hands grasping the duvet underneath us twisting it.

With some focus I pry my left hand from his thigh, taking his hand in my own his hold tense. It doesn’t deter me, as I run my tongue over the mushroom head licking the excessive precum, not enjoying the taste but enduring it gladly, seeing how he keeps trashing – and I’ve barely done anything.

Giving him some mercy thanks to the pleading look he gives me I relent, and begin to sink on his cock, flattening my tongue as I descend, closing my eyes as I concentrate on my breathing. I barely get him in my gag reflex already making my throat contract, so I help myself with my right hand, droll dripping from my lips.

Ignoring the tears in my eyes I push forward sucking once, making it my mission to please him further by sinking more.

‘’No, no, no stop, Mc please…’’ he raises up hands gentle as they cup my cheeks pulling me off him. I gasp for air, not minding the spilled tears or droll. Neither does he as he’s quick to wipe them.

‘’I’m sorry I didn’t mean…’’ I begin to panic thinking I did something wrong, and that didn’t like, even as he shakes his head his smile shaky at best, the kiss that follows not so reassuring.

‘’You did wonderful.’’ He breaks away to reassure me holding onto me firmly, readjusting his hold so he can manhandle me this time to sit back, higher over his thighs and to be level with him ‘’You’re a minx, a temptress you are. More perfect than I ever imagined I swear it.’’ He grins happily pressing a chaste kiss ‘’But I don’t want to cum so soon.’’ He looks at me in despair mixed with hope.

‘’You…wow…’’ it daunts on me his extreme reaction, as I observe his face needing to make sure he is telling me the truth ‘’Okay.’’ I find myself saying his smile winning over my heart all over again as he pulls me against him, his cock right underneath me, hot and hard.

‘’I simply cannot resist you.’’ He confesses hugging me for the moment being ‘’You are truly everything to me. You’re too good to me. I want to make you feel good too.’’ and with those words and his strategically placed hands on my chemise he rips the pants portion at first, ending up destroying it with more ease than I did pulling the material away from us.

‘’You already make me feel good.’’ I state planting my knees into the mattress, my right-hand dipping between us, and through my slit collecting the wetness which I then raise up ‘’See?’’ my tongue lowers again. I hold his chin with my left hand, offering two of my fingers. He gets the hint opening his mouth tongue peeking out to which I let him taste me ‘’Hmmm.’’ I moan lightly smirking, pulling my fingers out.

I grasp his dominant hand dipping both of our hands to my folds, the astonishment on his face one I shall remember forever, as he does a double take, his fingers departing from my own making me shudder and groan as he touches my clit.

‘’See what you do to me?’’ I begin my breathing slightly unsteady as he doesn’t pull away ‘’Feel how wet I am for you. What you do to me Sebastian.’’ I gasp as one finger prods at my entrance, entering me gradually his face one of concentration and observation.

A face I’ve seen many times before when we were studying. But never have I seen it in this context which sheds a whole new light on him. He nods at my words slowly ‘’Guess what?’’ I grin close to press my lips against his ear to be a tease, while he wiggles in a second fingers making me sigh at being finally touched ‘’This is all you. Noone else can do this to me. Only you. Always you.’’

He moans at that, ending up groaning as he pulls his fingers out, rolling us on the bed, time for laughter over as I’m once more on my back, but with him spreading my legs wide open making a place for himself between them, his manhood hot as he rubs it against my wet folds.

Bent over, one hand reaches to hold the back of my head angling me however he wants me, his lips bruising as he demands all of my attention. And it’s what he gets as I moan helpless as his cock begins to push inside me. He breaks apart as if in disbelief, gasping for air the bravado gone the more he pushes in, the stretch pleasant and exciting as I want him to hurry along.

But lost in the way he’s handling us, the way he feels, I get lost in the way he looks how intense this is for him, how taunt he goes once he bottoms out, looking at me incredulously.

‘’It’s not a dream.’’ I find myself saying grasping his head forcing him to stay grounded ‘’It is all real.’’ I grin seeing the wobble in his lower lip ‘’My husband.’’ I remind by showing him my ring, ending up dropping onto the bed, as he thrust catching me of guard.

‘’Whow.’’ I say in awe blinking up at him and then glancing down to see us connected.

‘’My wife.’’ He finally speaks ‘’Mc.’’ He says my name clearer to which I nod.

‘’Yours Seb. Only yours.’’ I reassure my body this time jerking as he pulls back and rather harshly thrust back in. It’s proof of inexperience and the fact that he is driven by need mirrors our days in school perfectly. We’d fool around, take risks, we’ve explored each other’s bodies, and have been each other firsts. But it sadly didn’t go further as he was taken prisoner soon after our night of love-making that resulted in some tears but unbroken promises.

‘’M-mine. Only mine Mc.’’ He nods vigorously repositioning his hand, one on my hip one on the bed a look of determination drawing itself across his features ‘’Mine.’’ He says like it’s a matter of fact, pulling back only to set up a rather ruthless pace. Having imagined our reunion in these kinds of circumstances as well – because I have needs to duh – I’ve not imagined him to be like he is.

To just take from the get-go in such a manner. He was always delicate when it came to the more intimate matters, even with his eagerness and firey passion. I can see both of that here, I can feel it in the way he’s changing and angling his hips differently, eyes focused solemnly on my face as I hold onto the bed for dear life, the feeling of what were merely tingles before now turned into live sparks, that are zapping through my body.

It has my toes and fingers curling, the need to curl in on myself great as my thighs begin to shake, my lower abdomen pooling with insane amount of heat. It has tears gather in my eyes once more but this time for other reasons as I feel good all over it being overwhelming.

I practically shout as something brushes my clit. It has me forcing my eyes open as I see Sebastian lick his fingers and drop it to my clitoris, his hand calloused and rough but oh my gods its perfect and exactly what I crave for. What I need.

‘’That’s it, Mc.’’ He approves a small smile forming on his lips ‘’You feel so good.’’ His jaw goes tight as he clenches his teeth, suddenly pinching my clit.

‘’Ah fuckkkk Sebastian.’’ I yelp shaking my head ‘’Harder, fuck me harder, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum…’’ I repeat like a broken record suddenly hugging myself keeping my breast from bouncing as an electric current is running all over.

‘’And who is making you…ugh…cum huh? Who is the one…ahhh, cherishing you like you deserve…ugh to be?’’ he says through his teeth, his gaze wild as he stops for a moment twisting my left leg over his chest and shoulder changing everything entirely the new angle, making my eyes cross over one of Sebastian’s hands pushing my arms away as he grabs onto my boob, squeezing it.

‘’Y-y-you.’’ I reply shakily having a death grip on his arm not knowing what else to do. It’s hard to process that I need to breathe at the moment, my body doing things on its own.

‘’I didn’t hear you, dear wife.’’ He barks with an edge in his voice. His eyes. His demeanour.

But it’s not enough to make me realize it, as he leaves me absolutely dumb on his cock, the only thing on my mind selfishly is to cum.

‘’You, you, you, you Sebastian.’’ I speak strained my muscles contracting, as his hand resumes circling my clit sealing the deal ‘’My Sebastian, mine.’’ I babble, eyes closing tight as white noise fills my ears barely registering the noises I’m still making, only feeling how he rocks against me, how he moves so precise and hard the orgasm washing over otherworldly as it keeps going on.

Faintly I am aware of Sebastian manoeuvring me into another pose, continuing past the shakes and trembles that overrun everything else. Sooner or later something in my brain kicks it into gear to pump air into my lungs as I breathe heavily, enjoying the tingling but otherwise spent.

Feeling an arm settle over my stomach is what encourages me to come back so to speak. I raise a hand up to wipe away the corner of my eyes only then prompting them open. Looking around I acknowledge we have been turned to lie comfortably on the bed with our heads cushioned against the pillows.

Or well…mine. Glancing down feeling the heat radiating on my right it’s Sebastian. Instead of backing away like I’d assume men would do, he has plastered himself onto my right side, using my bicep as a cushion, one arm thrown over my mid-section, one leg over my right.

Dropping my arm, I’m surprised to find he is awake and has come to his senses quicker than I have as he grasps my left hand, fingers dancing with my own. It doesn’t take him long to feel the outline of the wedding ring.

‘’I didn’t even get you an engagement ring.’’ He mutters bending my hand holding it above my chest as he examines my hand and the piece of jewellery.

‘’Technically that would be on me too.’’ I think aloud my voice slightly hoarse. Must be the screaming ‘’I did propose and marry us.’’ I snort ‘’Did all the heavy lifting, didn’t I?’’

I turn to look down at him, just as he peeks up at me, fingers intertwining with my own as he rests our hands next to me for comfort.

‘’I did have a ring.’’ Is what he says, the statement leaving me bewildered which I’m not quick enough to hide as he sighs, looking away ‘’I had a few ideas for proposing. A few spots to choose from.’’ He quiets down again. Bending my right hand, I start to caress his back in reassurance.

‘’Knowing you back then, you had the most rageous ideas, didn’t you?’’ I smirk looking ahead of us at the painting I have above the dresser. It’s a muggle painting so it doesn’t move, but it depicts a castle in Scotland. A castle that’s very similar to Hogwarts. It was too charming not to buy.

‘’You’ve no idea.’’ He blows air looking up at me ‘’I think you’d flat out reject me at some of the propositions I had in mind.’’

I laugh ‘’I probably would.’’ I agree looking down to meet his gaze amused. We fall silent.

‘’I tried to tame a dragon…’’

‘’Oh, Seb noo!’’

‘’Heyyyy I was head over heels! I’d do anything! You deserve the best!’’ he rambles as I laugh in amusement observing as he raises onto his left elbow looking at me adoringly ‘’I swear.’’ He chuckles ‘’I was foolish at times and even stupid. But crazy? I was crazily in love with you. And that has not changed.’’ His smile is exactly the smile he used to have back then.

And it slowly daunts on me. Reality sinking in. That he is here to stay. I have finally freed him. He is in my grasp. He still loves me.

‘’Oh hey, no tears. Why the tears?’’ he jumps as they gather quickly and are instant to fall down my cheeks ‘’Mc.’’

Instead of answering I kiss him softly.

‘’I’m just so happy.’’ I admit smiling widely ‘’You make me incredibly happy it’s all.’’

At this he is taken aback features softening, and I’m sure his own eyes filling with tears ‘’Me too Mc. Me too.’’

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

// Masterlist 2024 //

Copyright 2024© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

[irisintheafterglow]

iris is missing bachira again, what else is new!!

in the limited amount of time you'd spent with bachira meguru, you learned that, with the exception of soccer, his attention span was shorter than a toddler's.

he was always fiddling with something at the outskirts of your vision, spinning a pencil or rolling a rectangular eraser back and forth. a closer look revealed an assortment of little drawings at the corners and headings of his notebook pages: little butterflies, trees, flowers, rockets, fish, and anything more you could possibly think of. you sat in the seat closest to the aisle where the teacher walked through during worktimes, and you developed the habit of tapping his side of the lab table when she started getting too close. bachira would then flip to whatever page he was supposed to be completing and put on the appearance of working hard, murmuring his gratitude when the teacher passed.

it was during a lecture about aquatic ecosystems when the first bachira doodle swam its way into your notebook. you didn't notice it at first, too focused on the presentation to see his hand quickly scribble on your paper before retreating like nothing happened. but, when you finally had a second to look down and see a fish swimming next to a crudely drawn piece of coral, the tiniest smile when you looked at bachira's face was a dead giveaway. you added your own stalk of seaweed to the picture and his smile only grew larger when you slid the paper over to show him.

over time, drawings began to include questions, questions turned to full messages, and full messages became gossip and complaints that were exchanged without any spoken words. his favorite thing to scribble was we won the game, btw :D because you never failed to giggle at his terribly drawn soccer ball next to the smiley face. his most frequently asked question, however, was a tossup between what tf are we learning and i'm so hungry. he was a distraction in class, yes, but a welcome one when you needed someone to lighten a dark mood.

you found that his bored tendencies rubbed off on you, as you were itching to write something one day when the teacher had explicitly instructed you to watch the documentary without taking notes. bachira knew that you had a hard time remembering things if you didn't write them down, and his solution startled you.

"it's okay, just write on me!" he beamed at you as he whispered over the movie playing on the projector. "you let me do it all the time, so let me return the favor."

"i let you do it because none of your pens are permanent, bachira. it's also just doodles, not full sentences," you point out, a blister starting to form on the inside of your fingers as you spin your pen. "mine are a little harder to wash off, trust me."

"as long as you don't draw a dick on my face, i really don't care," he shrugs and you scoff as he's rolling up his sleeve and presenting you his blank forearm. "your canvas awaits." seeing the hesitancy on your face, he nods encouragingly and takes the liberty of drawing a very shaky smiley face on the side of his thumb. "your turn!"

for the remainder of class, bachira's chin rests in his palm with his elbow propped on the table, his other arm extended to you as you jot down whatever you want to remember for later. bachira watches you more than he does the video, memorizing the way you bite your tongue when you're thinking and the way your eyes light up when you figure out how to paraphrase a thought. it's endearing and an odd fluttering feeling occurs in his chest as you look over at him with a grateful smile. at the end of the period, you draw a heart on the inside of his wrist before rushing off to your next subject, still expressing your thanks as you push in your chair.

later, bachira brushes off his teammates when they ask why he has pen stains all over his arm; he says he didn't have time to scrub it before the game.

---

the blue lock players begin to notice an odd habit of bachira's, a sort of ritual right before every match. he rolls up his uniform's long-sleeve until just enough of his wrist is showing, and draws something on the inside of his wrist. with the cap of the marker between his teeth, bachira obviously struggles to draw with his non-dominant hand but declines assistance when isagi offers.

when he kisses the heart on the inside of his wrist before scoring every goal, he hopes that you can feel it's for you, with a promise that he'll be back to you soon.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[theprongspotter]

Method - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 23 - 1,370 words

It’s three in the morning and James wakes up to loud bangs and what sounds like glass shattering. The random sounds used to alarm him, but now he’s annoyed. You see, the first few times this happened, he thought someone broke in, but as it continued, he realized that it had to be deeper than that. Nothing was ever stolen, just broken. In a desperate attempt to figure it out, he even hired a medium, who informed him that there was an entity playing tricks on him.

So, he tries putting earmuffs on, a sad method to put himself back to sleep, and rolls over. But the noises are too loud. Grumbling, James heads down to the kitchen, ready to tell off whatever entity is ruining his sleep schedule. However, when he steps onto the cool tiles and into the room, he seems to lose his voice. Yes, he sees a glowing figure tossing bowls and mugs onto the ground. But the figure looks like a man around his own age, with a sharp jawline, sharp cheekbones, black curls that fall a little past his ears, and stormy eyes.

James clears his throat, finding his voice. The man freezes. “So you’re the one keeping me up at night.”

The man turns around to face him, his expression blank. "It’s not my fault you lie down at odd times.”

James blinks. “What are you even doing?”

The man shrugs, now looking bored. “Ridding you of the most hideous china pieces ever. I refuse to be in a house with such items.”

James looks at what the man is holding. It’s a brown mug with black eyes, a nose, and antlers sprouting out of it. He frowns, yanking the mug from the other’s hand. Their fingers touch and James shivers. After collecting himself, he sets the mug on the counter. “That one’s a gift, don’t destroy that one.”

The man must take this as a sign that James is okay with his destruction, because he turns back to the cupboard and reaches for another mug. “Don’t,” James interrupts. The man slowly looks over at James and raises a brow, his arm falling back to his side. “What… are you?” James asks.

“Dead.” The man snorts.

James stares at the ghost, trying to process the situation. He’s been dealing with this haunting for weeks, but this is the first time he’s actually seen the entity responsible for all the chaos. And now that he’s face-to-face with him, he’s not sure what to say.

“Well, yeah, I figured that much,” James says, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “But why are you haunting me?”

