#so I’m going to keep pinging you until you agree to meet at the designated meeting time to talk shit abt your classes and play minecraft

[badolmen]

“Sorry for all the pings” as though I’m not the one single handedly keeping the friend group meeting regularly despite adult life schedules across three states.

[moonlitceleste]

Elevator Love (Ch. 1)

A/N: Welcome to my first multi-chaptered fic! This was supposed to be a one-shot but I kept writing and here we are. I’m not super happy with this, so I’m probably going to rewrite it eventually. Staring at my document hasn’t seemed to help so far, so I’m probably gonna take a break on this and work on requests. For now, just sit back and enjoy :D

Marinette gnawed on her lip nervously as her fingers toyed with the ladybug keychain on her white crossbody purse.

Her eyes were glued to the towering Wayne Enterprises building before her. The big “W” atop it seemed to stare her down, issuing a silent challenge for her to walk past its doors.

“You got this, Marinette!”

The heroine smiled weakly at Tikki’s assurance—although she did appreciate the sentiment, Marinette wasn’t quite sure she could agree.

She was not prepared to meet Tim whatsoever.

Sure, they had been friends for nearly two years—but regardless, Marinette couldn’t help but stress.

It had all started when Tim decided to commission MDC for a few pieces, offering a large sum of money in exchange for her efforts. Despite being doubtful of whether or not he was truly who he claimed to be, Marinette accepted the request.

Soon enough, back-and-forth emails progressed to casual texting, which led to an eventual friendship. The two seemed to click naturally, which was evident in their smoothly-flowing conversations.

Tim knew everything there was to know about her (barring her identity, of course), yet they had never met in person.

He was the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and she was a prominent designer that moonlighted as a superhero—finding time to video chat one another was hard enough.

But now that Marinette had finished université, she had nothing tying her down to Paris. 19 was a young age to be done with school, but her life wasn’t exactly normal.

That’s why a few weeks before graduation, Marinette decided to email Bruce Wayne.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; Tim had made an offhand remark about how he wished he could be there for her graduation, and the cogs in Marinette’s brain began to turn. Maybe he couldn’t come to Paris, but she could go to Gotham.

Once her mind was made up, it was only a matter of planning.

It was surprisingly easy to get ahold of Tim’s father; from then on, everything else fell into place.

Perhaps attempting to surprise someone as smart as him went against her better judgement, but it was too late to turn back now.

Marinette’s phone pinged, and she scrambled to press her thumb to its home button. Speak of the devil.

Mr. Wayne

It’s ready.

Tell your name to the receptionist at the front desk, and she’ll give you a lanyard with a pass into Tim’s office as well as a set of directions.

I apologize again for not being there to guide you; unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.

Marinette tucked the gift box she was holding under one arm, freeing her hands to type out a response.

Marinette

Thank you so much for your generosity, M. Wayne!

I really appreciate all your help in planning this, and for allowing me to surprise Tim in the first place.

Despite your busy schedule you’ve gone through so much trouble to help me. I really can’t thank you enough!

Once she pressed send on her last message, Marinette inhaled deeply.

Her hands moved to smooth down the soft fabric of her blush pink dress.

It was an admittedly simple ensemble, but the billowy sleeves and fluttery skirt gave it a delicate flair. Her white strappy sandals, circle purse, and wavy half-up braided hairstyle tied it all together nicely.

Marinette checked herself over one last time to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. She tucked her phone into her purse, grabbed the box containing Tim’s gift, and turned to look at the imposing building with a burst of newfound confidence.

Here we go.

-

“To the right…” Marinette muttered. “Or was it to the left?”

The designer scrunched her nose in confusion, turning around in a circle to better survey the building.

She had already obtained the lanyard and directions, but decided to make a last-minute detour to the bathroom. It shouldn’t have been a problem since Marinette was a few minutes early, but now she was lost. Sure, the place had a fairly open floor plan, but it was enormous! She couldn’t be expected to navigate this.

In hindsight, maybe deciding to deviate from her original schedule had been a mistake.

Marinette sighed and started walking. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, so wandering aimlessly was her only other option.

Well, it wasn’t her only option—she could easily use her Ladybug magic to give herself a push in the right direction, but Tikki would disapprove. Oh, and it was wrong to use her powers for selfish gain. Marinette totally remembered that.

Turns out she didn’t even need to use her Ladybug powers, though; it only took  a few minutes of searching for her to stumble across what she was looking for.

About 10 meters away was a set of elevators lined up against the wall. A glowing “up” arrow was visible on the panel beside a pair of open steel doors.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the sight of the open elevator. She promptly broke into a jog, careful to keep her speed somewhat appropriate for the environment. The doors started to close, and Marinette’s heart raced faster. There was a shadowed figure inside, but due to the angle they likely couldn’t see her.

“Wait!” she called as loudly as she dared.

It was almost funny how similar the experience was to her lycée days.

Marinette pushed the thought to the back of her mind—she would rather not taint her day with memories of that dumpster fire.

She turned her attention back to the elevator, whose doors had retreated. Thankfully, the person inside heard her. Marinette slowed her pace as she covered the last few meters, but was mindful to not walk obnoxiously so.

As she approached her destination, it became increasingly apparent that whoever was inside was remarkably tall.

Ugh, she could practically hear Tim’s jest in her head—are you sure it’s not just because you’re short? He loved to poke fun at her height with short jokes, even though he was only 8 cm taller than her.

Anyways, despite her petite stature, Marinette was sure the person inside would be considered tall by any standards.

She prepared a friendly smile, a “thanks” on the tip of her tongue when they finally came into view.

The first thing she saw was a pair of worn black men’s work boots on what was an admittedly toned body.

Marinette didn’t let her eyes linger on the muscles there, rather opting to trace her gaze from the man’s body up to their face. And wow, was that a gorgeous face.

She wasn’t the type to fall for someone based on appearance alone, but Marinette would be crazy to think this wasn’t the most attractive person she’d ever seen.

He had messy black hair with a pure white streak in the front, tousled to perfection in a way that would make a supermodel jealous. His brilliant green eyes were pools of emerald, richer than any shade she had seen before. Marinette would gladly drown in them.

Speaking of his eyes, he was looking at her with his captivating gaze and mesmerizing face...

Marinette would forever deny swooning at the sight. She would never swoon.

(She totally did.)

Say something! she scolded.

“Uh, than-thank you.”

Oh no. It was the stutter.

Not just a stutter, but the stutter. The one that only appeared when she was nervous and/or talking to hot guys.

Marinette had long outgrown it—or at least, she thought she had—but apparently now it was back with a vengeance.

Her face heated up, and she moved forward to press the button to her designated floor before taking her place some distance away from the man. She turned her head away in embarrassment, hair shielding her face so he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

If she had been looking up, perhaps Marinette would have been prepared for the flood of incoming mass. But she was too busy cursing herself to notice the group of people entering until she felt a nudge on her right side.

Marinette squeaked at the stack of boxes that was suddenly in front of her face and looked up to see a small group of workers entering the elevator, pushing a large platform truck stacked with packages. She shuffled on instinct to make more room.

The cart seemed way too big to fit, especially with the capacity of the elevator. Someone would have to contort themselves, or at the very least they’d be squished up against one another uncomfortably. 

Marinette watched as they pushed the platform truck in all the way. It left the tiniest bit of wiggle room, just enough space for someone to squeeze past.

The designer found herself slowly edging towards her left each time another person wiggled their way past the load.

The elevator wasn’t too crowded, and the process went relatively smoothly—that is, until the last worker attempted to get inside.

He had a build somewhat similar to her Papa: tall and large, so his struggle was understandable. It took a minute of grunts and loud sighs, but he managed to slip past the obstruction and into the elevator.

His large frame, however, meant less space for everyone, and Marinette felt the sudden impact of being shoved.

She couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell out of her mouth as her feet stumbled, and before she knew it her left side was firmly pressed up against someone.

Oh god. It was Hot Guy. Of course it was him.

She pressed her lips together in mortification, arms squeezing Tim’s gift to her chest even tighter.

“Sorry.”

Marinette nearly jumped as the husky voice spoke quietly next to her ear. Her head whipped towards the direction it came from, which wasn’t exactly hard to place. There was only one person on her left side.

She turned her head to face the man with the white streak. She had to crane her neck awkwardly in order to properly see him, which really put into perspective their height difference.

His green eyes were sincere, and Marinette could see the apology in them.

The lack of space wasn’t his fault whatsoever, but it was nice to see someone care about her boundaries.

“U-um, it’s okay.”

Marinette smiled at him shyly, then diverted her eyes away. Her brief burst of courage could only take her so far.

Before she knew it, the ride was over. The elevator stopped with a ding, and coincidentally enough, everyone was headed to the same floor.

Marinette fished out the set of directions Mr. Wayne had written from her purse, skimming over them once more. Her stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of finally meeting her best friend.

She barely noticed the workers pushing out the platform truck or Hot Guy walking away, the outside world long forgotten.

Marinette’s body went on autopilot, following the instructions on the paper until she found herself stopped in front of a sleek door. She didn’t know what it was made of, but she was glad it wasn’t glass like many other things in Wayne Enterprises. That would make her surprise a lot harder to pull off.

Above the key card security system on the left was a name plate, nearly identical to others she had passed on her way here. The name Tim Drake was written in elegant silver cursive letters, the metal gleaming as if it were brand new.

Marinette’s chest tightened in anticipation as she pulled out the lanyard Mr. Wayne had given her. She took a deep breath before knocking twice.

There was a short pause before a familiar voice responded.

“Who is it?”

She scanned her card and opened the door.

“Marinette?!”

-

A/N: For reference, Marinette is 5’3” (160 cm) and Jason is 6’4” (193 cm), so there's a 13" (33 cm) difference. I tried to use French terms and measurements so it'd feel more like Marinette's perspective.

And yea, I'm not super proud of this so I'm probably gonna rewrite it in the future. I have a bunch of other WIPs to work on though, so sorry in advance for my wacky updating schedule!

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

[joontier]

mercedes midnight runs | drabble 

synopsis: ur thirsting over jk driving you around in a mercedes

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: R

genre: smut, angst | warnings: pwp basically (the thirst is real and unquenchable) with lidol angst ; swearing ; degradation ; car sex (pls dont do this while driving fjlaksas)

word count: 2.1k

g/n: this is the first installment for my ‘between the lines’ collection! ackkk ive been wanting to do this for so long because ive always thirsted over the boys driving and imagining jk driving his mercedes around seoul is just,,,,, eye ---- btw, this is heavily unedited nhnghgnhgn i just had to share the thirst with yall real quick 

between the lines navi. |  navi. | m.list

You’ve already planned out a quiet night to yourself tonight to rest and get your mind off of things, but all of a sudden, just as you were about to settle in bed, Jungkook sends you a text, telling you to get ready in half an hour because he’s going to pick you up and take you out somewhere. 

It isn't new news anymore that he’s texting you at this hour because he’s only permitted to go out after his schedules, which usually also end late at night. Superstar problems, can’t relate. 

Well, that and because your relationship with him warrants these types of late night meet-ups. It’s that type of arrangement you’d never thought you’d agree to, but eventually, learned to cope with. Your phone pings - a new message.

[🕺] 12:45AM

im out front

When you exit your apartment, you see an unfamiliar silver car parked in front of the building, you back up the stairs, wary of who might be inside the mysterious vehicle. The window rolls down halfway, and you see Jungkook takes a peek through the small space. 

Going back down the steps, you quickly climb inside the vehicle. “New car?” 

“Yeah, you like it?” 

You hum in agreement, tracing a hand along the sleek design of the dashboard. “It’s very...you,” you remark, in awe at how this new Benz fits Jungkook so well. “C’mere,” Jungkook tugs at your elbow, closing the distance between the two of you. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you.” He presses his lightly chapped lips against yours, nipping gently at your bottom lip. Abruptly, you pull away, worried. 

“Kook...what if someone sees?” 

