#and two friends who are wondering what the HELL is up with that desk lamp while we just smile knowingly. Don’t worry about it! :)

[regallibellbright]

Didn't realize you were a ghost trick fan (I played it a month ago and finished it in 3 days of doing nothing but playing it it's one of my favourite games now)

Now we must discuss

My friend who’s currently playing it (and just met Jowd) follows me so I don’t want to get into TOO many details, but:

Missile. Best boy, or bestest boy?

There was actually a project spun off from the Ace Attorney fan musical like, a decade ago to try and do a Ghost Trick musical in the same style. Don’t think it ever got finished - I believe there was trouble getting enough singers - but I remember I wrote lyrics for a song for it before having a health crisis that meant I dropped the project suddenly. (This was basically the story of my 20s.) It was a fun time.

So yeah, love that game. Of the two Standalone Cult Classic DS Games About Death With Quirky But Well-Utilized Mechanics Using DS Gimmicks, Spiky-Haired Amnesiac Protagonists, And Themes About How We Relate To Other People, (and HELLA spoilers with a massive eleventh-hour plot twist or two that completely recontextualize the game on replay, which I COULD draw deeper comparisons on but will not because the aforementioned spoiler thing.) TWEWY’s always been the one that consumed me more, but Ghost Trick is still one of my absolute favorites and I recommend it to literally everyone. It’s funny, it’s clever, it’s got an extremely cute pomeranian, it’s a GREAT mystery that holds up on replay, the soundtrack is fantastic, and the animation…

Cabanela is the MOST ridiculous character but trust me, there are more, and even more understated characters’ animations are top-notch. (Friend has not yet reached The Most Giffable Part, or I’d use it.)

[zephyrchama]

(obey me!) moments where they fall in love with you all over again

---01

It’s dinner, and you’re talking about mundane things that happened during your day. You saw a cool bird, got some gum stuck on your shoe, and bought a new flavor of toothpaste to try. Everyone is listening intently. If only they would pay this much attention in class.

Lucifer knows the way his brothers look at you all too well. It’s a look full of respect, admiration, and fondness. It’s a look that’s often reflected on his own face when in your presence. At first he never really understood why you put up with his siblings, as the option to ignore them and be on your way was always there. Yet you continue to make time for them anyway. How unusual.

Moments like these where everyone is together and you don’t treat them as the Seven Rulers of Hell, you just treat them as your dear friends and family. That’s what makes Lucifer soft. He tries to imagine a long future of things staying just like this.

---02

Mammon’s hesitant to lend anybody money, even you. It takes a few minutes to butter him up and fluff his ego before he relents. At last, he hands you the crispest bill in his wallet. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” he kids, knowing full well he’d do just that if he was in your shoes.

He’s curious what you plan to buy. It never dawns on him that you have no intention of spending the cash. Half an hour later, he finds it on his desk. The exact same bill, now creased and folded neatly into an origami bird.

He picks it up to wiggle the little paper wings, entranced, then looks around frantically and catches your eye. A playful smile graces your face and tugs at his heartstrings.

---03

Leviathan is not typically one to make mistakes when it comes to anime. But even he’s not perfect.

He had it set in his mind that the new show premiered at 6:00pm, which left plenty of time to prepare the ultimate solo viewing party after school. He was humming quietly to himself when you walked over. “Isn’t your show starting soon?”

You specifically took an interest in his hobbies. You remembered that it started at 16:00 (four o’clock), not 6:00. Leviathan wondered, how could he make such a egregious mistake? You were the one who dashed back to the House of Lamentation at full speed by his side. When your human stamina started failing, he unconsciously picked you up so you’d both make it in time. You made it with two minutes to spare.

Sweaty and out of breath, still in uniform, you were able to watch the premiere together. It wasn’t until after credits rolled, you went elsewhere, and the live reactions on social media started calming down that Levi realized what a big deal this was to him. What a big deal you were to him.

---04

Satan wasn’t expecting you to be spacing out in his favorite armchair. He had plans to read in it that evening, and considered asking you politely to move. But the way the lamp light shines on your skin, the thoughtful expression on your face while pondering ideas unknown. The way your lips part ever so slightly and your eyes gaze off into nothing. It captivates him. You look like a painting. His breath gets caught in his throat, and in clearing it he manages to break your trance.

“Oh, hey. Welcome home, I didn’t realize you were there.”

You go to get out of the chair, but Satan insists you stay. It doesn’t look right without you anymore. He doesn’t feel right without you anymore.

---05

Asmodeus does not have wardrobe malfunctions often. His outfits are of the highest quality and a lot of care goes into putting them on. Still, things happen.

When his fans rush forward out of nowhere, sometimes they are successful in tearing his clothes. A fistful of shirt here, a mouthful of pants-leg there. Being in the center of a lust-fueled stampede can make even the most collected people lose their minds, but you are steadfast. You shout at the rabid demons, shaming them for their disrespect. You believe you can chase them off all on your own, not knowing that the Avatar of Lust behind you is exuding a killer aura and warning his fans to back off with a powerful glare.

As you sloppily stitch up what remains of his shirt so he can walk home without the incident repeating, Asmodeus is smiling from ear to ear. You’re so focused on genuinely helping that you don’t even notice the bedroom eyes he’s flashing. The scene of you waving your arms and trying to chase off a pack of demons as if they were stray pigeons is permanently ingrained in his memory. Just as your existence is ingrained in his soul.

---06

Beelzebub knows what he likes. He knows what will catch his interest and is pleasantly surprised when a new one crops up.

One thing he likes is you. Another is food. Both are in the cafeteria. He piles a tray high with carbs and goes looking for you at lunch time, finding you seated in the middle of a long table at the edge of the room. He calls your name.

It’s unexpected, the way you quickly swing your head up mid-bite. Your cheeks are full and noodles dangle from your mouth, sauce dripping back onto your plate. Your eyes light up as you look at him from below. It makes him stop in his tracks, causing several shorter demons to walk into him. Such a simple action, yet so profound. You hurriedly chew and offer him a seat while Beelzebub powers through his emotions. He takes a seat across from you to offer a napkin, wondering when he’ll see that face again.

---07

It’s late, far past everyone’s bedtime. Yet Belphegor forgot to tell you something during the day and decided now would be a great time. When you don’t respond to the quiet knocks at your door, he lets himself inside. Your sleeping figure looks too comforting to resist and he gets the brilliant idea to crawl into bed with you to whisper in your ear.

The problem is, as soon as he lifts the covers, you fart. It’s loud. You don’t move an inch, remaining fast asleep and ignorant of what just happened.

Belphegor freezes in his tracks to process it, but is soon doubled over on the futon laughing. The vibrations wake you. You sleepily open your eyes to see who is in hysterics and ask the obvious: “what?”

Belphegor is laughing too hard to tell you. He doesn’t want to tell you. It’s too priceless. You groggily smack him with a spare pillow and it makes him laugh harder. While he loves to look at you, that week it becomes difficult for him to meet your eyes without erupting into a fit of giggles.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 39

PREV

Nicky screamed as he found himself yanked from his bed as he fell to the ground. The blanket that he had so perfectly burrito’d himself in had been pulled and he had gone with it pillows and all. He laid on the ground blinking up into the darkness wondering what the hell had just happened, he squints and thinks he sees blond hair. He racks his still loading brain to try and think of anything he had done recently to Aaron that would result in such a rude awakening.

The lamp clicks on.

“Nicky, are you- Andrew, what the hell.” He hears Aaron’s voice from the left and now Nicky can see the black armbands of his other cousin.

That tracks.

“Flight 8329 from Charleston International Airport to Seattle Tacoma International Airport took off 20 minutes ago.” Andrew says as if that means anything to Nicky.

“Cool?” Nicky squints at his cousin.

“There was an hour delay due to a staffing issue, but it is off the ground now.” Andrew continues and Nicky continues to not understand what is being said to him.

“Great?” Nicky hears Aaron.

There is silence in the room and Nicky finds himself starting to drift back to sleep. The floor really wasn’t that bad.

“So, Daniel’s not here anymore?” he hears Matt’s whispered question.

“Dude, why are you whispering?” Aaron asks.

“Smithsters still asleep.” Matt says voice still quiet.

“How the fuck did he sleep through Nicky’s banshee scream?” Aaron asks voice lowered down to a whisper.

“I think moving all his stuff wiped him out.” Matt offers.

“We moved everything he just said where he wanted it.” Aaron grouses quietly.

“You know Smithster isn’t much of a talker.” Matt reminds.

“Whatever.” Aaron huffs and Nicky is almost back asleep.

“Yes Matt,” Andrew says voice quieter than it had been when he had been rattling off facts about Daniel’s flight, “Daniel is not here anymore.” He says.

That is actually great news. Feels like a shame that FF didn’t wake up to hear it but Nicky knows that it wasn’t just the move that had wiped his friend out.

The last three days had been interesting.

First, Aras had flown back home. She had offered to stay longer with FF since Daniel was still around, but he had merely smiled and told her that he’d be okay. Nicky had almost cried when FF had said that he wasn’t alone anymore. Nicky’s heart twisted when the two decided that it was probably for the best that FF not come back to Washington for Winter Break.

Second, there had been the whole debacle where Daniel had shown back up with the man who had married FF’s mom. They had burst into the practice and had gone straight towards where FF was sitting sipping his ‘New and Improved Day/Boyd Smoothie’. Wymack had gotten between them before anything happened physically, but Nicky could still see how FF froze at the sight of his mother’s husband.

There had been raised voices, threats of security, demands on why ‘John’ hadn’t answered his phone to come bail his ‘brother’ out, that he’d forced his dad to come all the way across the country to bail his ‘brother’ out. FF had been quiet looking bored and unbothered by the tirade of the man who married his mother.

Wymack had been in rare form.

“He didn’t pick up because that phone is in my desk.” Wymack had hissed standing utterly stalwart between FF and the two men. “Now get the hell out of my Court before your son gets reacquainted with the Campus Police.” He points towards the exit.

FF’s Mother’s husband had demanded FF’s new phone number but neither Wymack or Smith gave it.

It was only as Wymack lifted his own phone up to his ear after having dialed campus security that the two got the hint and ran off.

Following that there’d been the expedited emergency restraining order request that had been pushed through.

Nicky and Wymack had been the ones that went with FF for support during the request since everyone else had a prior engagement. The security footage was all that had been needed to grant it as far as the judge was concerned despite FF’s Mother’s husband’s pleas that it was merely a ‘fight between brothers’.

Nicky had almost wished he had given Andrew the Maserati back when the jackass had shown up to the hearing with his son wearing a T-shirt that said ‘I’m not the step-dad. I’m the dad that stepped up.’

Oh.

He opens his eyes and tunes back into the conversation. It seems like Aaron had come to the realization that the only way that Andrew would be awake at this god forsaken hour of- Nicky looks at the alarm clock- 5 AM is because he’d been in the same bed as Neil who was a notorious early morning runner.

“You want the Maserati.” Nicky interrupts the whispered argument.

“No, I’m just here to comment on how Smith’s motorcycle helmet really ties the whole room together now that he’s moved in.” Andrew rolls his eyes so hard that even if Nicky hadn’t been looking at his cousin he would have heard the eyeroll. “Yes, I am here because it is now officially impossible for me to hit Daniel with my car. That was the deal.” Andrew says with a scowl, “So you are taking me to where you stored it.” He says.

“Andrew, it’s too early. They’re not open yet.” Nicky groans grabbing one of his pillows and trying to hide his face under it.

It was unsurprisingly ripped away before he could properly hide away from his cousin.

“We have to walk to wherever you hid my car.” Andrew hisses.

“Andrew you’re not seriously going to make me get up and walk the whole way there on the first morning that I can sleep in.” Nicky groans.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t stolen my car Nicholas.” Andrew hisses.

“You guys can take my truck.” Matt says with a huge yawn as he settles back into bed. Morning practice for the rest of the week was not mandatory.

“See, we can take Matt’s truck. The place is only a 30 minute drive away and it doesn’t open until 7 AM anyways.” Nicky groans and tries to roll under the bed. If he can get to the far side then it will be difficult for Andrew, with his 5 foot nothing height to reach-

Andrew puts a foot between him and freedom.

“This room is buying Neil and I breakfast.” Andrew says, “And then we’ll go pick up my car.” He says.

“What? Why?!” Matt and Aaron demand as Nicky groans still trying to roll under the bed despite Andrew’s unyielding foot.

“You all either knew about Nicky’s plan or were part of Nicky’s plan.” Andrew says.

“Okay but Smithster is innocent.” Matt says.

“True, but we need him to come.” Andrew says.

“Why?” Nicky groans changing direction to try and roll under Aaron’s bed only to be stopped by the absolute barrier that was Katelyn’s suitcases of off-season clothes she kept under Aaron’s bed since her own room didn’t have space for it all.

“So we can get into the breakfast place now instead of the usual time for people our age. The owner loves him.” He says.

Ah, FF’s old lady magnetism.

Nicky gets it.

The boy has very pinchable cheeks.

There are very few things one can do when faced with an Andrew Minyard who has decided upon something. Eventually their whole room was up though Andrew at least was far more gentle with FF than he had been with Nicky. FF could sleep through almost any amount of noise but would wake up at the slightest touch and go still.

Nicky really wishes that Andrew had a less conspicuous car because he’s sure his cousin could have gotten away with running Daniel over if he had a Volvo or a Ford.

Nicky went with FF on the back of his motorcycle. One of Aras’ parting gifts to him had been an orange helmet with ‘Foxy’ written on it. Nicky had loved it immediately and unironically. Nicky held onto FF and hoped that his friend was awake enough to actually be driving on the damn thing, but FF had seemed at least 90% conscious.

Either way they arrived at the breakfast place FF was pushed to the front to speak with the owner of the fancy breakfast spot and within 10 minutes they were at a table surrounded by the elderly early bird patrons.

The all-you-can-eat brunch was always both a challenge and a danger when you are a group of college athletes. A challenge because it always felt a bit like a race against the chefs who were churning out chicken, waffles, hams to slice, eggs of all varieties, bacon, sausages, French toast, cinnamon rolls, hashbrowns, quiche, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, and lox bagels. The danger was what Matt was currently finding himself in since the man had failed to pace himself. “I think I’m gonna die.” Matt groaned.

“Smith, where did you get that smoothie?” Aaron asks looking as FF was sipping a delightful looking smoothie.

“The owner gave it to me while you guys were filling your plates.” FF says. “I’m supposed to let her know if I need another one.” He says.

“When are you going to be off that liquid diet?” Aaron asks as he digs into some bacon.

“Well, next week I can just start essentially putting things in the blender and I shouldn’t suffer the consequences like with the borscht.” FF shrugs. “Gran said she’d send along a pie to celebrate when I can eat solids again.” He adds and FF’s face is as blank and as unemotional as it usually was but there was a general air of sadness.

“You know, I don’t think it’d bother Allison or any of the girls if you joined us for winter break.” Matt says from where he was staring up at the ceiling still overfull from going too hard too fast on the egg options.

“I don’t want to intr-“

“It’s not an intrusion.” Andrew says looking at his phone, “We’re inviting you.” He adds before getting up and grabbing his backpack, “Do not let them take my plate.” He says looking at the table. Andrew’s plate was laden with the sweeter side of things for breakfast and he had made up a plate for Neil who was supposed to meet them at the breakfast spot.

Andrew left and nicky figured he was going to go grab Neil outside. “Isn’t it for the original Foxes?” FF asks.

“Yeah, but you’re our friend so it’s fine if you come. I know Dan wants to really get to know the guy who took her place on the line.” Matt says with a laugh that has him looking queasy afterwards.

“You and me can room together.” Nicky says.

“Isn’t Erik coming?” Aaron asks incredulously.

“Yeah? So?” Nicky questions.

Aaron looked at Nicky like he was an idiot and opened his mouth likely to say why, “I don’t want to intrude. I can probably just sleep on a couch out in the main area, if your friends are okay with me coming.” FF sips at his drink. “You and Erik have a lot to catch up on.” He says voice giving that slight indication that he felt awkward.

Catch-up on-

Ohhh.

Yeah, he and Erik are going to christen that bed if it hasn’t already been christened.

“We’ll figure something out.” Aaron says easily enough.

Eventually Andrew returned with Neil in tow. He was a little sweaty looking but definitely look like someone who had been running for about two hours at this point. He figures that Andrew must have brought spare clothes for Neil to change into so that he’d be acceptable in the breakfast joint.

“Smith has agreed to join us for Christmas Break.” Nicky announces to the couple as they took their seats.

“Quite brave of Smiths considering how the last holiday break went when he came with us.” Aaron says wrly.

“Yeah Andrew, make a deal not to stab Smithy again.” Nicky holds out a pinky for a pinky promise with his cousin.

Andrew rolled his eyes as FF piped in, “Romero stabbed me.” He says loyally.

Eventually they got to talking about their plans for the Winter Banquet on Friday. Nicky was going with FF as his date and had already gone out and gotten him an appropriately bespoke suit with Aras the week before.

Eventually they wrap up breakfast. Nicky, Aaron, and Matt all pay and they make their way out to the parking lot.

The parking lot where the Maserati was.

“Andrew, how in the world-“

“Like a locked gate would even slow Neil down. Got the opening time and the driving distance from you this morning and narrowed it down to the only long-term parking lot in the area.” Andrew says idly as Neil hands over the spare Maserati keys to him.

Nicky spends a bit more time bitching about the fact that Andrew woke them all up mostly out of spite and as a cover for getting his car back without Nicky’s assistance. However eventually the time for class swiftly approached.

“This isn’t over!” he says pulling on his Foxy Helmet and pointing at Andrew.

“I think it is.” Andrew replies with a shrug as he and Neil climbed into the front of the car.

Nicky rolled his eyes but climbed onto the back of FF’s motorcycle.

Winter Banquet was in 2 days.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[midnightdonghyun]

Butterfly ｡˚ ° KDH

Pairings ｡˚ ° Donghyun x Daehwi

Characters ｡˚ ° Omega Donghyun (ab6ix), Alpha Daehwi (ab6ix)

AU ｡˚ ° Omegaverse

Genre ｡˚ ° character exploration, friends to ??? kinda lovers, childhood friends, forbidden romance kinda

Warnings ｡˚ ° None

Word count ｡˚ ° 3k

Summary ｡˚ ° Donghyun is not happy with his presentation and has withdrawn from the world and from the friend he met in the woods as a child. Seeing a reminder of said friend has him out in the forest again... and the two get to talking after a few years of separation.

Notes ｡˚ ° Not proof read lol. Sort of a plot in this one. Idk if i wanna keep this concept like canon? It's a fun dynamic to play with for sure and i like both their charcters but dunno if i should mate them or not

Masterlist Masterlist

Omegaverse Masterlist

Sometimes Donghyun would wake up and feel like he was suffocating on his own scent. He smelled like an isle of fruit, and everytime anyone commented on it he felt nothing but shame. It was a constant reminder. Anywhere he went, anything he touched, it smothered him. He picked up a pen and it was left with a coat of jelly. He smoothed the wrinkles in his pants and they were smeared with jello. He stopped touching other people years ago. He would feel so guilty leaving them with red and orange fruit stains.

A person can’t smell their own scent, but Donghyun was convinced otherwise. Why else would he wake up choking on perfumed air? Maybe it was in his head. Maybe it was his own fear. Or maybe it was the handful of plums the Lord so graciously handed him.

Donghyun didn’t want plums and oranges and strawberries. He prayed for tall glasses of salt water. But this is what he was given. This is what he had to live with.

Even now, staring at the black ceiling waiting until his breathing slowed he had to lie in a bed with apples and grapefruit.  

Donghyun always wondered why he was plagued with nightmares. Why he woke multiple times a night trembling and drenched in sweat. He can’t even remember what he dreamed about. If there were faces or demons, if they were bloody with guts or traumatic with lost family members. He just… can’t sleep.

He sat up. Imaginary cherries rolled across the warped wooden floor. 

What was the point of trying again? He would just stay awake. Everything was so fitful. Ghosts that he couldn’t remember in his sleep. The crushing weight of failure during the day. It’s like he was stuck in limbo. One foot in the Garden another in Hell. God even gave him a pomegranate to remind him. Look at what you did to man.

The floor was cold, and the light outside was blue and silver. A full moon.

Yellow and blue, Donghyun turned his desk lamp on. Its light was soft, but it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden warmth. His room was small. All of their rooms were small. That’s just how boarding school is, he supposed. Twin bed, desk, a dresser, a radiator, garbage can. 