The ghost tilts his head, considering the question. “It’s not personal,” he says after a moment, as if that should be obvious. “This just happens to be where I ended up.”

James frowns, not satisfied with the answer. “But why me? And why the mugs? What do you have against my stuff?”

The ghost narrows his eyes slightly, as if irritated by James’ persistence. “Your ‘stuff’ is an assault on the senses,” he says flatly. “I have standards, even in death.”

James can’t help but feel a little insulted. “You’re trashing my place because you don’t like my taste?”

“Precisely,” the ghost replies, sounding almost smug. “You could at least take some pride in your home.”

James runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but you can’t keep destroying my things. Some of it has sentimental value.”

The ghost’s expression softens for the briefest moment, something flickering in his stormy eyes, but it’s gone before James can make sense of it. “Sentimentality,” the ghost mutters, almost to himself. “It’s always about that, isn’t it?”

James opens his mouth to respond, but the ghost abruptly turns away, drifting toward the window. “Fine,” he says, voice softer now. “I’ll stop breaking your precious trinkets. But don’t expect me to be quiet.”

"What’s your name?” James asks, curious about this ghost.

The ghost hesitates, his lips pressed together before he opens his mouth to say, “Regulus,” his voice soft.

James’s curiosity deepens as he stares at the ghost—at Regulus. The name feels like it belongs to another time, fitting for someone who looks like he stepped out of an old photograph, all sharp edges and elegance.

“Regulus,” James repeats, testing the name on his tongue. It’s strange, speaking so casually to a ghost, but there’s something almost… normal about the way Regulus stands there, as if he belongs in this kitchen despite the chaos he’s caused.

Regulus watches him with those stormy eyes, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before his expression smooths into one of bored detachment. “Yes, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

James opens his mouth to introduce himself, more out of habit than anything, but Regulus cuts him off with a roll of his eyes and a slight smirk. “I know who you are, James.” His voice is soft, almost teasing, as though this is all a game to him.

James feels a flicker of something at that—surprise, maybe? A ghost knowing his name is unnerving enough, but the familiarity with which Regulus says it sends a shiver down his spine. “How…?”

“I’ve been around,” Regulus says dismissively, waving a hand as though the details are irrelevant. “It’s hard not to overhear when you’re stuck in a house with someone who talks to themselves as much as you do.”

James flushes, a little embarrassed. “I don’t talk to myself that much.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he doesn’t press the point. Instead, he moves to pick up another mug from the cupboard, inspecting it with a critical eye. “Honestly, where do you even find these things?” he mutters, more to himself than to James. “Who in their right mind thinks this is aesthetically pleasing?”

James steps closer, watching as Regulus turns the mug in his hands. “I like them,” he says, a little defensively. “They’ve got character.”

Regulus scoffs, setting the mug back down with exaggerated care. “If by character, you mean a complete lack of taste, then yes.”

James can’t help but grin at the dry sarcasm in Regulus’s tone, even if it’s at the expense of his kitchenware. There’s something almost endearing about how seriously this ghost seems to take his self-imposed mission to rid the house of “hideous” items.

“Why do you care so much, anyway?” James asks, genuinely curious. “It’s not like you have to look at them.”

Regulus’s expression flickers again, just for a moment, before he shrugs. “Maybe I just prefer things to be… orderly,” he says, though there’s something deeper in his voice that James can’t quite place.

“Orderly,” James echoes, filing that little detail away for later. There’s more to Regulus than meets the eye, and for the first time since the hauntings began, James feels like he’s starting to understand a little of what’s been going on.

But there’s still so much he doesn’t know, so many questions swirling in his mind. And as he watches Regulus, he realizes that he’s more intrigued than ever. What kind of life—or death—has led to this ghost standing in his kitchen, critiquing his mugs in the dead of night?

Before James can reply, the ghost vanishes, leaving the kitchen eerily silent. James stands there for a moment, the weight of what just happened sinking in. He’s not sure if he’s just made peace with the ghost or if he’s simply in for more trouble, but at least the mugs are safe. For now.

He picks up the mug with the antlers, running his fingers over the familiar shape. “Sentimentality,” he murmurs, echoing the ghost’s words. It makes him wonder who this ghost was, and why he’s so stuck on a place he seems to despise.

As James turns to leave the kitchen, he hears a faint whisper, almost like a sigh, coming from nowhere in particular. It sends a shiver down his spine, but it’s not fear he feels. It’s something else—something that makes him think he hasn’t seen the last of this ghost, and that there’s more to this haunting than a simple dislike of ugly china.

[softonshanks]

1. Your url is so good im jealous, 2. Me and my bother have had this inside joke for the longest that if the straw hats ever had a ships cat for rat catching knowing oda it would probably be ugly instead of cute and too lazy to catch rats so uh, if you have time, could you do some hcs about the straw hats having a terrible, incompetent cat?

Ciaooo and thank you so much <3 I'm glad you like my url. You've an amazing icon btw, long live Fitzgerald.

(ran into this post while writing it and this draw stuck with me lol)

Appearance: The cat is a black cat with a small patch of white fur on its chest, vaguely reminiscent of a Jolly Roger if you watch it from afar. His eyes are a striking gold, and he has a permanently disinterested expression on his face. He wears a tiny, straw hat on a string around his neck, a miniature version of Luffy's iconic hat, gifted by Usopp.

Personality: The cat is the epitome of laziness. He spends most of his time lounging in the sun on the Thousand Sunny, draped over Zoro's swords, curled up in Robin's lap while she reads, or nestled into Chopper’s fur. Despite his apparent lethargy, actually the cat is highly intelligent and observant, often seen watching the crew's antics with half-lidded eyes, as if silently judging them.

Interactions with the Crew:

Luffy: Luffy adores it, frequently trying to play with him. However, the cat often ignores Luffy’s attempts at play, which only makes Luffy more determined to win him over. Sometimes, the cat will humor Luffy by swatting at a string or lightly biting his fingers, but only if he's in the mood.

Zoro: the cat has an unspoken bond with Zoro. They both enjoy napping in the same sunny spots on the ship, and it is often found curled up on Zoro’s chest while he sleeps. The crew jokes that the cat is Zoro’s spirit animal because of their shared love of sleep and that if the cat could drink, he would do it, as it already gives annoyed glances at people passing by when it's not in the mood.

Nami: Nami has a soft spot for the cat, though she tries to pretend she doesn’t. She'll often sneak him little treats from the kitchen and make sure he has a warm blanket on colder nights. It repays her with the occasional nuzzle against her leg, but only when no one is looking.

Usopp: Usopp loves telling the cat exaggerated stories, acting out grand adventures for the cat's supposed amusement. It usually just stares at him with a blank and annoyed expression, but Usopp is convinced that the cat is secretly fascinated.

Sanji: Sanji is the only one who can consistently coax the cat into being active, usually by tempting him with gourmet fish dishes. It will actually get up and follow Sanji around the kitchen if he smells something delicious being prepared, occasionally “helping” by sitting in the middle of whatever Sanji is working on.

Chopper: It is surprisingly gentle with Chopper, often sitting quietly beside him when he’s working in the infirmary. Chopper is convinced that the cat has a calming effect on patients, so he always welcomes the cat's presence.

Robin: of course it spends the most time with Robin. He'll curl up on her lap while she reads, occasionally batting at the pages if he gets bored. Robin enjoys his quiet company and often gives him scratches behind the ears, which it secretly loves.

Franky: Franky tried to build the cat a super high-tech cat bed, but it ignored it in favor of sleeping on top of a random pile of junk. Franky was initially disappointed, but he respects its independence, often chatting with him while he works on the Sunny.

Brook: Brook enjoys playing music for the cat, who will sometimes tap his tail in time with the beat, but only if it's a particularly mellow tune. Brook would like to caress him with his fingertips, but he hasn't have any cause he's dead oh oh oh

Jinbe: Jinbe is indifferent to the cat's laziness but respects the cat's serenity. They share a mutual understanding, often sitting together in silence during quiet moments on the ship.

Bonus:

Despite his lazy nature, the cat has surprisingly sharp reflexes. He has been known to catch flies out of the air with lightning speed or avoid falling objects with grace. In battle, though he rarely participates, he’ll sometimes trip up enemies with a well-timed pounce or swipe, then immediately go back to lounging.

It has an uncanny ability to sense danger before it happens. If Maru suddenly gets up and leaves a spot he’s been lounging in, the crew knows something is up, whether it’s a storm on the horizon or an ambush waiting for them.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Sinners that are 1 or 2 degrees separated from our Saint share your stories! Ill share mine. by u/ContentPineapple3330

Sinners that are 1 or 2 degrees separated from our Saint, share your stories! I’ll share mine. So, bear with me. Let me set up the scene. It was 2021 (so our Saint still was popular in the US)— I was on a flight to California, and I was bumped up to first class. And I found myself seated by the most beautiful man. He exuded confidence and his clothes spoke real money. Honestly, my first thought was “Crap. I’m sitting by a famous actor, and I don’t know who he is. Crap, crap crap.”

Well, he wasn’t an actor — as I soon discovered before the plane took off, when he took a call to speak to what I presumed was a coworker about logistics, “Monticieto, blah, blah, blah, Jaguar, Range Rover, blah blah…” and my curiosity was piqued. Was he a lawyer? Real estate agent? Who was this mysterious moneyed man? I didn’t know, but somehow the ice was broken when he asked me a very boring question — and we fell into easy conversation. And once the stewardess gave us drinks (yay first class) the conversation flowed quite freely.

We were around the same age (late 20s / early 30s) — and he mentioned he used to live in Toronto. I asked him casually if between Monticieto and Toronto if he ever ran into Oprah’s latest interviewee, St. Meghan Markle, and he looked me dead in the eye. “Yes. Oh yes I have,” and gave a deep sigh. I then said, as chill as I possibly could muster, “Tell. me. more!” (At this point, thanks to wine/vodka soda water we were chatting like long lost best friends), and he got a bit standoffish and said, “well… I don’t really like talking about her because… people don’t really like what I have to say.”

I decided then and there to show my cards (recall 2021 — it almost felt dangerous to say you disliked her! Oh how times have changed!) — and I told him point blank that I thought she was pretty phony (though I was not nearly reliably informed about her antics as I am now.) He looked relieved by my response and replied, “oh you don’t know half of it!” And the next half hour he spilled anecdote after anecdote about her behavior.

So he was very much involved in Toronto’s high society, and was/is actually friends with Corey her ex. (Like, he pulled up his texts with him to share recent pictures of him and his wife and their cute kid.) After sharing many anecdotes of her pretentiousness and ultimately that “no one was missing her in Toronto,” he told me people only really tolerated her because of Jessica Mulroney, who according to my travel companion is very likable “once you know her.” (He only had nice things to say about Jessica, for what it’s worth. 🤷‍♀️)

His (and my) favorite story that he shared was that one time Corey took her for a romantic getaway somewhere tropical. But when they went to check into the hotel, Madame tried to get their hotel rooms upgraded. She started throwing a tantrum at the front desk staff, and in a fit of rage said “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” (Recall, she’s Rachel from Suits 😆) And everyone was like….. um…. No?

This was apparently the moment where the scales fell from Corey’s eyes, and he realized what he was dating. Apparently, he was considering proposing soon / during that trip, but instead — he decided to head back to Canada and end the trip early. I don’t think they immediately broke up — but I think Corey was starting to rethink everything. And was very much NOT heartbroken when things ended, but very much relieved.

Anyways, it was a rather entertaining flight!!!So that’s my story, but I know there’s people here that have better! post link author: ContentPineapple3330 submitted: July 11, 2024 at 01:57AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[frank1nsaint]

Franklin Part 1.

You look around the crowd of people, slightly overwhelmed by the turn out at the fair today. It was a Saturday night after all anyone who wanted to enjoy an ounce of fun weekend before work/school on Monday was here. Unfortunately for you crowds weren’t your thing since a fight tended to break out and nowadays a gun would be pulled quickly. 

“Damn! he walks like his dick is heavy” you hear 

You start coughing choking on your cola

“What?!!” Wanda comments

“She must be talking about Franklin”  Lashay adds as you all now looked towards where she looked, Franklin’s crew walked towards them mostly because of Leon but still they made their way towards you 

There’s a light laughter between you girls “Girl you crazy!” your best friend who just happens to be your cousin Harmony adds to the discussion 

“Oh shit they coming this way yall straighten up!” Tasha snaps quickly adjusting herself clothes  

You groan internally you didn’t want to deal with Franklin and his men. You were around them from elementary to now, and right now mentioning Franklin and his men was like mentioning the grim reaper and his minions. After Kevin's death and Franklin’s release, it was like they were untouchable, and anyone who crossed them ended up dead. Franklin didn’t have that innocent aura about him anymore, you couldn’t describe it he was different confident

“Ladies!” Mike Mike greets bowing his head

“Hey y'all” Lashay greets

“What y'all doing here?” Leon asks

“We are at the state fair duh we are here to get some drinks food and have fun” Wanda responds

“The questioning is what are y'all doing here?” Harmony asks

“Shit y'all can’t be the only ones having fun!” Jerome comments

You hang back as the group merges and moves through the fair. You would integrate, often joining the discussion, but for the most part you kinda just chilled in the back and watched as the couples (Tasha/Franklin, Wanda/Leon, Harmony/Sean Louie/Jerome) cupcaked while the rest of you walked at a distance from them. 

“Girl Sean talking about making me his girl” Harmony comments as you two finally made it back to your rented out home 

“Oh nice!” you say removing your shoes

“You had fun tonight?” 

“Yea!” you smile 

“Good see it was fun” she says in a “i told you so” mocking tone 

“Yea yea whatever!” you wave her off before retreating to the kitchen. You two spend the night conversing before heading off to sleep. 

Life goes on and not much can be said about trying to survive and make it in a world that wouldn’t allow you to. 

“No,” you look at your cousin with a dead face

“WHYYY GIRL? COMME ONNNN” she begs

“Why do I” you point to your chest, “need to go? Tasha, Lashay, Bri, CiCi they are all going” 

“Because cousin, it's a christmas/new years party, damn you wanna be the only bitch in south central staying home on new years eve??”

“You know i don’t like crowds” you argue “and you know damn well that house is about to be packed” 

“When will you get to experience partying at a drug lords house again?” she counters 

“I would hope never Harmony”

She fake cries “come on girl pleaaassseee” she begs as she hugs you

“Harmony”

“Franklin said bring all your friends you know I cant show up without you” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you are part of the package” 

“Just go with the girls” should 

She turns you to face her “Y/N! why don’t you want to come?”

You sigh “i already told you!” 

She gives you a light push “Fine, be boring, have no social life, have no love life, just  survive, Work, school, home, bills thats it???” She throws her hands up when you give her a blanks stare in return 

You roll your eyes as she walks away. What she said got to you eventually, you didn’t want to only survive, you wanted to live just not around Saint and his men, it's like a body dropped every time he was around. 

You ponder for a few days before approaching her, what could hurt a one time party never to be mentioned again at least you could counter if she ever asked you to leave again. 

“Whats the dress code?” you ask as you stand by the kitchen counter 

“What?” She asks as she mixes the rice on the stove

“For this party” you clarify 

She turns to you with a stunned face, mouth a jar wide grin quickly taking over, “you coming?!!!” she asks softly, when you nod she screams and throws her arms around you “OH MY GOD!!!! AHHHH! YES GIRLLLL YESSSS WHAT MADE YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND?”

“Okay calm down!”

“Sorry” she takes a deep breath “I’m just soo excited” 

“Yea yea whats the dress code i mean can i show up in jeans or?” 

“Jeans girl really?” you shrug “You can or you can get a nice pretty dress stand out, get your hair done, nails?”

“So dress up is the dress code?” 