“I got the windows tinted. I got this car for us.” His words resonate throughout the car, and you're afraid he might hear your heart thudding strongly in your chest. You choose to ignore the implications of his words, focusing on his presence and not your treacherous thoughts. 

You give him a chaste kiss on his cheek in reply, sending a smile in his direction. You hope he doesn't see your real emotions swimming in your eyes. “Where are we escaping off to tonight?”  Internally cringing at your careless choice of words, you take off your hoodie and place it at the backseat, along with your purse, all the while giving him a generous display of your cleavage as a distraction.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I’m having second thoughts now, if we should really leave or not,” he says, unabashedly staring at your chest, eyeing your nipples, pert against the fabric of your low-cut top. “No bra?” 

“You told me you’d be here in twenty minutes, so I had to hurry….” 

“Wearing a bra takes you twenty minutes now?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head at your lame excuse. 

“Yup, especially when all I could think about is having you take them off. So be grateful, because I’m doing you a favor.” You give him a wink, giggling when he huffs and starts the car. You’ve outwitted him once more. Silently, deep within the recesses of your brain, you wish you had the same amount of control you had over your words with your heart, especially when you’re around Jungkook. 

Connecting your phone to the car’s music player via bluetooth, you scroll through your recents and pick on your favorite playlist when you’re with Jungkook. ‘Sexy Can I’ by Ray J and Yung Berg comes first on shuffle. 

“That sounds like a very promising playlist.” 

Your conversation slowly lulls into silence, the two of you seated there quietly as you feel the enhanced bass reverberate throughout the new car. Leaning against the headrest, you glimpse at the man beside you, studying his features. 

Sometimes you find it funny how never in a million years did you even dream of being this close to the Euphoria crooner. If it wasn’t for your cousin Eunkyung - an idol who debuted the same year as Jungkook did, who’s likewise a very good friend of the latter, then you don't think you would even come close to breathing the same air as the global sensation beside you. 

Judging by the movement of Jungkook’s lips, you reckon he’s been speaking to you for the last five minutes, but you definitely have not processed a single word from him, for all you care. You couldn't blame yourself though, and Jungkook is certainly the one who is to take responsibility for your momentary preoccupation.

“You okay babe?” 

“Mhmmhm” 

If you were going to be completely honest, you were far from okay. Besides the many thoughts swirling inside your head, your trusty menstrual cycle tracker app is telling you that you’re bound to welcome your monthly visitor in a week - which means you’re PMSing - which further means you’re only in one certain state of mind - you’re insatiably horny. 

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook is absolutely no help at all. Not when he constantly looks like sex personified - muscular thighs, veiny arms, the whole package. Plus, there’s something about Jungkook behind the wheel that’s ultimately driving you crazy. 

A major part of it is your hormones for sure, but then again, even your hormones are thirsting over Jungkook driving, veiny forearms on display as he grips the wheel, or the way he backs up with only one hand on the steering wheel, or the way he sometimes keep a hand on your thigh as he drives. The formula is clear: Jeon Jungkook will be the cause of your insanity.

Jungkook pulls up the sleeves of his Carhartt sweater, revealing his nearing full-sleeve-tattooed right arm. The sight instantly makes you water, or wetter. Whichever the case may be. 

You hadn’t seen him in a week, busy working on his mixtape, amongst other stuff. And you miss him terribly, sex with him included. As desperate and slutty that sounds, Jungkook is that type of person that leaves you wanting, yearning for more. 

“What’s going on then?” 

“If this is about Eunkyung…you know we already talked about that…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that, Jungkook.” 

“What’s wrong then?” 

You don’t answer, just silently watching the muscles on his forearm ripple as he pulls on the hand brake when you get to an intersection. You gulp, looking away as you push your thighs together, hoping that somehow the friction will help the desire pooling between your legs. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, whose eyes instantly  darken, now all too aware of your state. 

“Tell me what’s wrong baby girl.” 

Your resolve nearly breaks at the pet name, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. The light turns green again, and as he continues to drive, he rests a hand on your exposed thigh, strategically placing it just in the middle, the action gentle, yet enough to add fuel to your frustration. 

His tattooed fingers gingerly trace patterns on your bare thigh. Fuck Jungkook and his thing for skirts. You weren't one to complain about his sexual fantasies though, not when wearing the skirts he buys for you gets you a good fucking afterwards. 

You stay quiet in your seat, not giving the satisfaction that Jungkook gets knowing that he’s getting you all riled up. Two can play at this game. 

Gingerly, you place a hand on top of his, gently guiding his hand north towards your core. The man driving beside you lets out a cough, sitting up straighter. Keeping his hand sliding up until he’s fully cupping your core, Jungkook chokes on thin air as he realizes you’re not wearing panties either. 

“Let me guess, wearing underwear is too mainstream?” 

Shrugging, you spread your legs wider, guiding his fingers to slide against your already glistening folds. A shot of electricity runs through your spine. “Fuck, baby girl, you’ll be the death of me,” Jungkook growls, taking a sharp intake of breath as he teases you, shallowly dipping a digit through your wet cunt. 

“You’re fucking soaked. You seem to enjoy the thought, princess. Christening my car seats like the slut that you are?” He drawls, this time fully pushing a finger in as you get to another stoplight. 

“Jungkook, don’t tease me like that baby.” Biting your lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to spill, your own hand reaches out to grab at Jungkook crotch. He hisses at the sensation. You smirk to yourself. Seems like you’re not the only one who’s greatly affected. 

Encouraged by Jungkook’s reaction, you slip a hand through the waistband of his sweats, taking hold of his already hard cock. “And you’re surprised I don’t wear underwear? Bit rich coming from you now isn’t it?” 

“Better watch your mouth and stop teasing me, baby girl. You might just get punished for that.” 

“And what if I want to get punished?”

Jungkook huffs, pulling out his finger as the light turns orange. He brings his slick-covered finger to your lips, “Suck,” he orders. You oblige, sucking on his slender digit and swirling a tongue around it. 

“You’re in for a fucking treat, naughty girl.” 

It’s green again. With a sigh, Jungkook gets back to driving, this time religiously looking for a discreet place to stop over so he can fuck you properly. He finally finds a filling station, now driving with newly found urgency. 

He parks in one secluded corner of the station, with just a singular parking space separating you from a parked truck, the driver snoring away happily. 

The tension is thick in the air, inevitably making you feel hot even with the air conditioning on full blast. With no words needed to get the message across, you both unbuckle your seatbelts hastily, finding each other in a heated kiss shortly after. 

Making another grab at Jungkook’s dick - outlining against the confines of his Puma sweats, you urge him to pull them down to his thighs so you can have a taste of your alleged ‘treat’. Likewise, he orders you to lift your skirt up, giving him easier access to have you writing on his fingers alone. 

Scooting closer, you bend over the center console, taking Jungkook’s length in your hands. You place a tentative kiss on the tip before diving in, taking his cock inside your mouth. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan at the sensation, taking your hair into his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail on your head. 

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” His head throws back as you take him to the hilt, the tip hitting the back of your throat. At his compliment, you swallow and as you watch Jungkook visibly shudder, you give yourself a mental pat on the back. 

As you continue to bob up and down Jungkook’s length, your hand travels between your legs, fingers easily finding your nether bud. With Jungkook starting to buck his hips upwards, helping you with your task, you quicken the pace of the fingers toying with your clit. You’re so close, but you’re doubtful you’ll even get to orgasm, considering your perched precariously over the console - definitely an uncomfortable position for you to orgasm in. 

Jungkook senses your discomfort and tells you to sit down, and you’ll both do this together. As soon as you get seated, you scoot closer to the middle, when Jungkook’s hand extends to return its attention to your dripping cunt. You give Jungkook’s erection stands tall, likewise calling for attention. Heeding to its silent call, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking his length languidly. 

For a full minute, you both stay like that, trying to get each other to orgasm. Jungkook’s breathing gets labored by the second - the tell-tale signs he’s getting close. As your hand momentarily leaves his dick to massage his balls, his phone blares, startling you both out of your wits. 

Letting out an annoyed huff, he grabs the phone and switches mute button down then thrusting the device somewhere on the dashboard. Pretending as if nothing happened, you continue your handjob until Jungkook can’t take it any longer, pulling you up from your seat and telling you to come and sit on his lap. 

As soon as Jungkook pushes his seat back, you crawl over to his side, unceremoniously sitting on his lap, gyrating your hips as you slide your wet folds against the muscular expanse  of his thigh. You’re almost there, Jungkook taking your breasts in his hands for more stimulation - that is until his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the dashboard. 

“You should probably get that,” you pull away, retreating to your seat: cockblocked for the second time. You check the dashboard for his phone, and get a glimpse of the caller’s ID on his screen. Eunkyung. 

You place the device into Jungkook’s hands yourself. 

“It’s your girlfriend calling.”

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

[jasthelazyelf]

Everything is fine

I think we can all agree that the angelic event made everyone uncomfortable. But weirdly it gave me inspiration to try and write something, making a little twist to the whole event. I am a beginner writer, so please keep that in mind. ^^;

GN MC Word count: 2800-ish Angst-y with a good ending WARNINGS: none that I know of outside of somewhat following the angelic event. Let me know if I should state something.

At first it felt like it was supposed to be like any other student council meeting. No one knew what it was about, the notification having been sent only a few minutes sooner. But Solomon has also been called over. That was rather unusual. After a bit of usual bickering among all the brothers, the door into the room opened and Diavolo entered the room alongside the two angel students.

'Huh, I wonder what this is all about, this doesn’t happen often…‘ MC thought to themself.

„I’m happy that you all could join me here,“ greeted Diavolo everyone in his cheery voice as he always did.

Diavolo took his usual seat above everyone else, looked at Simeon and gave him a little nod. The angel explained the situation with audible excitement in his voice. The angels wanted to host a party for the exchange students and the brothers. They felt like everyone deserved a celebration after their hard work.

The reactions… varied, to say the least. Mammon already had his doubts, but Beel was obviously happy to have the opportunity to eat Celestial food again. MC was looking forward to getting to know the angels better.

Belphie groaned. „What a pain… We don’t have to dress formally, do we?“

Asmo, on the other hand, was extremely excited about this. „I’ve got an idea! While we’re at it, why don’t we all dress up like angels?“

„Asmo, I am not really sure that is a good idea,“ complained MC.

„And that’s precisely why I’m rejecting that idea now,“ agreed Lucifer with MC immediately.

„Aw, come on, it doesn’t have to be anything complex! A pair of cute angel wings would do!“ exclaimed Asmo.

„No,“ entered Diavolo the conversation. „If you’re dressing up, you’re going all out.“

Before anyone could further complain, Diavolo quickly cast a spell and all the brothers’ clothes transformed into magnificent Celestial clothes. MC was shocked how fast everything happened and didn’t really know how to react. Diavolo was obviously in awe, he hasn’t seen the brothers in these clothes for such a long time.

„Wow! You all still look as beautiful as ever! Seeing you all like this sure brings back memories… What do you think of their angel forms, MC?“ Simeon turned to MC with an expectant look in his eyes.

„This… this doesn’t seem right…“ they answered, worried.

„That’s because there’s nothing right about this… I never imagined myself living another day in this form…“ added Lucifer. The only one who didn’t really seem to care was obviously Asmodeus.

„Oh, that’s right, I almost forgot. Michael sent you all presents as thanks for taking such good care of us angels,“ remembered Simeon. For some reason, MC started to feel extremely anxious. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, why would they be forced into opening old wounds? Was there a way to stop this mess? They didn’t want to be seen as rude, though, so they kept quiet.

The presents happened to be small nicely ornamented bangles. Even with their simple design they looked quite fancy.

„Whoa, this is pure gold!“

„And they’re so pretty!“

One by one, each brother put on one of the bangles. Once everyone got theirs on, the air around started to feel a little different and the bangles shone brightly. A cracking sound was heard, and the light of the bangles went out again.

„What just happened?“ wondered MC loudly.