He had been inside other rooms before. They had cork boards with memories bottled into tickets and pictures of their pets. They had framed photos of their parents, siblings, aunties and uncles. Some had old family crests. Some of them had gifts from home. Hand knitted blankets that smelled like their dams, small baskets of their favorite snacks they couldn’t in this small town tucked away deep in the pines.

Donghyun was an orphan. His walls had a calendar and a crucifix. His bed had a synthetic blanket that the school provided. His desk had textbooks and notebooks. 

He felt so very alone, and when he started smelling so sweet he understood why he was abandoned. Who would want this?

The few personal items he had weren’t much. There was a bible bound in leather with gold lettering. There was a rosary with white, pearly beads. There was Celery, a worn stuffed rabbit. And then there was Celery’s rosary, of course, currently wrapped around his plush neck. That one had plastic yellow beads. He had a few books of his own. A few outfits. 

It’s not like he needs much. It’s not a very holy thing to have so many possessions, anyway. Donghyun was content with his minimalistic room, but… maybe one family photo would be nice. 

He’ll have to repent for the jealousy later. 

But there was one more thing. His eyes fell on it standing all alone in the dim yellow light that washed over the desk. It was pushed a little farther back, a memory lost to a corner, school and bible studies had taken precedence. 

It was a butterfly. Blue. Carefully pinned inside its black frame. It was easy for Donghyun to see the care that went into it. It was a gift from someone special to someone special. Truth be told he hadn’t thought of this person in years.

They were kids when they met. Donghyun had crawled out of the window after one of his nightmares. Lost himself deep in the forest. He was a child then. So was the boy he met. Skinny. Pale. Donghyung was afraid of him at first. Some kind ghost. An evil spirit to entice him into sin or lead him into a lake and drown him. But he was just a boy. A strange boy unnaturally comfortable in the dark woods. 

He said his name was Daehwi. He said he was from a village farther up the mountain. He said his family thought of Donghyun’s boarding school as a religious cult. A place full of false prophets and lies. Donghyun was deeply offended at first, but it didn’t last long. They met nearly every night for a long time. He would go into the forest and talk to his friend under the moon. It didn’t matter that Daehwi thought Donghyun was living in religious bondage and following lies and it didn’t matter that Donghyun thought Daehwi was a heretic spreading harmful pagan ideas and living secluded in the woods like a freak. They just worked somehow, and they both learned not to question it much.

Things fall apart when you question.

Daehwi loved butterflies. He pinned their corpses and hung them around his cabin. That’s what he told Donghyun, who thought it was a little strange at first. But Daehwi gave him a gift. And Donghyun wasn’t one to question gifts. It was like a piece of his soul that he entrusted Donghyun with. 

Donghyun swayed, still looking at the little soul in the black frame. It was important to Daehwi. Why hadn’t he gone into the forest recently? Why did he stop years ago? If he went back would this small child still even be there? And what would he look like now?

Donghyun was moved to pull on proper pants, socks, shoes, and a jacket before he even really considered what he was doing. Sister Catherine said that sometimes the Lord works in hidden ways. That He pulls you into actions you would never take and when that happens all you have to do is trust Him and follow what He’s pulling you towards. Donghyun steeled his faith as he pulled his first floor window open. 

In a last thought he pocketed the white rosary, and then he swung his feet out his window and carefully lowered himself into the shrubs below.

It was a dream, or maybe a memory. He always conflated the two. 

The air had a bite to it. Needles swayed in the wind above his head. His feet worked from memory, and everything was bundled in the silver gauze spun by the moon herself. Donghyun started to fret. Would Daehwi even be there anymore? Had he forgotten too or was he bitter with Donghyun’s sudden abandonment? What would he say to him if he was there? He hoped they wouldn’t fight. 

The tree they met under was still there. Daehwi said it was a bigleaf maple. It was massive and covered in moss. Thick branches sprawled in all directions and seemed to encompass the entire sky when you stood under it. A leafy Atlas bearing the brunt of the stars on its bark. A few of those branches had collapsed recently, breaking off from the trunk and horrid angels. They were still attached by a few woody tendons, and the entire scene made Donghyun think that something had died in that tree, even though it remained alive above its dragging limbs. 

“Softwood rots in humid places like this.”

Donghyun started and turned towards the sudden voice. He appeared silently, as if he had melted from the moonlight. He did that the first time too, when Donghyun was lost and on the verge of tears. He stared for a second, a little awed at the moonghost standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets. 

He wasn’t very tall and nor had he bulked up. He was still fairly pale and his eyes still had that clear, freezing gleam. 

Donghyun didn’t know what to say. The words that came out were a little stupid, but what was he supposed to say?

“You’re still here.”

Daehwi narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t been. I gave up awhile ago.”

“Fated,” Donghyun took a step closer. “God wanted us here. Together.”

Daehwi cocked an eyebrow. “Your god, maybe.”

Donghyun shrugged, lowering himself into a squat. They used to sit here for ages. Neither one of them cared about how damp their pants got or how the cold would start burning into their bones. They would be too focused on each other. Too busy listening and talking. Daehwi always did all the talking back then. He would tell Donghyun about the stars they couldn’t see under the tree. The butterflies he liked the most. The saints and gods of his religion. How to slaughter a lamb ethically and painlessly. He was without God, but he was fascinating. 

He was silent now, regarding Donghyun cooly. Was he angry they stopped meeting? Had he waited in the forest night after night in vain? Donghyun had told him he might stop coming. That things were getting more and more complicated the more he thought about puberty. About presenting. About his future. Did he understand? 

“I like to think of Him as everyone’s god,” Donghyun said softly. 

Daehwi scoffed. “Of course you do.”

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Daehwi looked off in its direction as if he could watch it take flight from here. Even the air around him felt icy and tense. Donghyun traced his angular jawline, eyes moving from his small ear to the tip of his chin. He had grown well. Donghyun wondered about him. His identity, his education, what had happened in the few years they cut each other out. 

“My friend, talk to me.” Donghyun’s voice was almost a whisper in the cedars, tangling in the small vine maples and getting lost. “What have you been up to these days? What happened?”

Daehwi’s gaze turned back to him. Donghyun winced. It was dripping with something he couldn’t exactly put a word to. Apathy? Hatred? An unsanctioned marriage between the two? 

“I waited, for one thing. I waited for my friend to come back, but he ran off with my gift.”

Donghyun could only flinch and grimace. Gifts were so important, in both of their secluded little sects. Pieces of the soul. A promise from one person to another. The start of a dialogue between the two. He had ghosted a courtship.

“Of course then I realized we were kids mimicking things we knew nothing about and that it never meant anything in the first place. And that hurt for awhile. But you get over it eventually.” He shrugged stiffly looking off into the black distance again.

Donghyun was silent for a few moments. These things had to be navigated so carefully. He was crossing a river by jumping from one small rock to another. They were so wet… covered with wigs of algae and robes of fresh water. A quick sign of the cross and he had to jump.

“So much happened. So much I wanted to die.”

Daehwi’s head turned slowly back in Donghyun’s direction. His gaze was still pained, but a little softer. Donghyun wondered if he ever really got over it. 

“What happened?”

“I wanted to be a priest.”

“And why can’t you?”

Donghyun sighed and stood up. There were so many smells in the air. Moss. Water. Wet bark. The forest was alive with scent. It was easy to hide out here where the wind blew everything away so quickly you could barely catch a whiff of it. It’s not like a classroom behind stone walls where you could smell everyone in nearly every adjacent room. So he stepped closer, almost closing the gap between them, and pulled down his coat collar a little and baring his neck in a dramatic flair.

Fruit.

Daehwi’s nose twitched.

“They won’t let us in. Too… compromised. Prone to sin. Made to serve God in other ways.”

“An old stereotype.”

“Religions are full of that.”

Another awkward silence. Daehwi cast his gaze downwards. Donghyun wondered if apathy was his protection the way isolation was his. The wind was picking up, and the treetops were rocking now. Donghyun crossed his arms and shivered. The air started to smell a little bit like rain. 

“Do you hate me?” Daehwi’s tone was flat. Emotionless. 

“No… why would you say that?”

He shrugged, the leaf litter seemingly more interesting than Donghyun’s face. “I just thought you were supposed to.”

Donghyun didn’t know what to say and hugged himself tighter. 

“When you left, I guess I thought you were tired of hanging out with someone your people damn to hell.”

Donghyun kicked at the rotting leaves. He guessed it was true. Daehwi wasn’t even baptized. Where else would he go? But that’s not what the religion is about either. There are core tenets of understanding. Of love. Of forgiveness. Donghyun forgave Daehwi the day they met. Shouldn’t He have?

“Well… what do you think of me?”

Daehwi finally shot him another glance. “I think you’re misguided.”

Donghyun sighed again. 

The world around them grew steadily darker. Clouds were blowing in blocking the weak rays the moon could provide them. Donghyun began to dread the walk home. Daehwi was a always a mindreader. He smirked a little, finally lightening out of his pensive and emotionless mask. “Need me to walk you home? Gonna get lost again, little kid?”

“I’d appreciate it. I can’t see well.”

They walked in a single file line. Donghyun was cold and unsettled. He wasn’t sure where they stood. They were talking at least, but it didn’t feel like how it should. Daehwi was upset. Their religions were a wall. All Donghyun wanted to do was climb over it, but he was too scared to find a foothold. He was on one side of the river, and he was too busy fussing over the stones in the middle to even try to cross.

Stone walls and lights in the distance. Daehwi walked him all the way up to his open window, and the rain finally started to fall. 

Donghyun swayed, unsure, but desperate to extend some sort of olive branch. 

“It’s gonna pour.”

Daehwi grunted in agreement.

“You should… come inside.”

The smaller man studied him for a moment, eyes traveling across Donghyun’s facial features, scrutinizing. Looking for something. But God had other plans. The rain picked up quickly, going from a drizzle to something steadier with threats to let loose into a storm.

“Yeah,” Daehwi agreed, and they climbed into Donghyun’s dark room before they could be drenched. Donghyun shut the window. Daehwi loitered until Donghyun turned the desk lamp back on.

The shrubs outside rustled and rubbed against the wall. Daehwi sniffed.

“It’s bare in here.”

Donghyun shrugged. “What did you picture?”

“A nest at least. You’re such a fucking monk.”

Donghyun let himself laugh a little. “I was raised by nuns, I guess it shows.”

Donghyun could smell him in here. He smelled like a mass on the beach. Incense, pews, salt water, sand. It was infinitely better than fruit, but Donghyun briefly wondered what they smelled like together. Cranberries growing in the ocean? Pineapple on white sand? A hidden apple underneath a church pew?

The butterfly on his desk. Daehwi was running his fingers across the top of the frame. “This was my first one. It’s crooked. I’m better now.”

“Make me a new one.”

“If I do, you can’t leave again.”

Donghyun reached into his coat pocket, feeling the beads he stashed earlier. The rain outside persisted, running down the window like steady lanes of traffic. 

“Do you forgive me?” Donghyun asked gently. 

Daehwi turned to him, crossing his arms. “For leaving? If you don’t do it again.”

“You said we were kids.”

“We were. It didn’t mean anything except hurt feelings then. If we do it now,” he quirked a brow again. “It’s for real.”

Donghyun took a deep breath. “And you don’t… care? About me?”

A brief look of confusion crossed the younger man’s face before it was back to apathy. “What’d you mean?”

“That I… that I’m… like this.”

Daehwi’s brow creased. “If I cared I wouldn’t have even walked you home. Shouldn’t you be more worried about God?”

Donghyun shook his head. “I don’t think so.” 

Silence.

“I prayed to be a beta.”

“That sounds like you.”

“I wanted to preach so badly, Daehwi. I don’t know what to do now.”

Daehwi shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

Donghyun wasn’t even sure a courtship between them would work. It was a matter of religion. They weren’t converting each other. One wasn’t about to drop his belief entirely. They were both feverish with faith. And that made Donghyun afraid. But he pulled out the white rosary anyway and offered it to Daehwi.

“It’s important to me.”

Daehwi looked at it pointedly before slowly taking it from him. 

“And if I decide you aren’t for me?”

“Give it back to me.”

Daehwi nodded. “I’ll hold onto it for now.” He hesitated before stepping closer, twisting his head towards the shell of Donghyun’s ear. “You smell good, by the way.”

Donghyun shivered. 

Daehwi glanced outside. The rain weakened a little. The night was growing old. “It’s the full moon, Donghyun. I have things to attend to.”

Donghyun nodded. “Just come back?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. A heavy pause, each unsure of how to proceed around the other. Each made a little dizzy by the other’s scent, each afraid of spitting at their faith, each terrified of ending up alone. 

“Lend me an umbrella?”

A cloth torch passed from one hand to another. Sound and wind filled the room when the window open and then Donghyun was alone again, just as suddenly as he had left the room earlier that night.

Deep down he knew they wouldn’t last. He just hoped their fling would be worth it.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

After reading your story where Y/n is like Anna from Frozen (LOVE IT), now I keep thinking of what it’d be like if Tommy met a girl that’s like Rapunzel from Tangled and the same situation (locked up by someone who took her as a baby, having no idea what has happened in the world in her whole 20 something years of life) like- Imagine the Shelby brothers going to whatever place she’s in because there’s something in there that will gain them more power and Tommy walks in first and suddenly he gets hit in the face with a pan HSHSHSHSHSH

LIKE JUST IMAGINE, HE WALKS IN THERE LOOKING ALL TOUGH WITH A GUN, BUT GETS TAKEN DOWN BY A FRYING PLAN SHXHSHHS

Insert his brothers hysterically laughing at him 🤣🤣🤣

Start of a beautiful relationship LOL

Dear Anon,

I'm not actually a big princess person so I hope this is okay! It's short and sweet.

No warnings - fluff and mild violence

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

“Tom, I don't have a good feeling about this '' John said, tossing his cigarette on the pavement. The three brothers looked up at the strange, ominous looking house.

“I agree with John. That bugger never brought us nothing but trouble” Arthur said with his face twisted up in distaste. He never really forgave Alfie, or Tommy for that unhappy incident. Tommy’s patience was starting to grow thin with the situation. They needed those papers and then to get the fuck out of there get back to Small Heath. Tommy started to walk towards the large iron gate at the side of the house.

“Look this is where he said it would be, alright. Easy in, easy out. No fucking around.” Tommy said curtly moving towards the back door. The backdoor opened with a horrible screeching sound that caused Arthur to jump and curse under his breath. Normally John wouldn't let such a thing go but Tommy could feel that he was just as uneasy. And rightfully so, there was an eerie feeling about the dark house. All three of them pulled out their guns and moved into the darkness.

A dim light was shining and they moved towards it. Every muscle in Tommy’s body seemed to be transported back to those bloody tunnels. His breath was catching as the darkness of the corridor tried to suffocate them. Finally they made it around a corner to see the lamp shining on a small desk.

The light shone against the bright red door, his brothers stopped a few doors down knowing better than to approach it. Tommy didn't have a choice, despite the bad omen and all its predictions had to offer, he needed those fucking papers.

He gripped the gold handle and slowly pushed the door open. The room on the other side was bright, it hurt his eyes to look around the space. It was cluttered with books everywhere, floor to ceiling windows with light coloured curtains. It was a small bubble of color opposed to the menacing darkness the rest of the house was bathed in.

There was a slight shift in the corner of his vision, he turned to see the most beautiful pair of brown eyes, looking positively terrified. Before he could speak there was a loud noise and everything went dark.

“Tommy!” A loud voice boomed. Great there was more of them, you lunged down and grabbed the man's gun, abandoning the frying pan next to him. Your hands were shaking something fierce and you started to wonder if you had killed the man.

Two men approached and put their hands up.

“The fuck you do to em”

“Oh - I - erm - hit him with a fry pan.”

“Fucking hell woman.” One of the men bent down and looked him over. The other approached you slowly, looking like he was trying not to laugh about the whole thing.

“Look love, we are friends of Alfie. We came to get some papers and he said they were here.” He looked honest, but surely Alfie would have called you. He could sense your hesitancy to lower the gun so he continued on.

“Alright, we are trying to outrun a rival gang. You need to help us get the papers, and we can help get you outta here.” Something twisted in the pit of your stomach, there was a genuine sense of fear in his eyes. Not to mention if he knew Alfie he must also know what would happen to him if something bad happened to you.

“O-Okay” You lowered the gun. “What are these papers about then?” You frantically searched through the safe where he kept important papers. Finding what they were after you came back into the room to see the man you smacked sitting up on the floor.

You locked eyes with him. He was captivating, his eyes were the coldest blue you’d ever seen. A strange feeling bloomed in your stomach and the air between you became slightly electric. His brothers helped him up with a smirk on his face.

“Th-e-ese- Are the Papers you wanted” You cleared your throat desperate for him to stop staring at you. He accepted the papers but didn't turn away from you, and you smile apologetically. His brothers seemed to tense up, looking between the two of you cautiously.

You suppose he was about to go off at you about the frying pan. But you held his glare, refusing to apologize.

“I apologize for showing up like this, love. There's others on the way. Come on with us and I’ll get you back to Alfie.” His voice was enough to leave your knees weak.

"You have my word"

He looked unimpressed but full of fire at the same time. You didn't trust your voice so you gave him a nod and turned around to grab your bag, grateful you haven't unpacked yet. He took it from you shouldering it while grabbing your hand.

You settled into the back seat of their car and within five minutes people were shooting out at you tearing up the road behind.

You received a phone call once you arrived. You were supposed to stay with Thomas Shelby for a week till Alfie could come collect you and take you to your parents house.

You’d insisted on looking at his head, he reluctantly let you assess the bump. Claiming he’d lived through much worse, you believed him judging by the scars on the top of his neck. Running your hands through his short hair, you looked down at him getting trapped in those big eyes. Your brother told you not to get caught up in anything. To stay out of the way and avoid Thomas in particular.

All the warnings made him more irresistible. You never did an improper thing in your life, your parents and brother kept you away from the public.

The warmth of his skin was nothing compared to the life of dusty books that had comforted you your whole life. This was something real, and even though it was sure to ruin you, you leaned down and pressed lips against his softly.