She shrugged “he never said just you know dress nice”

“I can dress nice in jeans”

“In a dress!” she stresses

“Fine” you weren’t going to argue your way through this party 

“Ooh girl, I can't wait to go shopping, let me call the girls and then we can plan to go out together!” she comments before returning to the stove.  You groan already regretting agreeing to go to this party.

The night of the party approaches quickly and you feel your stomach doing flips, it was too late to tell Harmony you changed your mind, you two were looking for a parking spot in the neighborhood, it seemed like half of south central had already showed up to the party. 

You don’t even know how time flew by so quickly, one minute you're in the chair getting your hair done, next thing you're putting on your lipstick, perfume, shoes, now walking towards the door. Watching as people poured in and out of the party. 

The chilly LA evening weather was much appreciated as you were not trying to arrive at the house with a thin layer of sweat on your body. Not after you've primped and primed the entire day. 

“HEEEEYYYYY!”  Harmony greets as you two walk in 

“MY BABY IS HERE!” Sean yells on top of his lungs

You stand back as you watch them greet

“Y/N?” you hear your name 

You turn to face one of Franklin's men “I’ll take your coat”  

“Oh you shrug off your trench coat.”

“I missed you baby” you hear harmony whine in a baby voice you can’t help but laugh 

The house was sorta full, you could still see across the room and make faces you knew that wouldn't be the case in the next hour or so. You just know the party was bound to get shut down

You step further in securing the coat check in your clutch. 

“Hey”  you greet Franklin

“Glad you could make it Y/N” he greets giving you a half hug, you quickly inhale his cologne he smelled good you make a quick note to yourself 

“Thanks for the invite, we brought you this” you say handing him a gift bag

“Oh shit you didn’t have to” he smiles at you

You shrug “well my mama said never show up to a person's house empty handed you know” 

He nods “what yall get me?” He asks trying to move the tissue paper around 

“Oh uh really good wine” 

“Expensive wine”  Harmony adds

“And some Bourbon” 

“Expensive bourbon” 

“Okay Harmony!” you look at her incredulously causing Franklin to chuckle

She chuckles “I’m fucking with you girl but”  she turns to face Franklin, “my cousin went around turn looking for the best wine for you”

“Oh word?” he turns to face you a bright smile on his face 

You feel yourself getting flustered “No I just” you feel yourself blushing “It's a gift and I  like to give good gifts” you defend, you don’t even know why you were blushing 

“That's true you ever want a good gift you ask her she’ll find some good shit” 

You smile “I’m gonna say hi to the girls and boys”  you say walking away from them

“Awkward ass” Harmony comments causing Franklin and Sean to burst out laughing. You throw your middle finger at her and keep walking

It wasn’t that you were purposely trying to impress Franklin, it was just a gift. What would it look like showing up with cheap wine and liquor when you kept hearing about the thousands he was moving weekly.He would probably be offended, you heard about his temper. 

1 hour you say to yourself as you made your way around the room, thats it thats how long you were staying 1 hour. You eventually find a small group of girls to talk to, avoiding Harmony and the rest as they were either in the circle with Franklin or right near it, in the center of the house. When you turn to look at that area you catch a glimpse of Tasha on Franklin's lap, with a flash she gets up and other women take a seat on his lap, you shake your head internally before returning to the conversation. 

The next time you look down at your watch you realise 2 hours had passed. It was already past 11pm and you should have been home by now. 

You quickly chug the water you have been drinking, (you weren’t gonna take risks drinking and driving) you slowly push your way through the massive crowd avoiding anyone from that group spotting you. Unbeknownst to you Franklin had his eye on you the entire night. He watched as you stood in the corner and talked to the girls, then back to the kitchen, bathroom, he even saw you spill water on yourself, he smiled slightly before returning to his conversation, no matter where you were tonight he made sure his eyes were on you. 

At one point you two make eye contact but you smile and quickly look away. Plus the comment Harmony made awhile back about him looking at you a certain way had you nervous being around the man, you can’t explain it you just wanted to get out of South Central unscathed and gaining the attention of Franklin wasn’t a plan. 

“Yea I’m leaving,”  you chuckle nervously while handing them the coat check

“Damn before New Years? it's gonna happen in like 40 minutes” 

“I know but I kinda wanna start getting home before traffic you know” you explain 

You already knew Harmony was gonna be with Sean tonight at his place you begged her to go to his instead of ruining your night with their sexcapeds gladly for you she agreed

He nodded in response “Yea that makes sense, LA traffic can get crazy” 

“Yea it can” You open your clutch to pull your keys but find nothing, you frantically push things around to see nothing, your lip gloss, napkins, mints and your wallet

“Shit” you say to yourself as you think back to the night? Did you leave them in the car? Are they with Harmony? Did they drop and you didn’t hear them? Your mind races trying to trace back the night. 

“Here you go” he says handing you your coat 

“Thanks”  

“Leaving so soon?”  you hear close to your ear from behind you, 

You instinctively tilt your head away, “Huh?”  as you continue to check the pockets quickly turning around slowly

You release your breath as you feel the keys in your coat pocket, you look up and see Franklin looking down at you smiling

“FUCK!”  you curse internally  “Heyyy” you smile quickly turning to glance at where he was to see if anyone else noticed. It was so packed now you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies now

“Leaving so soon?” he asks again pulling his hands behind his back 

You giggle nervously “Oh yea I don’t wanna get stuck in LA traffic”

He tilts his head slightly confused “But you just got here” 

“No i got here 2 hours ago” 

“I didn’t even get the chance to talk to you tonight” You make a face, he chuckles in response “I’m saying i wanted to catch up with you” he shrugs “we ain't really talked since highschool” 

“Oh” you shrug “nothing much going on with me” 

He smirks “Nah you more interesting than that, I aint even get the chance to tell you look good tonight yet,” You look down at your semi formal sweetheart dress, you were actually glad you agreed to dress up as many women were and you didn't’ want to be the odd one out actually even Franklin was dressed up suit tie the whole shebang

“Oh” you smile “thank you Franklin, you look good too clean up nice” 

He removes the coat from your hands gently “how about you stay a little longer?” he bargains

You chuckle nervously this could not be happening “Noo” you reach for the jacket but he puts it behind his back. “Franklin!”  you scold 

He smiles looking at you “comeon girl you can’t leave right before new years!” he argues 

“I don’t like driving at night. You know how the cops are? And its new years too!?” You catch his eyes drifting lower to your cleavage before making their way up to yours. You use that to your advantage and reach around but he quickly moves the jacket the opposite way

“Franklin!” you look towards where he was seating in the center of the house and see a very ugly mug on Tasha’s face and the other women seemed to share the same sentiment glaring in your direction 

“Come on its" he looks down at his watch, "only 30 more minutes, that can’t hurt” 

“No! Plus looks like Tasha is gonna kill you” you comment

“Tasha?”  he looks at where you tilted your head

“Oh shit!” he laughs “I don’t care about Tee” 

You cross your arms on your chest “Aren't you two dating?” 

“No!” 

“Mmmm well you might not be but she believes you two are and I need my coat Franklin” you open your hand out for him to give it to you

“I’ll take you home” 

“No how are you gonna get back here plus it's your party don’t be ridiculous!” 

“RIdiculous?” He guffaws  “I'm not the one leaving a new years party 30 minutes before new years that's the point of the party!” 

You huff and look up at the ceiling. You need to find a solution. You would leave the coat but it has your keys! He moves closer smiling at how flustered you were getting (“I just wanna go home”) you think to yourself, this shouldn’t be happening he should be dating Tasha. Why isn’t he? Weren't they over each other at the fair and tonight? What was this some freakyshit they were into or what?

“What is it?” He asks softly bringing your attention back to him, that damn smile, those dimples, nope no Y/N you need to go home

“Franklin I would like to go home please” 

“Y/N I told you I’ll take you home” 

“What about Tee?”

“Tee can get a ride home, why you keep brining her up?”

“Franklin”

“I’ll take you home. I promise”

“When?” 

“Right after the celebration is over!” he smiles slyly 

You frown “No thats like at 6am!” 

He chuckles you caught on quick “No give me till 1am at least” 

You contemplate no way you were getting the coat back that was for sure

“Fine you promise?” 

“I promise ima get Dreads or Mikey to take you”  You scoff “what?”

You  reach around and snatch your coat shocking him in the process

“No you said you were gonna take me home so you needed to take me home not punt me off to your men” you complain as you throw on your coat quickly 

He smiles at your brattiness “okay okay i will” he reaches for you

You move away from him “Nope i’m going home goodnight Franklin!” 

He sighs, “can you at least let me know you made it home safe?” 

“Fine i’ll page Tee” 

He  groans and you chuckle, he bites his bottom lip as he watches you walk away defiantly 

[thewordswewrite]

In the Spirit of Helping

Pairing | Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle

Summary | Lucy has been alone most of her life, having found solace in a single friend long lost she grapples with being taken care of again. She must learn how to hold on and be held.

Or five times Lockwood looks out for Lucy and one time she looks out for him.

Warnings | mentions of suicide, canon typical violence

W/C | 9.6k

A/N | I’ve loved Lockwood and Co. since middle school (I’m in college now) and I even have my first book signed by the author so this is a long time coming. The show really captured the books and I hate Netflix for canceling it so I decided to give us a little more than we have. -smoe<33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link 

One.

It’d been a tough case. Child Type-Twos were always difficult for them but Lucy tended to take it the hardest. Her listening was sensitive and her heart just a tad too big for the job.

While the team had been fighting off ghosts, Lucy’s senses had been overwhelmed by the cries of children. She almost couldn’t hear the boys calling her name over the cacophony of noise. Her own voice had soon joined the begging, hot tears streaming down her face to accompany the desperation. The memory of hands grabbing at her, holding her down; she just wanted it to stop , stop–

“Stop!” She yelled, thrashing around at imaginary hands. “Please leave us alone!”

Muffled cries of, “Lucy!” rang out from her left but she’d already dropped to the ground, holding her head in her hands.

Hands tugged at her shoulders, real ones this time, and she panicked. “Get off me!” She lashed out and the smooth metal of her ring caught Lockwood’s cheekbone, splitting it.

Lockwood took a second to compose himself before he approached her again, hands out and placating as if she were a wounded animal. 

“Lucy, it’s alright,” She noticed suddenly that she could hear the comforting lilt of his voice with no interference “George got the source. They’re gone.”

The ghosts had all been tied to the same source: a stuffed bear stored under the floorboards. Lucy threw up while Lockwood held her hair and George called DEPRAC to come to retrieve the source as well as arrest their employer. Lucy couldn’t help but stare at Lockwood as they rode home, the gash on his face tidied up by a medic but there all the same.

Her eyes bore into his–guilt and anger rotting her insides but incapable of feeling it. She couldn’t feel much of anything on the ride home, just a vague sense of what she did and what had happened. She was numb and it was only when Lockwood had finally broken their eye contact that she registered they were back at Portland Row. Languidly, she exited the vehicle, her rapier loose in her hand and a blank expression on her tear-stained face.

Lucy found herself sandwiched between two boys, George in front, keying open the door, and Lockwood behind her, his hand hovering over the small of her back. Her things fell unceremoniously to the ground the moment she stepped in the door and George jumped.

“Christ, Lucy, you could at least–”

“I’m going to sleep,” she announced and sidestepped an indignant-looking George.

“Lucy, how about we all have a cuppa and–” Lockwood didn’t bother to finish his sentence as Lucy was already up the first flight of stairs and working on the next by the time he managed the first half.

Lucy’s legs felt like iron, her body forcing its way to her room through the difficulty. She’d lost control again. She saw the way the boys looked at her: George and his sideways glances, Lockwood with a pity that gripped her heart and tugged every time she so much as frowned. How could she not though? Every day they experienced more than any person should in a lifetime and they were only children, no matter what Lockwood insisted.

More than anything Lucy was angry . Angry at her mother for pushing her into this line of work, angry at DEPRAC for letting kids do this job, and angry at Fitts and Rotwell for profiting off the backs of dead agents. Her hands clenched as she made her way to the bathroom overwhelmed with how dirty she felt. The eyes that stared back at her in the mirror were as dull as her mousy brown hair and the freckles that scattered her cheeks and nose were muddled by smears of mud from her fall. Tear streaks were running down her face as she scrubbed at them furiously, the too-cold water making her feel raw. Grey water swirled down the drain, taking the dirt and magnesium dust with it. 

Lucy noticed the hair on her arms had been singed as she removed her dirtied clothes similarly littered with burns and tears. The sensible blacks and blues of her wardrobe left much to be desired, George being the only one to stray into yellows and oranges but paying for it whenever he came out on jobs and ruined his clothes. The steam of the shower began filling up the small room, giving Lucy a reprieve from her reflection as the mirror fogged up and she stepped inside the scalding water.

As she scrubbed her body and massaged her scalp, Lucy felt the anger and sadness slip away from her, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. Tears mixed with the spray of shower as Lucy silently let out the day. She was just wrapping a towel around herself when a knock echoed from outside the door.

“Luce?” It was Lockwood. “Lucy?”

Heaving a breath, Lucy wrapped her towel tighter and exited the bathroom just as Lockwood climbed the rest of the way up the stairs. Lockwood was now staring up at her, surprise coloring his face and a blush starting to burn his cheeks. Lucy didn’t have it in her to be embarrassed around Lockwood like she always seemed to be, instead staring down at his red-tinged face.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a step back down the stairs.

It took a second for her to respond, deciding whether to lie or voice a truth she hadn't dared to think on. “No.”

“Wha-” Lockwood blubbered, not expecting her answer and bounded up the last three steps to her room and walked over to where she stood. “Luce, what’s going on with you?”

“Honestly, Lockwood,” Lucy began, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m tired.”

Lockwood grinned, a look of relief flooding his face as he spoke, “Well, a good night’s sleep-”

“No, Lockwood!” She turned around exasperated. “I’m tired of being an agent, I’m tired of risking my life, I’m tired of being tired!”

When Lucy turned back to see the stunned boy behind, her she immediately wished she’d kept her mouth closed. His entire demeanor shifted, eyes not quite meeting hers and Lucy wanted to take everything back.

“Lockwood…” Her mind flashed to him telling her, “everything ends and everyone leaves.”

Lockwood gave her a rueful smile, his arms flailing helplessly at his sides, “I wish you didn't have to do this either. And you don’t but I’ll be here for you…George too–the both of us–if you decide to stay.” 

Lucy was suddenly all too aware that she was still only in a towel when she felt herself fluster at his attempted cover-up. “It was just a long night, I didn’t mean it. I’m not going anywhere”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, not looking at each other but she didn’t think Lockwood was convinced by her words. Lucy looked to the skull, its swirling green face taunting her as she wracked her mind for a way to tell Lockwood how much he meant to her when a yawn tore its way up her throat, breaking the moment. “You’re tired, I’ll let you go to bed.”

“Anthony…” She pleaded, not knowing what she would say if he stopped and he nearly did before he must have thought better of it.

“I want you to know, you mean a lot to us and we’re always going to be here for you,” He seemed put off by his own admission but added on assuredly, “I would be sorry to see you go.” 

Lucy wasn’t sure what she was feeling as she watched Lockwood walk down the stairs. She knew the boys meant something to her, they were all she had left; her mother never meant much to her, and Norrie ghost-locked back north was likely never to wake up. They were all she had and by some strange feat, that was enough.

Two.

Lucy’s eyes snapped open, her body stiff and cold as she lay staring up at the dark ceiling of her attic room. There was a quick moment where she felt the echo of being trapped in ghost-lock but when she realized she was aware of her surroundings, Lucy’s stomach dropped. For many, nightmares were the worst of it, but for her , as the dreams ended the terror of real life began. At least in her dreams, she could do more than just watch.