„Well, this is a rare occurrence. It seems that whatever spell Michael put on the bangles reacted to my magic, meaning the spells combined into something new!“ exclaimed Diavolo. If nothing else, he seemed rather excited about how things were unfolding.

„… Meaning?“

„It has some sort of effect now, but we still don’t know what it is.“

Since no one knew what they were dealing with, all the brothers collectively decided to get out of these clothes once and for all. They all found they were unable to. MC furrowed their brows. This situation was getting weirder by the minute.

„Oh, I forgot to mention that the bangles have a special spell cast on them,“ said Simeon somewhat guilty. „The bangle makes the wearer behave in a more… righteous manner, if you will… Your hearts will be overflowing with kindness and purity!“

Lucifer got visibly uneasy by the words of his former brother.

„Why would he do such a thing?“ asked he.

„It’s so our party will be full of elegance and grace!“ cheered Simeon, guilt suddenly completely gone out of his voice. This wasn’t very typical of the angel. This wasn’t the angel MC knew.

„We will need some time to find a way to get rid of the spell, until then, you will have to stay like this,“ explained Diavolo quickly and that seemed to be the end of that conversation. So, MC went home to the House of Lamentation with their new angelic demons squad.

They decided to help the brothers however they could. After processing what just happened, they made the plan to check on Lucifer first. He seemed to be… not that much different at first. He let MC know he didn’t have many happy memories from when he was an angel. And how he felt so much better as a demon. MC could understand him, even if maybe a bit distantly.

Lucifer suddenly grabbed MC by their waist and pulled them harshly to the mattress of his bed. In that same moment something seemed to click in him. As fast as he surprised them by his action, he got slowly up and apologised profusely for what he just did.

‚Okay, that is different, he wouldn’t suddenly pull back like that. Maybe the bangle finally had an effect on him?‘ thought MC. Lucifer advised them to leave the room, he wanted to find a way to break that spell as fast as he could.

As they stepped out, they immediately ran into Satan. He invited them to the library and MC decided to follow him there.

As they made themselves comfortable, Satan described his unease with this situation. The one thing that gave the initial spark to his very being was now… gone. All that wrath he felt all the time has vanished. He was left only with peace. An inner peace, that was so foreign to him, he didn’t know at all how to react now. MC tried to calm him down. And he just stood up, apologized himself and left to his room in embarrassment.

At that same moment MC got a text from Levi to meet him in his room. Already feeling sick but wondering how he was doing, they cautiously opened the door to his room. As soon as they did so, they had him around their neck.

He was so energetic. And his room was completely spotless. MC gulped. This wasn’t their Levi. This wasn’t the adorable otaku who was slowly coming out of his shell. This wasn’t the sweet Levi who always invited them to play games together or binge watch a new anime.

„Levi, this isn’t like you at all! What happened to our resident otaku?“ cried MC out as he handed them one of his most precious Ruri-chan figurines.

„What? Did my whole personality resolve solely on being a shut in otaku? There’s no need for that now! I don’t have to endlessly hide anymore. I can finally properly express my feelings towards you, MC! I love you so much, MC, you’re the best thing I stumbled upon in my entire life!“

MC stared at him, shocked. Tears made their way into his eyes. As much as they wanted him to admit his true feelings toward them, this was not the way they wanted it to happen. This was all too sudden, and Levi wasn’t his true self. They clutched the figurine tightly yet carefully to their chest and ran out of his room to their own as fast as they could. They made sure to place it somewhere safe so that she could return the figurine to him once he was back to his old self.

Their D.D.D. pinged again. They were all supposed to meet in the dining room.

Once they got there, they were met with quite few dishes that looked delicious. Simeon, who was there among the brothers with Solomon and Luke, announced that these were dishes to be given at the party and if it was okay to leave it like that or if there were things to be changed. As Solomon saw MC, he discretely made his way towards them.

„Hey Sol,“ they greeted sorrowfully.

„My, my, this doesn’t feel right, does it? This isn’t the true House of Lamentation without all the bickering…“ Solomon sighed. This conversation made MC ironically feel a little better. At least someone had all their senses together.

„They don’t even realize it…“

„They sure don’t and it’s making me uneasy.“ At the same time, Mammon appeared before the two of them with an excited expectant smile. „Oh, that’s right, Mammon, we’re supposed to go shopping for the party now, aren’t we?“ asked Solomon and already started to make his way towards the door, giving MC one last worried look once Mammon got in front of him.

Everyone went to do their own thing and MC visited Beel in the kitchen. He was happy MC was there with him.

„I’ve got something for you,“ he said as he showed them a plate of what he cooked.

„For me? Let’s share it together!“ they were touched by this gesture. And they wanted to share with him like they always did. Maybe the bangle didn’t have an effect on him after all? It would make sense; he has always been so nice to them.

„No, I want you to have all of this. I realized it’s much better to make stuff for others than just eating everything myself. When I’m hungry, I want to think of other people and make them happy with my food!“ He smiled with that big puppy smile of his.

MC dropped their fork. It affected him after all. And it was clearly making him suffer, making him not eat.

They ran out of the kitchen and went for the attic immediately. They hoped they could hide there until this nightmare of a day was finally over. Only they found Belphie there. Surprisingly awake. And surprisingly active. It looked like he was cleaning the attic on his own.

„Oh, hey MC! Look, doesn’t it look so much better now?“ he asked excitedly. MC stopped in their tracks right by the door to the room and couldn’t believe their eyes. „I am not going to waste another eternity sleeping. There’re so many things to see, so many people to meet, I don’t even know how I could just sleep all of the time! But I finally found my motivation. And I will start by properly spending time with my family.“ He smiled brightly.

MC quickly apologized to him and ran away again. It almost looked like they couldn’t hide anywhere. But they knew who was always good when they were feeling stressed. Yes, Asmo was always willing to spend time with them and making them relaxed by a spa day.

As they entered his room, they saw him standing by the table with all his different beauty products on it. As he heard his door opened, he turned around. Seeing MC, his eyes sparkled up as he sat them on the chair by his table.

„There you are, sweetie! I’ve been waiting for you! Here, this is for you!“ he said as he shoved almost everything into their hands.

„Asmo, what are you doing?“ they could barely fight the tears falling down, but somehow they still managed. Asmodeus didn’t seem to notice the state they were in at all.

„I have no need for these products anymore! I realized that it doesn’t really matter how I look like on the outside!“ explained Asmo.

„… Because it’s what’s on the inside that truly counts,“ added MC. This was Asmodeus, though. The demon who always took extremely good care of himself. Even though it was sometimes hard to see through it, MC knew there was so much more to him than just his looks. Under that seemingly confident face was a fragile soul that needed someone to love him for who he truly was.

And MC loved him for everything he came with. This was unnecessary.

„Exactly. Oh dear, look at your hands! They’re so dry! Wait a moment, I have a cream that will work wonders on your skin type.“ He found the cream and they let him massage it into their hands.

MC couldn’t respond anymore. To not upset Asmodeus, they quickly took all his things, thanked him and hurriedly exited the room. Once they took his stuff to their room, they had one more brother to check up on.

They entered Mammon’s room and saw a lot of boxes full of expensive and valuable things on the floor. They looked up and saw Mammon going down the stairs with another box.

„What is this all about?“ MC asked, practically emotionless by now. The light has gone out of their eyes by now, depression setting deep in their heart. Mammon didn’t seem to notice, though.

„I don’t really need all of this stuff. There are people way less fortunate than us and I want to help them. So, I decided to sell my stuff and donate to the people in the human realm to help those less unfortunate ones. I can’t live anymore knowing I do nothing for them.“

This was finally their breaking point. MC turned on their heels and headed towards their room, head low, tears falling freely before they could hide in their last only place of peace. They decided to wait there until it was time for the party. They decided to take a nap for now, hoping it’d make them feel a bit better.

It did not, but they decided to attend the party anyway. They decided to stick with Solomon and Luke who were standing more on the side of this whole event.

„They’re so nice to each other, it’s making me uncomfortable,“ Luke broke the silence first.

„Yes, it is making me physically sick to look at them like this,“ added Solomon. You were glad there were at least two other people who stayed sane.

Diavolo soon joined them and enthusiastically watched the six demon brothers feast, as Lucifer joined Diavolo a few seconds later.

„It is quite a sight, isn’t it?“ said Lucifer, with a rather sad look on his face.

„Oh, Lucifer? You’re not with them? I take it you managed to break the spell?“ asked Diavolo curiously.

The demon, still stuck in his angel costume, sighed. „Yes, but I still can’t take off these clothes on my own.“ He suddenly smiled sadistically. „Let’s bring them to their old selves, but let’s first watch them for a little bit more.“

Their vision suddenly went blank and they jolted awake. They gasped for air, panicking about what just happened. As they realized where they were, they eventually managed to calm down, realizing it was all just a bad dream. But what a dream it was.

It felt both so real and unreal at the same time, as dreams often do. They looked at their D.D.D. to see what time it was and saw that it was time for breakfast already. Even though it was Saturday, they learned very soon during their stay that even on weekends it was a tradition to eat breakfast together.

MC slipped slowly out of their bed and headed towards the bathroom. They were pleased that the breakfast already smelled in the hallway. Once they splashed some cold water on their face to properly wake up, changed their clothes into something comfortable and brushed their hair, they headed downstairs to eat.

As they entered the room, they saw that the usual chaos ruled the whole room. Mammon and Levi were arguing over Mammon owing him yet more money, Satan was giggling with Belphie while provocatively eyeing Lucifer, Asmodeus was trying to take a selfie with his breakfast and yelling at Beel, who just stole the very good-looking sandwich right out of his plate and Lucifer was just trying to enjoy his morning coffee and newspaper, while his usual headache was slowly settling in.

They couldn’t help but smile as they entered the room and took their usual seat by the table. They sighed in relief. Everything was fine.

[maybeimamuppet]

dance with you

“Jan, calm down, you’ll think of something,” Damian comforts, patting her back gently as Janis lies face-down on her bed and lets out a groan.

“Damian, prom is in a month! And it has to be perfect, it’s our senior year,” Janis huffs into her pillow.

“You’ll think of something perfect. You could... fill her locker with ping pong balls that say ‘prom’ and then when she opens it and they all fall out say ‘I finally got the balls to ask you to prom’?” Damian suggests.

Janis chuckles at that, finally poking her head out. “Is that how Elijah asked you?”

“Maybe,” Damian mumbles. “I thought it would at least make you smile.”

“You got me, then,” Janis says. “Ugh, why is this so hard? I had an easier time with the ACT.”

“Feelings.”

“Gross. I don’t want ‘em anymore,” Janis sighs.

“Just think of stuff she’s into. Like animals or math. You can borrow Pippa if you need to.” Damian says as Janis leans against his shoulder.

“Animals... math... I can probably work with that,” Janis says, a hint of a plan forming in her mind.

“There‘s my Janjan. You go Janjan. Ask the girl you’re already dating to prom,” Damian teases.

“Shut up! You know Caddy loves those tacky promposal things you see on YouTube, I gotta do something dorky,” Janis says. Cady really does love them, she gets so excited every time someone at school gets promposed to, the tackier the better.

“And you’ll think of something perfectly sappy and gross. I have faith.”

“Thanks, D.”

————-

On Monday, Janis uses her study hall period to hunt down Kevin G. Cady is in English on the other side of the building, so unless she goes really out of her way to go to the bathroom there’s no chance of her finding out what Janis is up to.

She finds Kevin in the library, reading what appears to be a math textbook cover to cover. Janis puts on some fake confidence and marches her way up to his table, sliding into the chair across from him.

“Yo, Sarkisian, how ya been?” Kevin asks, closing the book and looking up at her.

“Um... fine. Listen, can you help me with something?” Janis says hastily.

“Depends,” Kevin responds. “What do you need and what do I get out of it?”

“I’m trying to think of a way to ask Caddy to prom, is there any sort of, like, equation or something that would spell out prom if she solved it or something? Something math related I could do?” Janis pleads. She had decided getting animals involved was a little more risky than she was willing to try.