You didn't stay for a week, much to the dismay of your family, you decided to stay the rest of your life.

~~~~~~~

@tommydoesntpayforsuits @misselsbells06 @kpopgirlbtssvt

[soulwillower]

semi-charming •  bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested:  Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :)    +      AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH     +     don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh  !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au, 

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional. 

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that. 

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake. 

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise. 

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door. 

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes. 

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. 

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music." 

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off." 

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. 

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding. 

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give. 

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in." 

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it. 

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him. 

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?" 

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms. 

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?" 

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person. 

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst. 

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg. 

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall. 

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!" 

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him. 

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either. 

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts. 

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet. 

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack." 

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf. 

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot. 

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you. 

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip. 

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane.  "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly. 

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth. 

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away. 

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid. 

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh. 

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from. 

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done." 

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated." 

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly. 

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are,  i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk. 

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out. 

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you. 

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you. 

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own.  "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving? 

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants. 

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes. 

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down. 

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate. 

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once. 

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure. 

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?" 

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock. 

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back. 

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly. 

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan. 

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums. 

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out. 

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce. 

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building. 

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours. 

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

 "you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to. 

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. 

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple. 

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours. 

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close. 

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters. 

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall. 

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous. 

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease. 

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john x reader (part 3 of ?)

gif by @michaelgreys but i cropped it cause god daMn 👀

read part one and two! | my masterlist

a/n: this one goes out to all my john bitches!! i know it's hard out here, we get no new content but this part is steamy as hell. its not over yet, though! i'm a sucker for happy endings, ok? i hope you all like it, i'm still working on requests as i go :) much love to @stxdyblr-2k for ghostwriting on this series, she has the most amazing ideas in the world 🖤

love, abi xxx

tagging: @datewithgianni

prompt: john's been ignoring you and you want to know why.

warnings: fluff, angst, nsfw!! smut, cocky john, just straight up porn at the end but can you blame me

John hadn't spoken a word in your direction for a week. Despite constantly seeing you glued to Ada's hip, he’d barely acknowledged you since the wedding. He didn’t even bother looking up. Instead his jaw tensed, taking longer inhales of smoke, constantly examining the pocket watch dangling from his right hip. You were the last person John wanted to see right now. He couldn’t get you out of his head, the flush of your cheeks as you had moaned for him imprinted in his memory. You were fucking picturesque writhing around in his lap, a mess for him, and only him. He’d never felt like this; never wanted someone so badly it hurt. Usually, he drowned what little emotions he had in the nearest bottle of whiskey. You, however, were igniting something inside him he’d never felt. Lust, yes, but it was more. A yearning, a need, to see you smile at his crap jokes for the rest of his fucking life. God, you were getting to him.

His coldness and distance towards you hadn't gone unnoticed. To John’s embarrassment, his brothers regularly referred to it as "a little tiff", usually when you were within earshot, as they loved embarrassing his brother. They were blissfully unaware of the full story, assuming his cockiness had put you off him. He sometimes wondered the same; even though you remained polite by greeting him despite the minimal nod he responded with, you seemed ashamed. John only hoped it wasn't because you were ashamed of him. The truth was, he couldn't get the intensity between the two of you off his mind. Whenever he so much as caught a glimpse of you, he remembered how pretty you looked begging for him, then the embarrassment of having to reject you out of family loyalty. You admitting you wanted to have sex with him, him getting fucked off at you because you were off your face, complicating everything. Yet, every night, he held your words close to him, trying to decipher them.

He knew his brothers wouldn't get it. They wouldn't understand how tragic it was; they'd think it was funny that Ada's best friend wanted to fuck him. Either way, John would always rather put himself in the firing line of his brother's jokes than risk your reputation being blemished. He just couldn't look at you without a wave of guilt and sexual attraction flowing through his veins, causing his jaw to clench and his shoulders to stiffen, his suit jacket expertly covering strain on the crotch of his trousers.

A full week had passed since the wedding, of a man Tommy had recruited in an assassination effort. It was embarrassing how his family used money to attempt to push the trauma they created under the carpet. He knew he didn't have room to talk, but fuckin’ hell, a wedding? Maybe Tommy should've just not hired him to blow the brains out of his own father. Well, it was one way to get rid of the police commissioner who got too nosey, John guessed.

He had hoped that you were a passing phase of infatuation. He’d had many before; he’d been notorious around Birmingham for his conquests. Sure, it was possible he had just gotten overly excited and intoxicated around a beautiful girl. Yet, in the quiet moments of his life, in between his kids and business, his mind was only on you. You, straddling him in that booth, the way you grinned at him as he approached you at the wedding party. Sometimes when he was driving home, his mind would drift off thinking of the feeling of your figure pressed against him, the feel of your lips, your laugh, the sound of your heaving breaths against his ear. You haunted him the most at night, visions of you with his name on your lips in his silk sheets. You were his forbidden fruit, dangling barely out of reach.

***

John was at his desk, paperwork long abandoned in favour of whiskey and a cigar, lost in his own thoughts. The loud tapping of rain and the wind of the storm outside shook the windows, yet John felt somewhat at peace; a temporary peace, but he could unwind. Just his desk, the moonlight, the gas lamp illuminating his empty glass and the heavy English rain for company. He found far more joy in the simplicity of life than his brothers, who reeked of new money. He liked his things the way they were, it all worked, but he had to admit he was a sucker for a good suit. The kids were long in bed, the nanny to comfort their nightmares. It made him feel like a shit father, and he didn't want to be like his useless dad. He had started resenting the life Thomas was forcing him to live; the booze, the partying, the Tokyo, the fighting. It was wearing on him. He needed a break from everyone in this town, he reckoned.

However, a certain unexpected guest was always welcome to him. You had just drifted across his mind when a firm knock at the door caught his attention. He straightened his tie, leaving his legs outstretched and crossed on the dark oak desk, calling for the visitor to enter.

There you were. Dripping from head to toe, but still as beautiful as ever to him, despite your damp hair and slightly smudged makeup. You had caught him off guard, and in his surprise, he couldn't suppress the cheeky grin which spread across his face.

"Got caught in the storm, eh? I'll put the fire on and pour you a drink yeah? Warm you up." He slurred slightly, springing into action, lighting the fire and going to fill two glasses with whiskey, which you politely refused.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Mr. Shelby."

He decides he won't either. He tried to ignore your piercing gaze, motioning you to sit across his desk from him, reaching to put the whiskey in his drawer. "That's not like you. Where you headed, love? That lecture with Ada?"

"I came to see you."

He noted your firm tone, the flirty smile, the coy eye contact.

"What's the occasion?"

"You've been avoiding me." You told him bluntly, his cheeks reddening, eye contact breaking momentarily.

"Yeah, I know." He took a draw from his cigar, rolling the smoke from between his lips on the exhale. "M’sorry."

You watched him for a moment and he met your eyes, suddenly softened from his usual icey blue inquisitive stare. To shame, he looked so vulnerable right now. You could feel yourself falling for him again. This is what you hung around for, the fleeting glimpses of the authentic John Shelby. The lad you'd first giggled about in the girl's bathroom at lunch, barely knowing what sex was. Barely understanding power and politics. Unaware of who you'd both end up as.

"You're fucking soaked to the bone. Come on, I'll put your clothes to dry by the fire. And don't give me that look, I'll give you my coat to save your modesty, lass." He teased. You ignored the way his muscles flexed as he reached for his woolen jacket, some outrageously expensive tailored affair from some London boutique, his large rough hands brushing your fingers. "I'll turn around."

You grasped the coat, heading to the fireplace and warming up for a moment, checking that you were far from his line of sight. This was a dangerous game for you both. You wished he'd grab you, take you on his desk and finish what he started, but the way he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited indicated that he was restraining himself.

You'd rid yourself of your thin jacket, bought from the market stall last week, effortlessly trendy but an imitation of the pricey stuff Ada and the blinder wives and girlfriends you knew. You were jealous of their fur coats, they were always warm and glamorous looking even on the coldest winter night in Birmingham.

You glanced across the room to John. He was staring intently at the wall lost in thought, teeth gritted.

"John? Could you unzip me?" You asked, purposefully making your voice sound as neutral as possible, looking at him over your shoulder.

He paused, bringing his fingers to rub circles against his jaw. You caught a glimpse of white teeth and dimples as he glanced at you out the corner of his eye and you can't help but match his coy grin. He pushed himself off the desk and quickly closed the small distance towards you, his hand finding first your shoulder then the zip at the nape of your neck, your breath hitching as he pulled the zip to your waist. You could feel his eyes tracing the curvature of your spine and hips. You both hesitated for a moment, before John’s warm fingertips grazed your waist, lips pressing into your hair affectionately. His mouth found his way to your ear, cheekbone, jaw and then neck, encouraged by the way your left hand cradled his head as you pressed your body back into his and how your eyes drifted shut at his touch.

"Sweetheart, why did you come here?" He muttered into your ear, his words and casual affection causing your core to swell in response.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you. I've barely slept in a week, feel terrible. Then you've been ignoring me-"

"It isn't personal, Y/N. You know this isn’t how I want it to be." His hands found their way to your waist, gripping lightly at your hip bones, sending a shiver down your back.

"Well this is how it is, John. It's never going to be any different. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What are you fucking on about, love?"

"I reckon that just once can't hurt, nobody would know but us. Then we can both move on with our lives..."

John hesitated, "What about Ada?" His head rested on your shoulder, the scent of your sweet perfume causing him to want you even more. Jesus, he was too far gone.

"We were so close the first night I got here and we didn't. No one caught on then, why would it be different now?"

He wanted to trust you so badly, it ached inside of him. He wanted to feel you around him, make you cum for him again and again, for you to be breathless and shaking under him. He wanted to give you everything he could, even if just once. But he couldn't.

"She's my sister. Family is everything; if I don't have them, I’ve got nothin’." He stated firmly, yet his palms lingered on your hips, the liquor destroying his perception of the distinction between friendly touching and actions that made you swallow deeply and pray for relief.

"You have me for tonight." You pulled away from him, ignoring the groan that escaped from his lips at the loss of contact. You locked your eyes with his blue ones and pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders, allowing the damp material to pool around your feet, standing in front of the man you'd wanted for years. It was now or never.

He stayed silent, watching you, eyes not leaving yours, challenging you for a brief moment before his eyes flickered over your figure.

"Is it such a crime to want to fuck you?" You asked, the silk of your skimpy underwear forcing John to wipe the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he drank you in, mumbling profanities under his breath. Yet, despite the glances and his sudden frustration, you could tell you had him. His eyes were feral and hungry, daring you to keep pushing him. His shoulders were squared, he was ready for action. The crackling firelight illuminated you beautifully; you were irresistible to him.

"It's not a crime. Where'd you get this backbone from?" He asked, reaching for you but you stepped away, teasing him.

"University up north does sommet to a woman."

"You can fuck off or fuck me with that attitude."

"The latter if you behave yourself, Mr Shelby."

He smirked at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender, before wrapping his coat around your shoulders, pulling you towards him by the back of the collar. "You've got a mouth on you, love. You gonna put it to good use?"

"I was told months ago that you'd sort me out, John-" Your speech was interrupted by a small squealing giggle as he tugged at your hair lightly for mocking his voice, his eyes bright and crinkled at the edges due to his grin. "I'm disappointed with these delays, especially from the Shelby Company."

"Well, as the boss, I'll sort it for you, personally and immediately. Let me make it up to you, lass," John crooned, his lips meeting yours once again, fingers pushing your thighs apart, still clad in your black stockings and garter belt. "This is where we got up to last time, yes?"

"Yes Mr. Shelby, I believe so."

He pressed his lips and teeth against where your jaw met your neck, tracing his index and middle fingers over the silk of your underwear which covered your slit. You couldn’t help but lean into him, a slight hiss escaping your teeth.

"You like that, huh? You're fuckin’ soaked for me already, love," John muttered against your neck, lifting your left leg to hook around his waist, easily lifting you onto his desk, scattering loose papers and heavy accounting books onto the floor in his urgency to feel your bare skin on his. "They teach you how to push a bloke over the edge at that fancy university?"

"No, I figured that out on my own actually."

"Always knew you were bright," He smirked, quickly ridding you of your flimsy panties, the pads of his fingertips hot against your thighs. "Always going for the ones smarter than me, Tommy reckons it's not difficult."

"Your brother's chatting shit, he's not the one ‘bout to fuck me on his desk, yeah?" You shot back, opening your thighs to encourage him, your cunt exposed, cutting off John’s laugh. He couldn’t help but stare, eyes glued to your dripping cunt. "You're my favourite brother, always have been. If you tell Finn, I'll kill you," You teased.

"Come off it," John grunted in reply, unable to restrain pressing kisses to your inner thighs, your head tilting back, fingers desperately clutching at his hair. “Need t’get a proper taste of you, yeah? Look so fuckin’ sweet for me.” His mouth reached your core, slowly dipping his tongue into you, causing your mouth to fall open in ecstasy. God, his lips were even softer than they looked. His movements switched from light and teasing to purposeful and focused, his fingers curled and pumping inside you, tongue and thumb attacking your clit. He'd gotten on his knees, your legs wrapped around his neck as he groaned into your cunt, causing you to buck your hips wildly at the sensation, moans falling out of your mouth.

“Fuckin’ christ, John,” You swore, feeling yourself pulsate and twitch around his nimble fingers, crying out into the empty office building. You were getting so close, your hips jerking independently, chest heaving as you gasped for air. You were quickly getting overstimulated, you were so close. Before you could finish, John raised his head back to yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, his hands moving from your cunt to your tits, finger tips tracing the outline of your nipples through your silk bra.

"If we get to do this once, I want to feel you finish on my cock, doll," John grunted in a hushed tone, pointedly moving his lips to your collarbone when you opened your mouth to argue back to him.

"Then I get to ride you." Your statement took him by surprise; most women he'd slept with seemed fairly passive in bed. Sure they enjoyed themselves, but they never took control. He could feel himself swell in response to your words. He'd never been put in this position; he was a stranger to it, but the idea was thrilling and wickedly seductive. Especially from someone who was the epitome of "girl-next-door" as they were growing up.

"Polly reckoned you'd be trouble since Ada told us you'd returned. Don't mind getting into trouble with you, though," He teased, his plump mouth dipping to your cleavage, unclasping your bra, tongue circling your hardening nipples.

"John, fuckin’ christ, need you to finish me off, yeah?" You begged, voice shaking, much to his amusement, his fingers re-entering you roughly. John pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, soothing your body from the sharp sensation, the slight pain exacerbating the pleasure arising from his mouth and fingers.

"I've barely started with you, and already you're begging for me to fuck you." He muttered into your skin, as he watched you writhe and lift your hips, reacting beautifully to the feelings he was reawakening within you.

"John, m’not fucking about, yeah? I need you," You whined, hand resting on his inner thigh, fingers grazing the fastenings across his groin, gazing up at him from your seat on his desk. John hated waiting for relief, he had very little patience, and almost immediately he gave in and collapsed into his large armchair, pulling you on top of him, letting you pin his wrists to the chair and grind against him as your mouth found his, then his neck, removing his waistcoat, shirt and tie, revealing his muscular chest. The bruising kisses you pressed to his skin left him breathless and needing more, helping you unbuckle his belt and push his suit trousers down his legs. You couldn’t help but take him into your hand, moving it up and down his sensitive shaft.

“Christ, you’re too fuckin’ good at this,” John groaned as you spit on your palm to better move your hand up and down his cock, teasing the sensitive tip with your fingers and tongue. He couldn’t help but watch you, keeping eye contact as you toyed with him, blue eyes heavy with pleasure and lust for more.

You angled your hips above him and he adjusted himself, using his hand to better push himself inside you. You yelped lightly as you adjusted to his girth, his mouth distracting you by pressing kisses on your shoulder and tangling his hands through your hair, trying to control his breaths as you adjusted to him, soft moans falling from your mouth, your tight cunt gripping his cock.

“S’fuckin’ perfect, like your pussy was made for me,” he groaned, breath growing heavier with the sensation of you grinding against him. Pushing his hips up into you, he couldn’t help but grab at your hip bones, grip burning into your skin, bouncing you on his cock, mouth slightly slack, groaning as he grasped at your flesh. You’d imagined hundreds of times how fucking irresistible John would look underneath you, but it was nothing compared to the real thing.

The thrill of having John Shelby with his trousers down in his office, quickly dissolving into a moaning and grunting mess with every rotation or twist of your hips, in the midst of a stormy night while the thunder echoed around the empty streets below was almost too much to take. You should be home right now, curled up in that empty unheated flat, behaving yourself. Even on a date or fucking someone else. But instead you'd gone to him and now you were riding him. You wanted the moment to last forever, right now everything felt so right, you knew when it was over the guilt would hit. But you couldn't avoid it, you could feel your legs start to shake.

“Look so god damn pretty ridin’ me, love. Makin’ me wanna cum inside you.” John growled, panting, struggling to keep pace as you moaned on top of him. Your fingers found his jawline and guided him to look up at you, craving to see how his face looked when he finally came undone. He reached between your legs, torturing your clit with his fingers while he slammed into you a few extra times, using up the rest of his energy. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge, crying out John’s name as you felt yourself release. Watching you whine his name was the last straw for him, spilling into you as your dripping cunt squeezed him, reveling in the image of you a mess for him.

***

You finally came back to your senses, catching your breath, John clutching you to his chest protectively for a minute or two, enjoying the tranquility and post-sex clarity. He checked his clock, sighing and lifting you from his lap to his desk, running a towel under the sink in the corner of his room and passing it to you to clean up between your legs with.

"Charming," You smirked, tired but satisfied. "No wonder the ladies always come back for more."

"Not you though, aye? One night only exclusive, this." He matched your playful tone, but his eyes were dull with exhaustion and he looked almost upset. He was probably just knackered after working all day and then going overtime just to please you.