Her breathing began to quicken uncontrollably. Realistically, she knew none of what was happening was real but the panic clawing its way through her chest and into her lungs didn’t give much leeway toward logic. Lucy felt herself break into a cold sweat as a shadow moved at the edge of her vision. Ghosts glowed, she saw them every day; they didn’t exist as the void she was experiencing, hell even shades were different than this. Lucy felt a scream bubbling in her throat, waiting to be let out but she was locked still. Her body was not her own, a mind inside an unwilling vessel that was intent on destroying her.

Her muscles ached as she strained against them, trying to force any part of herself to move or latch onto reality, her anchor being Lockwood's necklace but to no avail. Quicker and quicker she was losing oxygen to her heaving, her hands begging to grasp at the invisible noose around her neck that was tightening by the second. She lay there, choking on the air that she was able to inhale into her burning lungs when suddenly, her finger twitched. Another and then another came to until her body shot up out of the bed and a scream found its way out of the lump in her throat.

Once again her vision was clear and the shadow was gone but the fear that had only just consumed her still lingered in the air, electric, leaving her paranoid. Tears pricked at Lucy’s eyes, not out of fright but frustration; she hadn’t slept well in weeks and she was growing weary of the constant fatigue she lived with. Between the nighttime cases and overall lack of sleep, she was at her wit's end.

Lucy pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing the tears to stop until she could swing her legs from under her blanket and take the first tentative step out of bed. The dusty hardwood was cold on her bare feet and creaked quietly under her. She didn’t like to walk around at night, knowing that the noise could be heard throughout the house but given that she’d already been screaming, if anyone was disturbed they’d already be awake. She glanced at the dull green glow of the skull on her window ledge and grimaced.

Grabbing her sweater from where it sat in her laundry basket, Lucy pulled it over her head, not bothering to worry about the two-day-old tea stain that marred the front. It was her favorite sweater, often smelling familiarly like lavender and anyway, she had no one to impress at three in the morning. Her hand found the reassuring iron of her doorknob and cursed the house for being so cold; the older construction did not lend much insulation for the chilly weather that plagued London almost year round. For good measure, she hurriedly grabbed the knitted throw blanket George’s mom made off of her bed and wrapped that around herself as well.

She began to descend the stairs, being as quiet as possible, her hand gripped the railing and supported her as she skipped the loose stair that always creaked when anyone stepped on it. The landing was home to three doors, two inhabited and, she could only hope, undisturbed . Her eyes slid past George’s but she lingered on his despite her resolve not to. Shaking her head, Lucy continued down the second flight until she reached the ground floor.

Just as she was going to enter the kitchen, the sound of the stove lighting stopped her. Had she woken one of them? Her heart rate picked up and she couldn't decide who she’d rather have awoken. 

With a deep breath, Lucy pushed open the door and saw the clear outline of Lockwood reaching to grab a mug from the cabinet. She tip-toed in but accidentally knocked into a chair, startling the boy. 

“Oh, Lucy , it's you,” Lockwood smiled, a defensive hand still clutched to his chest.

 “What are you doing awake?” She asked but her voice was unprepared and it came out strained. She knew he needed the sleep just as much as her.

“You know, had to use the bathroom then decided on some tea.” He shrugged, gesturing to the kettle on the stove, mug in hand.

Lucy squinted her eyes in suspicion, “That’s my mug.”

Lockwood’s gaze flitted to the object he was holding and scoffed. “Well, it's hardly yours. Everyone shares these!”

Despite the feeling in her gut, he wasn’t lying; Everyone did share the mugs but that one in particular was different. That mug was the one she had bought specifically for herself after she discovered she was two gulps deep into George’s toothbrush cup. After that, she was deadly clear to never touch it, and to her knowledge they never did. Lucy felt a flare of annoyance, they knew that was her mug and here Lockwood was using it as if it was his, as if–

Her stomach dropped when she finally remembered why she was down here in the first place. That was her mug.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Lucy sighed.

Lockwood’s head dropped, “Looks like you caught me.” He set down the mug. “What was it this time?” 

“Nothing specific, just shadows.” Lucy rubbed her arm trying to comfort herself and took a seat at the table. “Doesn't help when your brain won't listen to you. I know it’s not real but I can’t stop it.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled in remorse.

Lucy shook her head and stood, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. “Nothing to be done.” She moved around the boy, blindingly aware of their height difference when she had to strain to reach another mug. One for him this time. “What are you having?” She opened the tea drawer and pulled out an Earl Gray for herself.

“Just black is fine,” He said from where they kept the biscuits.

They met in the middle, Lucy with two cups of steaming tea and Lockwood with the chocolate-coated biscuits they saved for special occasions. Lucy raised her eyebrow in question and Lockwood shrugged.

“Don’t tell George and there won't be a problem,” Lockwood smiled and sat down across from her.

Lucy put the cups uneasily down, sloshing a bit of hers over the edge and burning herself slightly in the process. She hissed through her teeth and stuck the afflicted finger in her mouth. “You know he’ll notice,” She warned, noticing Lockwood’s eyes caught on her mouth.

“Yeah, but that’s a problem for later.” Lockwood chuckled, eyes flitting back up to hers and shooting her a grin before snatching a biscuit from the open sleeve and grabbing his tea.

They sat there for around half an hour just talking. Lucy nearly had forgotten what led them into this position at all and a warm smile donned her lips when Lockwood walked up the extra flight to her room with her to, ‘make sure you get there safely’. Her room felt warmer and she wasn't as afraid to fall back asleep with the lingering promise that he’d be there if she needed him.

Three.

Lucy felt extravagant. Because of their recent press and subsequent jobs, she could afford a new dress that hadn’t seen the bottom of the Thames. It was red and satin and showed more skin than any outfit she’d ever owned. When she had decided on it, the woman at the boutique exclaimed, ‘ If you're going to go red you must go red’ which scared her at first but when she pulled out the matching red heels and a brand new tube of red lipstick she listened to the voice in her head that was telling her to trust this woman. Lucy thanked the other side every day that she did. 

After an appointment at the salon, she snuck up to her room past a cooking George and oblivious Lockwood to finish getting ready for the party. Normally she wouldn’t get so worked up over some company fluff but this one felt different. Before, no one bothered a second glance at her, except maybe Quill, but tonight, after a freshly printed front page issue interview about her abilities, she intended to make a good impression.

Lockwood had pushed her to do the interview despite her protests, ‘ Think about the publicity, Lucy! What it could do for the company, Lucy!’ and so she agreed because Lockwood looked so hopeful, so proud . How could she say no? So now here she was, slipping on a black trench and tying a blue scarf around her freshly curled hair like a woman grown instead of one just barely leaving her childhood all the while trying to ignore the snide comments of a disembodied skull that lived in her room.

With one last look to make sure nothing would be ruined between her room and the party, she ventured downstairs. The boys were standing by the door looking impatient and she rolled her eyes.

“Let’s be off then,” She tried to sound nonchalant but she knew they would open their big stupid mouths and ruin this for her.

“Is that you, Luce?” George sputtered, sounding on the edge of hysterics. She couldn’t look at Lockwood so she walked right past them and out the door to the taxi. As she passed, she could see George shrug and take a deep breath.

Of course, the boys were both dressed in basic black suits and to them, this was nothing new but tonight was undiscovered territory for her. She still refused to look at Lockwood throughout the ride and she didn’t know if the silence was a good thing or if the ice slowly forming over her heart was a bad sign.

It wasn’t long before they reached Fitts and were exiting the taxi. Her heart thundered in her chest as they got closer to the door because that meant she couldn’t hide behind the shapelessness of her coat. Lucy had always been conscious of her body, having grown up with six sisters, it was hard not to compare. The woman at the boutique had said she looked beautiful and she trusted her before but now she was starting to think the clerk just wanted to make a sale. Her heart was in her throat when she finally took off her scarf and unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the full effect of her outfit. 

“Christ, Lucy, you look like a proper girl!” George exclaimed and Lock still hadn’t said anything .

She felt like she was on display for the world and all she wanted to do was catch the eye of the tall boy standing at her side. Lucy took a chance and looked at Lockwood. To her surprise, his gaze wasn’t on her but instead on the familiar necklace that lived around her neck. As if caught, Lockwood's ears went pink and he finally met her eyes.

“You look amazing, Lucy,” And he said it with so much sincerity both in his voice and in his eyes that she could do nothing more than believe him.

Her voice was small when she found it. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He said as if it was mad she expected any other answer.

She saw George look between them and shake his head. “I’m going to find the food.”

“I think I’m going to go to the loo,” Lucy’s smile was tight and Lockwood just nodded.

She looked around as she walked through the sea of people, noting many sets of eyes on her, and began to shrink in on herself. Quill’s eyes alone were easy enough to avoid but it seemed as if everyone was looking at her. Lucy quickened her pace, remembering the path she used last time they’d been at Fitts but an artful step right into it stopped her in her tracks.

“I believe we haven’t met. I’m Jonathan Davies, and you are Lucy Carlyle of Lockwood and Co.” The man held out his hand and in good taste, Lucy could not refuse.

“Charmed, but I apologize. I don’t believe I’ve heard of you, Mr. Davies?” Lucy asked as more of a question than anything else. It was Lockwood after all that kept up with this kind of thing.

“Please, call me John. But I don’t suppose you would have. I’m a part of the Fitts research team,” He looked it too, old and pale; probably from being cooped up in the library. Lucy made a mental note to apologize to George later for the thought. His smile was too gummy and his breath smelled of champagne. She wanted to leave . “And might I say you look gorgeous tonight, nearly a woman you are!” The comment made her smile waver.

“Not too near, though. Still a good few years away,” Lucy tried to joke but the comedy was lost in her discomfort.

“Oh, don't be like that!” The man bellowed. “I’m just trying to give you a compliment. You’re maturing and it looks good on you. What’s so wrong with pointing it out?” Mr. Davies bellowed and he was getting closer.

Lucy shivered and began looking for outs; her adrenaline strung her out like she was on a case and her mind was switching to fight-or-flight. Lucy did not tend to lean towards flight. She nearly had the thought to hit the man when an arm looped itself through hers and she jumped.

“I believe I owe Ms. Carlyle here a dance. Isn't that right, Luce?” The arm and the voice belonged to Lockwood who held the older man’s attention while she paused to collect herself.

“Yes! He promised me my first one of the night. You understand, of course?” Lucy tried to come off as apologetic but surmised she failed by the look on Mr. Davies’ face. Lockwood nodded to the man and as they walked away, arm in arm, she inclined her head to speak lowly. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Lockwood smiled and pulled her so she was in front of him. He took her hands and at her confused glance chuckled. “I believe I owe you a dance.”

“Oh, you don't have to,” She said, nervous as he wrapped her arms around his neck and fit his hands at the curve of her waist.

Now he smirked, smart-looking just like she hated. “But I promised you your first one.”

“You are being a right arse right now, Anthony Lockwood,” She warned, feeling teased. Lucy was vulnerable around him, stripped bare and out in the open. Now more than ever in that bloody red dress.

His eyes crinkled around the edges and the smirk turned into his mega-watt grin. “And you are looking absolutely breathtaking tonight, Lucy Carlyle.”

“Oh, sod off!” Lucy exclaimed, but her cheeks warmed and suddenly she was red enough to match her outfit.

They danced for a minute or two and she took the time to look past the boy’s head and calm down. She figured he could feel her pulse from where her wrists were touching his neck, by how hard her body was trying to pump the blood back to her brain so she could maybe form a coherent thought. She was suddenly pulled from her stupor when Lockwood spoke.

“I do mean it though. You look better than every other person in this room. I didn’t even know what to say when I first saw you,” His voice was low and only for her.

And here she was, Lucy Carlyle standing in a room full of people whose eyes were all on her and she didn’t notice in the slightest. The only ones that mattered to her at that moment were Lockwood’s. His eyes, and his hands, and his necklace all on her .

Four.

“And who might you be?”

The old woman before them was quite kind looking in Lucy’s opinion, though her pale skin and white hair made her look almost like a phantasm which unsettled her–not to mention the biting tone of her words. Lucy was not fond of the older generation that remembered a time before the dead came back, their holier-than-thou attitudes at the problem they thought they should be exempt from. Lockwood on the other hand was all smiles and unwavering confidence, making him ready to take the lead as always.

“I’m Anthony Lockwood and this is my associate, Lucy Carlyle. We’re Lockwood and Co.”

The woman seemed unamused with the both of them, eyes instead searching for something behind them. “And where’s your supervisor?”

Lucy let out a small huff at the question. More than a few of their cases had been booked by clients ignorant of their status as lone agents ignoring that small detail in favor of the lower-than-average rates they needed to provide to stay in business. Lucy didn’t see why supervisors were needed at all, the bumbling adults just got in the way of their work. It’s what drove her out of her hometown and into the gangly arms of Lockwood and George in the first place.

The rain beating down on their shared umbrella was slowly beginning to drip onto Lucy’s right shoulder and she scowled, silently cursing Lockwood for not bringing his own. He was always trying to be the perfect gentleman, Lockwood, yet he always managed to fall short in some way despite his efforts. Lucy took a moment to compose herself, shutting her eyes and standing closer to Lockwood to try and get out of the rain.

Lockwood’s face fell a millimeter before he went to correct her but Lucy butted in, annoyance evident in her tone, “No supervisors ma’am, just us . You said you’ve just moved in and were feeling uneasy?”

The woman gave her another once-over and looked to be getting ready to slam the door in their faces before a man appeared behind her with a coat in his hand. “Edda, would you just let the kids in so they can get to work?” The man was soft in a way his wife wasn’t but a permanent crease had made a home between his eyebrows though it had been the only plane of his face that hadn’t seemed to possess a wrinkle before.

“These are unsupervised children you’re letting into our home.” The woman’s face twisted as her husband helped her into her coat and handed her her own umbrella before she swatted him away. “Get off me!” The coat was an ugly shade of puce that had Lucy wrinkling her nose unconsciously and wishing she’d never accepted the job.

“These agents are here to do the job we’re paying them to do. You head to the cab, I'll let them know everything they need to.” The woman pushed past Lockwood and herself, forcing them apart and out into the rain despite Lockwood thrusting his arm towards Lucy to try and keep her dry. 

The man, whose name they learned to be Morton, told them how his wife had become agitated since moving to the house, the loud bangs they heard at night, and the ice-cold temperatures that seemed to move from room to room. Morton was distraught, insisting his wife had never been like this before they moved and that she was ‘a lovely woman. Truly.’ To Lucy, it sounded like a shade or lurker giving off residual emotions from their death which was–what she supposed–Lockwood had insisted: a quick case involving nothing more than a few harmless specters lurking around the property, no need to bring George.

Lucy and Lockwood were given a quick tour by Morton who walked with a slight limp in his left knee. Lucy tried to focus on the man’s limp rather than the incessant squeak of Lockwood’s shoes every time he took a step. Lockwood insisted on having his dress shoes resoled rather than just getting a new pair even with the extra cost and Lucy had laughed at the quirk merely days prior but now she was grinding her teeth. Finally, leaving them in the living room, Morton bid goodbye and headed out to his awaiting wife while the two agents got to work.

After setting up a home base in the living room, they’d searched all around the house but produced nothing. Lockwood was unable to see the faintest glow and Lucy couldn’t even hear a whisper. It wasn’t often both of their gifts failed them, the remnants of death often wanting to be heard rather than stay quiet as they had for generations before them. It wasn’t until Lucy got to the kitchen and lingered near the door that let out to the back gardens that she heard the distant cries of a woman. She ran a tired hand through her hair, fingers pulling at the roots at the notion of searching out in the downpour.

“Lockwood?” Lucy called out, “I think the source might be outside.”

She only had a moment of hope that Lockwood would call it a night before he rounded the corner, his eyes filled with elation. “Let’s hop on then! You first.”