“Oh. Uh, I don’t... actually know about that. I can check with Norbury and get back to you?” Kevin says.

“Sure. Just, would you be able to do it soon? Like, sometime this week? I wanna give her time to get everything prepared, and prom is less than a month away.”

“Sure thing, Sarks. Don’t stress, Africa never shuts up about you. She’ll say yes.”

“Thanks, Kevin. I really appreciate it.” Janis says, relieved.

“Anything for Heron. We’d be a fuckin’ wreck without her.”

—————

On Wednesday, Janis is sitting in art when none other than Kevin comes barreling through the door, making a beeline for her.

“Yo, Picasso, Norbury and I have somethin’ for ya,” He calls.

“Really?” Janis asks, tucking her paintbrush behind her ear.

“Yeah. Um, Norbury got really excited when I told her you were trying to think of a good way to ask Africa and did a lot of research. They have a strange relationship. Anyway. She found this dope series of equations that spells ‘prom’ once it’s graphed. Norbury said you can ask her during Mathletes practice on Friday using it, if you’re into that.” Kevin says.

“Oh, that’s perfect. I’ll talk to Ms. Norbury, I have a free next. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Janis says. “I owe you big time.”

“You wanna design a new logo for my DJ business?” He asks with a slightly creepy wink.

“Sure. Uh, how long do I have?” Janis asks, pulling out her sketchbook to get going.

“As long as you need, I... um. Don’t get many gigs. Also, don’t fuck it up with Heron, please.” Kevin begs.

“I’ll do my best,” Janis says, determined not to.

-

Janis heads to Ms. Norbury’s classroom next, knocking on the doorframe. This is her plan period, so there’s nobody else there.

“Oh, Janis, hello. Kevin told me you might come by,” She says once she looks up.

“Um, yeah. He said you found something I could use to ask Cady to prom?” Janis says nervously. Ms. Norbury is one of the sweetest teachers at their school, but Janis always gets anxious when she talks to adults.

“I do indeed,” Ms. Norbury says, pulling out a sheet of very complicated looking numbers and letters. “This looks like this, once it’s been graphed.” She flips the page over to reveal a graph with what looks like ‘prom ?’ in cursive.

“This is perfect. Can Caddy really solve this kind of stuff?” Janis asks, looking at the equations again.

“She can,” Ms. Norbury confirms. “She’s my MVP, so to speak. If you’d like, we have practice this Friday after school, we can squeeze this in at the end.”

“That would be great,” Janis breathes with relief.

They decide that Janis would drop by on Friday morning to drop off a few supplies, and then show up before Cady in the afternoon. She would hide in the classroom storage closet until Cady solved her graph, and then pop out with prom balloons and some flowers.

It’s just tacky enough for Cady to love, and not quite tacky enough for Janis to hate. It’s perfect.

———

Friday rolls around quicker than Janis is quite ready for. She wakes up two hours early to head to the party store and get the balloons, and then to the convenience store next door to grab a bouquet of pink roses, one of Cady’s favorite flowers.

Ms. Norbury looks rather startled when she comes barreling into the room in a frenzy, but shoots her a wink as she stuffs everything into the closet and dashes back out the door to meet Cady like normal.

She’s just barely gotten her breath back under control when Cady comes bouncing through the doors, auburn curls in a ponytail today. As always, she looks for Janis by her locker, smiling as she spies her and comes up for a hug.

“Hi, Jayjay,” She says, wrapping Janis up tightly.

“Hi Peanut,” Janis says back, kissing her forehead. “Did you take your medicines today?”

“Mmhmm! Did you take yours?” Cady answers. Cady almost always remembers, Janis almost always forgets.

“No,” Janis answers, looking around as she pulls the bottle from her backpack as if she’s committing a felony. She’s not, but they’re technically not allowed to carry their own medications. “Did you have breakfast?”

“No,” Cady mumbles. She struggles sometimes to recognize physical sensations, occasionally forgoing a meal or forgetting to stay hydrated, especially if she’s sucked into an activity or a routine.

“Eat one of your Kälteens, then,” Janis says once her pills are down and the bottle hidden away in her bag again. Cady does, offering one to her too. “Thanks, babe.”

“Are you okay, mpenzi? You look nervous,” Cady says worriedly. Shit.

“Yeah I’m fine, everything’s fine! All good,” Janis says rapidly, shoving a large bite of her bar into her mouth and grinning at her like a chipmunk.

“Okay...” Cady says, clearly not believing her even slightly but also recognizing it’s not something Janis wants to talk about.

The warning bell rings then, Cady pouting as she hugs Janis goodbye. “Bye, Butterfly. Have a good day,” Janis says, pecking her lips gently.

“Bye, Bluejay. I love you,” Cady says, blowing her another kiss as she walks away.

“I love you too!” Janis calls after her. And that makes this afternoon much easier, she thinks to herself.

-

Janis is almost relieved when school finally ends, the nerves having been building inside her as the day went on. Luckily Janis has study hall in the science wing directly above the math wing, allowing her to rush down and get to Ms. Norbury’s room before anyone else. Cady has English on the other side of the building, so she’s commonly the last one to arrive at practice.

She opens the cupboard where she’ll be spending the next hour or so, luckily spotting an outlet so she can charge her phone to keep herself busy. Ms. Norbury agreed to film for her, so she has that covered. She makes sure no light shines out and sits on the ground, peeking under the doorframe as Cady enters, calling a hello to everyone else.

They all mill around and chat for a while before Ms. Norbury enters again with their practice problems for the day. Sometimes they practice competition style and other days they just make sure their problem solving skills are still up to snuff. Today is the latter. Cady greets Ms. Norbury as well, asking about her day and complimenting her blouse.

The boys all sit down first, having been informed of the plan, leaving Cady the seat with the best view of the cabinet Janis is in so she’ll be able to see the reveal right away.

Janis watches her work for a while, having to hold on a chuckle as Cady’s brows furrow in concentration and she taps away furiously on her calculator. She’s so cute. She finishes first, taking the time to double check her work before going to Ms. Norbury for the answer key.

“You finished, Cady?” Ms. Norbury asks, taking her worksheet to check over it.

“Yeah, I’m not sure about number eight though,” Cady says, rubbing her sleeve against her lips nervously.

“You got it correct, Cady. We’ve talked about this. Confidence,” their teacher chides gently. “I have some bonus things for you to work on now, we need to work on graphing practice more. Here you go.”

Janis perks up at that, standing quietly and grabbing hold of her balloons and flowers. There’s just a big enough gap between the door and its frame that she can still peek and see what Cady’s up to.

Cady taps away on her calculator again, plotting all the points down with her pencil carefully. Her brow gets progressively lower with her confusion as she goes, starting to realize something might be up here.

Her head snaps up when she finishes connecting all the points and sees what it spells, Janis taking that as her cue to step out of the closet. That’s a hell of a metaphor, she thinks, bracing herself for Cady’s reaction.

Cady gives an excited gasp when she sees her, scrambling out of her chair and rushing to leap into her arms. Janis drops the balloons and flowers to catch her, glad she had the foresight to go for a balloon weight. “Cady Heron, will you go to prom with me?”

“Of course I will, goofy,” Cady says, sounding a little choked up. “This was perfect.”

“Good,” Janis says, setting her down gently and pressing their lips together. She forgets they’re not alone until the other Mathletes start whistling and cheering, and Ms. Norbury gives an audible coo. They both break apart, blushing violently. “I love you.”

“I love you too. How long were you in there?” Cady asks, pointing to the cupboard as she bends over to pick up the abandoned roses.

“I dunno. About ten minutes before you got here, I think. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

“You hid in a closet for an hour just to ask me to prom?” Cady asks, hugging her tightly again.

“Apparently I did, yes.”

“You’re such a dork, I love you. I’m so excited! We get to match this year,” Cady squeals, bouncing up and down.

“Treat that one right, Africa! She’s committed,” Kevin hollers from behind them.

“Oh, I absolutely will,” Cady purrs, leaning in for another sweet kiss.

————-

Damian insists on taking them both shopping, individually of course, so as not to ruin the reveal. Cady gets to go first, since she didn’t get to pick an outfit for Spring Fling last year. Cady would decide the color scheme, and Damian would pass that information to Janis when it was her turn.

“This is fun!” Cady cheers, lugging him around the mall happily.

“We haven’t even gotten to the store yet, Cads,” Damian says, huffing slightly. For how small she is, Cady moves very quickly. He can’t tell if it’s the autism, the bisexuality, or some leftover instinct from Kenya, but he’s exhausted.

“I know, but I like hanging out with you! You’re fun,” Cady says as she swings their arms back and forth happily.

“Aww. You’re fun too, Cads.” Damian responds, touched. “So, do you have any ideas of what kind of dress you want? Wait, do you even want a dress?”

“I want a dress, yes,” Cady giggles. “I think a suit could be fun, but I didn’t get to wear a dress last year. I think I want a long one? But I don’t like when they have long sleeves, they’re usually lace and it’s too itchy.” She looks at him questioningly, as if asking his approval for her opinions.

“Okay, we can work with that,” Damian says as they enter.

“Whoa,” Cady blurts, immediately slightly overwhelmed by all the colors and big poofy skirts.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” Damian chuckles. “Do you wanna split up and look or stick together?”

“Stick together,” Cady says hastily, pressing closer. “I trust your fashion sense more than my own anyway.”

Damian thinks that’s probably a fair assessment. “Okay, I think your sizes are over here.” He starts flicking through a rack, and she roots through the one next to it. They have to be a bit more particular due to Cady’s sensitivity to certain fabrics, but they get several good options.

“Oh, this is great,” Cady says as Damian hands her a gown. “My cousin had some Broadway star take her shopping for her prom last year and it didn’t go very well. Turns out a future Broadway star is much better.”

“Wait, your cousin had a Broadway actor take her prom shopping? How did she swing that?” Damian asks.

“Oh, her school turned their prom into some big civil rights thing, they wouldn’t let her go since she’s a lesbian and wanted to take her girlfriend. They came down from New York to bring attention to it and stuff, I think. Her name is Emma.” Cady says, grabbing another dress from the rack.

“Emma? Wait, does she live in Indiana?” Damian asks, excitement building.

“Yeah, why?”

“Emma Nolan is your cousin?! Janis and I each watched her video, like, fifty times. We donated to her campaign thing for the inclusive prom,” Damian says.

“Oh, really? That’s so sweet, I’ll tell her. She’d love to meet you guys. I’ve told her a lot about you,” Cady says, now weighed down by a mountain of heavy dresses.

“Oh my god, yes please, she’s such an icon. Anyway, give me these, I can’t even see your face anymore. Let’s go pick your dress!” And with that, the pile is transferred to Damian and they head towards the changing rooms.

The first dress she tries is an amethyst color, and mermaid style. She likes how it looks in the mirror, but it’s so tight around her legs that she almost falls flat on her face when she goes to show it off. Damian catches her and immediately turns her around to go try something else.

The second one is an emerald green, with a shorter skirt and long (but thankfully not itchy) sleeves. She’s more into the length than she thought she would be, and the color suits her. Damian takes a photo so they can compare it to her other options.

The third dress is a beautiful yellow color, and has a sweetheart neckline and thin straps. It reminds her of her costume from Beauty and the Beast. She absolutely loves it, but it turns out to be way too large and her whole chest is pretty much exposed. Oh well.

Her fourth option is a periwinkle two-piece contraption with a very complicated top piece and a long poofy skirt. She likes the color and the way it fits, but the neckline makes her feel like she’s choking and the material of the skirt is very itchy. Damian claps when he sees her in it, though, so she decides to keep it as an option.

The fifth time turns out to be the charm. It’s a royal blue gown, the bodice tight and embroidered with a large flower pattern, and a skirt that flares out at her waist. The  short sleeves hang just off her shoulders, and it makes her feel like a princess. This might be the one.