"Make yourself useful and grab my clothes for me John-lad." You teased, thankfully changing the subject. He rolled his eyes in the waning firelight, locating the clothes the two of you had left scattered around the room. You quickly dressed, not caring how he watched you silently, as though trying to memorize the image of you. Your clothes were far drier than earlier, the last remaining remnants of damp clutching to the fibers and freezing you all over again. Yet before you could even comment, John's wool coat was wrapped back around your shoulders.

"Because you're cold, not because you look fuckable in it." He said pointedly, smirking slightly, the edges seeming artificial.

"Remind me not to fall madly in love with you. Won't be able to help myself if you keep talking like that, Mr. Shelby." You retorted sarcastically with a grin, earning a gentle dig to the ribs.

"It's Mr. Shelby if you're trying to fuck me. John is between friends and family, right?"

"Someone better inform Mr. Solomons of that distinction, then," You paused, "Mr. Shelby."

"Don't be a fucking cocktease." He scolded with a small grin, grabbing his car keys and hat from the door. "You want a lift then? Don't dick about being polite, Y/N, it's fucking midnight, just accept it."

"Since you asked so nicely."

"You know you've got worse since you've been at uni? Too fast for us lot now." He teased, half serious, as he led you to his car. He couldn't believe the beautiful woman in his passenger seat was the girl with pigtails who'd chase Ada around the canal with their girl gang for hours, the pretty teen who read for hours in his sister's bedroom, comparing notes together. No one was surprised you got a scholarship to university, despite your gender and class. You'd been incredibly lucky. Yet, you'd seen the world and had come back to Birmingham and picked him.

Shame you could only pick him once.

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 4

AN: I’m sorry I missed posting last week. I’m currently going through a hard break up and it’s really taking a lot of energy out of me so I struggle to write at the moment. 

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

In this chapter: You return to Boston for the week. 

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Some strong language

You smiled as you looked at the copies of ‘Chess Review’ on the racks. 

Your first front page piece for Chess Review. 

They had used one of the pictures of Benny that you had taken at the hotel and you were pretty proud of your photography skills. 

You picked up a copy and took it inside to pay for it. 

On second thought, you picked up two so you could mail one to Angelie. 

You left the store quickly after and started to walk back to your apartment. 

Boston was busier than you had remembered and you finally had some time to sort out the apartment after your article went down well with the big man. 

You opened the door to your apartment and put down your groceries on the kitchen counter top. 

The last tenant hadn’t left the place in too bad a state, just a carpet stain here and there and a broken lamp. 

You had bought some paint to redecorate your living room and bedroom since it seemed too boring after where you lived in Paris. You had spent the last couple days painting and then you finally left to go check out your title page. 

The books that Benny had given you were still on your small two person dining room table where you had left them when you first got back. You looked over at them and furrowed your brow as you thought about whether you are actually going to bother to read them or not. 

Your phone started to ring and your frown disappeared when you realised it was probably Angelie. No one else had your number besides your work. 

“Hello?” You answered it, taking the phone off the wall as you leant beside it. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere after listening to it so much over the last tournament. 

“Benny Watts?” You asked, almost in shock. 

“Have you read those books I leant you yet?” He asked, not even bothering to confirm it was him. 

“It’s been four days.” You told him flatly. 

“You could’ve easily gotten through at least two of them by now.” Benny challenged you which caused you to shake your head (even though he couldn’t see). 

“You know, Benny Watts, I do have a life to live.” You defended yourself to which Benny found amusing. 

“So, you’re back in Boston since you picked up this phone.” Benny changed the subject completely. 

“How did you even get this number?” You asked, genuinely curious and a little worried. 

“You really think Chess Review won’t hand over your telephone number to their favourite US chess player?” 

“You got it from Beth Harmon then?”  You teased the boy to which he responded with a dry laughter. 

“Ha Ha. Very funny.” Benny retorted, “If you’re in Boston, it means you currently aren’t working. Fancy an educational trip to New York City?” 

“Benny, I told you. I’m not coming to New York.” You reminded him about how you declined previously when he asked. 

“Come on, just for the weekend? We’ll play some chess, do some tourist shit and eat some food?” Benny asked, trying his best to persuade you Benny Watts style. 

“I’ve also told you before that I don’t play.” You felt a small bubble of excitement in your stomach as you considered going to New York but you quickly squashed it down. 

“What are you afraid of?” Benny asked. Deja Vu. 

“Why are you pushing this?” You closed your eyes as you let your head roll back to press against the wall. 

“Because I see that same light that’s in Beth Harmon, that’s in every decent chess player when you see a chess board.” Benny confessed to you. 

“I’m sorry, Benny. You’ll just have to find someone else to play with. I don’t want to be apart of this little game.” You hung up the phone with a sad sigh before Benny could respond. 

You found yourself looking at the books again. 

You picked up Benny’s and you opened it...

“I’ve been waiting all day for your call.” You half scolded Angelie as you answered the call. 

You heard Angelie’s laughter through the phone and it made you home sick. 

“Je suis désolé!” Angie apologised. “This new project has me so busy, constantly on set, costume changes, make up changes, redoing scene..!” 

“It sounds awful.”  You chuckled, 

“It is! You wouldn’t understand... You’re just a big time American journalist.” Angelie pouted. “Anyway, how are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You lied. 

“Menteuse!” Angelie called you out. “Tell me the truth. What is bothering you, Mon Cher?” 

“Benny Watts called me today.” You had filled her in on the tournament with him once you had first arrived back in Boston and she had already previously told you off for not taking his offer to New York. 

“He did?!” Angie gasped. 

“Yes, he did. He got my number through work and called me to ask if I had read the books he gave me which I haven’t because it’s been less than a week since. the tournament.” You explained. 

“That boy is in love with you, I am telling you now.” Angie was always the hopeless romantic type. It’s how she has had her heart broke so many times. 

“The boy wants to play chess with me to assert his masculine dominance over me and boost his ego with an easy win.” You argued. 

“You are always so negative about men! You hardly know this one!” Angelie groaned. 

“He’s Benny Watts. That’s all I need to know.” 

“I think you should go to New York and meet with him.” Angelie told you. You hadn’t even informed her about the fact he asked you again. 

“I think I should stay here and enjoy my first weekend off in six months.” You shook your head at the idea. 

“(Y/n), you only live once and how many girls are invited to New York by the Benny Watts?!” 

“Probably quite a lot.” You knew Angie was only trying to hype you up but you couldn’t help but knock her down. 

“Even if that is so. You could probably get another article out of it. Benny Watts and his life in the big apple?” Angie suggested. 

“I’m sure ‘LIFE’ has already done that piece before.” You pushed another idea aside. 

“Trust me, (Y/n). You need to stop being so afraid of the unknown and who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy yourself?” Angelie had had enough of the negativity from you at this point. 

There was a sudden knock at your door. 

“I’m sorry, Angie. Someone’s just knocked on my door, I’ll have to call you back.” You looked over at your front door and wondered who it could be. 

“Ça va. Call me back!” She told you as the knock occurred again. 

“Je t'aime.” You hung the phone back up on the wall and went over to your door. 

You opened it and you felt your face go white at the sight of who stood there. 

“Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Benny Watts. 

BENNY WATTS.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him. 

“Well,  you wouldn’t come to me so I came to you.” Benny shrugged. 

“You can’t just stalk someone. This isn’t okay. This isn’t cute!” You were bewildered. 

“This isn’t stalking. It’s simply coming to Boston to visit a friend.” He defended himself as he stood out in the hallway. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, Benny.” You scoffed. 

“Ouch.” Benny put his hand on his heart. 

You went to close your door on him but Benny stopped you. 

“Wait.” He pleaded. His cocky demeanour suddenly dropped. “Look, I know this is weird but I really wanted to see you.” Benny started to explain. 

“I––” He cut you short. 

“–– This isn’t some game. I just want to help you. I want you to play chess again. I want you to play with me.” Benny stayed with his hand against the door and his foot in the gap as he spoke. 

“This is crazy, Benny.” You told him, your eyes locked on his as you felt your heart race. 

“I know.” Benny stepped back. “I’m staying in the hotel down the block. I’ll be here all weekend. If you don’t want to see me, then don’t. But if you change your mind. I’ll be around.” 

You watched him back away from the door and head back down the stairs. 

Benny fucking Watts. 

You rushed back to the phone and dialled Angelie’s number. 

“Bonjour?” She answered, 

“You’ll never guess who was at the door.” 

You ended up tossing and turning all night. 

You caved in at around 3am and started to read Benny’s book again. 

You finished it by the time the sun was rising. 

You had a cold shower to wake you up at around 9am and then you stared in the mirror as the thoughts racked your brain. 

You walked over to your chess set that rested on the dresser top and you took it over to your bed, opening it up. 

You set up the board and stared at it.  

You picked up the queen. The same queen that Benny had held in the photo you took. 

You caved. 

You dressed and did simple make up before heading to the hotel that Benny had told you he was staying. 

“I’m looking for Mr Benny Watts.” You asked the elderly lady at the front desk. 

“He’s staying in room 306 but I’m almost certain I saw him leave about an hour ago for breakfast.” She informed you. 

You thanked her then sighed. 

You left the hotel lobby and started down the street. There was plenty of places to eat around the hotel, you almost considered just waiting in the lobby for him to return. 

Then you saw it. 

Through a window of a small diner. 

The famous black hat. 

You pushed open the diner door and walked towards the booth where Benny was sat. 

He had his back to you but he didn’t seem surprised to see you when you sat down opposite him.  

“Morning.” He greeted you as he munched on some pancakes. 

“I won’t play chess with you.” You stated. “I won’t play chess with you but I will spend the weekend with you and you can talk about it.”

Benny remained silent as his brown eyes watched you carefully. 

“I finished your book.” You told him. “I'm ready to learn.” 

Benny placed his knife and fork down, picking up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his mouth. 

“Great.” He nodded, interlinking his fingers above his food as he elbows rested on the table.  “Let’s begin.” 

(WHAT HAPPENS NEXT HERE)

TAG LIST

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[songbirdsingingthings]

Midnight Revelations - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

WARNINGS: Fluff, Swearing (It’s Bakugou, so, that’s kinda a given)

Requested by @luluwiie​ :

Given your gift for writing, I'm honestly utterly surprised your box is not already full :o but this is my chance ! Kuhuhu * robbing hands *

May I request a Todoroki or Bakugo one shot (Just choose whether you feel more inspired with one, another or both) where they are just sharing some moments with reader, and like, they enjoy their time with Reader and when they come back to their dorms, alone in their bedroom, they just realize how much they care for Reader? Like, more than their close friend and partner in crimes ? Like, more in a pining way? I just love emotional epiphanies 😳❤

Tysm if you do this ! CANT WAIT TO READ YOU MORE ❤❤

- Luluv

A/N: YOU’RE LITERALLY THE SWEETEST ❤❤❤. I had a lot of fun writing this one since Bakugou is such an interesting character, so I hope you enjoy!! (Also, the song “True Love” by P!NK was playing nonstop in my head while writing this.)

Word Count: 1.9K

If it was within his control, Katsuki Bakugou would be fast asleep in his own bed by now. It made sense to him - the sky was completely dark making the stars clearly visible and it was already past 10:30 p.m., so why on earth was he awake? The short and simplest answer yielded the same result; you. How you had wedged yourself in between him and his strict sleep schedule, Bakugou had no idea, so here he was, sat with a grimace on his face as you tried to work out the last math problem on the long homework sheet Ectoplasm had assigned.

“Wait, so when it’s a hyperbola, it’s a²- b² = c²?” You ask, glancing in between the blonde-haired boy sat next to you and the sheet full of conic section equations. Bakugou just looked at you with a mixture of a tired and dumbfounded expression.

“No, idiot, it’s a²+ b² = c² because the standard form uses subtraction. It’s the other way around for ellipses.” He explains gruffly, taking your mechanical pencil and writing down the equation roughly. However, due to the sheer force of his hand on the poor little pencil, the led snapped off. You laughed a little at the outburst that followed shortly after.

“Bakugou, don’t press so hard, the lead is thinner.” You say, taking the pencil from his hand gingerly. He simply scoffs in return.

“Yeah, well, normal pencils don’t do that. Get better ones next time.” He hurumphs, leaning back in his chair and letting his head hang off the back. He remains like this for a few minutes while you scribble down the rest of your equations, ultimately coming to a solution.

“Okay, I think I got it! Is it… (y+5)²/9 - (x - 4)²/25?” With a hesitant voice and a hopeful expression, you push the homework sheet in front of Bakugou to hopefully gain his approval. You wince as he scans your work carefully, raising his eyebrows on certain occasions. Finally, he sets the paper down and slides it back over to you. “Well?” You ask, a little exasperated.

“Yeah, that’s the correct answer.” With a sigh of relief you slumped back into your chair with a smile on your face. However, that only lasted for a few seconds. “Wait, then what the hell were those facial expressions when you were looking at it?” You ask, taking the math sheet and putting it in a folder that was then shoved into your school bag.

“Your handwriting is shit.” Is all Bakugou had to say as he stood up and stretched his arms out. You roll your eyes and glance at the clock.

“Damn, it’s already 11:15.” You murmur, letting one of your hands card through your hair, massaging your head and releasing the tension that was built up by doing several pages of pre-calc. “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t need to stay this late to help me out, so I really appreciate it.” You say, expressing your gratitude to the blonde. Bakugou rubs his eyes before slinging his bag over his shoulder, letting his blazer stay unbuttoned and his tie loose around his neck. You had to admit, his somewhat disheveled look did look quite attractive on him, but if you told him that he would either never let you hear the end of it or get pissed off for commenting on his fashion. He already got enough of that from his parents, apparently. 

“Yeah, I didn’t, and now thanks to you I’m gonna be tired as hell in the morning.” He complains, opening the door to your dorm to exit.

“You know, a cold compress does wonders for eyebags.” You say, a mischievous grin on your face. He narrows his eyes and flips you off. “I enjoyed spending time with you too, Bakugou!” And with that, the door to your dorm was closed.

Katsuki felt like a zombie by the time he got to his own dorm. He didn’t even bother putting his school bag on his desk or arranging his shoes by the door like he usually does. Instead, he just let the brown shoulder bag slump onto the floor as he fumbled to get his shoes off. Why the hell had you made him stay for so long? He finished all of his homework hours before you did, and still, he had to remain stationed at that wooden low table as he had to keep himself busy while you plugged away at your own work. After about an hour, looking through his phone got incredibly boring so he moved on to looking around your room, taking in all of the things that made it up. Of course, he wasn’t doing this to try to get to know you more, he already knew all he needed to… right? But as his eyes raked over the photos and decor of your room, the more glimpses he got into your personal life, so he stopped immediately.

Bakugou did make an effort to change his clothes. Peeling his blazer from his arms and hanging it up haphazardly in his closet along with his white button up. He tugged on a random black shirt and swapped his uniform pants for pajama ones and finally, finally, clambered into his bed. And, although he tried hard to make his brain shut off and just let him enter a dreamless sleep, his mind began to wander. He blamed his delirious nature for letting his neurons take him from place to place, situation to situation, until they finally projected an image of you into his head. It was a simple display of you and a recent one, too. Just Y/N L/N, sat at the little wooden table with her head perched on one of her hands with a stupid mechanical pencil in her hand. Did her hair always kind of frame her face like that? He wondered, scrunching his closed eyes. It didn’t look as horrible today, he supposed. Bakugou let his eyes flutter open, only to see that his digital clock read a clear 12:04 a.m. in electric red. He sighed and let his gaze fall on the ceiling right above him. Why was he thinking of you this late in the evening? And, to his surprise, he realized that he felt much more at home in your dorm room than he did right now, in his own space.

“What the hell…” He muttered, turning on his bedside lamp. His room was shed in a soft light, illuminating only the nearest furniture and himself. If he wasn’t able to go asleep, he sure as hell wouldn’t let this time go to waste. Picking up the book on his shelf that he was most recently into, he flipped through the pages to find his place and started reading again. He would never admit it, but Pride and Prejudice was turning out to be a much better read than expected. Bakugou found the main heroine to be much more likeable than any others he had read about. Her charisma and wit satisfied him where other characters were lacking, and the way she refused to be phased by an arrogant and sometimes brash guy who pushed her buttons constantly… He let the book fall to the ground without so much of a care as realizations flooded his brain. You put up with him. Whenever he was acting rude or was teasing you without relent, you would just simply roll your eyes and fire back. He put up with you, too. All your unreasonable habits, like staying up way too late, he was still by your side. Why?

“I…” Katsuki forced himself to look into the mirror. He saw his reflection to be way out of the norm. His eyes were wide, his posture was perfect, and his cheeks were red. “I like her.” He let the words flow freely from his mouth. With one more glance to the clock by his bedside, he grabbed a hoodie and shoved his head through it while opening his door and heading straight to yours. He knew from all of the prior knowledge on you stored in his brain and the light that shown beneath your door that you were, in fact, still awake. With three soft knocks, your door swung open to reveal you. Clad in soft looking pajama shorts and a flimsy top, your hair was a mess and your eyes were drooping. Bakugou never thought you could look so beautiful.

“Bakugou, it’s way past your bedtime.” You quip, your voice mimicking a doting parent. Bakugou shoved his way past you into your room and began to lightly pace. Your once joking smile fell into a confused frown, your eyes starting to swim with concern. “Seriously, Katsuki, what’s up? You’ve never stayed up this late except for that one time I insisted you did because a once in a lifetime meteor shower was on full display. I mean, you complained about it of course, but I knew you actually liked it because your eyes-”

“Just, shut it!” The blonde finally says. You pull back slightly, surprised at his words. “You write your twos and sevens weird, some of your habits tend to be unproductive, and sometimes I just can not stand you, but I like you.” The two of you are silent for a moment before you take a step towards him.

“You have feelings for me?” You ask, your voice soft like velvet and your eyes twinkling. Despite all of his reservations, his hard exterior and the sneer he always wore melted.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” You shook your head and took another step forward.

“Don’t answer it like you're confirming that I correctly solved a math problem. Answer it like you love me.” Bakugou’s cheeks flamed at your sudden confidence, but he took a step forward so that your bodies were almost touching.

“I love you Y/N.” And with that, a wide grin spread across your face. Your arms wrapped themselves around the blonde’s neck and you leaned into him, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss. It was slow in pace but fierce in passion as he grew more comfortable, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you closer so that you were flush against his chest. Breathless and red in the face, Bakugou finally pulls back to see your ecstatic face. “Oi, what’s with the face?” He says, flustered.

“Nothing,” you say, going into your bathroom with a little towelette. He raises his eyebrows. “I told you before, a cold compress works wonders for the inevitable eye bags that you will have in the morning, and this is the perfect size.” He huffs in amusement and plucks the towelette from your hands. “Plus, you’ll have to return it to me. It gives you another excuse to hang out with me.” Bakugou finally earns a little confidence and his trademarked smirk spreads across his face.

“I don’t need an excuse to hang out with you. You’ll need my help again on the homework.”

“Always the charmer,” you quip, walking with him so that he was standing in the hallway and you in the doorway. “See ya tomorrow,” you smile, pecking him on the lips.

“See ya, Y/N.” His blush was still prevalent, but his eyebrows narrowed and a scowl replaced the smirk. “And throw out those mechanical pencils, they’re absolute shit.”

“Anything for you, Lover!” You joke, closing the door. Lover, he thinks. He can get used to a nickname like that.

[free-pancakes]

do you have any headcanons about levi struggling with writing reports (cos he came from the underground) and hange teaches him how to read and write? 🥺🤲

The sound of crumpling paper echoed softly down the hallway, followed by a gentle rustle as it hit the floor. The sound repeated again and again for the next few minutes. Hange noticed this little occurrence happened like clockwork—around 8pm every night, she heard the little mantra of noise through her cracked open door. However, one night the crumpling sounded a bit more aggressive than usual, so she decided to take a break from writing reports to check it out.

She walked out of her room, and followed the noise, until she found herself at the very end of the hallway the at the first door around the corner.

A quiet muttering echoed through the cracked open door. “Shitty paper, this shitty ink, f—“

She peeked in, seeing the new recruit fussing over what looked like a pile of reports. Hange couldn’t help but feel a sadness wash over her—the poor guy just lost his two best friends, Farlan and that sweet girl, Isabel. “Maybe he just needs company!” she thought. As she would with any of her friends, she barged in with barely a knock and began to launch her chatter at the disgruntled man.

“Leviiii! How are you?? There are so many crumpled up pieces of paper on the floor and in the garbage can! Are you practicing your aim?” She picked up one of the paper balls from the ground and threw it at the can, which hit the rim and gently toppled in.

“SCORE!!!!!” she yelled happily. She turned back to Levi who looked angry as ever, seemingly ready to pull out his hair in annoyance. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Can you please leave?”

She looked at him with curiosity, and saw ink stains all over his hands, dark scribbles on the piece of paper on his desk in front of him.

“Aw so you weren’t practicing your aim just now?” she asked teasingly.

“Get out and take your shitty glasses with you!” he yelled coldly.

“Okay, Levi!” she responded with a smile, and gently closed the door on her way out, leaving Levi dumbfounded at how she smiled cheerfully at him even after his angry outburst.

————————-

“Hey Hange, can you come here for a minute?”

Erwin gestured her over to his desk and showed her the reports in his hand.