As she turned, Lucy couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the look on Lockwood’s face. Of course, he would have fun trudging around in the rain. As soon as Lucy stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped the hood off her head and plastered her hair to her face. Lucy’s shoe– not her rain boot– squelched in the mud under her feet. Lockwood and her rooted around the garden of the old couple’s estate, pulling back thorny rose bushes that dug into her hands and trying to listen over the hammering of rain. Lucy felt her irritation boil over from where it had been growing in her chest when she managed to slip on a slick rock and end up hands first in the mud.

“I can’t believe you put us in this situation!” Lucy yelled over the pounding rain, “Really, Lockwood, it's like you don’t care about me at all!” She felt something solid in the mud and squeezed it tight in her fist, desperate for an outlet.

She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder, trying to work on grounding herself through the object in her hand, the grooves of the metal, the familiarity. Honestly, where did he get off on making her miserable during every case? He made her feel trapped. With a deep breath, Lucy closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts, focusing instead on trying to find the source and getting out of there.

“G-get….”

Lockwood’s unintelligible voice interrupted her from behind and she huffed.

“..out”

“Out where?” She tried asking.

“Hus…band”

“Your husband? What happened with–” Lockwood’s voice interrupted again and she snapped. “ Oh , would you bloody shut up, Lockwood? All you ever do is talk!” She screamed whirling around to look at him only to see that the scene had changed.

It wasn’t raining anymore, or even night at that. Instead, the garden was blooming with life. The trellis were bountiful with pink roses and light shone through a giant willow in the corner of the property. Across from her stood a handsome-looking man much older than herself. And she was afraid.

“All I ever do is talk?” The man asked deathly slow.

Lucy was sure she had no clue who the man was but her mouth was already moving. “Yes! You keep me trapped in this house, I have no friends, and you don’t even listen to me!” She was crying now and the man, her husband , stalked towards her.

“You listen to me woman, you belong to me now. You are my property !” Dolly’s breaths were heaving out at an exceptional rate. “Do you hear me? Mine!” Her husband was gripping her arms, his face mere inches from her own.

“Let go of me!” She pleaded, “ Please !”

“Listen to me, Dolly! Dolly!”

She felt herself slipping away, air caught in her throat. Dolly was frantically scratching at her husband's arm, trying to get him to release her through any means.

“I’ll love you, I promise –”

“Lucy!”

Lucy’s eyes snapped open to see Lockwood wrenching her hand open and snatching something from her clenched fist. Her lungs flooded with life, making her cough as her knees hit the ground; she was unsure when she even stood up at all but Lockwood was immediately at her side.

“Lucy, are you alright?” His shaky voice floated through the rain.

Any previous grievances she had against Lockwood had vanished the moment she looked into his eyes. “What happened?”

“You found the source,” Lockwood opened his hand and revealed a rusted locket covered in mud. Lucy went to touch it but Lockwood jerked his hand away. “Better not.”

Her mind went back to how she’d treated him since they stepped foot on the property and she winced. “Lockwood, I’m so sorry I–”

“No! Luce, it wasn’t your fault.” Lucy was poised to retort but there was a pure and unabashed look of concern on his face and she realized it had been a while since she’d seen his megawatt smile.

“She hated him,” Lucy started, “He told her he loved her and trapped her here…she killed herself.”

Lockwood looked concerned. “I think we should head back to Portland Row.”

They finished up at the house, contacting the elderly couple to tell them that the source had been found and disposed of at DEPRAC. The cab ride home was so quiet; whether from Lucy’s embarrassment because of her treatment of Lockwood or because he was hurt by her words she was unsure. It wasn’t until they were putting their gear away that Lockwood spoke again.

“I hope you don't feel… trapped here.” Lockwood was facing away from her when he broke the silence. “Especially not by me .”

“Lockwood, no .” She rushed to his side trying to meet his eyes with her own. “No, no, no.”

He finally looked at her and his eyes were sunken in, his face as sullen as she felt. “I know it was the ghost…but you were begging me to let you go. You were pleading that I let you leave, telling me you–you loved me and that you’d do anything if I would just let you go and I–”

“I don’t feel trapped here, I promise. You mean more than anything to me,” Lucy’s heart stuttered at her slip-up. “You and George both.”

Lockwood’s eyes flicked to the necklace sitting prettily around her neck and Lucy’s hand flew to it instinctively: a loan she was still indebted to him and went to take it off, her still-cold fingers fumbling with the clasp but he stopped her, gently grabbing her wrists.

“I want you to know the necklace wasn’t–wasn’t whatever that locket was to them,” Lockwood’s hands released her, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind Lucy’s ear then trailing a path to the sapphire that sat in the middle of her chest. “My father… it was important , and I just wanted you to know you’re important to me.”

Lucy smiled, “I know.”

Five.

A shiver rippled through Lucy’s body in the London rain as the week loomed over her like the storm she walked through. Long nights with back-to-back cases–all too small to send more than one of them–had Lucy disheartened. She pulled her blue coat tighter to her body and stuffed her hands under her armpits in order to get some semblance of feeling back in them. Her tights were ripped, her hair soaked, and above all, Lucy was hungry. It took one smell of buttered croissants swept across the street by a gust of chilling wind for Lucy to cross the street and make her way into the warm cafe.

“No weapons!” The clerk shouted as soon as the bell jingled on the door, not even bothering to look at her.

Lucy’s eyes immediately welled up with tears knowing what was coming. “I-I’m sorry, can I leave it at the door?”

“Let me be more clear: no agents .” The man’s sneer was accompanied by multiple sets of cold eyes looking at her from around the room.

It was something she was unaccustomed to but common in London. Though agents were often looked at with a strange sense of gratitude and more often pity in the country, Lucy noticed it wasn’t the same in the city. People thought them unsightly: the children with sunken, pale faces who were typically only out at night mimicked the sight of the dead they were employed to rid the world of. Though somewhere in her head she could understand the adults' aversion to her, in the moment she could feel little more than resentment for the life she was sacrificing to give them the security they themselves could not provide.

Lucy chuffed on her way out, slamming the door and knocking the bell off of its hook in the process. Not bothering to wipe her face, she blinked away her tears and let them drown in the rain as she walked on towards 35 Portland Row.

It was night, and raining, and she was alone. But she was an agent, and Lucy knew how to defend herself. Therefore, in the face of her reservations, she turned down an alley she knew was faster than the main road despite the absence of street lights . She could handle a few shades and lurkers on her own.

The rain was coming down harder then; her mind had wandered to the doughnuts on the counter that sat untouched when she’d left. Lucy was so caught up in imagining the argument between her and George when she inevitably saw her jelly-filled missing from the box that she didn’t notice the man that slank from the shadows until she bumped into him. 

Lucy ducked her head in apology and attempted to skirt around the man, “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t–”  Then suddenly his hands were on her with a grip that told her this was no mistake.  Before she could utter another word, the sharp edge of a knife sucked the breath from her lungs.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” He ordered, voice low and eyes darting behind her at the lit street.

Lucy tried to seem unwavering, after all, it wasn’t the first time she was at the wrong end of a blade and likely not the last. “I haven’t got anything,” Her voice shook and she silently cursed herself.

“How bout’ I take a look for myself?” He hummed, his hands skimming over her body, drifting across her waist, going lower, lower…

“ Please! Help– ” Lucy yelled but his hand was quick to cover her mouth and let the knife start to dig into her side. She thrashed around, trying to free herself from his grasp while screaming into his gloved hand in any attempt to get help. 

It wasn’t until she managed to land a well-placed elbow that Lucy was able to escape his grip. “You bitch .” The man sagged over but as Lucy moved to run, his hand wrapped around her jacket and a knife planted itself in her stomach.

She almost didn’t register the pain at first until the man wretched out the blade. The feel of her blood oozing from the wound was stark in contrast to the chilling rain and she shivered. Lucy’s hand moved to the wound and logically she knew she was going into shock; George warned them about it enough should they ever get injured on a case but now she couldn’t think back to even a second ago. 

The man looked from her wound to her eyes and sneered. Step by step he retreated deeper into the alley while Lucy stumbled out into the road, clutching her side. Her breathing was ragged as she frantically searched for anyone to help her though she knew the streets were clear because of the rain. Lucy knew she shouldn’t have looked but when she caught a glimpse of blood she couldn't help it. She felt close to hysterics; the blood wouldn’t stop and her teeth were chattering, from the rain or something else she didn’t know. She needed to get to a shop, somewhere that had people . Lucy’s vision was darkening around the edges as she stumbled towards the yellow lights of a restaurant two buildings over. She just needed to get there.

She needed to…she needed…she

- - -

It was the beeping that woke her, but the weight in her hand that made her open her eyes. The lights were blinding as Lucy struggled to open her eyes and the ringing in her ears made it hard to focus on the muffled arguing around her. She heard one final shout and the sound of a door closing before she attempted to move. A gasp tore itself from her lips when she tried to sit up. Her body ached and her mouth was dry but all she could do to ground herself was focus on the worried voice needling her brain.

“Luce? Can you hear me? Luc–” 

Lucy cut off the voice with her own raspy words, “Would you shut up?”

Her eyes finally adjusted to the lights and she saw the lanky outline of Lockwood standing at her side. Any other time she was woken up to the sight of him, Lucy was more than often annoyed but somehow, with the beeping of machines accompanied by the smell of alcohol in the air, he was a welcome comfort.

“Lockwood,” She breathed out a relieved sigh, studying his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes sullen, almost bruised looking, and his skin somehow more pale than normal. “What happened?”

“Let me find a doctor.” His hand found hers again, only giving it a light squeeze before leaving the room in his search. 

Lucy took the time to look around the room and spotted a vase full of orange and yellow flowers adorning the bedside table as well as a lone strawberry frosted doughnut left in a box meant to hold a half dozen. Based on that alone, she knew both George and his mother had visited at some point but as she looked towards where Lockwood had been it was as if he’d never left at all. His jacket was crumpled on a chair in the corner, with his tie folded neatly atop it and, given his appearance earlier, she could only assume he’d slept there.

Finally, she decided to give attention to the dull ache in her stomach and lift the blanket covering her lower half. Between the wires and tubes hooked up to her from all directions and having to wrestle with the gown they stuck her in, the endeavor was all the more difficult than necessary. When Lucy finally got a look at her bandage-covered abdomen she felt ill.

Her stewing was interrupted when a man entered the room, Lockwood hot on his heels. “Hello, Ms. Carlyle. I’m Dr. Stroud, I’ve been your physician since Monday night and–”

“Wait, what day is it?” Lucy coughed and Lockwood was quick to offer her a water which she gladly took.

“It’s Wednesday morning, Luce,” Lockwood supplied in a small voice. His eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers and she grew nervous. The angry blinking of the clock on the bedside table read 4:23 a.m. and she suddenly understood Lockwood’s state of disarray.

The beeping which she’d previously grown accustomed to had begun to quicken and she felt a sweat break out. “How bad was it?”

“Based on our limited knowledge Ms. Carlyle, we suspect it was a robbery.” Lucy nodded along, trying to grasp at the last thing she remembered. Shadows of a dark alleyway and the flash of a knife swirled in her mind but when she tried to imagine his eyes her head began to hurt.

“I remember a man and a knife…it was raining?” Lockwood’s hand found its way into hers once again and his thumb stroked the back of her hand soothingly. She motioned for the doctor to go on and kept her grip on Lockwood’s hand firm.

“You suffered a deep puncture that grazed the top of your liver and you lost a lot of blood. Luckily you weren’t out there too long before someone found you and called an ambulance.” The thought of herself bleeding out in the street forced Lucy to shut her eyes. “We’d like to keep you the rest of the week to monitor but considering you’re up and talking, I’ll leave you to sleep.”

Dr. Stroud left the room with a tight smile and Lucy looked at Lockwood. She’d been there for days unconscious, and Lockwood had been there at her side.

“How is–”

“You were… gone, Luce. You were white and cold and– you put me as your emergency contact ?!” He was incredulous, his grip tightening almost uncomfortably as tears welled in his eyes.

“Who else if not you?” She felt a lump rising in her throat. “My mother didn’t show last time and I’m not close to my sisters. You and George are all I have, you’re…” Lucy trailed off not sure what she wanted to say but knew it was too soon.

“Lucy, when I got that call…George and I rushed to meet you at the hospital. For days I’ve sat here and all I could think about was what if you hadn’t ended up in the road? What if you were in the alley and no one found you? What if–” Tears fell from his eyes and his voice failed him.

“What if I never came to London? What if I had gotten accepted to Fittes or Rotwell? But that’s not what happened. I’m here.” Lockwood brought her hand to his lips and all Lucy could do was watch. She, all at once, realized that it wasn't just her, wasn’t just Lucy who felt like the boy in front of her was her whole world, her whole future.

“You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be comforting you ,” Lockwood laughed shakily and took a deep breath. “Luce, I need you to know that, no matter how far in the future, no matter the distance, I’ll always be there for you. You’re my family now…if, if you want.” Lockwood’s smile was unsure, hope gleaming in eyes.

Lucy sniffled, her emotions finally having caught up to her and smiled back, “ We’re family .”

Plus One.

The case had been cursed from the start. The day started out boiling hot, and Lucy’s usually protective extra layers were stuck to her skin by sweat but now, four hours into the case, a cold front blew in and a massive wind storm had been shaking the house all night. They were constantly unsure if the noises were ghosts or the storm and trying to use her listening had been all but useless.

They had been hired by the city to clear out a long-time vacant house, previously belonging to the lone heir before he mysteriously disappeared. It was uncertain if there were any ghosts on the property and the city wanted to sell so, there they were. She heaved the backpack up higher on her shoulder and a voice piped up.

��Watch it there, you drop me and I’ll kill all three of you.” The glow of the skull brightened on the walls around her. She opted to ignore it and kept on walking through the house.

“Alright guys, let's do one more sweep of this floor and I suppose we can call it a night.” Lockwood scratched the back of his head and George stifled a yawn.

“Lockwood, there’s been nothing the whole case and besides the disappearance, George couldn’t scrounge up anything about anything that would lead to a haunting,” Lucy was aching for a shower and she was tired of carrying around the skull all night because George insisted they bring it but declined to carry it because, ‘ only you can hear it, Luce. It would be a waste for me to carry it. ’ “Let’s just go home.”

“We will…just after we check the ground floor one more time, I–I have a feeling something is wrong.” He seemed more sullen than usual but Lucy attributed that to a boring case and long night.

“Whatever you say. I’m going to check the kitchen.” George walked off without a second thought and she let out a sharp laugh under her breath at the irony.

Lucy headed out, leaving a distant Lockwood in the living room and opted to traverse the dining room once again. The room sported a crystal chandelier, dust-ridden with time and fine silver and china still at their places around the table. Her eyes scanned over the room and she imagined herself in another life entertaining a slew of guests with not even a thought of The Problem on her mind. But then she crashed down to reality and realized that this was as close she's been in her life or ever will be.

“Lockwood, you seeing anything?” Lucy asked, despondent. With every look, the house was more ornate and lavishly furnished than she could stomach, obvious signs of wealth making Lucy grind her teeth.

“ You see something, northern girl?” Once again Lucy ignored the comments and continued on, simply huffing to herself rather than dignifying the skull with a response.

Of course, Lockwood failed to answer as he typically did when he was in the field and she sighed. With hesitance, Lucy trailed her fingers along the objects in the room, trying to detect any fleeting emotion or noise that could be connected but it was to no avail. There was absolutely nothing in this house that any of them could detect and Lucy was almost glad for it. A quiet night in a nice house was a relief that she needed, plus, they were getting paid, ghost or not.

Rolling her eyes, she trailed off to where she knew George was lounging in the kitchen and found him sitting at the dusty table gorging himself on the biscuits and tea they brought.

“Save some of those for the rest of us, huh?” Lucy chastised, snatching the package out of his hands. She took a seat across from him and took two for herself.

“Tell him he’s getting too fat not to share,” The skull laughed and she dropped him to the floor unceremoniously. “Watch it!” 