Damian’s eyes go wide as he spies her coming from behind the curtain, gasping at the beauty of it. “This one this one this one,” he repeats excitedly, clapping his hands in between. “What do you think?”

“I really like it,” Cady says, turning to look at herself in another mirror. “The material is really nice. And the color is so pretty.”

“It makes your eyes pop. And it goes so well with your hair,” Damian says as he comes up behind her, laughing as she starts moving her hips to see how the skirt swishes.

“The swish is good,” Cady giggles. “Do you think Janis will like it?”

“She would love anything you feel good in, you know that,” Damian says. “But yes, I think we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t pass out when she sees you. You look gorgeous, Little Slice.”

“Thank you. Oh, wait, can you take a picture to show my mom? She wanted to come with us but she got stuck with a work thing,” Cady asks. “I think she said someone brought in a sick elephant and they had to decide what to do with it.”

“An eleph- okay, sure. Smile,” He responds, taking her phone and snapping a few photos. “There you go. Wanna go get some boba?”

“Ooh, yes!” Cady squeals.

————-

The week after is Janis’ turn, Damian taking her shopping along with both of their mothers and Juliana. It’s much easier  shopping for suits. There’s less variety, so they don’t have to decide from as many options.

Damian goes first, he and his date Elijah having decided on an emerald color scheme for their outfits. He tries on two options, a slate grey suit with a green button up underneath, and a fully green suit with a black button up.

He looks great in both, but Julie in her typical brutally honest fashion says he looks rather like a tree in the full green one. Janis’ mom whacks her on the back of the head and tells her to be polite, but Damian just laughs and agrees with her, going with the grey ensemble.

Janis’ turn. Damian tells her that Cady’s dress is a royal blue, and that’s all the detail she gets. She grins, trying to imagine what her girlfriend will look like on the night, wondering what style of dress she chose. Janis does love Cady in blue.

Their group wanders aimlessly for a minute until Janis finds a black pantsuit in her size, Damian grabbing a soft blue crew neck t-shirt as an option to go under it, as well as a white button down and cobalt skinny tie as an alternate.

She heads to the changing room, tugging the curtain closed and staring at her pieces for a second. She decides to try the more traditional button down and tie first, fumbling with it for a second before giving up and heading out, asking her mom to tie it for her.

Janis looks in the mirror once her mom loops it around her neck correctly, grinning at what she sees. She looks hot. The thin legs of the pants make her look even taller than she already is. They’re a little long, so she’ll have to get it tailored a bit, but the fit other than that is perfect. The dark blazer accentuates her shoulders, and the length of the sleeves makes her feel like a boss bitch.

She turns around to see what her little crew thinks, finding Julie already in Damian’s lap and wide grins on everyone’s faces.

“You look beautiful, hon. Very sophisticated,” Ms. Hubbard says, her own mom sneakily wiping a tear away and nodding in agreement.

“Go see what you look like with the t-shirt instead,” her sister demands. She does, heading back to change before pulling the blazer back on. She looks in the mirror again. The t-shirt is a little less formal, but she still looks very dapper.

“Which do you like better, baby girl?” Her mom asks. She has to think for a moment. The shirt allows her to match more with Cady, and is more comfortable. But if she wore a tie, Cady could use it to pull her into kisses, which she’s always wanted to do.

She decides they’ll be doing plenty of kissing anyway, and goes with what she feels more comfortable in. “I like this. I think once I have my accessories and makeup on and stuff it’ll still be fancy enough.”

“I think so too,” Damian says, removing her sister from his lap to stand. He heads to change back into his so their moms can take pictures of them together.

Janis’ phone pings right as she’s about to hand it over for a photo. She pulls it back to check, grinning a little when she sees a message from Cady.

Caddy Cakes: Hi lovey!!!! 🥰📷 Did you pick an outfit yet??

Jellybean: hi baby

Jellybean: i just picked my suit, no you can’t see it yet

Caddy Cakes: D:

Caddy Cakes: Just kidding, I know. I have a request

Jellybean: 🤨

Caddy Cakes: Can I see you in heels????? Pleeeeeeaase?? Just for prom night and then I’ll never make you wear them again 🥺🥺

Caddy Cakes: Sent a picture: Pwease?

Jellybean: you gotta stop doing the puppy eyes

Jellybean: fine. i’ll talk to damian

Caddy Cakes: Oh yay!!! Ok I’ll let you go now. I love you!!!!! Mwah!

Jellybean: i love you too baby 📷📷

She clicks her phone off and stares at it for a second, realizing what she’s just gotten herself into.

“What happened?” Damian asks, concerned something is seriously wrong.

“Caddy wants me to wear heels,” Janis whines as she buries her face in his blazer.

“You are so fucking whipped,” Damian teases. “We’ll find something.”

Their moms finally finish taking photos and they head to the shoe store, Janis looking longingly at the flat men’s dress shoes Damian chooses from. Once his are picked, they head over to the high heels. Janis stares incredulously at the height of some of them, very glad she escaped the Plastics before the heels got this high.

Juliana suddenly comes running at her holding a box, nearly tripping over her own feet and falling on her face until Janis reaches out to steady her. Julie shoves the box at her, Janis taking it curiously and looking to see what her sister has found.

She pulls back the tissue paper to find a pair of stiletto heels (which concerns her, thin heels are not a good way to introduce yourself to them), about four or five inches high and the same royal blue as their color scheme.

“These are huge, Jules,” Janis says incredulously. “Pretty, but... damn.”

“They’re the only ones that match,” Juliana pants, still out of breath from dashing around the store. “I checked everywhere.”

Janis looks at them again. Maybe if she practiced wearing them she could do it. “I’ll try them. You gotta help me, though, or I’m gonna fall on my ass.”

Juliana giggles at that but nods as Janis heads over to a bench to sit, tugging off her comfortable boots. She immediately regrets agreeing to this, but does kind of understand the appeal once she stands up for the first time.

With the height of the heel she’s roughly six and a half feet tall and feeling like she can grind the patriarchy to a pulp under her foot. Of course, it all flies out the window when she tries to take a step, since her entire gait has to shift.

Julie grabs her hands to steady her, guiding her slowly down the aisle like she’s teaching a baby how to walk. Unfortunately, Damian and their mothers come back at this point, all of them immediately bursting out laughing at the sight.

“Oh, baby girl, you’ll have to practice,” her mom giggles.

“Those shoes are perfect, though,” Damian says excitedly.

“I picked ‘em!” Juliana says proudly.

Damian looks impressed. “Nice, squirt. You have a knack for that.” Juliana beams proudly as Janis messes up her hair, immediately losing her balance.

“Who fucking invented these,” she grumbles crankily under her breath.

“Language, Janny,” her mom chides warningly, despite knowing she swears all the time.

Janis looks sheepish, turning away. “Sorry Mama.”

“Alright, let’s go get you kids fed and head home,” Ms. Hubbard says.

“God, yes please,” Janis breathes, yanking the shoes off her feet and stuffing them

back in the box.

————-

The day before the dance, Cady insists on all three art freaks (plus Juliana, who had her own middle school dance on the same night) going to the spa together.

It’s a lovely place, very clean and bright. Janis decides to get her nails all painted the same royal blue shade to match their outfits, Cady gets a glittery silver, and Juliana gets a purple to match the dress she had picked. Damian felt left out and decides to get his painted green.

Since they’re not getting any kind of fancy processes done, they’re all led back to sit next to one another in massage chairs to wait for their nail technicians. The hostess offers them a drink of their choice, Damian and Julie choose a cola, Cady gets water and Janis asks for a Sprite.

While they wait for their drinks, their nail techs come to get to work on them. It turns out that part of the package is hot stone massages on their legs, and warm lotion massages on their arms while they get their nails painted. Janis nearly falls asleep in her chair, lulled by the soothing warmth of the lotion and the repetitive motion of the chair.

She’s startled back awake by the lady returning with their drinks, learning that they had run out of Sprite and offered a Mountain Dew instead. She says it’s fine and takes it, finding the contrast of the drink and the sensations she’s experiencing very funny.

Once their nails are all painted, they’re led over to a drying station in the middle of the room, sitting on benches and sticking their hands and feet under fans to blow their nails dry. Cady leans her head on Janis’ shoulder while they wait, Janis kissing her hair and pressing her cheek against the top of her head.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” Cady whispers. “I’m so excited.”

“I can’t wait either, Peanut. You’re going to look so beautiful,” Janis responds softly, pulling her into a sweet kiss once her nails are finished and safe to use again.

Cady looks sad to see Janis go once they have to pay and leave, but cheers up a bit when she’s reminded that they get to spend the whole night together tomorrow.

————

On the day, Janis’ mom helps her get ready. The dance doesn’t start until nine, but she and Cady are going out to dinner with Damian and Elijah first, so she has to be ready early.

She’s lucky that her mom appreciates her style. She applies some natural looking makeup around her eyes, which is a bit different than Janis normally does, but she does have to admit it’s a nice look. She’s surprised when her mom gets to the lips, pulling out a blue lipstick, so dark it’s almost black. It’s perfect.

Janis thinks she looks sort of like a model when she looks in the mirror as her mom starts working on her hair.

“I’ve missed doing this for you,” her mom says as she starts brushing out her hair.

“You can anytime, Mama. I hate doing it,” Janis huffs.

“You always did, baby girl, you always did,” her mother replies. Once she finishes brushing it, she applies a few products to get her natural wave back into it, and then starts slicking it to the side with some gel. Once it’s finished, all her hair is resting over her shoulder. It’s a very elegant look. “There.”

“Mama, are you crying?” Janis asks, turning around to hug her.

“No,” her mom sniffs. “Yes. You’ve just... grown into such a beautiful young lady. Feels like the years have gotten away from me. Won’t be too much longer before I’m doing this on your wedding day.”

Janis laughs at that. “You’ve got a while, I’m nowhere near ready to be married yet. I love you.”

Her mom squeezes her, brushing a hand against her cheek as she lets her go. “I love you too, baby girl. Go put your suit on, I’ve got to help your sister now.”

-

Janis heads to her room, tugging on her now perfectly tailored suit pants, then her royal blue t-shirt, her blazer, and necklaces. She decides to forgo the shoes for as long as she can, leaving them resting on her bed. She slides her fanciest rings on as a finishing touch and heads to look at herself in the mirror.

It’s strange. She’s wearing a suit, but she looks more feminine than she has in a long time. Even in comparison to her suit from last year’s Spring Fling where she wore a skirt, it’s a more feminine look. She decides she’s into it. She looks good.

-

She heads downstairs right as Damian and his date pull up outside. Juliana goes rushing up to hug him, looking beautiful in her lavender dress. Janis is glad her sister and best friend get along so well.

“Looking good, guys,” she says as her sister finally releases him. Elijah wound up choosing the option Damian didn’t, looking quite handsome in his green ensemble. He’s shorter than Damian, so he looks less like a tree.

“So do you! You look so good, Jan,” Damian says, pulling her into a gentle hug so he doesn’t mess anything up.

“Thanks,” Janis says shyly, spinning around to show off with her shoes still in her hand. “When’s Caddy coming? I wanna see her.”

“She texted me and said she’s gonna be a couple minutes late, she shouldn’t be too much longer,” Damian responds, checking the time on his phone. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

Cady’s parents pull up then, Cady’s door opening before the car even comes to a complete stop. Janis gasps when she sees her girlfriend in her dress for the first time.

Before she even has time to fully process it, her jaw hanging open, her girlfriend is in her arms, hugging her tightly. “Janis, oh my god! You look incredible!”

“So do you,” Janis says, pulling back for a second to see her. “You look like a princess.”

Cady really does, her long auburn hair has been braided into a thick crown around her head, the remaining strands tied in a bun on top of her head and two little pieces hanging out to frame her face. Her makeup is heavy around her eyes, silver shadow on her lids and eyelashes dark. She looks very ethereal. Her lipstick is more natural, and Janis likes that she can still see her freckles through her face makeup.