“Can you read this?”

“Hmm,” she replied as she looked closely at the scribbled report. “Just barely, I can probably rewrite it out for you.”

“Thanks, I’d really appreciate that, I just have so many to review. But it seems that Levi’s always gives me trouble.”

The overused lightbulb in her head lit up brightly, little sirens sounding off in her brain as she made the connection. “It all makes sense now!”

“What makes sense now?” Erwin asked.

“I can fix it, don’t worry, Erwin!” She yelled as she dashed excitedly out of the room.

“Wait, Hange, you said you’d help me rewrite these!” He looked back at the report. It looked like it had been written by a 3rd grader with particularly bad handwriting. He grimaced and sighed, putting his head down on his desk in defeat.

——————-

Hange heard the crumpling and grumbling sounds once again and skipped down over to Levi’s room. Before she could barge in, she stopped herself. He would probably just throw her out again, and this pattern made it safe to assume he’d probably keep his struggles a secret and reject her help. It wasn’t his fault he grew up in the underground, he just needed some guidance! So, she ran back to her room and pulled out a few sheets of paper and a fresh quill. She began writing out the alphabet as neatly as possible to form a sort of chart for him to reference. On the next few pages she wrote tips and tricks for sounding out the letters, as well as common phrases that she used in reports that might help him as well.

Late into the night, she finished and quietly walked down to his room again, careful not to wake up the people in the rooms in between. The door remained cracked open, and the room was silent. She peered into the room finding Levi having fallen asleep, his head resting on his desk, the oil lamp still on.

“Oh this worked out, he would have never accepted my help up front,” she thought. She quietly slipped into the room, and neatly placed her guide sheets next to him, and a small box of tea she acquired from town the other day, leaving a small note on top of it all saying, “Hope you find this helpful! Your friend, Hange.”

She smiled and was about to the leave the room, but took a second to look at Levi—she never saw the guy’s face without a scowl, he looked so peaceful, and it made her smile. She walked over to pull the blanket from his bed and wrapped it around him gently. She pushed the locks of hair that messily covered his face back and around his ear, and blew out the lamp. “Good night, Levi,” she whispered, and closed the door behind her.

———————

A month passed since then, and Hange never heard a word from Levi after that. Life went on as if it never happened.

They returned from yet another grueling expedition, and she plopped down on the couch in the common room after cleaning herself off. She wiped her tears, shed over the loss of comrades, yet again. Attempting to erase the sad thoughts that often set up camp in her mind, she thought about the different abnormal titans she saw that day, many of them she and Levi took down together. They never needed to say a word to each other and worked seamlessly together. She was happy that she worked well with the new recruit, at least during the expeditions. Though she wondered if her little writing guide helped him—she never asked Levi about it, but she noticed that Erwin stopped asking her for help reading reports. Before she knew it, exhaustion fell over her, and she fell asleep right there in the common room.

She woke up suddenly, and found herself in her bed, confused as to how she got there. She turned over to her nightstand to find a neat pile of papers with her glasses sitting neatly on top of them. A small note rested on top. “Stop falling asleep in the common room, I hate having to carry you back myself. - Levi”

She laughed at the note, put on her glasses, and looked at the sheets. Pages of neatly handwritten notes with a few mistakes here and there, stared at her. Little drawings of the abnormal titans they saw, and small descriptions about their actions and movements written underneath the pictures. Her eyes widened in excitement and she smiled at his improvement at writing, but more importantly, more notes to add to her titan research.

Levi heard excited giggling echo through the hallway and he walked over to the noise. He peeked through the cracked open door, seeing Hange excited over the notes he wrote. He smiled to himself and softly whispered, “Thanks, Hange,” and walked back to his room.

(thanks for the ask, anon! it was a super cute idea)

[pascalpanic]

Cigarette Daydreams

Pairings: young Javier Peña x young f!reader

Inspiration: Cigarette Daydreams by Cage The Elephant

Summary: Javier drives all night in the rain, wondering what went wrong and where. How he lost you, the one woman he’d ever loved. 

W/C: 5.4k

Warnings: language, talk of death, lots of talk of sexual content but nothing explicit, lots of angst, emotions are running high here, talk of poor mental health. this handles some heavy topics so please be warned. set in the 60s so there’s a really brief mention of being drafted. 

A/N: So this is a song I like but it’s really emotional, as is this fic. I just wanted to explore what Javier would’ve been like when he was young. It’s not necessarily all in chronological order but I kind of think it makes sense... let me know if it doesn’t. thank you to all my friends/beta readers who helped me with this one, like @leonieb, @feelingmadclever, @theteddylupinexperience, and a bunch of others :)

Javier smoked his first cigarette with you. It would become a lifelong addiction: the cigarettes, that is. You, on the other hand, were a yearning he could never satisfy. An addiction is something you can feed; you can dull it by giving it exactly what it wants. Javier wanted you, still wants you desperately. The difference is that he cannot have you. 

It’s been years since he last saw you. Since he last heard your enchanting laugh, smelled the warm scent of your hair product as he kissed the top of your head. He thinks about you all the goddamn time. What life would be like now if you hadn’t gone your own way. He misses you like hell, but he’s sure you’re off and married and conquering the world in your own way. He’s never tried to find out. He’s too scared it’s true. 

-

Laredo was more of the place you told people you hailed from. The name was recognizable, easily: oh, you’re from the place where A&M’s other campus is located? Exactly, you’d respond, and it was much less of a hassle. In reality, you and Javier both grew up in a small community out in the farmlands near Laredo. 

You’d grown up with him. Everyone in the town knew you, and they knew Javi equally as well. He was an interest of your community: from the day you took those standardized tests in second grade, everyone knew that Peñita was going places, but his temper held him back. His emotions consumed him. 

He was blonde as a baby; you’d seen in photos, scattered around Chucho’s house. His hair gradually grew darker as he grew older, and your classmates all teased him. You didn’t remember a time where his hair was lighter than a dark blonde, being a child yourself. But it was an evolution that matched him, you had come to realize in your adult years. 

Not only was he smart, he was a born athlete. Javier was always a bit smaller than the other boys, but damn was he quick. He could run and run and no one could match him. That’s what made him so successful in early football training. From the start, Chucho enrolled him in football, despite Alejandra’s weak protests. She gave in when she saw her baby in a helmet and massive shoulder pads, grinning at her with one front tooth. 

You and Javier were not in the same circles as children. He played with the boys on the field, always the running back when they played football or the offense when they played soccer. He had a temper, though. If there was ever a scuffle on the soccer pitch, you could bet Javier was one of the fighters. You, on the other hand, sat in the shade of the elementary school building, reading book after book. 

His mother was beautiful. She had long dark hair that smelled of something exotic and warm, and she had a smile with a dimple in one cheek. She brought treats to your class on his birthday, which was in November. She read books to your class on her assigned story days, Javier cuddled into her side. He adored her. 

Alejandra Peña died when you were in sixth grade. You can remember the way the class was silent the next morning, Javier’s desk empty. You nearly threw up from the emotion when you heard that she was gone. Your eyes blurred with tears. The loss was inconceivable to your twelve-year-old brain. 

You rode your bike past his house that night. There was a lamp on in the room you knew to be his. His silhouette paced back and forth through the small, second-floor bedroom. You didn’t know what you could do or say, and so you rode off through the neighborhood. 

His hair grew even darker after that. What had been a dark blonde became a light brown as middle school progressed. His anger flared up. He would throw punches when the kid acting as referee made a call Javier deemed to be bullshit. 

You were something different. Javier found you fascinating the first time you truly interacted, seated together for a class. You were fourteen then, his face just starting to grow a bit of dark hair on his jaw. You were absorbed by your books, hardly talking to anyone and even sneaking it under the table during lectures. 

One day, he called your name to catch your attention. You didn’t notice it, lost in your own world. He snatched the book from your hands and slammed it on the table. “Hey. Princesa, we got work to do.”

You frowned. “Give it back, Peñita.”

“Only after we finish this assignment. I don’t want homework tonight.” He stuffed the book in his backpack and tossed you a pencil. 

“I won’t do it until you give it back,” you bartered coolly, crossing your arms and sitting back in the chair. “And I have more willpower than you. That’s a fact.”

He glared at you for a moment, the both of you staring the other down. It lasted quite a while, more than you expected. Javier broke first, handing you your book and grumbling over the worksheet. 

You became better partners after that. Javier even apologized for it two weeks later. You forgave him, and something about his smile made your heart flutter around in your ribcage. 

That started the friendship. You’d walk together in the halls, chatting about your parents and sports and homework for the night. Then middle school became high school and things changed between you, even though nothing you did was different.  

Javier had always been a good athlete. He became the first-string running back for the high school, leading them to state his freshman year. When you walked together in the halls now, there was an expectation from the others. Boys and girls only walked together if they were couples, and a star football player was a coveted date. 

You’d explained that to him. “Javi, as much as I love you, and you know I do, people are gonna think we’re together. I don’t want you to have to deal with that,” you’d pleaded. “I’d be ruining your chances. I think it’s better if we walk separately now.”

Javier nodded. He had to play along. He couldn’t let you know that in the past few months, he’d begun to feel things for you he’d never felt before. He had dreams about you at night, the kind where he’d wake up to damp sheets. He’d noticed your body changing, and his changed too. He thought about you when he’d lie awake at night, his hand in his boxers. The hormones were beginning to pump through Javier’s blood in a way that may have never really ever stopped. 

From then on, you’d walk alone in the hall. Your nose was buried in a book at first, navigating it alone. Then you’d made friends, and you’d talk with people as you slammed your locker shut. You’d give Javier a wave, leading him to be roughhoused by his teammates who took him in as one of their own. 

You became different from him. You were known for being an artist and a writer. You embraced the loving spirit of the 60s’ culture and made warm oil paintings of fields and flowers, wrote poetry that won awards, and even wrote a collection of short stories. You weren’t a hippie, but you were artsy. Javi became a bit of a jock. 

The pressure grew to be too much in the middle of Javier’s junior season. It was the end of fall. You were both 17. You’d stopped maintaining a friendship now, far from as close as you’d been in the earlier days. You waved at him in the hall and that was it. It changed when the stress of being an athlete pushed on Javier’s brain until it popped. He quit the team, spending his time after school in his bedroom at home. He no longer proudly wore the team’s t-shirts or his letter jacket. 

You heard about it through rumors. You didn’t talk to Javier. He kept his head down in the halls now. There were dark circles under his eyes. He’d sit in the library for hours, forcing himself to cram knowledge into his brain. If he wouldn’t be going to college for football now, he figured, he’d better get smart fast. 

You’d sat at a table across the library as you worked on your chemistry homework. You glanced up. Javier looked down. He’d been looking at you. You stared at him until he looked up again. “Can I sit with you?” You’d mouthed, and he nodded. A small smile graced his face. 

Packing up your textbook and papers, you dragged a chair over. “Hi, Javi,” you said. Your voice was quiet and painfully soft. 

He smiles a little. “Hey, princesa.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the both of you staring at your papers and pretending like you were working. You weren’t. “I missed you,” you finally admitted after the silence passed. 

His heart skipped a beat. “I missed you too. Probably more than you missed me.”

You shook your head. “I was wrong. I liked walking with you in the halls. I miss that, I miss us,” you admit, your hand resting over his. He looked up at you with the big brown eyes you’ve always loved, and your smile softened. “Your hair is so dark now, Peñita.”

He nodded a little. “It just keeps going. I don’t know if it will ever stop.”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled and retracted your hand. “How have you been? I heard about the football thing.”

He sighed softly. “It was too much. Not me, not anymore. I hated it.”

“Who are you now, then?” You asked quietly. 

He looked up at you. “I don’t know.”

You’d smiled. “I can help you find out.”

-

That’s how your friendship began again.

It wasn’t a friendship for long, not with how you noticed Javier had changed. His hair was that warm, dark, chocolate color, his nose finally fit his face, he’d grown stronger and leaner and taller. He’d acquired a different sense of confidence, a different posture and walk. But it was clear: he was still your Javi. The one who stole your book all those years ago. 

You’d grown even more beautiful over your time apart, he noticed. You’d become self assured and confident too and it showed. You had a little mean streak, and Javier loved it more than life itself. He got a little weak at the knees when you’d tease him. 

He’d become a social outcast, essentially abandoning his place in the social hierarchy that high schools provide. When you knocked on his door a few days later, Chucho answered, slightly confused. “Hello.”

“Hi,” you said, smiling apologetically. “I’m a friend of Javi’s, I’m here to study with him.”

The older man was a mirror of Javier many years from now. He had a strong nose too, and a worn face. It made lines when he’d smiled. “I didn’t know Javi had many friends anymore.”

You shrugged. “Well, I think you’re right. But… I’m here.”

Javi jogged down the stairs, frowning when he saw his father at the door. You came inside and studied and Javier couldn’t help but to beam at you. Studying wasn’t much of studying. As you’d sidetracked the work and started conversing, Javier leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You stopped him, but kept his face close. “Not now, Javi. I want it to be perfect. But I do want to kiss you.”

He’d panicked when you’d stopped him, but your words reassured him, and he breathed a chuckle. “Sneak out with me tonight.”

You agreed. 

12:30 A.M. rolled around. You pocketed a pack of your dad’s cigarettes and a lighter and rode your bike to the pond nearby. 

Javier sat there waiting. He was wrapped in a leather jacket, jeans covering his long legs as he sat by the side of the pond. Crickets chirped and birds called and when he looked at you, your heart fell apart in your chest. It never really glued itself back together. Not even to this day. 

You sat next to him, and he put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t wait any longer, and you leaned in and kissed him and he was absolutely perfect. His soft lips pressed back against yours, those hands buried themselves in your hair. You broke away a second later and both of you grinned at each other. It was only seconds more before he pulled you in for the second kiss you’d ever had in your life. 

That night was not only Javier’s first kiss but the first time he smoked a cigarette. You pulled one thin stick from the pack and placed it between his lips, lighting the end. 

He was a natural at it, unlike you, who’d tried before and choked and spluttered on the smoke. You were better at it now, able to handle yourself. He breathed in and out and passed it to you, and he looked so effortlessly cool and sexy and beautiful that you didn’t take a drag, you grabbed his face and kissed him again. 

You were so many firsts for Javier. His first kiss, his first cigarette, his first fuck. You’d done it in the back of his truck, on a hot night where you parked in a field far from the town and rolled all of the windows down. You finally got to feel his strong body, got to feel his passion for you as he tugged on your lip with his teeth and pushed inside of you. It was sheer bliss for both of you, even if he never made you orgasm that night. 

It didn’t take long for the two of you to figure that out. Javier was a natural, his hands wandering and feeling everything your body had to offer until they found just the right spot to make you cry his name into the hot Texas night. You snuck out with him often, smoked and fucked in his house when Chucho was gone, or by that pond. 

You talked a lot after. You were the first he opened up to about his mother. He missed her like hell. He told you that he wanted to work in some kind of law enforcement. He thought drug enforcement might suit him. You opened up about your own trauma to him, and he held you as you cried into his body. He’d kissed your forehead and told you he promised that nothing would ever happen to you when he’s around, and it was completely believable because Javier was like some deity to you. He was strong and warm and loving and kind and beautiful and you thought, truly, that he could do no wrong. 

He never betrayed that trust either. Javier was a wonderful boyfriend to you in the daylight hours too. You’d study together, go on bike rides or just drive around in his truck. You spent almost every weekend with him. Chucho adored you too, loved your humor and kindness and most of all, your love for his son. Your family didn’t like Javier much, so you simply avoided your house with him. 

Javier was so proud when he first pulled up your driveway in his truck soon after you began again. He worked for the Villafañes down the road as a farmhand, a summertime assistant to the aging man who lived there. He saved his earnings all summer and split the cost with Chucho. He’d had it for 8 months and it had been on the verge of the junkyard the entire time. 

It was a piece of shit, and you both knew it. It was a deep red, rusty and broken down. The shocks were terrible and made it bounce like a bull in a ring. It didn’t matter, because it was his.

He’d pick you up in that truck and drive all night. The two of you sang along to the radio, then would talk, then make out in the backseat and drive again. You loved Javier, and you admitted it quickly. He said it immediately after you. 

People looked at you like you were crazy when you held Javier’s hands in the hall. Wasn’t he a mental case? Who would give up something like he had, and for no apparent reason? You didn’t give a shit, even if your friends told you Javier was no good. They didn’t know him, didn’t know that his middle name was Fernando and he hated it and that his mother’s favorite gem, ruby, was yours too, that Chucho told you Javi wanted to marry you someday or that Javier loved to nudge your neck with his nose after sex, both of you warm with the hot Texan air flowing through his open windows. 

You told them they didn’t get it, and they said you were the one who didn’t. You’ve got everything going for you. Why risk it with the nut job?

Javier remained a pariah, an outcast, but you didn’t give a shit. You called out his name in the hall and waved, sat with him at lunch and laughed until you choked on the terrible school meal. You were loud and affectionate, and it brought Javi back from the fringes of high school society he’d been banished to. 

Javier worked in fields and barns to earn money, building his muscles. You worked in customer service, building your restraint. Your town had opened a drive-in restaurant a few years before, complete with roller-skating waitresses. Being a skilled skater, you signed up. 

It was fun, but a pain in the ass some days. Customer service was rarely enjoyable. 

The highlight of the summer after your junior year was Javier pulling up to the restaurant every few days. “Peñita!” You’d squeal and put in an order for just what he always wanted- strawberry milkshake, double patty cheeseburger, large fries. 

“Hey, Princesa,” he’d mumble back with a small smile, leaning in for a kiss. He looked like a Texan James Dean, white t-shirt cuffed and worn jeans. His dark hair was gelled back, though much of it fell loose from his long day of hauling crops for Don Villafañe. This coolness was contrasted by his shitty truck, dust caking the windows, and the fact that he was far from blonde now. 

You’d fold your arms over his open window and kiss him, tripping over your skates in your excitement. He’d laugh and tease you, and he’d always give you the cherry off the top of his milkshake. You began telling your coworkers to put two cherries on top, so that he could have one too. He still gave both to you. 

During your senior year, Javier gave you his class ring. It was large and bulky on your fingers, thinner than his, but it made you beam with pride as you walked through the halls. You’d cried when he gave it to you, promising he’d replace it with a diamond someday. You knew it would never last that long. 

Senior year was uneventful. You went to prom with Javier, wearing a peach colored dress. Javier wore his father’s tuxedo with a tie to match your color. The photo was awkward but sweet, the two of you clearly in love. You graduated equally uneventfully, and the two of you spent the night in his truck, out in a field, promising sweet nothings through the sound of skin slapping skin. “Here’s to the class of ‘66,” Javier murmured into your neck. 

You had big dreams, and Javier’s were far different. He planned on attending Texas A&M, not far away. You’d earned a fantastic scholarship at a small liberal arts college in Upstate New York. You both knew these things, but Javier seemed determined to make it work. He knew the two of you loved each other; shouldn’t that be enough?

You felt guilty the entire summer. You had anxiety attacks quite a bit, felt that you were leading Javier on. Then, another part of you thought, he must know. He must not believe you could pull off a long distance relationship with only letters and phone calls. 

Javier passed the summer blissfully unaware. He was young and in love: he thought there was nothing that could go wrong. You still spent time together, more than you ever had, in fact. Something gnawed away at your insides as the time passed. 

On the rare days neither of you worked, you’d find somewhere deserted and sit with your legs dangling from his tailgate. You’d nick liquor and cigarettes from your parents and share them, laughing and talking. Planning a future you knew wouldn’t come. 

The day before you left, you spent the day with your boyfriend. You had a picnic dinner, complete with some stolen beers from Chucho’s refrigerator. You sat on a blanket in a nearby field, watching as the afternoon dwindled down to an orange-hazed sky. 

As the sun set, tears formed in your eyes. “Javi?” You asked him softly, your voice cracking. 

“What is it, princesa?” He returned, pulling you closer into his side. The tall grass swayed around you, and you bit your lip to stop from choking out a sob. 

“I love you, Javier. And I always will.” But as you said the words, your actions said otherwise. You removed your class ring from your finger, placing it in his palm. “But, I think… I think we need to be our own people for a while. Maybe someday we’ll meet again. Maybe things will be different, but I’m going to New York and you’re staying here. Fuck, you could be drafted, and I-“

Javier stopped you, pulling away and looking at you in the face. His eyes showed his heartbreak. “I thought we were gonna get married, be together forever.”

You choked out a sob. “Javi, I want to. I do. But I can’t. I can’t live that kind of life.” You wanted to travel, to do things, to live freely and be whoever you wanted. Javier wanted to stay in Laredo and work in law enforcement. The two weren’t compatible.