“C’mon Lucy, there's nothing in this house and you know it! Might as well sit and eat while Lockwood fumbles about.” He emphasized his point by grabbing back the biscuits.

“Where is he anyway?” Lucy stole the thermos as well and shot George a challenging look when it seemed he was going to protest.

George waved off absently, more focused on the food before him. “He was going on about checking the perimeter. I just talked to him.”

“I wish he’d take a break every once in a while. Between the three of us, I’m the only one with a normal work-life balance.” She chuckled leaning back in her chair and using the skull to prop her feet on.

“Yeah…normal.” George’s eyebrows furrowed and she threw her half eaten biscuit at him in retaliation.

The skull chose that moment to pipe up again, “There isn’t anything normal about the lot of you.” This time she kicked over the jar and George screeched on about being careful with the Type-Three.

Bored with the situation and ready to leave, she decided to round up Lockwood and get them on their way. “Lockwood’s been gone a while, I’m going to go check on him.”

Lucy stood to leave and she made it just out of the kitchen when a chill shot through the room and her breath became visible before her. She turned back towards the kitchen and locked eyes with George.

“George, I think–” She was unable to finish her sentence when the double doors slammed shut separating them from each other. Without thinking, Lucy grabbed the brass handle with her bare hand and yelped. The metal was so cold it burned her, the skin ripping where it froze to the door. Lucy bit her lip, almost drawing blood at the action and took her handkerchief to press over her hand.

“Lucy, what’s happening?” George yelled from the other side of the door. 

“I don’t know! See what you can find. The source has to be in the house somewhere for this to happen!” Lucy yelled back, still pounding on the door.

George sounded hysterical, his laugh high pitched and disbelieving. “Lockwood’s never gonna shut up about this after we get out of here!”

The wind began to pick up even more, blowing through the open front door and through the house. Lucy’s hair whipped in front of her face as she tried to focus on her listening. There was little more than the faint whisper of a man she hardly was able to make out.

Cliff…the cliff.

Lucy glanced outside, the doors still banging in the wind and made her decision. “Stay in the chain circle! I have to find Lockwood, you stay safe!” She yelled to George and turned for the front of the house.

Lucy drew her rapier with her good hand and made for the front door which was left wide open and banging in the wind. Using her forearm to guard her view, she creeped outside looking every which way for an incoming attack while yelling for her friend.

“Lockwood? Lockwood, where are you?” She tried to scream over the storm but her words were literally lost to the wind.

As she made her way further outside, she nearly tripped over something on the ground, the metallic clang catching her attention. When she picked it up, she held Lockwood’s rapier in her hand and felt her heart rate spike at the discovery. Lockwood was somewhere out there with no weapon and a ghost preying on them in a windstorm.

In the distance, she saw a figure moving farther and farther away in the direction of the ocean, a figure she could only assume was Lockwood. Her steps were quick yet strained against the storm and she was forced to sheath her rapier as it was getting too difficult to hold. She was closing in quick, just across the field and getting closer to the cliff's edge by the second, but he continued on.

“Lockwood!” She tried once more but still he seemed to be unable to hear her. “Lockwood, stop !” Her feet were moving faster now, breaking out into a sprint beneath her. She understood his unresponsiveness then, and the sudden activity once Lockwood walked off. He was ghost-locked . She was flying then, racing up the hill to meet him, the grass slipping under her feet and the wind doing all it could to knock her over. He was steps away but his cadence never faltered–the same one, two , of each foot–and she silently thanked the universe that, if nothing else, ghosts were consistent.

Her hands did one final reach as one of Lockwood’s feet went over and she grabbed the collar of his jacket, heaving him off the edge and back into her. Lucy wrapped her arms around his middle so as to not let him escape and began to yell, an action she was regretting as her voice began to go hoarse.

“Lockwood, please , you have to snap out of it! It’s me Lucy!” She felt him strain against her arms and held tighter, thinking he was still trying to throw himself off the edge.

“You think I could forget you, Luce?” Lockwood’s words tumbled out, unsure and attempting to be comedic.

“Lockwood?” She gasped out, wiggling out from under him to get a look at his eyes. When she was met with the familiar warm brown she’d grown to lo– she finally breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

Lockwood’s eyes searched her own before looking away, a habit he seemed unable to break, and spoke. “He was all alone. No family, no friends, no one left.”

Lucy’s chest constricted in understanding. “Anthony…”

“He killed himself. Right here on this cliff.” His words seemed to choke him and she couldn’t help but bring her hands to cup his face.

“I need you to know that you are not alone,” Lucy brought his forehead to hers and he breathed in sharply, his pulse under her fingertips quickening. “I’m right here.”

His own hand found their way to hers, holding on as if a lifeline and he nodded. “You’re right here.”

When Lucy pulled back, she locked eyes with the boy before her again. They were softer this time but darted down to her lips in a flash. Her cheeks reddened when she noticed as did his in turn. Before she could think to do otherwise she surged forward, Lucy’s lips capturing his in a chaste kiss. It was a bit off and they were both chapped from the wind but it still had her heart pounding in her chest.

The boy before her had gone from stranger to family in the short time she’d known him. Him and George had become more to her than her family had ever been and for that she was eternally grateful. He had taken her in, given her a job, and protected her from everything a gangly teenager could manage. She loved him.

Lockwood’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Lucy–” His hands tightened atop hers and he leaned back in, kissing her slowly, reassuringly.

“You’re it for me.”

[eris-snow]

𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, revelation, stabbing, blood, angst, no fluff, sorry, pain, this is late, ft bakugou and ochaco,

Masterlist

15th July: Doomsday.

--

Class starts off normal. Yeah, that’s it. Cool, normal, totally not like your childhood best friend is burning holes into you like you were going to get slammed by a semi-truck at any minute.

Izuku’s eyes are pools of crystal lakes. Like Narcissus looking into his own reflection, Izuku’s eyes compelled you to look his way. Maybe it was sorcery or witchcraft—his eyes seem to sparkle, and they’re mesmerising beyond any precious jewel.

I get it. It’s your birthday. Doomsday.

And maybe, you were just the slightest bit peeved at his actions. All through yesterday, he’d been avoiding you like a plague. Wouldn’t talk to you, speak to you, hell, he wouldn’t even look at you. Then all of a sudden, he decides that he wants to shower you with his gaze and attention, or peer at you with those fucking eyes like he hadn’t been avoiding you these past few days.

You thought you knew dense, but this? Izuku was a fucking mineshaft.

Just as you’re about to address his intense gaze during homeroom, Aizawa calls you out for the second time in the span of one week. You pretend you don’t feel all eyes on you as you exit the classroom. There’s a certain aloofness you can never mirror from Kacchan. There isn’t the “I’d die for you in a heartbeat” mentality ingrained in your bones just like how it is for Izuku. You wish to emulate both of them, for a trait special to your personal, but when you stop to think about it, you draw a blank.

Ugly, ugly, plain and boring, you remind yourself, as you step out the classroom to meet Aizawa. You’re getting called out so often because you can’t even act fine correctly.

There’s a hand in your face before you know your mouth is open. “My turn first,” Aizawa says, dead serious. “You aren’t in trouble, and this isn’t about Midoriya.”

Your mouth clangs shut, and your throat constricts. What else would he want to talk about?

“An opportunity has been presented to you,” Aizawa says, trailing off a little. “By Star’s former agency in America.”

The world tilts sideways, and you actually stumble to keep yourself on your feet because of the floor’s disequilibrium. “W-What…?”

“One of them wants you there as a sidekick.”

America?

That’s more than, what, 6000 miles to the great wild West. The land where dreams came true (supposedly).

“Ever since you aided Stars and Stripes in her last battle, the agency’s been keeping an eye on you. There’s an interview, and paperwork, and a contract but I suspect those are simply formalities.” Aizawa says nonchalantly, but you can see the pride in his eyes. The pride of a teacher, when his student has soared high. That battle was intense, but it was ashes compared to Izuku’s heart-moving victory that had saved the world.

“B-B-But…” You stutter, “I-I don’t think I’m the best candidate! Won’t they want one from the Big Three? Did they get the wrong person? Ask them to double-check because I don’t think—”

Aizawa gives you an unnerving stare, and his words that come out flat. “Kid, they phoned me 14 times. Pretty sure they got the right person.”

Hesitation lines your face, as Aizawa pats your shoulder. “More details will be given should you accept. They want you from next year onwards, which I am willing to compromise for as long as you have fixed times with you to revise the necessary topics. You, Bakugou and Midoriya have finished most of the syllabus, correct? Should you feel necessary, I possess revision materials and suitable dates should you want to take the final exam earlier.”

It’s a beautiful opportunity. A ‘I-found-a-golden-ticket-in-my-chocolate’ kind of opportunity. It was so tempting to take.

But…

You were just 17. A teenager that won the lottery, who now had to deal with consequences. What about family, housing, language, oh God, your English was so bad you would die before they asked you ‘dine in or take out?’ And besides…

Aizawa sees the look on your face, and sighs loudly. How many times are you going to stupidly throw your life away for Izuku?

You can’t keep doing this, but clinging to Izuku and this ever burning love you have for him is all you ever know. Running of to America? You don’t think you could comprehend the distance across oceans paired with the distance of time. Aizawa stares at you and shakes his head in disappointment. “Give it a thought. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, L/n. Don’t let anyone hold you back from chasing your dream.”

You swallow thickly. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, someone wants you, and you’re being called to help other people, be a real heroe and drop the ‘in-training’, to fight crime and kick as in a country with crime rates so high they could rival the Empire State Building.

You’re a terrible mess, and when you think about it more, the more miserable you get.

It’s my dream to be a hero, but what if my dream is you too?

—

“We need to talk,” Izuku’s voice is gentle, but it’s plush pillows wrapped up in caution tape. Assessing him doesn’t take too long, because by the way he grips your wrist as your foot is halfway out the door, he wants to tell you something, and it’s urgent.

Shrugging his hand off, you fold your arms and project aloofness, although it’s not very convincing. You feel your lips threaten to break into a false smile, and mentally slap yourself when it almost flits across your face. Izuku had caught up to you on that ever since his fragmented memories started returning, so you’d tried to stop.

Bad habits and sticky fingers.

“What is it?” You try to soften the edge of your voice like sandpaper, but you still see the way he flinches at your voice. Patrol is in half an hour, and if you don’t book it, you’ll be late. “Oh, and if this is about your birthday party and how you don’t want it, too bad, Mina already bought silly string and Sato bought ingredients for the cake, so you can’t—”

“It’s not, about my birthday.” He insists, shoving the topic aside. A hand runs through his curls, as if trying to soothe his nerves, but you can see the way he has to forcefully drop his hands to the side and avert his gaze. His outer shell had slowly crumbled off the longer he was around you, little fragments chipped off until gone is Hero Deku, and underneath is a more human Izuku, with nervous habits and mistakes.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been…around.” He says, trying to phrase it nicely. It does him no favours. “There were a couple of things I had to figure out and rearrange in my head, it’s just—”

He looks desperate, and you’re feeling bad. Emerald green washes over your eyes, mirroring the calm of a forest even though he’s nothing but.

“I’ve gotten hold of how the Quirk Accident happened, and-and a way to lift the Quirk, but…” He swallows thickly, before his eyebrows furrow. “Are you even listening to me?”

Your eyes had strayed to a clock, thoughts wandering, but you jerked back to reality when a scarred hand tugged your own. “A way to lift the Quirk?”

It’s only when you repeat his words do you really understand the weight of them.

Joy bubbles up and exudes from you like an air freshener on crack.

Hey, aren’t you excited? The little child that always hoped for another way whispers, tugging your arm with a beautiful smile. Izuku’s gonna remember you.

But the logical side of you, the side with squandered hope and broken dreams makes you think through your feelings. The longer you think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense.

If Izuku had found a way to lift this curse, then why hadn’t he done it yet?

The clocks tick, and the minute hand moves. How many minutes do you have left until he forgets?

“Yeah, but that can wait.” He says in a rush. “There’s some guy I met—on the streets! He’s related to my Accident. I don’t think he’s the exact person, but close, brother, probably, since he said ‘Nii-san’—”

“What?”

Your heart rate spikes and colour drains from your face. Chisuke and Izuku made contact, oh God, and you didn’t even know. Now that you see it, you can’t unsee it. The redness on his neck, like he’d been held at knifepoint. Worry blossoms in your voice.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t tell Sensei?”

“I just met him yesterday,” Izuku defends, eyes blazing. “And he’s not targetting me like you thought, he’s targetting you!”

Time slows. The declaration was like a veil lifted from your eyes, a shiny revelation that stares at you in the face. The target…

Is me.

Your eyes flicker back to Izuku’s face, huffing and puffing like he fought a bull to stand down. You stare at him. He’s all muscle, baby fat thinning, freckles sprinkled across his face like stars in the sky.

“It’s me?” You whisper, voice small.

Izuku watches you look at him dumbly, words caught in your throat.

“Please,” He whispers, features lined with worry, the same worry you once felt for him now reflected right back at you. “Don’t go for patrol, stay here, where it’s safe. Starlight—”

The name feels like ants on your skin.

“You’ve done so much already,” he takes out a hand, the same one as in that dumb, snow-white hospital room when he got concussed from pushing himself too hard.

I’ve done nothing.

“I…” He swallows. “I don’t want to lose you when I’m this close to figuring it all out.”

The last time you’d taken his hand it tasted like victory. Everything felt perfect, as if fireworks had painted the sky a vibrant colour shows, an artist’s masterpiece for all to see. But now, as you lock eyes with his hand, you can’t help but wonder if it really mattered anymore.

It doesn’t matter if Izuku remembers or forgets—Chisuke would still be hunting you down, looking for a way to wipe your emotions until the heroes lock him up.

All the memories, flashes of moments he’s gained from agony and tears—they’ll be locked behind reinforced walls by the stroke of midnight.

The karma of this exact day, 7 years ago is finally catching up to you after all this time. What will Chisuke do this time? Cut you up? Drown you in your blood? You taste ash on your tongue, throat clogged up.

If it really comes to it, maybe it wasn’t completely undeserved.

Isn’t that for the best? Someone whispers in your ear, voice a whispy and taunting.

Because this entire fiasco is because of you.

The minute hand ticks again, and your phone buzzes. Your patrol, your shift—

Izuku’s still there, waiting for you to take his hand.

Walls constrict on you, and feel your ribcage squeezing the air out of your lungs.

You’re gonna die, you’re going to flatline, you’re—

You only hurt when you let it hurt, and it all goes away when you don’t think.

Don’t think.

The answer comes to your hazardous grappling, and you’re so desperate to stop spiralling, you do something that you haven’t done since Izuku started talking to you again.

It comes as easy as breathing, as you let that rope snap. Up goes the walls, and gone your thoughts.

Don’t think.

Dissociate, detach, let go, don’t cry, you can’t start now.

Eyes flash upwards, and you force yourself to steel. Stars aren’t supposed to break.

“Move.”

Izuku’s eyes widen at your shifted demeanour, and his legs carry him out of my way as his face collapses with confusion. “Starlight, what’s wrong with you?” He whispers, pleading for you to listen. “Starlight—”

“I’m going for patrol,” You exhale sharply, looking at him with dull eyes. Expressionless, head empty, come on, just a little bit more, don’t break now—

“I’ll be careful out there, and I’ll come back safe.” Maybe.

“Starlight, you’re not listening to me—!”

“You never listen to me either, so I guess we’re both even!” You shout, swinging the door open.

The anger is foreign at your fingertips. You’ve felt disappointed, sad, longing and desire, all shrivelled up in balls of tissue paper as you wake up screaming at night. But anger? It was fresh, a band-aid ripped from raw skin.

“We’re both shitty teenagers who want to do what we think is the best for each other, and there’s nothing more to it,” You whisper, rubbing your eyes at where the tears start to leak out. This is bad, you’re out of practice, and the mask is peeling off so quickly.