“You look so hot! Very, um, sexy businesswoman going to a fancy thing,” Cady says, reaching out to feel her blazer. Janis realizes when she doesn’t have to reach as far that their height balance is off, thrown by Cady’s shoes.

“Thanks,” Janis laughs. “I think.”

“Put your shoes on, I wanna see,” Cady demands, pointing to the heels Janis is still holding in her hand.

“Fine,” Janis pouts as she rests them

on the ground and steps into them carefully. Cady reaches out to steady her at first before letting go once she’s more stable. Janis has been wearing them around the house all month to get used to them.

“Jesus, you’re tall,” Cady giggles, looking up at her. “Oh, wait, I have your-um. Thingy.”

“Boutonnière, baby. Thank you,” Janis laughs as Cady tenderly pins it on. “Here’s your corsage.”

“Why thank you,” Cady says as Janis slides it on her wrist and kisses her knuckles. “Now come on, we gotta take pictures. I want to kiss you but I can’t mess up your makeup until those are done.”

“Okay, Peanut, let’s go,” Janis chuckles, taking her hand and stumbling slightly as she heads over to Damian, Elijah, and their parents.

They take every cliché prom photo in the book, all awkward poses and cheesy smiles. Janis nearly breaks her ankle trying to do their jump shot in those shoes, but Cady somehow does and lands it perfectly, reaching out to steady Janis with a chuckle.

They take one more jokey shot of each other with the wrong dates, Cady with Damian and Janis with Elijah looking at each other confusedly before switching back to who they’re meant to be with.

“Alright, you crazy kids, get out of here,” Damian’s mom demands, shoving them towards their Uber that had pulled up. None of them were into the idea of renting a limo, but none of them wanted to drive either.

“Be safe!” Janis’ mom adds.

“Make good choices!” Cady’s mom pipes up. Her dad and Cady both roll their eyes lovingly.

————-

As they pull up to the restaurant, everyone clambers out quickly. Damian and Elijah head in first, Janis and Cady following hand in hand a few paces behind them. Just before they reach the doors, Cady tugs on Janis’ hand, hauling her backwards.

“Wha- oh, okay,” Janis stutters, gasping as Cady looks around quickly before fisting a hand in her t-shirt and pulling her down for a hot mess of a kiss. Turns out the shirt works just fine. Janis kisses her back just as hard, wrapping her arms around Cady’s waist to pull her closer.

When they finally break apart, their lipsticks have fully blended together. “Glad we made it to the dance before we ruined our makeup,” Cady chuckles breathlessly, pulling two makeup wipes out of her clutch to get rid of the evidence. Damian looks at them knowingly when they walk in several minutes late suddenly missing lipstick, but neither of them care.

-

It’s a fancy restaurant, and their table is next to a water feature. Janis immediately sticks her hand in it, causing water to splash everywhere for a second until she pulls it out.

“Janis, what? Why did you do that?” Cady asks in exasperation as she grabs a napkin from their table to dry Janis’ hand.

Janis looks down sheepishly. “I wanted to see if it was real.”

“Well now you know,” Cady says, dabbing at the splash marks on her suit and wondering how a fountain could be fake. “And I’m sitting next to that. You get the outside.”

“Sorry, Caddy.”

“Don’t be sorry, my love. I just worry about your regard for social norms and sense of self preservation sometimes.” Cady comforts, kissing her cheek gently to cheer her up.

“Oh, speaking of which, I got a great idea for senior pranks,” Janis says excitedly. Damian and Elijah both lean in across the table, as if they’re plotting something for the mafia. “I’m gonna get a cow and stick it on the second floor, and then put chickens in the elevator. Cows don’t go down stairs, so they’ll try to put it in the elevator and find the chickens.”

“Where are you going to get any of these things?” Elijah asks. It’s a fair question.

“My mom knows a guy, one of her old classmates is a farmer and he said I could borrow some of his livestock,” Janis explains.

“I- wh-“ Cady stutters, trying to find a response to this. “If you get expelled before you can graduate I’m not gonna help you.” Her own plan was just to stick a bunch of plastic forks in the football field. Gretchen and Karen had already agreed to help, too.

“I won’t get caught. It’ll be fine,” Janis says, sounding as if she already knows it won’t.

“That’s actually kind of genius, Jan,” Damian says. “I’m gonna put a speaker in the gym playing the chorus to It’s a Small World on repeat and then put a bunch of cups full of water in the way of it.”

“Nice!” Janis cheers, high-fiving him.

“You guys,” Cady pleads, looking as if she’s witnessing a murder plot. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

“That’s the fun of it, Peanut! The risk,” Janis says boldly. “Plus, Regina knows how to hack the security cameras so there won’t be any proof. Unless someone rats me out.”

Cady thinks she might, just to save herself the headache. She feels as if she’s gotten a very telling taste of her future. “Jesus Christ.”

Cady and Elijah make exhausted eye contact periodically throughout their meal, exasperated with their respective partners. Once they finally finish eating, Cady has to haul Janis away from the fountain by the tail of her blazer to stop her from reaching into it again.

“Come on, Jayjay. No fountain or I’m revoking your little spoon rights for a week.”

“Fine.”

————-

A few minutes after nine, their group strolls into the school. Janis and Cady head to the bathroom to reapply their respective lipsticks before going into the main dance.

Janis stops Cady before she can put hers back on, pressing her against the wall gently and kissing her soundly again. Cady grips the fabric of her blazer at her waist, having to restrain herself from messing up Janis’ hair.

Janis checks under the doors to make sure they’re alone before coming back, pulling Cady flush against her and sucking on her lower lip. Cady groans softly, making Janis want to fast forward through the dance and take her home.

Cady gives her one last good smooch before pulling back, both of them panting slightly. “We should go in,” She breathes, ghosting the words over Janis’ lips. “We have time for this later, we only get one senior prom.”

“Fine,” Janis pouts, kissing her gently one more time before heading to a mirror to finally put her lipstick back on.

They head hand in hand into the gym, looking around at how it’s been transformed. The theme this year is a Night Under the Stars, so they’re surrounded by dark balloons, gold decorations, and glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling. Janis is reminded of Cady’s speech from last year’s dance. Maybe that served as the inspiration.

“Whoa,” Cady says excitedly. The school puts much more funding into prom than Spring Fling, since it’s supposed to be a kind of final memory for the seniors. It actually looks quite nice. “I’m gonna go say hi to Regina and Gretchen and Karen really quick, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, Butterfly. I want punch, I’ll be over there.” Janis kisses her quickly and sends her on her way.

She people-watches as she sips slowly from her cup, wanting to get as much punch as she can before someone inevitably spikes it. Damian and Elijah have already been lost to the mob of dancers, but she can spy them just across the way. Regina looks strangely nervous in her baby pink dress. She’s been wary of large crowds since the bus incident. Gretchen and Karen look adorable as ever together, in royal purple dresses that are slightly different styles.

Janis is working on her third cup of punch when the DJ announces a request for Born This Way by Lady Gaga. She and Damian lock eyes from across the room, nodding slightly. Damian sometimes choreographs dances to his favorite songs, and almost always drags Janis into learning them. They both have backgrounds in dance, and can do them quite well. Janis figures they might as well go out with a bang.

They meet in the middle of the floor and start their routine. Damian is a talented choreographer, having spent hours studying for his various shows. The routine is actually very well put together.

People gradually start realizing what’s happening and stop dancing themselves, surrounding them to watch and cheer them on. It’s a nice feeling, if a bit strange for them. She spots Cady with the former Plastics watching her excitedly, and shoots her a cheeky wink before continuing her moves.

When the song finally ends, they pause in their ending pose for a split second before standing and blushing scarlet. Everyone claps for a short while, looking rather stunned as they head back to their friends. “Well damn,” the DJ says into his microphone. “Did not expect that. Uh, here’s the Macarena.”

Cady wraps Janis in a tight hug once she finally reaches her, yelling, “Janis, what the hell?! I had no idea you could dance like that, that was incredible!”

“Thanks,” Janis pants. “I’ll teach you sometime.”

“I’m such a klutz, good look with that,” Cady giggles. “You need more to drink, you must be exhausted.”

She leads Janis over to the table, pouring them both one more glass of punch. “We should go see who the prom court is, too.”

Prom court worked a bit differently than Spring Fling, in that it was a secret until the night of the dance. Student council made nominations, which allowed some of the less popular students to make the ballot, and then whoever attended the event got to vote.

“There’s two winners of each this year? That’s different,” Janis mumbles on seeing the sign at the voting table.

“Regina said it’s because there’s a lot more LGBT+ couples that are out and coming to events together now, and should both be able to win. They’re doing it from now on,” Cady says. “And look at who’s on the ballot.”

Janis does, surprised to see her own name listed, along with Cady’s and the three former Plastics. “I’m an option?”

“You are,” Cady chuckles. “And Damian is up for Prom King, too.” Sure enough, Damian and Elijah are both listed along with all the Mathletes.

Janis is stunned. It doesn’t make up for the years of torment they faced at the hands of these kids, and she doesn’t think for a second that she’s going to win, but it’s a nice gesture at least. A start.

They’re each allowed to vote for two people for each category. Janis votes Cady and Karen for queen and Damian and Elijah for king. Cady votes Janis and Gretchen as queen and also votes Damian and Elijah as king.

Once they slip their papers into the boxes, the DJ announces a slow song. “May I have this dance?” Janis asks in a suave voice, reaching out a hand for her girlfriend.

“You may,” Cady giggles, taking her hand and following her onto the dance floor. Janis kisses Cady’s knuckles gently before letting go to hold her by the waist, Cady grinning up at her as she holds onto Janis’ neck.

“I love you,” Janis murmurs as they start swaying softly to the rhythm of the song. Cady pushes up briefly to brush their lips together.

“I love you too,” she whispers when she pulls away again. “I’m so glad we got this night together.”

“I am too. We’ve come so far in a year, it’s crazy,” Janis responds.

“Crazy indeed,” Cady chuckles. “I’m so lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Janis says, surprising Cady by dipping her. She squeals and clings tighter to her neck, but giggles when Janis kisses her quickly and pulls her back up.

“You’re so smooth,” Cady teases as the song ends.

“Thanks,” Janis responds as she kisses her again. “God, my feet are killing me.”

“Take your shoes off then, Jellybean. The ticket lady will hold them for you,” Cady says. “Mine kind of hurt too, we can just walk around barefoot.”

They both sit on the bleachers to take their heels off, breathing a sigh of relief once they’re back to their normal height. Now that they’re free, they meet back up with Damian and Elijah, letting loose and dancing crazily to the loud music, jumping up and down as they laugh. It’s freeing, dancing like nobody’s watching in a room packed with people.

After several songs, the DJ announces that it’s time to reveal the winners of prom king and queen. All the nominees head up on stage next to him, Janis and Cady holding hands as they make their way up.

They announce the kings first. “Your nominees for prom king are: Damian Hubbard, Elijah French, Kevin Gnapoor, Marwan Jitla, and Tyler Kimble!” The DJ calls dramatically. “And your kings for tonight are... Damian and Elijah!”

Janis and Cady both cheer happily as their friends receive their crowns, clapping for them excitedly.

“Moving to your nominees for prom queen! Caddy Heron, Janis Sarkisian, Regina George, Gretchen Wieners, and Karen Smith!” Cady pouts a little at the mispronunciation of her name. “And your prom queens tonight are... Caddy and Janis!”

Janis blinks rapidly, stunned. They’re handed the tiaras to put on each other, Cady having to pop up on her tippy toes to reach that high. Janis places the crown tenderly on Cady’s head, sliding it in place around her updo. Cady bravely decides to pull her down into a brief, sweet kiss. A few people clap for them then, which is nice.

They’re led off stage after that, Janis still in shock. How the hell did I win? These people all hated me. If Cady finds out later that Regina had threatened everyone into voting for them, she’d take that secret to her grave.

-

They decide to stick around for one more slow song, this time with Cady leading. Janis leans down and presses their foreheads together, looking into Cady’s clear blue eyes happily.