“There’s nothing stopping you,” he begged, taking your hand in both of his. “Please, I’d move to New York with you, or you could go to A&M with me, please,” he asked, his eyes welling with tears. “You’re the love of my life, baby.”

You couldn’t look at him. The emotion was too much to bear. “Javier,” you whined and pulled your hand from his. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

His heartbroken stare makes you cry harder into your hands. You stood, ready to find your way to the road and walk home. 

Javier caught you by the waist, then removed your hands from your face. “I-I understand. I do. But… kiss me one last time?”

You stared at him, tears staining your face and his cheeks equally damp. You nodded and Javier cupped your face, kissing you slowly and lovingly. It was tender and bittersweet. It was not the way you’d kiss him at the drive-in restaurant or in the back of his truck. It was not the way you’d sneak a kiss goodbye in front of Chucho. It was desperate. You both knew what it meant. Maybe that’s why it lasted so long. 

You broke away and pressed your forehead to his before finding the dirt road and beginning the walk home. You needed to finish packing, and was getting dark. You didn’t dare to ask Javier to drive you home. You feared you might change your mind if you were around him a second longer.

-

Javier never saw you after that. It was partially serendipitous and partially out of effort. 

When he returned home on winter break or for Thanksgiving, he contained himself to Chucho’s house, or he’d see one or two friends he still had. That was about it. If he knew you weren’t in town, he’d go out and have a good time. It would all go downhill if you were there, and he knew it, so he resigned himself to long nights with his father. 

You wanted to see him again. You drove past his house many times when you were home from New York, seeing the light on in his old room again. Every time, you stopped just a little longer than you should have at the stop sign yards from his house. You contemplated pulling into the driveway and begging him to take you back. It never happened. 

Once or twice, you even caught a glimpse of dark-chocolate hair through the front windows of the house. It made your heart stop and your eyes tear up. 

You moved out of town when you graduated. You started a career near your college, far from your hometown that was almost considered Laredo. Your wish was fulfilled. 

Javier’s was too- well, only partially. He stayed in Laredo. He worked in law enforcement there for a while before he got picked to work with the DEA. It didn’t matter what kind of job he got. He didn’t have you, and that made him miserable. 

You’d been the one to save him. Now he didn’t even know if you still had the same last name you did when he slipped his class ring onto your finger, when he murmured your full name and promised one day that he’d get you a gorgeous ruby and diamond band instead of that class ring and he’d change that last name to Peña. 

-

Javier got a new truck recently. It’s nice. The first car he ever bought that wasn’t used, actually. It’s a deep red, the same color of his first car. Ruby, he named it. 

He thinks about you all the goddamn time. Nothing could change that, not time or hookups. He sighs as he thinks about the years since you’ve seen him, while he drives around in the pouring rain. Why? How?

He never slept around in college, too lovesick and still hoping you’d call and want to meet with him, would want to rekindle what you’d had. 

He forced himself to get moving after that. He had a few girlfriends when he worked for the Webb County Sheriff's Office. He even got serious with one. 

Lorraine was beautiful and kind and funny. He loved the way she’d shotgun a beer and then kiss him, her lips tasting of the fermented liquid. She was a good time, a great partier. He asked her out and things went well, he supposed. 

She wanted different things from Javier. He’d been starting to grow restless, wanting to leave Laredo. Lorraine, however, wanted to settle down. She wanted the whole thing: a big ranch-style, a fireplace in the living room, four or five babies with Javier’s brown eyes, running around and laughing. 

As much as he wanted it, he couldn’t. He nodded along and played the game, telling her that he’d do that for her. He’d provide for her and give her all the kids he wanted. He’d be a good father and a great husband and everything would be good. 

It was more to himself that he said those things. He wanted to believe they were true, really, but he had the feeling you’d had years ago. He wanted her, wanted such a calming life, but at the same time, he didn’t want it. He wanted to get out and do things and feared being fenced in. 

He proposed to Lorraine. Got her a nice diamond ring and everything. She’d cried and kissed him and he’d forced himself to smile but it wasn’t genuine. At least she didn’t know that. 

The wedding was planned. It was going to be a grand affair for the town, nearly everyone invited. Everyone was like family to the members of the town. Lorraine got an expensive, fluffy white dress and Javier bought a tuxedo. 

The ceremony was supposed to start at 5:00. Everyone sat patiently as the clock ticked past it. They didn’t know a thing. They didn’t know Lorraine was pacing the church basement, her heart clenched in fear. No one had seen Javier. Not even the groomsmen. 

Then it became 5:10, 5:30. At 5:45, Lorraine’s mother began to quietly tell the church that the ceremony wouldn’t be happening today. The disgruntled attendees left, wondering what happened. 

Javier had ran. He drove out of Laredo, straight for Dallas. He wanted out. He’d left early in the morning, not even saying goodbye to his father. He was already on a plane to Washington D.C. when the bride realized she was no longer getting married today. 

He got a job working for the DEA. They’d offered him one a few months ago, but he’d declined. He wanted to stay in Laredo with Lorraine, he’d bluffed. Things hit the fan when he began training for the new job. 

He fucked every woman in sight. He didn’t care who they were: if they wanted him, he wanted them. He never stopped smoking, developed a love and almost dependence on whiskey. When he went to Colombia, he paid for his first ever escort. 

It was what he deserved, he told himself. The one woman he’d ever loved left him. He had left the one person who ever gave a shit about him. Ruined her life and left her with a sense of anxiety whenever she was in that church’s basement as she remembered. 

He doesn’t deserve attachment. He doesn’t deserve someone caring for him. That’s why he sleeps around. That’s why he’s left so many lovers in the dust. 

Stop thinking about that, Javier tells himself. He whips a U-turn, opening the window and hanging a hand out of it. It forces himself to return to reality, to get out of his goddamn head and to not crash this new truck. The rain pelts his skin and he frowns. It never rains around Laredo, and it’s the one night he’s in town. 

He pulls into the old drive-in restaurant, thinking back to the happy days. He can still see your baby-faced grin as you skated over to him, long legs pushing you along. He could nearly taste the strawberry milkshake on his tongue. It’s closed for the night, since it’s in the early hours of the morning now. 

He jumps as a car pulls into the spot next to him. He looks down, knowing that whoever it is will likely recognize him. Everyone recognizes him around here. He’s not in the mood to talk.

“They’re closed,” a voice calls out from the other car, and Javier’s heart stops. He’d know that voice anywhere, even if it spoke a different language. 

He looks up and his eyes meet yours for the first time in twenty years. They’re still just as beautiful, still glimmering. “Peñita,” you breathe out as it clicks in your mind. 

He’s aged beautifully. His dark hair is neatly pushed back, though it’s a little shorter than he used to keep it. His face has lines now, heavy from the stress of his job. His eyes look weary and tired. 

You get out of your car. Javier does the same. You look at him, standing there, with a new truck that’s the same color of his very first piece of shit pickup. “Nice truck,” you comment. 

He smiles softly. “Thanks. It’s new.”

You walk around the front of your car, eyes wide in disbelief. There’s hurt on his face and you know you’re the cause of it. “Javier… I missed you.”

He looks down at you, now standing right in front of him. “I missed you more.”

You throw your arms around him and hug him tight. Your eyes water with tears as you squeeze him, wishing this moment would never end. He hugs you back, those arms still strong and protective. 

He presses a soft kiss to your head. He mutters his nickname for you quietly. His voice is different now, huskier and deeper. It’s a beautiful sound. His lips are buried in your hair but you can hear it all the same. “Princesa.”

-

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[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 6)

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“What did you fuck up?”, you heard Loki’s sharp whisper through the earbud, while you frantically searched through papers and papers and some more papers.

“I didn’t fuck up. I have the guy. I have information”, cleared Bucky. “Hey, DON’T MOVE”, he shouted at the kidnapped, cocking his gun. He cleared his throat before talking again. “Good and bad news”.

“Must be Christmas”, you said.

“No, Christmas is when you only have good news”, said Bucky.

“Not in my family. Generally, there was only bad news and food. Food was the good news”.

“I love how professional and focused on the mission you two are. Stark would be so proud”.

“Wait, I’m invested now. Tell me more about your family, y/n”.

“For the Norns, I don’t have much time. The information, Barnes”. You could hear Loki's footsteps resonate. According to plan, he should've been walking through a hall full of burocrats, so he was right; he did not have much time.

“Okay, so, I know who has the stick”.

“Good”.

“He’s dead”.

“Not so good”.

“Not really, no”.

“What do we do now?”.

An alarm on the building had set off and every door locked down, with a man on a speaker announcing the disappearance of an important object followed by an awfully accurate description of the three of you.

“We run, that’s what we do now”.

You didn’t have to say more. Bucky threw himself off the window before it finished closing. You looked around desperately, trying to find a way to free yourself from that office. Two security guards entered the room screaming for you to get on the floor, and instead you made an unstable wall with the desk and chairs, avoiding getting shot and giving you enough time to figure out some sort of weapon to take them down.

The watch was already used, the knives were useless if they had guns, you didn’t have a gun yourself (silly you), and the parachute was apparently not working anymore, so you couldn’t jump off the window like your teammates. Damn.

“By any chance”, you whispered through your microphone “could you tele…”, but Loki gave you no time to finish the sentence and teleported himself to the office, still in the shape of a security guard.

“My dearest friend”, he said to one of the shooters, opening his arms welcomingly, “how’s the family?”.

“What the fuck, Robert?” asked angrily one of the real guards. “How did you…”.

Loki kicked off his gun and touched his head with a halo of green lights, making him fall unconscious to the floor. He looked up and down at the second security guard and formed half a smile.

“And what about your wife? Is she well?”.

“You ain’t Robert, ain’t ya?”.

“Mmh, nah”.

You grabbed the second security guard from behind and made him trip, immobilizing his arms and legs, and held his own gun to his head. Loki watched you amused, and then transformed back into himself.

“Oh, there you are”, you greeted him. “Did Buck say anything about the walking dead?”.

“The… what?”.

“The man with the stick. If he’s dead, who activated the alarm? Someone has to have it”.

“He didn’t say anything else. Can’t you track it down?”.

“If I could, why would we have done all of this for?”.

“Point made”.

“I need to get back to our room, take some things off the checklist before going all in for a new plan”.

“Alri…”, he started saying, but his gaze fell back on the immobilized guard you were holding down. “What are you planning on doing with him? He saw our faces”.

“If you let me live I won’t talk about this at all”, he pleaded, face squished against the floor. “I have kids, please”.

“He’s lying, he has no kids”, he said with a neutral face, and you looked at him trying to tell him to communicate telepathically. Surprisingly, he understood. “What?”.

“I’m not killing him, what do we do?”.

“Just kill him, what’s all the fuss about?”. You looked at him horrorized and he rolled his eyes “alright, just threaten him enough”.

You let him go, still pointing the gun at him, and gestured to the door so he could leave. When he reached for the door knob, you shot twice at the wall, mere inches from his head, and he froze in place.

“Talk and I’ll find you”, you threatened.

“I won't say a word, I promise”.

You looked at Loki and he nodded, letting you know the man was telling the truth. You kept your eyes fixed on him while he ran away, terrified. Must be new, you thought. Loki grabbed your waist.

“What the Hell are you doing?”, you pushed him away.

“Teleporting us, as you asked”.

“You have to grab me to do that?”.

“I don’t have to. It’s so you get stability”.

“Oh. Give me a big bear hug, then. No, better, let’s cuddle” you spat with sarcasm. He sighed annoyed, massaging his temples.

“Fine. I’m not even touching you”.

As he teleported both of you, you felt your whole body tear its own cells apart and dissolve, and then regenerate them. Your head spinned like it never has, and something hit your head; but you weren’t sure if it was the floor, a wall or the roof, for your sense directions were nowhere to be found. You took a few seconds to compose yourself before opening your eyes once everything stopped moving. When you finally managed to realize where your head even was, your eyes met with Loki’s, who was holding back a smirk with his arms crossed.

“Reconsidering that cuddle next time, are you?”.

“That was… hilarious. Such a shame I missed the previous part to give me context, though”, said Bucky from the counter of the hotel room, munching on some chips. “Look, the tiny fridge had these. You were right, they’re actually great”.

“Yeah. Grab whatever, they’re on Stark’s”, you said, still with your head a bit fuzzed. Loki offered his hand to help you get up but you did it yourself. He sighed.

“How do you fit your clothes with that huge ego of yours?”.

“I don’t, I walk around naked”, you answered, opening the nearest laptop and starting to work on the checklist.

That night was like the last one. Dark, silent and with your head full on the work. Bucky was barely snoring, and Loki was sitting on his bed reading a book. Every once in a while you glanced up your work to look at how painfully beautiful he was. You hated every thought about it, of course, but you couldn’t deny his sight grew on you a bit. He was an asshole, of course. A parasite on your head. An inconvenience. A distraction, sometimes. But the warm light of the bed lamp and the shadows it formed on half of his face enhanced his features, almost like a sculpture, a piece of art.

While you thought of that you checked on his expressions, making sure he wasn’t listening to your highly embarrassing thoughts.

After a few hours, Bucky had already woken up and you were still spread on the floor, surrounded by the files and laptops from before. The light conversation had caught half the attention of the God, who was still reading peacefully. He seemed so calm you wondered what kept him up anyways.

“You think he still has it on him?”, asked Bucky, changing his shirt.

“I think it’s a possibility. I’m tracking his body down. Should be in the morgue by now, maybe they haven’t taken off his clothes yet. But if not, the security cameras would have recorded who took it from the body”.

“Groovy”.

"Oh my God, James".

"What?".

"What does groovy even mean?".

"You know... it's like saying cool beans".

"Coo... alright".

After a while, you collected all the data you needed for tomorrow. You were so exhausted your eyes were getting dry and blurry. Loki was still reading in that same place, not even fazed by the amount of hours that had happened. You got up to clean the dishes from the last meal, and he lifted his gaze up from the book.

“Wait”, he stopped you. With a wrist movement, the dishes got as clean as they could get and arranged on the shelf. You chuckled.

“I wish I had that ability”.

“Are you going to sleep now?”.

“A few hours”.

“Sleep here”, he said from his bed. You looked at Bucky’s; he fell asleep back again.

“You haven’t slept yet. I don’t want to occupy your bed”.

“I won’t, don’t worry”, you nodded, kind of worried he might pass out of tiredness in the middle of the mission. Why the hell was he not sleeping? “If it doesn’t bother you, I’d rather finish this book on here too”.

“I think there’s enough space”.

He moved and gave you space for half of the tiny bed, and you laid by his side with your arms crossed and a leg on top of the other. He went back to his book, and even though he was sitting and your sight couldn’t reach the pages, you were sure it was in Old Norse.

“What are you reading?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Doubtfully as in to share it with you or not, he then proceeded.

“Hamlet. It’s a translation in Old Norse from an author I adore. I’d say it’s an even better version than Shakespeare’s”.

You felt yourself about to smile. You tried not to, but you probably did. That was your favourite piece of literature of all times. You wondered how could that have gotten to Asgardian hands, and why would he (certainly a Midgardian hater) want to read Earth’s literature. You were so curious in that version. Was it really that good, that would be better than Shakespeare himself? Sadly, you didn’t even know how to say hello in that language.

“Do you like it so far?”.

“I’m re-reading it. Brings good memories”, he said with a subtle smile he had hoped you wouldn’t notice. But you did. Something in your chest warmed up a bit and you shook it off. No, no. Not feelings. Don’t confuse your physical attraction, don’t feed your touch starved soul. No. You had to repeat to yourself a couple of times. You were just very, very tired.

“Brings good memories to me too. I love this book”. You figured it was alright to open up a little. The situation was relaxed enough. He wasn’t snarky or avoidant. He looked… melancholic. Sad, even. Like a facet of himself he didn’t allow everyone to see.

You connected with that. Maybe you could even relate to him in some way. For years, you had a feeling of something not adding up quite right. A longing for something you couldn’t exactly pin up. Melancholy for a blank space.

But there you were, barely knew him for three days yet felt close enough. Not too much. Just a feeling. Just the traces of something that maybe happened in another life. But in this one, you would get the mission done and leave. So don’t get attached, you ordered yourself.

“It’s a really good version”.

“Wish I could read it but I don’t know Old Norse”, you said slower than you intended. Loki chuckled at your tiredness. Maybe you could push your curiosity a little further. What was the damage? That he could just say ‘piss off’ or something like that? “What good memories does it bring to you?”.

He sighed and muttered almost to himself “I used to read it to my beloved”.

You almost gasped, surprised he actually answered you. You didn’t ask for more. It was already a lot he had just trusted you with. He told you he had a beloved. You didn’t even know he had a lover, but of course he had. He was nearly a thousand years old; why wouldn’t he? Did he lose that lover, in past tense?

Curiosity grew bigger on you, but fear pushed you aback. But the questions floated around in your head as a lullaby. Your head started to weigh a little more on the pillow and everything happened slightly slower. Loki closed the book and left it resting on his lap. He whispered “I feel you have questions”, and you denied it with your head. Your eyelids fell heavier than before.

“I’m mmnmnnhnm”, you managed to sort of say before getting knocked down by sleep. You heard his laughter, but nothing more after that.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

hello hello! can i request something where geto and f!reader meet again after a decade because reader left the jujutsu community without a word, and they're now both teachers at the school with gojo but geto and reader have always had a special bond but never made a move out of fear of rejection? bonus if gojo helps them in some way hehe thank youuu

a/n: Hello! Thank you so much for requesting this! I loved writing it, might have gotten a little carried away (hehe) but here you go! I hope you enjoy it! 

Homecoming: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader 

word count: 2.7k

tw: death, nightmares

You’ve had this dream a million times before. 

You’re not alone, but you’re surrounded by hundreds of people. 

Dead people. 

People you know and love. People you fought alongside. People you’ve saved. And most importantly, those you couldn’t. It’s Yu’s face that haunts you the most, though. 

His smile. The way he smiled and made you all laugh… The way he looked so peaceful, even in death. It had all been too much when he turned up in the morgue. Nanami looked at you with dead eyes, explained to you there was nothing he could do. And for the first time in a long time, you cried in front of someone. 

But now Yu lay in front of you as a grim reminder of your limitations. “You can save everybody,” Yu whispers, his voice echoing in the stifling air. “We’re running out of time. Why won’t you?”

You shoot up in your bed, sweat pooling around your collarbone and back. The light to your left immediately switches on, enacting a routine you’ve programmed into the lamp at any major sudden movements during the night. Light floods through your small apartment, and you exhale deeply, catching your breath before the hyperventilating begins.

“I am safe… I am safe… I am safe…” But even in the room where you’re completely alone, a sense of dread washes over you. 

You haven’t seen or heard from your former friends in a little over a decade, not since you woke up and decided to leave the school without so much as a goodbye and changed your entire identity. You were no longer “y/n, the jujutsu sorcerer”, but “y/n, the history teacher”. You had a career you loved, students you cared for, and co-workers who would only suffer a papercut at best. Not death. No, you’ve left that world behind you. There was no place for you among the sorcerers anymore. 

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

“That’s the bell!” You announce, walking to the door to collect your student’s papers as they left. 

“Goodbye, miss!” The sounds of teenagers going off to enjoy the rest of their day filled you with joy. You thank your lucky stars that you get to spend time with such carefree and amazing children and walk back to your desk to gather your things to leave. 

“It’s a shame I had to come all this way to find you.” 

You instantly straighten up at the sound of a familiar voice, loosening your grip on the straps of your purse. You don’t dare turn to face the person, but you can feel the sapphire eyes on your back. Six Eyes noticed everything. 

“It’s a lovely little setup you’ve got going on here.” Gojo Satoru walked around the room and pointed to the maps on the wall casually, chuckling before placing his hands back in his pockets. “Do you get rid of your children’s curses, or have you forgotten where you came from entirely?” The glasses come off, and instantly, you’re fully trapped in the gaze of the white-haired man before you. He’s dressed normally in a blue button-down and black slacks, but this isn’t new. You’ve seen Satoru like this before. A decade ago, yes, but he hasn’t changed a bit. 

“I…” The words are lost on your lips. Satoru places a hand on his hip, eyeing you carefully. “Gojo… how…?” 

“Have you forgotten how we found you the first time?” No, you hadn’t forgotten. You remembered the long night, the darkness, the curses, your parents, their blood. You remembered it all. “It’s too easy to find you; you don’t really hide, y/n.” 

Your cheeks heat up, and you feel his gaze sliding from the crown of your head to your waist, trying to pick out any differences. When he’s satisfied, he approaches you again, his mouth turned up in a smile. “We need you back at Jujutsu Tech.”

“No,” you blurt, and grab your purse handles defensively. “I’m not going back there.” 

“I wasn’t asking.” Satoru jerks his chin at you, his manner ominous and unyielding. “There are some kids that we’ve enrolled that we need help with.” 

“I don’t want any part of it.” The denial is met with some resistance, you note, as Satoru lowers his chin. “I left for a reason. You’ll have to kill me to get me back on that campus without a fight.” 

You put up a fight. You really did. But now, you were slung over Satoru’s shoulder, dangling like a ragdoll while he carried you out of the school building. Your resignation letter - signed and dated - had been slid under the principals’ door, and you were promptly escorted off the campus by a gentlemanly Gojo. 

“Y/n, why do you make things so difficult?” Satoru pouts, and you huff, examining your scratched arms and torn sleeves. “I wouldn’t have thrown you into a tree if you hadn’t insisted on acting like a child.” 