You’re just so, so tired.

“Leave me alone, Midoriya.”

Hurry up and get your memories already.

“I’m not worth it.”

Haven’t I waited long enough?

Tears prickle Izuku’s eyes, pools of green watering. He’s always been such a crybaby.

Voice shaky, he echoes. “You’re worth it.”

A terrible, unsightly smile crawls up your face, and the laugh that drops from your lips is bitter and humourless.

“Goodbye, Midoriya.”

The door slams shut, and Izuku’s tears bubble over. What hell of a birthday is this?

A shadow creeps up on him, and, oh look it’s Kacchan. He messed up big time, of course he blew it with you. Furiously, he wipes his tears away and sniffles. He has no right to cry.

“God, dammit nerd, what the fuck was that?”

“I know—” He sobs, as Katsuki punches him in the face. The burn is well deserved, as the blond yanks him by the collar and spits in his face. “Good job, dumbass! You lost someone who’s been chasing after you for fuck knows how long. How’d you manage that?”

Katsuki’s voice is like a slap in the face, one he knew he very much deserved. “What, you gonna sob about this like a baby? Fucking man up, Izuku! You have a game to play, asshole. Ball’s in your court, so what’s your move?”

His mind whirls, gears turning. You’re probably halfway to the station, he knows how fast you run. Especially from him, always, always him.

“Oi, shitface!” Katsuki spits, red eyes blazing with fire from the Underworld. “What’s. Your. Move?”

A sharp bolt stabs his cornea, making him writhe in agony. Kacchan’s yelling recedes into the background, his mind sprouting words like it was trivia night on Saturday.

White lies, eyes, smiles, laughs—

He squeezes his eyes shut, pain blooming.

Starlight, Zuku, Secrets—

He gasps, unable to breathe.

Sketcheswillowtreesforgetmenots—

His mind glitches, and images flash. A lush forest that’s always lathered in colour, beautiful branches like streamers with a lake as pure as waters from springs.

Almost instantaneously, One For All crackles from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes. Izuku tosses himself out of Kacchan’s grip, eyes wild and frenzied. “I need—” He cuts himself off. “I need to go.”

He zips past Kacchan, and bolts out the door.

Fuck the bus, he’d get there faster on foot. He knows exactly where he’s going, because he’s going back to where it all started.

Back to the memories that resided in your glade.

—

The overcast sky greets your gaze as your hero partner frowns. “Oh, man, it’s gonna rain!” She wails, lamenting the bad weather. You look up, watching the sun disappear behind the curtain of grey clouds.

What’s a little bit of pain without a little bit of rain?

—

Izuku never ran so fast in his life. He’s probably a flying, leaping safety hazard, but he doesn’t care. Stormy clouds roll in, as the sun bids farewell for the day. The news drones on about the rainy forecast prediction. 

Yeah, no shit. He thinks, as one drop lands on his jacket.

Not a minute later, it pours.

Trespassing seems like a small feat too, as he leaps over the fence and stumbles. He doesn’t fall, though The rain makes everything slippery, so it’s a fight for balance as he reroutes his way to his destination like his body is a satellite.

The voice, your voice, gets louder and louder as he nears the clearing. It’s splitting his skull in half, and he’s fighting to keep himself from doubling over.

“Save you—”

“I’m so sorry—”

“Come back to me—”

Gritting his teeth, his hand brushes past the leaves that reveal the toneless clearing that you’d adored so much. It’s so bare, without its colour. A step forward is all it takes for his legs to buckle, forcing him to kneel as his hands trace the willow tree’s rough bark.

“Who are you?” “I’m Y/n! What’s your name?”

“Race you!”

“I’ll call you Zuku! It’s shorter, and nicer!”

Wax on bone, flesh peeling and blood dripping. He screams, loud and broken, the pain more than he could ever imagine.

“I’m not a transfer, I’m not a stranger—”

“Izuku, please—”

“I love your eyes.”

“I love your smile.”

“Don’t leave, Zuku. Stay here with me.”

“I love you.”

The world is burning, and upside down, right? The cool pitter-patter on his skin feels like acid, oh, make it stop, please make it—

Tit for tat, this for that. A brother for a brother, and pain for bits and scraps.

You want to find your memories? I understand. My Quirk is simple, very simple. Pain is not worth the weight of knowledge.

The world goes dead silent, as his heartbeat thumps in his chest. Erratic, frantic, as the world seemingly explodes. Izuku isn’t so sure if he’s dying, though it certainly feels like it.

“I love you.”

The words thrum in Izuku’s head like a martyr, echoed in your voice at all different ages. Fragmented across different timelines, the world stops, and along with it, silence engulfs his being.

He blinks, and he’s standing in front of the wall again. It’s fragmented so badly, his breath hitches at the beautifully ugly sight.

In the silence’s place, is the faint but distinct sound of a heart monitor beeping.

Izuku looks up to see the wall crack once more, and shatter in front of his very own eyes.

Your trade is sufficient.

In return, I’ll return you everything that was once yours.

—

It all happens instantaneously. Suddenly, someone dials the decibel level back up to max, and Izuku’s memories arrive like a mountain avalanche. 

He jerks his head up, the ringing in his head fading as he’s thrown back into the world of senses. The rain pours, and the thunder booms.

His mind feels comfortably full, sharper, and he’s horrified he didn’t realise how empty it was in the first place.

“Oh, Starlight,” He whispers, voice wobbly as he sorts through the different years. So many things make sense now, from your words to actions and your expressions that always screamed help me. A hand comes up to cover his mouth as he lines the memories with gold. He’s been so daft this entire time, and you—

Guilt rises to his mouth and it tastes awfully like bile. It’s getting very difficult to breathe.

How could I ever forget you?

Arms wrapped around himself, he lets out a strangled cry, shame chewing him up more and more because this? This was what you went through? 7 years of obliviousness, white lies, and a whole-ass relationship that he was never meant to have with Ochaco. 7 years of putting up to him, clinging to him, oh gosh, this year was such a dumpster fire—

“I love you.” Your voice rings in his head, and his words pile on top of each other in his throat. The revelation is warm sunlight in the cold shower of rain, and he sobs when he finally understands the gravity of them. 

I love you, even if I can only have different facades of yourself.

I love you, so I’ll chase you as long as I have to.

I love you, even though you will never love me back.

“I love you too,” He whispers brokenly, gathering up the pieces of his ruined memories in scarred hands. “I’ve always loved you.”

It was always meant to be you, that’s why nothing ever felt right.

From the times you brought him your bentos in middle school when the bullies would throw his own away, to the times you sat there with him for hours. Those times you never said anything but just listened to him, made him feel heard and respected and—

loved.

Izuku knew he was whipped the moment the nickname ‘Zuku’ sprouted from your mouth in that sandbox all those years ago.

Can’t even survive a Quirk Accident right, some love, he scoffs at himself, staggering as he pulls himself to his feet.

Your trade is sufficient. The voice at the back of his mind reminds him, causing blood to drain from his face. There’s only so long that you can overlook one factor, and this one was a ticking time bomb that got his brain throbbing and searching hungrily for the answer.

What exactly has he traded?

His phone alarm blares in his pocket, causing him to fumble with it as it automatically starts to play the latest news.

“—Currently facing off against a villain! Two of them, although it’s difficult to see as one of them has a wind manipulation Quirk. It seems he’s at least partially responsible for the storm right now. Hero/n and Everblaze continue to push for the capture of the villain behind the recent cases police cases of officers found waking up unable to feel joy—”

All colour drains from his face. There’s nothing more that needs to be said. He pockets his phone, fires up One For All, and leaps for the city.

Izuku’s lost you once. He refuses to lose you again.

—

Seeing Chisuke tastes like shit. Not that you would know or anything, but this is how you’d imagine shit would taste like.

Izuku was right, of course he was.

Chisuke was here for you.

You dodge the incoming blow swiftly, back to back of your senior. The rain pours, but it doesn’t stop the attack, because you’re a lighthouse in a storm.

“This lot is targeting you, Hero/n, what did you do?” Everblaze grits, flipping her smoke bomb of to buy time.

“Something stupid that involved crashing into a man at age 10.” You mutter, hands lighting up with your Quirk.

She curses, before reporting to comms. “Hero/n and Everblaze on the scene, requesting for backup now!”

“The guy with the knife, get him first.” You say, a strange calm settling under your skin as you navigate through this with professionalism and detachment. “He’s the most dangerous, in terms of long-term setbacks.”

You never know when he’s going to strike. A warped version of Toga, but at least Toga loved her victims. This person…he just liked stabbing people and getting revenge.

With the precision of a neurosurgeon, you toss the man sneaking up on you over your shoulder pinning him to the ground.

Cold blue eyes stare up at you, with a twisted smirk framing his face. He’s older than you last saw him, stubble growing fuzzy under his chin and hair shaggy in the rain.

“Starlight, I found you!” He breathes, cackling you when you twist his arm behind his back. The laughter will forever haunt your nightmares. “I finally found you…”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, digging your elbow into him even more. Everblaze’s voice is radio static in your ear.

“Deal with Knifey, I’ll manage the Whirlwind!”

“Copy,” You grit out, struggling to hold him down. “Backup ETA?”

“10 minutes, counting!”

A flash of silver flickers in your peripheral, and you lunge back the minute he takes a swing at you. Water makes you slip, and he contorts his body, pulling yours forward as he lifts up his knife and—

Your thoughts evaporate like steam over a hot pot. He wedges the dagger between your shoulder blade, and its acid corroding your bones. Grunting, you yank his knife out of your shoulder, tossing it to the side. 

You look back just in time to see him pocketing a vial of your blood.

“Two more to go!” He cackles over the thunder as he brandishes a shiny new knife.

Dread pulls in your gut as you clasp your shoulder. Water makes the blood runny, and if it weren’t for the adrenaline, the pain would have exploded like fireworks on the 4th of July.

“Backup 8 minutes!”

The rain drones on. Donning dirty clothes and an ugly smile, he looks feral, crazy, and the determination behind his voice rivals yours.

“Pay your price, Starlight!” He yells, eyes gleaming. “Give my brother back!”

What comes around goes around. The tables have turned, and the roles have swapped. The water blurs your blood into a murky red, and you grind out your response.

“No can do, Chisuke.”

You don’t have the heart of gold Izuku does. The heart to understand, to hear him out or try to empathise. Maybe for other villains, but this was too close to home.

You move expertly, but with his wild knife swings that looked random but were deadly accurate, you’re forced on defence and the back-burner. Kacchan would be so mad because you aren’t moving well. Your defenses are sloppy and the rain makes everything worse. You feel like you’re back in year 1 again, still a fragile bird learning how to fly.

Even still, you’re wearing him down because of the puffs of his breaths that are ragged and rushed. Good, you think, just as the knife lunges too close.

Oh, shit–

There’s another stabbing, and you kick him off just as he grazes you with his knife. Blood drips from your cheek, and you bite your lip when the pain flares.

“That’s two!” He beams, knife dripping red.

“Back up ETA 5 minutes!” screams the voice in your ear.

I don’t have five minutes, shit I don’t even know if I have one! You want to scream, but you know you have to pull this out. Quickly surveying the field for something useful, you hastily grab a discarded metal rod from a broken fence just as he’s about to plunge the dagger into you. It collides with a clang, and now that you see his face up close, you see the myriad of emotions flashing across his face like a light show. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, and refuse to feel a thing.

No feelings, no pain, no feelings, no pain—

“You should be grateful,” He whispers, eyes wide with light. He genuinely believes that he’s helping you. “I see it in your eyes, that agony and sorrow…you want it all gone, and I can help you with that.”

Panic shoots up your legs like it’s water from a fire hydrant, but you hold firm. It’s difficult to see in the pouring rain, but his expression is too hard to miss. “You don’t have to hurt anymore, isn’t that great?” He says, rain falling like confetti on someone’s birthday.

“You don’t have to love anymore.”

You hate how deep his words cut.

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think—

Pain explodes in your abdomen as your eyes widen. Chisuke deflects your rod with ease.

It isn’t his knife in your chest.

“Three.” He whispers, smile widening further.

There’s a small body behind you, one lithe and quick. The face doesn’t even look at you. “Got her, boss, just as you said.”

It isn’t the Whirlwind guy.

There was a third? You think helplessly, staggering as the knife is drawn from your chest. Maybe if you’d had been more observe, better prepared, you would have caught it.

But you weren’t and now, you’re paying the price

Not vital, of course not, he doesn’t want me to die—

Your hands burn with blisters, and when you look down, they’re coated in red.

“No—” You lunge forward, but your legs buckle beneath you like your body is nothing but lead.

The ringing in your ears blooms, along with the pitter-patter of the rain. “What did I tell you, Starlight?” He coos, fingers locking around the final vial.

“I don’t miss twice.”

—

Izuku arrives on the scene and sees you drenched in blood.

“Sir, please, I need your ID—oh! Deku—” The police officer stumbles over his words in surprise, apologising profusely, but his eyes never leave your frame.

His heart rate racks up, and he’s staggering to your lifeless body with his world falling apart around him. No.

He starts to run, slipping on wet tiles as he stumbles to your side, your blood tainting his hands.

“Starlight,” He whispers, checking your pulse in a desperate attempt to convince himself you are alive. It’s weak, but it’s all he gets and isn’t a cause for celebration. 

You don’t look fine at all.

Red soaks your entire body, battered up and bruised as your shoulder twists at an awkward angle.

“No, no, no…” He yanks his jacket off and covers the nasty gash on your stomach. There’s water running down his face, but it isn’t rain.

“She’s still alive,” calls a voice. Izuku whips his head to the source, and finds himself staring at smug blue. “It wouldn’t be any fun if Starlight dies from this.”

The whole world is painted red.

Chisuke looks at him, pearly whites glistening as the rain dampens his ragged hoodie further.

“Do you like my birthday present, Izuku?”

He may be in Quirk cancellation cuffs, being sentenced to a hell worse than his brother but he looks so happy.

“Why would you do this?” He whispers, pulling you closer. His voice is wobbly, soaked to the bone in rain. The last time he felt this defeated was when he lost Kacchan to the League over two years ago.

Look at this, a voice in his head whispers.

You’ve lost Starlight too.

“If you wanna say anything to her, you should do it now!” He yells from the police car, getting shoved in. “I hope you like my gift.”

Izuku’s breathing is all that he hears, as he stares desperately down at you and your wounds, your face, everything, everything, everything—

This is all my fault.

“Zuku…?” You cough, eyes wandering and searching for his. His heart jumpstarts to life. “Hey, don’t say anything,” He shushes, trying to project a smile. It’s too shaky to pass off as one.

Your eyes find his, and a lazy smile spreads across your face. “Hey, it’s you,” You whisper, eyes so bright they could be stars in the sky. “You’re Zuku.”

Raindrops splatter around you, diluting your blood and hiding your body. Izuku almost breaks on the spot. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, holding you tightly in his arms. “I’m back, Starlight.”

The smile on your face doesn’t widen, but the tears that fall are painfully washed away. You’ve done such a good job all these years, always his ray of sunshine. Now, he’s seeing all your feelings suppressed underneath. 

“Welcome back,” You wheeze, as if it’s difficult to speak. It probably is.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

This isn’t how it was supposed to end.

Your trade is sufficient.

In return, I’ll return everything that was once yours.

Izuku shakes his head, a sob bubbling against his throat.

“I never meant for this to happen.”

You force out a laugh, and then wince in pain. Izuku misses your laughs. “I’m the one that got stabbed, so stop crying, you crybaby.”