Cady tries to dip her, too, nearly dropping her on the ground until Janis barely manages to pull herself back up at the last second. Cady looks very sheepish, until Janis kisses her cheek gently to make her smile.

“Can we go home?” Cady asks quietly once the song is finished, pressing close to Janis. “I feel buzzy.”

‘Buzzy’ is how Cady had taken to describing the feeling of being overstimulated. She surprisingly isn’t feeling too overloaded, given the amount of noise and the lights, but knows it will get to be too much for her soon.

“Of course, baby. Go get our stuff, I’ll go tell Damian,” Janis answers, kissing her sweetly and pushing her towards the door.

She heads to fetch Damian, who is deep in conversation with Elijah. She doesn’t want to interrupt, but he spies her lurking and waves her over. “Caddy and I are going home, she’s tired.”

“Okay, I’ll come say bye,” Damian says, kissing Elijah on the cheek and standing to follow her. Janis leads him over to where Cady is waiting with her bag and both pairs of their shoes.

“Bye, little slice,” Damian says, wrapping her in a hug. “See you later.”

“Bye, Dame,” Cady responds, leaning into his embrace as best she can. Damian heads back to his date then, Janis leading Cady by the arm out the doors gently. She taps into her phone to order their Uber home before sitting down on a bench and pulling Cady into her lap.

“Did you have fun, Peanut?” She asks, kissing Cady’s forehead as she squeezes her tightly to help with the sensory overload. Cady nods against her shoulder, too overwhelmed to speak unless she absolutely has to. “Good.”

It’s a cold night for springtime, and Janis notices Cady start shivering slightly in her embrace. She pulls away for a second to tug off her blazer, wrapping it gently around her girlfriend and pulling her back in. Cady kisses her jaw a few times in thanks.

————

Once they get back to Janis’ house, Cady leads Janis quickly up towards her bedroom, desperate to get out of her now heavy and uncomfortable gown. Janis hands her some makeup wipes as she pulls out Cady’s emergency sleepover pjs from her dresser, as well as some shorts and a sweatshirt for herself.

Cady takes the pjs once all her itchy makeup has been removed, but tugs gently on the hem of Janis’ sweatshirt, silently asking for one too. Janis goes to fetch another one, kissing her cheek as Cady heads to get changed.

Cady is scratching at her head when she returns, trying to relieve some of the ache caused by her hairstyle. “Help?” She asks quietly, barely above a whisper. Talking takes energy she doesn’t have to spare at the moment.

Janis nods, gesturing for her to sit between her legs as she removes the crown, starting to unravel the mess of pins and ties holding up her hair. Cady breathes a sigh of relief once her long curls are flowing down her back again, and her eyes flutter shut as Janis starts stroking a brush through them gently to remove any excess product.

Once she’s finished, Cady ties her hair up loosely so it’s not in her face before turning to face Janis. “Now you.”

Janis switches spots with her, taking a wipe to take off her own makeup as Cady starts gently brushing the gel and hairspray out. They’d still have to shower tomorrow, but that can wait. They’re both exhausted.

Once Janis’ hair is sufficiently soft, Cady lies down and pulls Janis to lie on top of her. Janis was worried about squishing her the first few times, since Cady is so much smaller, but Cady had explained that the pressure didn’t hurt and actually was very helpful when she was upset.

Janis tugs the duvet over them gently, kissing Cady goodnight before tucking her face into her shoulder and closing her eyes.

“I love you.” Cady mutters quietly, rubbing Janis’ back.

“I love you too, baby. Sweet dreams.” Janis says back, popping an eye open to look at the two tiaras resting on her nightstand. She grins happily before shutting her eyes once more and drifting off to dreamland.

Tonight belonged to us.

-

hope you enjoyed! if you want to check it out, I put some images of their outfits and such in this chapter of my work on wattled (titled cadnis oneshots so I can get some f*cking sleep). I'm sorry I didn't put them here, but I frankly do not have the energy.

requests are still open! please leave them either here, on my wattpad, or on my ao3. I've been getting a fair few recently (thank you all!) so it may take a few weeks for yours to be published, but I am doing my damndest to crank these out and will get to everyone's eventually.

thanks for reading!

lots of love,

ezzy

[ilovemygaydad]

title: a craigslist love story

summary: patton needs a fake date to his brother’s wedding, so he enlists the help of a stranger

pairing: moceit

warnings: snake mention, kissing, homophobic parents, remus mention, and possibly something else

consider commissioning me! 

Patton Sanders wasn’t one to lie. Like, at all. However, some situations just called for it. One such situation was his brother’s wedding, where he knew that his homophobic parents were going to ask where his date was since apparently all gay people had to prove their gayness.

Naturally, Patton asked all of his friends that his parents didn’t know to be his date to the wedding, but none of them were willing to help him out on this one. So he turned to craigslist to find a date.

Fake Date Needed For Wedding (18+)

Hi! My name is Patton (21), and I’m looking for a male date to my brother’s wedding on May 28. If you are willing to come, I will pay you $20, and there will be free food! Please email me if interested!

Patton waited... and waited... and waited. Until it was only a week before the wedding, and he still didn’t have anyone willing to go. He was about to give up and delete his post when his inbox pinged, and a new email showed up.

From: Janus Thompson (j.thompson72@gmail.com)

Subject: Fake Date

Dear Patton,

My name is Janus. I am also twenty-one years old, and wanted to help you with your date. I can only assume that you are desperate since you went to craigslist of all places to find a fake date, and I would hate for you to have to go to the wedding alone. I would be free to talk on May 25 if you would like to get to know each other.

- Janus Thompson

A grateful squeal rose up in Patton’s throat as he read through the message, glad that he wouldn’t have to endure his parent’s disapproving glances alone. He wrote back a short email confirming the time and location of the meet-up. After he was done, he went about his day like he normally would but with a little more pep in his step.

---

Patton stepped into his local Starbucks at two o’clock dull, ready to find his fake date. The shop was rather packed, which was a bit surprising, but he supposed that people needed to get their coffee fix from somewhere. He ordered his usual drink and looked around the coffee shop for anyone sitting alone. After about a minute of searching, he locked eyes with a very handsome man with large vitiligo marks on his face. The man smiled and waved him over, so Patton went.

“You must be Patton,” the man said in a honey-smooth voice. “I’m Janus.”

“How did you know it was me?” Patton asked incredulously. 

Janus smiled. “You were the only one who came in around two. I figured it was you.”

“Oh.” Patton sat down, placing his drink on the table. “Where would you like to begin?”

“Let’s talk about you.”

“Okay, well, I’m an interior design major, and I have an older brother named Wesley. My parents’ names are Erica and Todd, and they are... massively against me being gay. They’re both lawyers, as is Wes. Um, I also have a dog named River who is a schnoodle.”

Janus nodded and said, “Alright. I’m a pre-vet major, and I have three younger brothers: Remus, Roman, and Virgil. Remus and Roman are twins, and they’re the biggest pains in the ass ever, and Virgil is only ten. My dad’s name is Michael... He’s an accountant at some really important business, so I mostly take care of my brothers. I have three snakes named Spooky, Noodle, Death Ramen, all courtesy of my brothers.”

“Your brothers sound like quite the characters,” laughed Patton.

Janus snorted in agreement. “Yeah, they’re all very different people. Roman is very loud and eccentric in a theatre gay sort of way, Remus is like the human embodiment of a horror movie, and Virgil is a baby emo. I love them all, but... Damn, are they weird.”

“My family is, like, so white suburban that it’s almost offensive. They’re the most boring people I’ve met, but I’m still somewhat financially depended on them, so I can’t cut myself off.”

“Ah.” Janus said. “That sucks.”

“Yep. So, about your snakes!”

---

The date had been going so well. They’d arrived just in time for the ceremony and gotten a seat in the far back so that they didn’t have to interact with anyone else, and they’d made it through dinner with only a minimal amount of small-talk from other guests. 

And then the reception started. And everything went to shit.

Patton’s parents had practically made a bee-line right to him and Janus as soon as the first dance had finished, forcing the two to socialize with them.

“Patton,” greeted his mother, “Who is this?”

“Mom, this is my boyfriend, Janus!”

“Janus. What an... interesting name.”

Janus smiled as genuinely as possible in the situation. “Thank you, I was named after the Roman god, Janus.”

“That’s fascinating, young man. Say, where did your parents come up with that?” Patton’s father asked in faux interest.

“My mom was an anthropologist who had a fascination for ancient Rome, so all of her kids’ names were Roman-themed.”

Patton nodded with a smile. “Janus’ brothers are Roman, Remus, and Virgil. Isn’t that neat?”

“Indeed.” Mrs. Sanders said plainly. “Now, I’ve noticed that the two of you haven’t been very touchy-feely today. Are you going through a rough spot?”

“Mom!”

“Mrs. Sanders, I can assure you that Patton and I are very much in love. We don’t see the need for excessive PDA, and would rather not be performative at a place where the spotlight isn’t on us. Right, dear?”

“Absolutely,” Patton agreed quickly.

“I just thought that since you were in a relationship, you’d be all over each other.”

Janus slapped a sickeningly sweet grin on his face and turned to Patton. “Well, since you asked so nicely...”

Suddenly, Patton was kissing Janus. He tasted like chocolate, which was probably from the cake, and the smell of cologne was almost overpowering in Patton’s nose. In that moment, he realized that he would very much like to continue kissing Janus the second that the wedding ended.

After a few seconds, they separated and were met with the surprised looks on Patton’s parents’ faces.

“Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Sanders,” Janus said as he dragged the speechless Patton out of the venue.

“Can we keep doing that?” Patton asked as soon as they were in the car.

“Oh, definitely.”

[trashfor-imagines]

The Music Series: Haikyū Edition! | 3

MORAL OF THE STORY ft. Atsumu x Reader x Osamu

A choose your own adventure one shot! You’ll have a choice to make near the end and I’ll tell you where to read from there! This is my first attempt at this so I hope it was enjoyable for you.

Summary: Life is just a series of choices. Like when you needed a job and chose to apply at a certain small shop. Or when one of the Miya brothers asked you out and you said yes. And when he asked you to marry them you said yes. Warnings: Another good seasoning of angst. Spoilers: Spoilers from the manga; talks about their lives after high school.

-

Walking into the shop, the familiar sound of the small bell ringing above the door brought a smile to your face. You tied the apron of your uniform around your waist as you walked behind the counter. Moving aside the curtain that blocked your view into the kitchen window, you popped your head in and smiled brightly.

“Good morning, Osamu!” you spoke happily, resting your chin on the sill and watching as his experienced hands continued to work on fresh onigiri to put out.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” he voice was calm. He offered a kind smile. “How’s my brother?”

“I guess he was tired again from practice. He was still sleeping when I left this morning,” you replied, sighing softly.

He didn’t say anything for a while, his smile fading from his face. He always looked so serious when he was working. Osamu was very particular about his rice balls being uniform.

The store bell rang and you quickly turned around, smiling at the customer. “Good morning! How can I help you?”

The morning was usually busy. Rice balls were a favorite for breakfast. You didn’t really get to relax until after lunch where Osamu would close the store from customers for a few of hours. He’d reopen again for a couple of hours at 5PM. Usually he let you go around then and he’d run the store on his own until he decided to close.

When 2PM came around, you locked the front door and flipped the store sign to show you’d be open again at 5PM. At the same time, Osamu emerged from the back with lunch he made for the two of you. You reached over the counter and got the tea you had steeping, carrying it and a set of tea cups over to the table by the window, using your thick art design textbook as a tray.

“Studying again?” he commented, staring at the book.

“I’ve got a big test tomorrow, but I won’t open my book until we’re done eating this time. Promise!” You blushed and couldn’t help but smile as you poured tea for the both of you. Sitting down, you pressed your hands together and closed your eyes, “I’m grateful for this food!!”

Thanking him for the meal when you were done, you cleared away the dishes and cleaned them before going back to sit with him and enjoying tea together. True to your word, you didn’t open your textbook until then, going over notes you made.