“Please, shut up,” you gripe, and Satoru laughs.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! You’ll see everyone again! Nanami, Shoko, Geto…” You stiffen at the sound of Geto Suguru’s name. The raven-haired, easy-going, level-headed sorcerer that used to make your heart leap… As Satoru goes on and on about all of the things you missed out on, you wonder how the pensive man had fared in the decade of separation. Last you spoke, he had been struggling with his identity as a sorcerer. 

After Yu had been murdered, you clung to him and desperately hung off of his every word. You thought that maybe - just maybe - he’d go rogue, like you. He’d run away, and take you with him, reforming himself into someone new. But the moment you figured out his heart was still with Jujutsu Tech, you left without a word. Losing Yu had been painful enough. There were no sweet words that could assuage the wounds inside. Not even from Geto, despite his understanding and caring demeanor towards you at all times. He seemed too good to be true, and most certainly too good for you. Had he changed at all? 

“Are you listening to me?” Satoru whines. “I’m telling you about the new students!” 

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

It’s the smell of the floor cleaner that hits you first. 

You didn’t miss the smell of the expensive liquid used to mop up the messes tracked in from outside. It only reminded you of the stale morgue, the cleansed tables, the sound of emptiness echoing on into the chaos of forever. 

“What would you do, Yu?” The spoken thought is accompanied by the sound of a box being opened. “Would you come back?” He didn’t answer, and you didn’t expect him to. He would only ask you the same question in your dreams: 

“You can save everybody; why won’t you?” 

The agony of unpacking was all-encompassing, forcing you to tears. You had come back to hell, and it was only a matter of time before the nightmare and horrors played out like before. Nothing had changed over the passage of time except the faces. 

“I’ll catch up with you later!” 

It’s Gojo. You quickly shut your dresser drawers and turn to the painting hanging on the wall, pretending to readjust it for the fifth time that day. You can’t let him see you cry, not when you spent the whole car ride cursing at him for even daring to command Ijichi to drive you both back to Jujutsu Tech.

When your door opens, you don’t look back. Instead, you focus even harder on the brushstrokes of red, yellow, and green as you adjust the frame a little. 

“Y/n! I brought a friend to see you! You two should do some catching up!” A friend?

You turn to face the white-haired man and catch the black eyes of the raven-haired sorcerer instead. Your mouth drops open slightly as his head cocks to the side a little, an amused look dancing across his face. “Oh, look at the time, I have that… thing… to do.” Before you can call out to Satoru, he disappears, leaving you and Geto Suguru in the same room. 

Alone. 

You suddenly realize that your sweatpants and loose t-shirt are much too ill-fitting compared to how he’s dressed: in his sorcerer outfit, just like you left him. The only difference was that his hair - his illustrious hair - was so much longer than you remember. Half of it is up, tied back in his usual half-bun, the rest is cascading around his beautiful face. 

“I’m very surprised to hear that Gojo successfully coerced you back on campus.” 

“It wasn’t by choice…” you breathe, and Suguru smiles, completely disarming you. 

“You look the same.” The comment is accompanied by his frame stepping inside of your room and closing the door behind him. “What have you been doing all of these years?” 

“Teaching.” He smiles even wider, scratching his cheek before sliding his hands in his pockets. 

“Same here. Nice to see that we didn’t turn out so different after all.” You huff a laugh, and Suguru looks around your room, examining the items on the wall with appreciation. “Has Gojo told you about the new students?” 

“I… wasn’t paying attention,” you admit, and he shrugs, knowing the feeling. 

“You’ll like them. They’re motivated… excited. A lot to handle, but they’re good kids.” 

“Like Yu?” The words slip out before you can truly recognize their meaning. But Suguru’s expression doesn’t change. A long silence passes before he inhales, then sighs it out through his nose, still looking everywhere but at you.

“That’s why you left, isn’t it?” Your hands clench into fists; this isn't how you want to address the situation. “I completely understand.” Suguru approaches you slowly, hands still tucked away. “But I did worry about you. We tried contacting--” 

“I know.” It isn’t until he’s fully in front of you that you realize how much you missed this man, how much his presence meant to you. He removes a hand from his pocket and reaches up to touch your face before tucking a stray hair behind your ear. Your heart quickens at his touch, and you wonder - only for a moment - if he ever felt the way you did about him. Did he ever think about you before bed? Did he ever do something that reminded him of you and stop to feel the hole in his chest widen for a second? Did he--

“Your face hasn’t changed. You’re thinking about something,” he whispers and you look up into his eyes, holding your breath. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

“Yu.” He hums at your lie, pulling away a little. 

“No one ever fully heals from all of this,” he begins and looks over your head at the greenery outside. “I thought it would get easier… But it never really does.”

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

 “Again!” One of the students - a gentle first-year named Yuji Itadori - slowly rises from the tree trunk Suguru has smashed him into and puts up his fists. 

“I-I don’t know if I can--” The boy’s thought is cut off by Suguru’s quick moves, and you observe the melee without bias, puckering your lips thoughtfully. When Itadori gets knocked down again, you click your tongue against your teeth, standing up from the stair you’ve been sitting on. 

“That’s enough for now,” you announce, stretching. “Go get some water and come back in ten.” Yuji obediently takes his leave, and you turn to Suguru with your hands on your hips.

“He’s not doing so well.” 

“That’s what we’re here for,” the raven-haired sorcerer mutters, wiping the sweat off of his face. “Gojo can do just fine with his cursed energy, but he can’t fight hand-to-hand to save his life.” Sweat runs down Geto’s chest and to his navel like a flowing river, and your eyes trace the path shamelessly. It isn’t until he clears his throat that you realize you’ve been staring, and you turn away, fully embarrassed. 

“So…” you begin, trying to cover up your slip-up. “What do we do now?” 

“What do you propose we do?” the voice behind you is close, and you feel his breath against your ear as he leans down. “I say… I beat the shit out of him and you just watch. Patch him up, get him back out there, make him fight until he accesses those skills within. What do you think, kitten?” The old pet name makes your stomach tighten, and you feel one of Suguru’s hands hovering at your waist. Your heart is pounding in your chest, almost as if it wants to burst free and run away. Your mouth dries up, and you’re forced to swallow hard to assuage the papery feeling. 

“I--” 

“Hey, maybe we can just take it easy for a while?” Yuji interrupts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. Suguru straightens up immediately and smiles, his hand lowering from your side. 

“Y/n… what does ‘take it easy’ mean again?” 

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

The nightmares are unrelenting. Yu is angry. 

“You came home,” he murmurs, turned away from you. “But you’re not doing what you’re supposed to do. Why bother, y/n?” 

“Please, Yu,” Your voice is much weaker than you thought it would be. “I need more time.” Yu turns to grab your face, his hollow eyes boring into your soul with fury. 

“We don’t have time! There are lives that need to be saved and you’re jus--” 

“Wake up!” A harsh yank pulls you out of the dream and right back into your bed, but there’s more commotion than you expected upon opening your eyes. Suguru is straddling your figure, his black hair tickling your face. He’s shaking you, face full of worry and concern while you lie beneath him and slowly come back to your senses. “Y/n,” Suguru breathes, his sweet breath fanning across your face. 

“What are you doing in here?” Your mind travels from the dream to the white t-shirt, baggy sweatpants, and tender touch of the sorcerer above you. 

“Your cursed energy was out of control…” Suguru sits back on his haunches, exhaling while pushing his hair back behind his face. “I could feel it in my room, so I came to see what was going on. But…” Your eyes flick to his face, his eyes squeezed shut and lips tightly pressed together. 

“It was just a nightmare.” You explain cooly and sit up, rubbing your forehead. “Just a nightmare.” 

There’s a slight tension in the air, but you say nothing as Suguru slides off the bed to give you space. You didn’t want him to go, but you know the situation can’t magically be made better. You just needed time. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m a really good listener.” He offers, eyeing you carefully. 

“No, not really,” you whisper, and look over to the window where moonlight is spilling in. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary.” Suguru nods, taking a few steps toward the door. He stops in his tracks, and you can feel him contemplating something before turning back around and looking at you intently. 

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you stayed?” The question hits you like a bag of bricks, and you sit very still in the bed, unsure of how to answer. “What would’ve happened if Gojo never brought you back to me?” 

“I don’t know,” you whisper in response. In a few steps, Suguru was back on the bed, leaning a knee on the mattress. He reaches a hand out to smooth his knuckles against your soft cheek, and you lean into his touch eagerly, feeling your fear slip away. Without any words, he presses his lips against yours - just once - but it’s enough to make you feel something blooming in your chest. “Suguru…” He swipes two fingers over your lips tenderly, sealing the kiss with his touch. 

“I’ve waited a long time to do that.” 

“Why now?” His eyelashes flutter in the moonlight, his mind coming up with some sort of excuse for his lack of forwardness. 

“Why? I was so sure you and Yu had something… more going on. I thought when you left that you might find a non-sorcerer that wouldn’t break your heart.” He sighs. “Seeing you like that broke my heart, so I didn’t blame you for leaving at all. I just hoped you would find happiness out there. Even if that meant it was withou--” 

You smash your lips against his again, silencing his speech. He cups your chin and dips his head low, moaning into your mouth with pleasure. When you break the kiss, you tenderly press your forehead against his, closing your eyes in the darkness when he taps a kiss to your nose.

“But I’m glad you came home.”

[omgsomeonesomewhereonearth]

your eyes look like coming home

The five times Patton asks Janus to marry him. 

Moceit, childhood best friends to lovers💙💛

Content Warnings: alcohol, light angst

Aaa this is my first fic in a million years or something. It’s kind of short and maybe not my best work, but I’m honestly just happy to have written something lol - hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

The first time Patton asks Janus to marry him, it’s a dare.

“Hi! Do you wanna be married?”

Janus stares blankly at the nervous-looking kid in front of him, fiddling with the sleeves of his grubby school cardigan as he stared back at Janus, through large, almost owlish glasses.

He’s confused for a second, then he looks over the kid’s shoulder, and sees the familiarly smug faces in the background, smirking and whispering like they’ve just seen something very funny.

He looks back at the kid – he’s new, just joined last week. Named Patrick or something. He didn’t seem like he’d be involved with the mean kids, with his big, nervous brown eyes and fidgety behaviour. His soft, round face holds a nervous grin as he looks earnestly back at Janus, who’s now glaring exclusively back at the ones watching them

“Why?” he finds himself saying, instead of no.

The boy – Peter? – flushes a little, looking at his feet.

“Um – well -I it’s er, it’s the game.” He gives the explanation like he’s asking a question, prodding the playground floor with his scuffed trainers. “We’re playing, they said – er, I need to find someone to say yes and marry me – but it’s just pretend though – and um, so…”

Ah, so they were both being made fun of.

“They don’t want to play with me.”

The boy’s face falls instantly. “Why not?” he asks, tilting his head to one side. Janus glances at the group, still smirking superiorly at him and – Paul?

“Because.” He snaps, not entirely unkindly, “Go find someone else to ask, or they won’t want to play with you either.”

The boy looks crestfallen for a second, but a look of determination overtakes his face, small mouth forming into a thin, angry line.

“Then I don’t want to play with them.” He declares with a toss of his curly head, sitting himself down next to Janus on the playground floor.

The flock immediately stops smirking, muttering furiously to one another.

“That’s not a good idea…”

“Don’t care.” The boy thrusts a small, chubby hand out at him. “I’m Patton.”

 ---

 The second time, it’s a joke, but also a promise.

They’re sitting on opposite ends of Patton’s cramped twin bed, doing everything but the homework they wanted to meet up to solve, and Janus is pretending he’s not all too aware of their feet just barely touching each other.

“Hey, do you remember that time I asked if you would marry me?” Patton giggles, a sudden mischievous look taking over his face, dimples popping in and out as he looks back at Janus.

“Oh, you mean the first thing you ever said to me?” Janus replies airily, swelling with pride as Patton laughs even harder, scrunching his nose up in delight.

“You know, you never gave me an answer.”

Janus’s heart skips a beat. No it doesn’t, shut up .

His laugh is carefully nonchalant as he replies, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you never said! Would you marry me or not?” Patton laughs, “You’ve kinda left me hanging for years, if you think about it.”

He’s joking. This is a bit, Janus knows that. it doesn’t stop his traitorous heart from beating just that much faster as he smirks back.

“Sure, why not?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Certainly, in like fifty years when we’re both old and lonely and we’re the only ones who can stand each other.”

He doesn’t believe it, obviously. He knows that he and Patton will always be together, but he doesn’t believe for a second that Patton won’t find someone, with his unbearable kind heart and his wide, honest eyes, and whoever it was would be damn lucky.

Patton laughs in delight at his response. “Ha! Sounds like a plan! Ooh – hold on!”

And then he’s jumping off the bed, going to rummage in his desk drawers.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Celebrating our engagement properly! Be patient!”

And then he’s kneeling next to the bed, smiling cheekily up at Janus, a length of pale blue ribbon in his hand.

“What is that?”

“Shut up, I don’t have a ring.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Hand!”

So, Patton ties the ribbon in a neat bow on Janus’ ring finger and kisses it quick before leaning back to gaze at him in satisfaction.

“There. Now you’re stuck with me no matter what.”

Janus doesn’t tell him that was going to happen regardless.

  ---

 Neither of them likes to talk about the third time.

Janus shoves his way past the teeming crowd of drunk dancers, craning his neck to spot a crop of dark curls or a pastel jumper. Goddamnit .

He wasn’t supposed to leave Patton’s side, he had suggested coming out here tonight as a way of cheering Patton up, and it had been working, until he had walked in, complete with brand new attractive arm candy, and…

Fuck.

He finally finds him out in the empty garden, clutching a beer can that looks to be mostly empty, staring blankly at the sky. He’s not actively crying, but as Janus walks over, he can make out the tear tracks on his face even in the dark.

So he’s definitely seen them.

“Patton?”

“Hey, Janus.��� His voice is subdued, and there’s a slight slur to the words.

“I’m so sorry, Pat,” He starts, “If I’d known he’d be here...”

“It’s ‘kay Jan, ‘m fine,” Patton reassures in a way that is not reassuring at all. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and it’s painfully brittle, like it might shatter into a thousand pieces any minute. Recently, Janus has seen that smile a few too many times for his liking.

“Patton, no.” he replies firmly, but gently, “You’re drunk and heartbroken, and I’m at least partially responsible for that. I’m going to take you home.”

But drunk Patton is somehow even more stubborn than sober Patton can be at times, and he shakes his head resolutely.

“Janus, no.” he pouts, “ ‘m not that drunk, an’ ‘m not…not sad, an’ I don’t wanna go home.” He nods clumsily, having made his point, and then proceeds to stare blankly at the sky again.

Janus sighs.

“Well, then I’m drunk. And sad. And I need someone to take me home.”

Ever more attentive to other’s needs than his own, that gets Patton’s attention, the beautiful idiot that he is. Slowly, he nods and clambers to his feet, gripping Janus’ hand.

Neither of them drives, and Patton’s place is closer, so Janus walks them there, Patton clinging firmly to his side every step of the way. Janus can’t tell if it’s for balance or comfort.

When he gets them both inside the flat, Patton’s first words are, “Don’t leave.”

He gazes up at Janus with red-rimmed eyes, “I don’t like bein’ here alone.”

Janus’s heart aches at that, and he nods. He’d always found it hard to say know to Patton, especially when he’s like this, and especially when he asks for so little as it is.

Similarly, he can’t bring himself to refuse Patton’s beseeching gaze when he tucks him in and moves to sleep on the couch. So, a few moments later finds them in bed together, Janus staring at the ceiling and wondering how Patton can’t hear his heartbeat. They’ve shared a bed before, of course. But not in a long time. Certainly not since Patton started seeing him .

“I saw them, you know.”

He does know. “Really?”

“Mm. D’you think he loves him?”

Janus sighs, “I don’t know, Patton.”

“D’you think he loved me?” Patton’s voice is so soft, so resigned, so plaintive that Janus damn near breaks.

“You know I can’t answer that, Patton.”

“Sometimes I think he didn’t.” Patton admits matter-of-factly, “I tried so, so, hard, but he just didn’t. Ever. I wonder if anyone ever really will.”

There’s a scrap of faded blue ribbon tied on the end of Janus’ keyring that answers that question, but Janus doesn’t bring it up. He doesn’t have to.

“You know I know you’re not really drunk. Or sad.” Patton turns to look at him, his eyes gentle and frank.

“Yeah?”

“You’re jus’ lookin’ out for me. Like you always do. D’you remember that time I said we should get married when we’re all old an’ stuff?”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak. “Hmm.”

Patton smiles wanly. “I wish we could jus’ do that now. We’d jus’ have each other an’ it wouldn’ matter if no one loves me ‘cause I’ve got you.”

Their faces are inches apart and Janus has never wanted anything more than he wants to kiss Patton right now, to kiss his tears away and tell him he’d never be alone, because Janus wouldn’t let him – but he can’t. For a variety of reasons.

“Go to sleep, Patton.”

  ---

 The fourth time, it comes out of nowhere.

It’s two – three? Some godforsaken hour of the morning and Janus has work tomorrow.

And for some reason, his delightful boyfriend has decided that it is a perfect time to be awake and shuffling around to sit up in bed, and turn his bedside lamp on.

“Janus?” he whispers his name like he thinks it might break in his mouth, and God, Janus loves him, but he needs him to shut up and go to sleep right the hell now. He doesn’t move or open his eyes, lying with his face half buried in his pillow despite feeling Patton’s gaze on his back.

“Janus, sweetie?” he whispers again, “Are you awake?”

“… No. ”

“I’m sleeping. Can’t hear you. Zzzzz…”

Patton huffs out  a soft laugh. “I think we should get married.”

Janus stiffens. What? They’d barely been dating two months, they hadn’t even talked about marriage – at least, since they’d been dating. He had no idea it was on Patton’s mind, how long had he…

And more importantly, why was he bringing it up now?

Apparently taking his stunned silence to be outright rejection, Patton tries to backtrack quickly.

“I know, I know, it’s not been very long and I totally understand if you don’t want to because it’s too soon.” Janus feels a gentle hand rest itself on the blanket right above his shoulder, “I wasn’t really thinking of it either, but I couldn’t sleep just now and I couldn’t stop thinking, you know, about us, and you remember when we were kids, and all that stuff we always joked about, and how even though we’ve not been dating that long we’ve been together basically forever.”

He trails off, giggling self-consciously.

“And then you did something really cute in your sleep, you like, cuddled up to me and it hit me now I don’t think I ever want this to end.”

Janus finally sits up and faces the love of his life, who is looking back at him with a gaze that can only be described as besotted.

“I really love you, Janus. I want to be married to you.”

With a small, knowing smile, Janus leans forward and cups Patton’s face in his hands.

“Patton. Angel. Darling. Light of my life. I love you too.”

“I…”

“…And that is why I categorically refuse to let you propose to me while you’re wearing your Winnie the Pooh pyjamas. Please let me sleep now, and I promise I will say yes no matter how you ask me next.” And with that, Janus places a kiss on the end of his boyfriend’s nose, turns around, and falls asleep.

  ---

 The fifth time is more or less perfect.

Well, he says more or less. Patton is perfect, in a neatly pressed pastel button-down, his curls bouncing in the gentle spring breeze despite all his valiant efforts to tame it.

Janus has made an effort to look his best as well, having had a feeling something special was coming. He hadn’t mentioned it of course, but with the way Patton had been jumping up and down in his seat as he drove them here, the way he had insisted on planning every aspect of this date himself – well.

Suffice to say his future husband had never been the best at keeping secrets.

The location Patton’s picked had certainly been perfect, atop a lush green hill with the kind of majestic cherry blossom tree you only see in romantic movies, pink blossoms practically dripping off its branches as they swayed in the wind, and beautiful rolling hills all around.

What isn’t perfect is when the two of them finally get comfortable on the hilltop, and Janus leaning against the wide tree trunk while Patton gets to unpacking the picnic he’s put together so meticulously, and it starts raining, almost instantaneously.

“I checked the forecast like three times, it was supposed to be clear skies!” Patton whines back in the car once they’ve finished packing up their things and run to safety, watching the light drips of rain get slowly heavier.

“I’m sorry dearest, I suppose the universe just doesn’t want this date to be.” Janus chuckles wryly, as he hands Patton’s dried glasses back to him.

“Eff the universe,” Patton grumbles, glaring adorably at the raindrop speckled windshield.

So, they play old love songs on the car music player and drink champagne and tuck into entirely too cute bite-sized picnic foods and talk and laugh and playfully flirt and point out constellations formed by the raindrops on the glass, and eventually, Patton stops pouting.

The conversation has slowly wound down and they’re quietly enjoying each other's company when he turns to Janus, taking a deep breath.

“God knows I’ve never been able to keep anything from you.”

“Why, whatever could you be talking about, my dearest?”

“…So, this probably isn’t a surprise to you in the least.”

Patton reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a small box. It’s a pale yellow, tied in in blue ribbon.

“You’re my best friend, Janus,” his hands are steady, but his voice is already wavering, “You’ve always been here, my whole life, whether I need someone to help, or to talk to, or even just to cry at. I’ve loved you in so many different ways.”

Janus feels tears pricking at his eyes and blinks them away quickly; he refuses to miss a second of this, he wants the image of Patton’s earnest, loving face to be clear as day in his mind when he looks back on this whenever.

“..And I don’t ever want us to stop loving each other, so, hopefully for the last time ever, will you marry me?”

He laughs breathlessly and takes the box, delicately undoing the ribbon. It’s a cupcake.

A tiny, perfect cupcake with frilly blue icing, a golden ring in the shape of the tiniest coiled snake in the world, embedded in the icing.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks hopefully.

Janus surges forward to kiss his fiancé for the very first time.

Taglist: @ent-is-undecisive @disney-princess-patton

[maxdark158]

OOOH two chapters in one week??? damn even i’m jealous. of myself. though this also isn’t edited so i might read it tomorrow morning and regret life, soooo

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

The large plant in the street wasn’t promising.

Neither was the very loud scream of pain they heard as they arrived to the scene.