“But you were never supposed to go through this.” He whispers, cradling you gently, but hugging you tight. “I’m so sorry, Starlight. For not knowing, for not trying to know, just…oh God, when I think about it, I want to slap myself so hard, get Kacchan to Howitzer Impact me a couple of times too when we get back. I didn’t know, and I hurt you so, so badly.” He inhales, looking around, eyes surveying his surroundings. Frustration builds, and his desperation grows. “Goddammit, where’s the ambulance? Why aren’t they here yet?”

Hurry up, save my Starlight.

“Zuku, it isn’t your fault,” You rasp. His first love is someone strong enough to move hearts on the daily, and has patience that spans as wide as the Pacific Ocean. His first love is someone extraordinary, even though no one will acknowledge it as deeply as Izuku will.

“Starlight—” Izuku chokes, watching your eyes go glassy. “I love you.”

I love you so much, please, please, please, please—

There, where the wind blows strong, and Izuku’s eyes spill tears, you reply with a breathtaking smile.

“I love you too.”

His lip trembles, and he does his best to shield you from the rain.

“Zuku?” You whisper, voice cracking like spoilt leather.

“I’m tired.”

The life is slipping from your eyes, and Izuku shuts his eyes and tries to find the right words to say. “I know, Starlight, just hang on a little longer. You can do it.”

Your voice is thick with a sob. “I don’t wanna stop loving you.”

There’s a fire that lights in Izuku, as he clenches your body tighter.

“Then don’t go,” He says, voice a whisper. “Stay with me.”

The tables have turned, and now it’s his turn to say those words. Please don’t go. Stay.

Your eyes shift upwards to the sky. Even through the rain, stars peek out from behind the clouds, mapping out a land unknown.

“The stars,” You rasp. “They’re so beautiful tonight.”

Izuku’s laugh is endearing, clogged up with snot. “They are. You’re prettier, though.”

You look at him, eyes pearling with tears. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” You heave, eyes ever-gentle and love everlasting. “But it’s so nice to see you again.” You murmur, breath shaky.

“ ‘m love you, Zuku,” you whispers, breath floating out from your lips like an angle from above. Your eyes shut, and you don’t reopen them to meet his gaze.

The sobs that are jamming in his throat bubble over, and he weeps, and cries and screams because you were never meant to be coated in red like this.

Your trade is sufficient.

In return, I’ll return everything that was once yours.

“Why?” he wails miserably.

Why did I have to lose you to find me?

—

Your heart beats steadily, as someone screams in the background.

And then all of a sudden, a rope snaps.

A torch snuffs out, and plunges the world into darkness.

—

The trip back to U.A is a beaten path. It’s 2 buses from the Central Hospital and a hundred metres from the school entrance. You open the double doors to dorms, only to be bombarded by your classmates whispering sentiments of worry and concern.

“Oh, Y/n, thank God you’re okay!” Ochaco fusses over you like a second mom, and the others all give you relieved smiles and offers to help you catch up with homework.

There’s a boy edging the group, barely inside your peripheral. He’s a boy with green eyes and a heart made of gold, someone you’re supposed to care for very, very deeply. Your mouth opens as you lock eyes with him, drawing up feelings that you knew were once your entire world.

You draw a blank, and grasp at nothing.

“Welcome back,” Izuku says quietly. You look…better, albeit after being brutally stabbed. Your eye bags are slowly disappearing, and you look lighter than you had ever been before.

Your mouth shifts upwards to a smile, and it feels genuine for the first time in a long time.

“Yeah,” You say, giving him a half smile.

Ochaco drags you over to the couch and distracts you with food. You hold his eye contact for a moment, before breaking it in favour of food.

Huh, you wonder, the weight of love dispersing into the soil down, down below.

What a strange, foolish person I was, falling in love with him.

[iamnmbr3]

how do you think Draco reacted when he saw Harry dead after forbidden forest scene?! Obviously we didn't see him cuz Harry's eyes were closed and Draco wasn't one of those who shouted(ofc how JKR let that happen–and they didn't reach that closeness to shout for Harry, either) but how was his reaction, facial expressions and thoughts? In your opinion and imagination ofc..

You always send me such top tier asks! Ok so strictly speaking based on the book canon it's ambiguous whether Draco was actually present for that moment or for the duel that followed. However that's boring and narratively and thematically unfulfilling and we do know that Draco was still at Hogwarts because after the battle his parents find him. So I'm going to go ahead and decide he was there.

(On a side note, huge kudos to Tom Felton for his acting in the movie during this scene - love his expression in that moment where you can so clearly see that he is deeply upset but trying to hide it; I absolutely loathe everything that follows though. I'm not a movie fan in general but imho that hug scene is the worst moment in the entire film series. But I digress.)

So anyway, back to the books. I think Draco was absolutely horrified and devastated but also in utter shock and disbelief. I don't think he was even really was able to process it. He probably retains just enough presence of mind to try to keep his face blank, but he's lucky no one's really looking at him because he doesn't fully manage it. Also a small part of him probably feels like saving Harry at the Manor and sparing him in the Room of Requirement (because Draco could have cursed him from behind but instead alerted Harry to his presence and later tried to stop Crabbe & Goyle hurting him) was all for nothing and he blames himself for not having the nerve to at least secure his own family's future since Harry was doomed anyway.

Except somehow he can't truly bring himself to regret it. Even now. He can't really feel anything anymore. Except a dull sense of disbelief. Because Harry Potter can't really be dead. The world would have stopped surely. It can't be real. It just can't.

And then...it ISN'T real. Harry does the impossible and pops up alive and well right in front of them all. And he's striding forward with such purpose. And in that moment, for all that he's a bit battered looking and his clothes are torn and his hair is messier than Draco has ever seen it, he looks every inch the Chosen One his admirers have always hailed him as. He looks small and vulnerable standing there and Draco wants him to run but he doesn't. Instead he walks towards the most dangerous wizard in all of Britain, calm assurance and determination blazing in his eyes, seeming utterly fearless and untouchable. And somehow, against all odds and against all logic and reason, despite being more scared than he has ever been in his life, Draco hopes.

[nonnieapple]

⛈☂ Mall Emo, Mall Time, Mall Crime!☂⛈

 • (human!Marshall Lee x reader)  • r a t i n g: t e e n & u p • 2 1 0 3  w o r d s  • p o s t e d 04.10.2023     🌧 navigation  • s u m m a r y: what do you do when the cashier at a store is a dick? cheese it!

You couldn't wait to see Marshall again. Even though you had seen him a few days ago, you couldn't help but brim with happiness at the thought of seeing him again. You felt electrified, no matter how dumb that sounded, it was exactly how you felt. You smudged on dark eyeliner, pulled on your skinniest jeans, decked out your wrists with enough bracelets to cut off circulation, and wrapped one too many belts around your hips.

Two to be exact.

When you saw Marshall you practically strangled his waist with your grip. He sighed and hugged back.

"Are you trying to kill me or are you just happy to see me?" He said, strained. You pulled back enough to see his face. His beautiful, otherworldly face, his piercings, and his relaxed, dark eyes, which had a red undertone.

"I am never letting you go," You mumbled as you embraced him one more time before pulling away.

"Way to break a promise." He laughed, raising his brows and walking by your side to the entrance of the AAA Mall, one of the only malls around.

"I meant that in a more… metaphorical sense." You shrugged with a smile. Even the annoying mall, with all its lights and people and sounds, couldn't make you upset around Marshall. You were low-key obsessed with that man. In a mostly healthy way.

You walked through the mall, having been there quite a few times before. Why meet in a mall? There wasn't… a particular reason. It was one of the only notable places around. Sometimes you got food there that was edible. The vibes were okay, and Marshall liked staring at the Gridsound displays from time to time. Now that you thought of it, that was the biggest reason.

The AAA Mall wasn't crowded most days either, and you two, both unemployed artists, went there on the dead days- Monday through Friday. When the stores were a relative ghost town. That suited your sensory and human sensitivities. Nothing was worse than people staring at you. Besides the dry sound of dry skin on extremely dry paper, or nail filing. It felt like the sound itself filed down on your teeth. You never quite figured out why people stared. Was it your fashion? Were people that bored? Theorizing was useless. All it did was make you more anxious.

You looked up at Marshall. When you just started hanging out, he asked why you were looking at him like that, but eventually, he accepted that at times you stared like a cat at the nearest object. He was understanding, and whenever you needed some help, he was there. He was a good guy. A little bit of trouble, but you were too, and that was fun.

"It's cold in here. I can feel my blood turning into ice cubes…" You shivered, speeding up your pace as you looked around at blank mannequins and generic posters of conventional-looking white people. The embodiment of salt as seasoning.

"Hm?" Marshall blinked, glancing at you. "I think it's fine." He slipped his hand into yours, and you gasped.

"I'm convinced you're cold-blooded," You murmured, his hand cool and dry, his black nail polish chipped under your fingers.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" His calm voice was not suited for the absurdity of that phrase.

"Dude… why the hell would you ask me that?" He feigned immense devastation at your sound question.

"So, you wouldn't?" He stopped, giving you the saddest look.

"You should've been a darn actor…. of course I would. Now let's move, my something is about to fall off." You pulled him behind yourself gently. You passed by a breakfast diner called Kingdom. Not even. Their pancakes were super soggy.

Every store was a carbon copy of the next and the last, clothes so blank they were fit for a pharmaceutical ad. Warning- buying these clothes might be deadly. You'll die of boredom. Unless you only wear a shirt and nothing else. You know what they say, public indecency is a fashion statement! For the record nothing is wrong with being basic; it's fun to make fun of capitalistic copycats which probably don't even let their workers pee in a bottle, all for an off-white cardigan fit for a widow cosplay. You could even get a handkerchief in the pharmacy nearby.

Marshall slowed and you both marveled at the display- the store. Electric guitars with glossy, colorful, and rich exteriors, mics that cost as much as two pairs of eyeballs on the black market. The store was also filled with various tech. The interior was red and orange, covered with a checker pattern. No one was inside, only the cashier. They were taking a nap on the counter. Soft music played on the speakers. The sign above the entrance flickered. "Gridsound", lit up by a warm glow.

Around the corner was one of the most interesting shops in the AAA Mall, which said something. Flame Topic, a huge corporation trying to make money off people with an alternative style, essentially the same widow cosplay repackaged in a leathery, dark package.

You passed by it as you waved to one of the clerks, a person you knew, Flamber. A funky name for a funky person who was much better than that store but didn't wanna be another unemployed hoodlum.

The store right next to it was an exceptionally empty craft store, Raggedart. The cashier had resorted to doodling in a sketchbook, seated between the aisles. He wore a frumpy, muted in color, messily stitched-together sweater. You turned your head to the side.

Gum & Dia. The owner was Dia Gumm Baldwin, an older woman who had as much scandal surrounding her as she did money.

You hated that store and all of its tacky fast fashion, but the belts seemed okay. Just the belts. You wandered around it, pondering if you should get anything. Marshall was encouraging, at times to fault, so you stayed quiet as you pictured your life with a particular pair of socks. Riveting stuff.

There were a handful of people in the store, and its open nature made you worried, your shoulders tensing and nails digging into your palms. A clerk in all green and a green hoodie over their head with spikes atop it spoke to a couple of customers, gesturing to another section of the store.

You stood closer to Marshall.

"The cashier is looking at me funny… they can't handle the autistic swag," You whispered. He chuckled.

After a lot of meandering around the store, you settled on some belts. Marshall didn't seem interested in getting anything, instead inspecting the enticing crap around the checkout as you paid for your crap, setting the money on the register.

The cashier, a woman with brown hair and a crazy look to her glared at you. She looked so mad you'd think she was staring at an arch-enemy of hers.

"That's not enough."

You dug through your wallet, but no matter how many times you counted the money, you couldn't get the number right, or you didn't have enough money, hell knew, by that point your brain was shutting down.

Your mind blanked, your heart filled with panic and nonsense. You shook, feeling cold yet hot, everything in your eyes blurring and time stopping yet going too fast at the same time. It felt like a nightmare- a nightmare where a tsunami was about to wash over you, and you stood stupid, frozen by icelava. The scenario? Entirely different. The feeling? The utter dread? The same.

You didn't only stand stupid, you felt stupid. You wished you could control it. Control the anxiety.

Marshall found your hand. You didn't react, hand limp and cold. You tried to ground yourself. You were floating off into nowhere mentally as the judgement of the customers and cashier built.

"Ugh, what a weirdo, how can it take so long to pay?" Said a person behind you in line. The person next to them snickered.

"Can you please move it? What, are you scared or something?" The cashier had an air of suffocating smugness about her, glaring at you. You searched for a shred of understanding in her face. She flicked a crumpled-up check at you, and you could only stare in horror.

"Probably one of those people afraid of the world. One of those "mentally ill" ones, you know, the ones seeking attention," Whispered one of the people behind you as though you didn't hear. Not like they have a shit if you did.

Marshall strained to not strum the cashier a new one, also standing like a deer in headlights. An all too familiar reaction to conflict from him. He leaned down to you.

"I'm not saying we should take the stuff and run, but, if you want to, we totally could," He whispered, standing up straight right after as if he hadn't said a thing to you.

Your eyes darted to the register. Your mind went fast, thinking of the pros and cons. It all merged into a big lump of panic. You were filled with feverish worry.

You grabbed the things, gripping them for dear life, running toward the exit as fast as you could. Marshall was nearly perfectly in sync with you.

You ran out of the store and the belts beeped loudly, security chasing after you. Your mind and muscles screamed at you, but you yelled over them.

"You're way too supportive!" You addressed Marshall. You glanced back. The guards were hot on your trail of petty theft. They pulled out their walkie-talkies and gave you icy looks from under deeply furrowed brows. Their thick black and white uniforms, making them look like penguins, slowed them down significantly.

"Sorry for being nice and great and the best," Marshall murmured with utter seriousness as you breezed past the front entrance and past to the parking and beyond. You turned around and around until you were far enough to catch a breather.

You both panted. Your heart burned with cold fire and you buzzed and shook with excitement.

"I don't even want these…" You blinked slowly at the belts in your hands, the post-shoplifting clarity hitting you like a Mitsubishi 3000GT VR-4 Spyder. Your panic had begun to ebb and it felt awful. Also like getting hit by a Mitsubishi 3000GT VR-4 Spyder.

Marshall looked down at what he had grabbed with even more confusion than you. He had grabbed random crap. A pair of chains with crosses and a black face mask with a cat on it.

"Neither do I care about this chain. Do you want it?" He asked unsurely. Your eyes sparkled. Shinies.

"I'll have that." You grabbed them out of his hands, dropping them into your pockets.

"I care more about those assholes judging us," Marshall sighed, leaning against a wall. You hummed and frowned.

"I don't get it, is it so hard to stay outta our business? Do I have a sign on my back saying JUDGE ME?" You raised your arms to the heavens.

"I sure didn't put one there," He replied with a mischievous tone. You huffed, glancing at him up and down.

"You wouldn't do that."

You looked at your back.

"It's true, I care about you. It's my dirty secret." He turned away, covering his face dramatically.

"Awww! You're rotten!" You shoved him ever so softly. He looked to the side.

"In more ways than one." You fastened the belts around your hips, tags still on. Marshall raised a brow, silently questioning your sanity. He should've done that when he met you. Too late now.

"If anyone questions me I'll turn them into protein powder." You smoothed out your clothes, crossing your arms.

Marshall opened his mouth. He closed it, giving a thumbs up and a shaky grin.

"Let's go to the City Of Thieves bar and then home." You stretched, walking. He followed without question. He tended to do that, especially if you were in a new place, he was like a lost puppy.

"Home?"

"My apartment." You glanced at him.

"Sounds good." He smiled softly, reaching his long arm around your shoulders.

You waited at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, coming to a slow halt. You got on and made your way to the last seat which was almost always empty. The bus was pretty empty too.

"I am not paying for this bus," You whispered to Marshall as you stared outside at the sunset. His grip tightened around your shoulders comfortingly, pulling you into him.

You could hear his smirk.

"Me neither."