Damian might’ve popped some knuckles when he clenched his fists, he wasn’t fully paying attention. What the ever-loving fucking hell in a fuck was Ivy doing? Harley best not be here too or Damian may strangle both of them for coming near his Angel.

Deep fucking breaths I’m going to fucking lose it-

When they arrived, father signaled a quick “to first two follow” plan and he and Grayson went ahead, leaving Damian and Drake on the roof. Damian itched to jump and move forward. The worry was awful, filling his mind with the most unrealistic of thoughts. He tried to correct them, prove them wrong, but they were overwhelming.

What if I check through her window to make sure she’s in there and oka- he didn’t know which room she had and it would take too long.

What if the scream was hers- It was deeper, male sounding.

What if she was crushed under that plant- She wouldn’t be, right? There wasn’t any evidence of someone being under there-

What if she’s hurt? Afraid? Dying?

He heard yelling. Angry yelling, in a male voice. The constricting worry reminded him of every dangerous male villain in Gotham right now. He went through a list of those currently MIA, those who might’ve yelled. It didn’t make sense, no villain sighting was reported aside from Ivy…

But it was possible.

And the possibility made Damian want to puke.

He had to move he had to do something. He jumped down. It hadn’t been enough time yet but he didn’t care. He heard Drake hiss something in warning about Batman’s orders or something Damian didn’t fucking care about, because he had to see for himself. He had to walk in there and he had to make sure she was okay.

Before he could go in, he saw Ivy walk out through the door. What?! he moved to intercept her before seeing the blood going down her leg- What the fucking fuck happened?! Why was she bleeding?

Ivy raised a brow when she saw him. “I got a pass this time, bird. Might want to help them in there.”

The sick feeling returned. He didn’t want to trust a villain, a criminal… but Ivy wasn’t the most horrible.

He eyed the blood, the worried weeds supplying images of his Angel bleeding in the same way. Ivy was not the worst that could happen… His mind went through that handy list of villains again. Many much worse than Ivy.

Damian turned away from Ivy. Father and Grayson shattered the window the plant hadn’t gone through, he made a motion toward it before Drake grabbed his shoulder.

“Let go of me you-“

“If you’re going to disobey Batman, at least let me go with you,” Drake looked exasperated. “You’re focused on your friend, right? Someone needs to watch your ass then.”

Damian glared before prying Drake’s hand off his shoulder. If he wanted to follow, fine. Damian wouldn’t stop him. He went through the broken window and finally entered the hotel.

The vending machine was unplugged and face down on the ground, glass surrounding it. Ivy’s giant plant was in the middle of the room, steam thicker than the pot it previously inhabited and petals as big as the Batmobile’s tires. Other miscellaneous things were strewn across the room, including cut hair near the elevator.

But what had Damian’s heart pounding was the playing cards. Playing cards that were embedded in the walls and the front desk and the floor. Razor sharp playing cards. A certain villain’s playing cards.

Fucking fucking shit fuck bitch ass fuck-

“Father,” Damian’s voice was surprisingly level as he spoke. His eyes landed on the fucking purple suited clown mother fucker himself. “What is Joker doing here?”

Father however seemed to be answering something Grayson must have said, “It appears she was rescuing…”

Ivy was rescuing.

Ivy was helping.

Damian’s eyes scanned the room right as someone else made themselves known.

Marinette!

The air left his lungs. She looked worse for wear, dark circles under her eyes and blood- fucking hell blood on her person. She was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and Damian wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Help her.

He opened his mouth to speak, stepping toward her.

She began to sob.

As if Damian somehow needed to panic even more.

“I’m sorry,” the words were quietly choked out between hics and sobs. “I’m a hor- horrible person and-”

“Hey now,” Grayson took a step closer, trying to comfort her. Damian’s feet were stuck to the floor, the words stuck in his mouth, preventing him from doing the same. “I’m sure you’re not-”

She held up her hands, showing the blood on them. Damian inhaled sharply when he saw the bits of glass embedded into her palm – the green haired fuck hurt her.

“I broke his leg,” she took a big gulp of air. Damian bit back the words and he deserved it. “With a rock. And I threw things at him. A chocolate bar, a cookie, a phone, a lamp, a vending machine-”

“A vending machine?” His father glanced at the vending machine on the ground. Damian didn’t bother trying to decipher his expression, Marinette was turning red and gasping between her sobs. She needed to breathe.

“Miss, please calm down,” Grayson began to step toward her. Damian’s feet finally moved, and he began surging toward her as well.

She fell, nearly hitting her head on the way down. Damian caught her before she could though, barely. Fuck, she needed to breathe like yesterday.

“I’m terrible, horrible, I shouldn’t have done this,” the words used the last of her breath and were only a whisper.

Panic made his throat feel stuck and his voice thick. “Angel,” Damian spoke as calmly as he could. “You need to breathe.”

She didn’t breathe.

oooOOOooo

Usually, lack of sleep was associated with the coffee obsessed Drake, but it seemed Damian’s own mind was determined to show him what it was like to live like a lunatic. He wasn’t able to sleep even when he tried, though he didn’t try that much either. He’s pretty sure he spent an hour staring at his weedkiller order – an order that somehow got lost in Kentucky – wishing it to suddenly appear at the front gate. Then again after coming home, most of the night was a blur.

He rubbed his eyes and let his thoughts wander through the memories of last night. Or, early morning technically.

Marinette looked delicate and broken on the stretcher as she was loaded into the ambulance. Damian had to turn his head away. He saw Drake and Todd looking at him, but he didn’t want their fucking pity.

She’d be fine.

She had to be.

After Angel had passed out, she began to breathe again. She immediately got medical attention for her injuries, riding in a different ambulance than Joker, who also got medical attention at Arkham. Damian wanted nothing more than to skin him alive as he left, but he avoided doing it for the time being. Barely.

“There’s some of Joker’s laughing shit over here, B-man.”

“Have Red Robin neutralize it. We’ll have to check the tapes and see if anyone was affected.”

“Besides the guy who’s body we found behind the desk, I don’t think anyone else got hit. But good call. Red Robin, over here!”

Drake got the security camera feed and Damian saw the entirety of what happened in the hotel lobby. His Angel fought bravely and intelligently, though he couldn’t say he was a fan of the bitch who left her behind.

“Why did she go for the elevator? I’d hate being stuck in there with the Joker. And she let her classmate just fight?”

“Maybe she called for help once she got away. And even if she didn’t, we can’t judge a teenager for panicking in this situation, Tim. Damian’s friend is an anomaly.”

“I don’t know… too bad the cameras don’t have audio, I wonder what she’s saying before they realize that Joker is there.”

“Are you able to read her lips?”

“Golly jee I wish I fucking thought of that! Thanks for reminding me to read her lips on this old and grainy camera footage where you can barely tell her eyes from her nose!”

“Jesus Replacement, no need to bite my head off.”

Damian looked into it,and found that no calls were made to the police until the plant fell through the window. The calls then were about Ivy appearing, deduced by people nearby who saw the plant. That good for nothing bitch left my Angel with the Joker-

“No calls were made by anyone within the hotel. All the calls were made by people on the street or living nearby who saw the plant.”

“Hmm… Odd…”

“…I’m sorry but how the fuck did someone sleep through a giant ass plant breaking the main floor windows? How?!”

“Maybe it’s a French secret.”

He shook his head. After they got all the information, father decided to send the French children back early and pay for it himself. Damian, internally, knew why. He painted a target on Angel’s back, if she didn’t have one before.

“You realize he heard you, right?”

“What do you want, Todd?”

“Fucks’ sake demon spawn, listen to me. Joker heard you call her Angel.”

“…”

“I was already aware of that. I’ve made plans to have the class moved back in Paris. If it gets around, She’ll be an ocean away and more difficult to harm.”

“Alright, B. Was just trying to warn Demon Spawn.”

“Maybe next time he won’t fuck up.”

“Tim, no need to be harsh.”

“It’s vigilante 101, Bruce. Damian’s been doing this for years.”

“Perhaps instead of being berated for a mistake he didn’t intend, you should let Master Damian retire to his room to rest.”

Damian grumbled to himself, trying to push the intrusive awful worrisome thoughts out of his head. The ones that said maybe going back to Paris wouldn’t be enough to protect her. The ones that said Joker would want revenge, the ones that-

The ones that he wasn’t fucking listening to right now thank you very fucking much!

Damian sighed to himself. He needed some sleep. After handling the news, getting the class handled, and looking into everything involving Joker’s break in at the hotel he was told to get to bed as the sun began rising. It hadn’t really worked, as now a few hours later he was debating stealing some of Drake’s coffee to make it through the day.

Because he did have one very important task to do today. He needed to check on his Angel, and say goodbye to her. He had her number of course, and they could text as often as possible for the two of them, but he still needed to see her. See her and apologize for how horrible this trip must’ve turned out for her.

I’m bad luck, being near me ruined her trip.

Damian went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, ignoring that train of thought.

Riddler attacked her when I was there. Joker appeared after I dropped her off. I made her unlucky. I got her hurt.

It’d be easier to ignore that train of thought if it weren’t so fucking loud.

Time felt blurry right now. Probably because he was tired. But soon he was dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses, disguised so he didn’t get mobbed by paparazzi while visiting his Angel in the hotel. He was pulling his shoes on when there was a knock at the door.

“What do you want?” The knocking bounced in his head and made it hurt. Maybe he had a migraine, he wasn’t sure.

“Such a nice way to say good morning Demon Spawn,” Todd strolled in like he fucking owned the place and leaned against the wall next to the door. Damian wondered what it’d be like to have Jon’s laser sight so he could glare at Todd and kill him.

“You didn’t have permission to come in.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to.”

“Tough shit,” Todd rolled his eyes. “…You… alright?”

Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you asking something like that?”

“Your friend got attacked and is leaving the city because of a target on her back. Which, while I did point out that you called her a petname in front of Joker-“

“It isn’t a petname-“

“-It isn’t your fault.”

The words starkly contrasted Damian’s internal beliefs and he had to blink a few moments to make sure what he heard was real. Because what the fuck? Why would Todd try to convince him his fuck up somehow wasn’t his fucking fault!?

“It’s… not my fault that I stupidly revealed a relationship connection to a civilian in front of one of the worst villains this city has suffered?”

“Okay, that was all you, smartass,” Todd sighed. “but the other shit isn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt her, the fucked up clown did. You didn’t put her in danger, her fucking teacher and class did by abandoning her. You’re at fault for your actions, not other people’s, so if you’re blaming yourself then fucking stop. Freckles’d probably get upset if you were using her to hate yourself.”

“What on this planet makes you think I’m doing that?!” Damian’s voice rose in a snap, hypocritically, because he realized as he spoke the words that he… kind of was doing that.

Fucking feelings and fucking worry and fucking weeds in his head were the reason, of course, but he… was… fuck, he’s tired isn’t he?

“I died, Demon Spawn.” Damian raised a brow at Todd, waiting for the halfwit to continue. “Bruce and I… aren’t on the best of terms, but I did realize he… he did that. Where what Joker did was his fault. I’m not happy the fucker is still alive, but that doesn’t mean Bruce was the one who killed me. No that was all Joker.”

“What does that have to do with anything again?” Damian really just wanted Todd out of his room and not talking about things in the past. He totally understood his point and everything, but it wasn’t anything a gallon sized bottle of weedkiller wouldn’t fix.

“Wow, you must be really tired, damn,” the fucker smirked before his expression changed into something less asshole-ish. “I’m saying that if you’re blaming yourself for what the Joker did to Freckles, stop it. The fucker lost a leg and she’s on her way to the hotel from the hospital now.”

Wait.

Wait what?

“Wait what?!” Damian wasn’t even sure which one he was reacting to – the news that Angel was okay or the news that the Joker was permanently damaged.

Angel’s self defense might’ve permanently helped Gotham?!

Okay maybe he knew what he was reacting to.

Todd turned to leave like a fucking dickhead and Damian could hear the smirk in his voice as he walked away. “Check the news for the Joker thing and ask Alfred to take you to Freckles in like an hour.”

Damian was smart enough to realize that not checking out of spite for Todd would only disadvantage himself.

He still only checked a couple minutes later though. After glaring at his phone willing himself to somehow know without checking.

He needing headache pills.

oooOOOooo

The Unnamed Teenager That Defeated The Riddler Cripples Joker!

Just days after beating The Riddler at his own game, the same teenage girl holds off The Joker until Batman arrives!

“We had to amputate him below the knee,” Arkham doctor says. “There was too much glass in the wound, it cut several muscles, tendons, and arties. The shattered bone didn’t help.”

French Teenager Unavailable for Comment.

[Read More]

oooOOOooo

Damian had snuck through the lobby up to his Angel’s room. Some of her classmates were downstairs, but he hadn’t paid much attention to them, not caring at the moment.

The last memory he had of her was the blood on her hands and tears in her eyes before she fell to the floor. He wanted to change that, wanted to maybe even see if he could get her to smile. Though that felt ambitious…

He just… needed to make sure she was okay.

Damian knocked on Marinette’s hotel room door.

[bluehairedtracii]

Hooks and Coins|| Harry Hook x Reader Soulmate AU!

Requested: by @lemonypink

Warnings: Harry being cute 

Pairings: Harry Hook x Swann-Turner! Reader

Author's note: Oh my gosh this took so long! I’m literally so sorry! My motivation for writing has been a little iffy lately. Buuutt I’ve also been binging Criminal Minds soo it kinda gave me a creative push to start writing again. (Spencer Reid fics comin in the future) Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic as I get back into writing again. 

P.S. Melody is Melody from the second little mermaid movie, and I know she's kinda not mentioned again in the fic but just know that this is y/n’s best friend and that’s who she is lmao.  I also thought the Coin would fit well in here because of the movies just sshhhh. Enjoy!!!!

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

"it's soon! I swear!" The night of your 16th birthday, the day your life would change.

The day you get your soulmate tattoo.

"Are you sure??" Melody whines. "I'm positive! Look, it's not even 12:00 on the dot yet- ONE MORE MINUTE!" You look back from the phone on your lap to your right wrist.

"It's twellveeee." Melody cooed.

"Please please please..." You muttered still hopeful.

Then it hit, well stung. "Ow, ow, I feel it!"

"Let me see!" Melody basically climbed on top of you and saw it before you could. She gasped "oh my gosh y/n..." "What? What is it?" You tried to pull back your wrist to see, but Melody kept it steady.

"Y/n, as your best friend, I have to warn you as to what you're about to see...."

"C'mon Mells, it can be that bad." You sighed and tried to pull away from her. 

"You have to PROMISE Me that you won't freak out?"

Annoyed, you sighed and smiled "I promise." "Okay.." she released your hand. You rubbed your wrist and looked at the small tattoo, "A Hook?" "Not just any hook... Penny told me about this." "This is the same hook as the famous Captain Hook himself! It must be his son!"

"Captain? So my soulmate is a Pirate? Like Dad and Mom?" Melody nods almost worried.

"Awesome."

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

"It's late Harry, your sister is gonna kill us if we get caught and wake your dad." Gill rubbed his eyes as he walked towards the galley of the ship.

"I know, but this is where the best lighting is...in a few minutes, I'll get me soulmate...well uh, tattoo I mean." He whispered and unlocked the door, cursing at the squeaky floors.

Harry turned on the lamp nestled on his father's desk. The room lit up illuminating the maps that his father and oldest sister had drawn up while sailing the open seas. He dreamed of nothing more than doing that, sailing and hailing a crew of his own, but for now, he follows Uma’s orders. 

“One more minute Harry.” Gill whispered looking at the tickless clock on the desk.

“Aye, ow! fff-!” Harry cupped his hand and flipped it to see his wrist, he bit back the pain as he saw the black ink form on his wrist. He’d been confused and tried to make it out as it formed. “Bloody hell, this sure is detailed in’it?” Gill loomed over Harry's shoulder, wondering what it was himself, Gill was sure he wasn't ready for his soulmate yet if he had to endure this much pain. 

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled as the pain stopped.

He opened his eyes to see the grim Aztec Coin staring back at him.

“Holy shi-” “Gil do you know what this means?!” “She’s spooky?” “No GIl, you git, She’s a pirate! and she’s a Turner...” He says in awe as he smiles down at his wrist.

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

A few months later both of you seemed to forget. The events of your daily lives getting in the way. You’re training to go off on a sailing trip with your dad for a few months, and Harry is… currently Helping Uma get revenge on Mal by kidnapping Ben. 

But.. you were unaware of this. Obviously. 

Lonnie and you were fencing/sword fighting in the school’s courtyard (for fun) when you saw the boys rushing into the limo. You both caught up to them and questioned them immediately. 

“What’s going on here Jay?” Lonnie snickered full well knowing what’s happening because she overheard it earlier passing their room. “We.. uh..” “we’re going with you..” Lonnie cut the pair off. And this is how you went to the Isle of the Lost for the first time. 

They had told you the plan but left out the part about who they were going to have to deal with if the plan went south. You were nowhere near nervous. All those times you’d trained with Lonnie and your parents at the shop basically were all for this moment. Your pirate self was ready. 

Mal handed over the wand and you cringed a bit. “She’s gonna know it's fake…” you turned to Lonnie and whispered. “Shh I know, get ready..”  you prepped your sword and placed one hand on your lapel while the other was free to toss the swords. 

That’s when everything went south. You and Lonnie sprung into action and helped the others. The sounds of metal clashing mixed with the creaking of the ship and the salty sea air made you happy, it filled you with adrenaline. It felt like you were at home.

2 people fighting you at once, then three, then none, one by one you tossed them overboard.

You were caught in the crossfire between Carlos and some other goons so you ducked under them and sprung onto your feet right into someone else's back. 

You both turned to each other, swords ready, you saw him and you felt that burning in your body. The one that your friends always said happened when you met your soulmate… “Ow!” “Oi!!” Harry lurched back and held his hand. And so did you. 

“You…” he pointed at you “are you…?” you held up your hand and showed your tattoo. He gasped and smiled “I knew I’d see you one day..”  you said in awe. You heard Uma yell for Harry and his smile faltered into a smirk.

“Sorry lass, no ‘ard feelings right?” “Obviously.” You struck your sword first and your swords clashed with each other. “I knew you were good Turner, but not this good.” he laughed as you both turned a corner of the ship. “Thanks! Maybe I can teach you sometime Hook, You seem a bit rusty!” “Oi! My ‘eart Lass.. that one hurt!” 

You snickered and he had caught you by a wood post “awe, our first dance is over now?” your eyes sparkled. He smirked ”Aye if this were different, i’d very much like to get to know you lassy…”  he got closer almost closing the gap in between you two. And his lips brushed yours before you heard Mal and Lonnie yell that it’s time to go. You smiled “sorry Luv, it’s time for me to go!�� you kiss his cheek and push him away into a hole that’s in the ship. “Oi! That’s not fair!”

You were the last one to leave and thought of an idea, you caught up with them and helped Mal to kick off the ramp back to the car. “Find me!” You blew a kiss to Harry and smiled, and so did he. on the inside, of course, he had to be “mad” for Uma’s sake. But right now he was anything but. He just met his Soulmate and she was everything he dreamed of.

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

Almost a year had passed when you had first met Harry. And you constantly think about him every day and so does he. 

He sat at the bow of the ship looking out to the ocean thinking about you. It’s all that he’s been thinking about actually. He’s waiting for the day you can be with each other and in each other's arms. You literally took his breath away, because you kicked him, but he was entranced by your skills and beauty. He dreams about learning with you, meeting your folks, owning a ship, and most importantly.. Sailing away with you to see the world. He was stuck here. 

Though he didn't know that you had convinced Ben (it took a lot of convincing) to let Harry over onto the isle for a while. Your boating trip with your dad had gone so well that you also convinced your dad to let you go alone this time. Your parents knew how a forbidden love felt more than anyone else. The love between the two of them, a humble blacksmith that was the son of a pirate and the daughter of a wealthy governor who found that boy so long ago. They were never supposed to be together in society's standards, but their love was the strongest bond. They granted their blessing to you, they knew you'd be safe. You’re a strong pirate and they want to see you the happiest you can be.

You smiled and looked out the window of the limo as it crossed the bridge. Mal and Evie both came with you so they could help you find him and tell him the news. You guys slip onto the docks while Mal and Evie keep guard on the limo and watch you just in case you need back up. “Ursulas…” you smile and cross through the swinging doors, you found him and you felt the burning feeling in your body again. So did he. “OI!” he dropped the basket of chips he was holding and growled at the mess he made. He was fuming until he locked eyes with you. “My princess has come back to me?” he smiled and walked towards you completely forgetting about the fries as he kicked them to the side. “Hey Hook.” you smiled and felt his hand on your face but he backed away. “Woah Turner you ain't gonna kick me ‘gain right?” “no.” you laughed and you both hugged each other. 

He took the two of you outside “what are ye doin here luv? I mean, you don’ ‘ave to make any excuses to see me, but you came all the way from the other side.” he laughed and pushed back a strand of stray hair behind your ear. You blushed and held one of his hands, but unknowingly played with one of the rings on said hand. He bit his lip smiling at your nervousness. “U-Uhm.” you were surprised by the nerves in your voice, you were never this nervous before. This boy is going to wreck you. “It took major convincing, but I finally convinced my family and Ben to let you come to Auradon with me for a three-month sailing trip…” you smiled and looked at him. His eyes lit up and he lifted you off the ground and spun you around. “Are ye serious?! Of course I'd go with you!”  “Great! We leave…” you check your watch on your left arm. “ In 30 minutes!” “Aye! I need to pack!”  you laughed.

 he backed you into the wall. You smirked, “oi, I've been trying to do this ever since the first time we met.” He closed the gap between you two and the feeling of his soft pillowy lips on yours brought you comfort and warmness. You kissed back and ran your fingers through his dark locks as he tightened his grip around your waist. You never wanted this to end. “25 minutes!” You heard the girls yell and you pulled away and laughed. “I've finally found my Turner..” “And I’ve finally found my Hook..”