“(Y/N), are things still bad at home?”

Your body stilled as you thought of what to say, your gaze staring at the text but uncomprehending the words. Managing a smile, you looked up, meeting his gaze. Your right thumb and index finger found their way to your wedding ring, rotating it around your left ring finger.

He broke contact first, bowing his head in apology. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. You’re only worried.” You picked up your tea cup, lukewarm from time. “Well, we haven’t yelled at each other, though, it’s mostly from him coming home late and sleeping in.”

He hummed, showing sympathy. “You still love him?”

Your face softened and you wondered why he would ask you that. “Of course I do, Osamu. It just hurts right now.”

At 5PM, you hung up your apron as Osamu came to the front counter, a box of a dozen onigiri for his brother in his hands. Handing it over, he rested a comforting hand on your head, a faint smile on his face. Reaching up, you gently patted his hand before stepping back and heading out the door. You were pretty thankful that you were able to keep your classes to Mondays and Wednesdays. You loved working at Onigiri Miya.

“Good luck on your test tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Osamu. See you Tuesday!”

That night, you sat on the couch, studying for your test tomorrow. Really, you were waiting for Atsumu to come home. As time dragged on you fell asleep on the couch, music lightly playing on the record player your father gave you and your textbook lying open on your chest.

The scent of coffee beckoned you awake the next morning. Blinking sleepily, you winced from the pain in your shoulder. Taking in your surroundings, you realized you slept on the couch, but you didn’t remember getting a blanket or turning off the record player last night. A shuffling from the kitchen made you crane your neck to look across the open concept apartment. It was Atsumu. A sad smile crept its way to your face. He had his back to you. His shoulders were relaxed and you didn’t want to disturb his peace.

Quietly, you crept into the bathroom, going through your morning routine. It only took a few minutes, but you certainly put in effort, even applying light make up. You slipped into an ivory high-neck short-sleeved top tucked into black high waisted shorts. You wore a pair of earrings handmade from paper that Atsumu had gotten you for your one year wedding anniversary.

Lightly spraying your hair with your favorite perfume, you walked back out to see Atsumu setting breakfast out at your tiny table meant for two. You and Atsumu had just gotten engaged and were apartment hunting at the time. He had found that table on the street and convinced you that it could be fixed. He spent a whole month trying to repair that thing and though it still had its imperfections, he made it functional again. It just needs some work, he had said.

He turned his head and rested his gaze on you, a smile tugging at his lips. Picking up your favorite mug, he held it out to you and you accepted the hot ceramic from him, your fingers grazing his own. Stepping forward, you cuddled up to his side as he rested an arm around you and you looked down at the table set for two.

“Good morning. It looks so good,” you whispered. He gave your shoulder a squeeze, motioning for you to sit. Sitting down, you said your thanks for the food, digging in. Just like Osamu, Atsumu was motivated by his stomach and was also a great cook as a result.

The two of you ate silently. You would sneak peeks at him while he outwardly stared at you as he ate. Even as he finished and you were still eating, he sat studying you, an expression of boredom on his face. Well, that’s not really good is it? Finishing your food, you thanked him. Raising your eyes to meet his, a blush crept its way across your cheeks, noticing him sporting a lazy smile.

“Let’s go out tonight, yome*.” You must have really looked as shocked as you felt as he laughed at you. “I’ll pick you up from school. We’ll have dinner. Promise.”

Agreeing to the date, you got ready for school, leaving the house with your leather jacket and backpack in hand and slipping your patent leather oxfords onto your feet. As you made it to campus, your phone pinged.

Osamu: You can do it.

The exam was easier than you thought it would be and the rest of your day passed fairly quickly. Remembering your text from Osamu, you replied back.

(Y/N): It was really easy! I think I did well. Thanks for your support. Osamu: That’s great. Plans to celebrate? (Y/N): Tsu said he was taking me on a date tonight! He’s meeting me at school when I’m done. I’ll tell him about my test then.

With no response from him, you put your phone away and headed to your last class. The hour felt agonizingly long. You were excited to see Atsumu. It had been so long since he picked you up from school. Since you first met him, he had always been there to meet you at the university gates when you were done, even after marriage. Then it recently got bad and he stopped. You started to forget how it used to feel. When class let out, you headed straight to the gates and waited on him. He should be there soon. Looking up at the cloudy skies, no speck of blue to be seen, your mind wandered to pass the time.

“(Y/N), let’s go.”

Lowering your gaze, your heart dropped. Osamu stood there, an umbrella in his hand. Your feet felt glued to the pavement as you tried to decipher on your own what was happening. A wetness slid down your cheek and you reached up to wipe it away, smiling at him. “Sure. The rain must be starting.”

Osamu didn’t say anything. You both knew it wasn’t raining.

A couple of blocks from home, the rain began to fall, pouring heavily onto the city below. You were so thankful. If he hadn’t showed up, you certainly would have continued to wait and ended up in the downpour. You invited Osamu in for some tea or coffee to wait out the storm and he accepted. The two of you sat on the couch in silence for a while, listening to the rain patter against the windows.Your gaze was focused on the coffee filled mug on the coffee table in front of you.

Suddenly you felt your breath catch in your throat. It started as sniffles as you felt tears forming, trying to hold them back. Soon you were crying into your hands. Osamu battled within himself between what he should do and what he wanted. He set his mug of tea down to get up when you slumped over, falling to rest your head in his lap. He was frozen as he watched you cry and a burning, achy feeling seemed to consume his heart. Relaxing his shoulders, he still seemed to hesitate before resting his hand on your head, running his fingers through your hair.

He waited until your wails had calmed and you were silent before speaking. “(Y/N), please take time for yourself tomorrow. I can handle the store on my own. You should get some rest.”

Sitting up, you kept your head downcast, not wanting him to see your face. “Thank you, Osamu.”

While you went to shower, he tidied up before slipping out quietly. As he stood at the entrance to your apartment building he growled in annoyance. The rain was picking up again. Pulling out his phone he texted Atsumu a single word: Idiot. 

The next day, you woke up alone. Atsumu’s side of the bed had zero signs of having been slept in. Getting up, you poked your head out and saw nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn’t come home. Checking your phone there was only a message from your mother asking if you could see if Atsumu had free time to help your father with fixing something at their house. Flopping onto your bed, you went to social media for some detective work. Nothing strange; this account was filled with videos of volleyball practice and volleyball memes.

You laid there, your mind tiring you out as it ran through so many possible answers for last night. Unable to form your own conclusion, you decided the answer should come from the horse’s mouth. Dressed in a black, off the shoulder crop top and black mini skirt, you slipped on a Black Jackals wind breaker that was quite big on you. You did your make up and made sure your hair was styled and lightly sprayed with your perfume again. Taking a few minutes, you packed three bento servings of fatty tuna, rice, and veggies, before slipping on your shoes and heading out to the Black Jackals practice gym, arriving just in time for their lunch break.

It was easy to spot Atsumu, but before you approached him, you went over to #4, Meian the captain, to ask if you were interrupting.

“It’s been a while, Miya. Nice to see you again. No, we’re on break right now. Go ahead.” Bowing to him, you walked over to where he was chatting with Bokuto who was first to notice you.

You simply smiled brightly and gave a bow in greeting. “Excuse me, Bokuto, but would you mind if I had some time with my husband? ”

“Sure thing Miya.”

“Shujin* I brought your favorite for lunch,” you spoke softly, holding up your homemade lunch for him.

Bokuto’s eyes shined brightly. “Tsum-Tsum, you’re so lucky! I want a pretty wife like yours who cooks and calls me shujin!”

“As if someone would marry you, ya big baby,” Atsumu huffed, steering you away from his teammate.

The two of you went outside and across the street to the park, sitting together on a bench. He was silent as he ate and you sat with your body turned towards him, observing your husband closely. Knowing him so well, you reached into your purse and handed him his favorite drink. It wasn’t until he was almost done with his second bento box that you spoke.

“I’m your wife, aren’t I?”

He seemed to freeze, not really knowing what was going on. “Yes?”

“You’re sure I’m your wife?”

Sighing, he quickly finished the bento before setting it aside. No matter how much he wanted to eat the third one, he knew that he had to handle whatever was about to happen before that. “Tsuma* what is it?”

“Where were you last night that you couldn’t tell me you weren’t coming home? I don’t even care you broke your promise to me.”

He looked confused. “What promise?”

“Our date you asked me on at breakfast. Now answer my question.” Your face was turning red. He could be so infuriating.

His eyes widened for a moment with realization before falling back into his bored expression. “I’m sorry. We were really into practice and then I stayed with Bokuto. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t care?” you were surprised at his words.

He shrugged and let out a frustrated sigh. “We haven’t been speaking. I thought it was pretty obvious I was still mad. You should have double checked that I still felt like going out with you.”

“Mad about what? I thought you were over our last fight - that you started.”

He glared, instantly getting heated. “So this is my fault?”

“Yeah. It is. How could it not be?!” you whispered harshly. “I asked you to pick up groceries for three days because I was busy with school and you kept putting it off, then you yelled at me for not making dinner that night. What did you want me to make?! We didn’t have food to cook with! Oh! And for that matter, why should I have to double check on our date that you asked me out on?! If you wanted to cancel for still being mad, then you should have said you weren’t ready!”

He was absolutely pissed, but dammit he didn’t have anything to come back with. Fists balled up he growled, getting up. “You can be such a bitch.”

Stunned, you felt like you were having and out of body experience, watching yourself stare at your husband as he walked away. He’d never called you that before. The two of you had fought plenty of times before, and yes, he had a potty mouth, but he’d never cursed at you before. He never called you names. Regaining your senses, you picked up the bento-ware and headed home.

(Y/N): I think you should stay with Bokuto. Atsumu: Why don’t we just get divorced.

You shoved your phone quickly into your purse. Had he really just said that? It felt as though your mind was erased. When you got home, you couldn’t remember how you’d even got there. In your bedroom, you sat staring a photograph of you and Atsumu on your wedding day. Setting it face down, you got up and packed him a bag with toiletries and enough clothes for a week. You went to bed early that night.

Why don’t we just get divorced.

In the morning you headed to school, the bag you packed for him sent a wave of fear through you and you wondered if you did the wrong thing by telling him to not come home. Did he really mean it? You felt so alone.

Why don’t we just get divorced.

The day was miserable and dragged on. Concentration was impossible. Soon, school was over and you were wandering around town. It wasn’t until your stomach growled had you realized you were starving. Seeing that you weren’t far off from Onigiri Miya, you pulled out your phone.

(Y/N): Can I come by the shop? Osamu: Picking up some onigiri? (Y/N): And someone to talk to. Osamu: I’ll make tea. (Y/N): I’ll be there in 10.

Despite the closed sign in the door window, you tested the door and opened it without incident, the familiar bell ringing above your head. Glancing over the usual window seat, you smiled faintly at seeing Osamu. A plate of different nigiri  and sushi and a hot pot of tea sat waiting for you. You slid into the seat across from him and said your thanks. Osamu wasn’t a huge conversationalist - unlike his brother who sometimes couldn’t shut up without saying something snarky - so you ate quietly for a bit. Your hand began to shake and you set down your chopsticks.

“I told Atsumu to not come home.”

He blinked in surprise. You had whispered it so quietly he was unsure you even said anything. “What happened?”

“I told him not to come home. I went to bring him lunch at practice and I asked where he was last night when he didn’t come home. It turned into a stupid fight and he called me... He called me a bitch.”

He flinched and sighed, looking out the window briefly before letting his gaze rest on you. You seemed so much smaller to him. “He’s an idiot.”

“I’m so sorry. This isn’t appropriate and I always do this. I shouldn’t be talking to you about my problems with your brother,” you whispered, feeling embarrassed on top of everything else.

“We’re friends too, (Y/N). You’re not just my brother’s wife. You can rely on me as well,” he spoke. “So what will you do?”

Taking out your phone, you opened your messages and slid your phone over to him. “I think we’re getting a divorce.”

“You’ve been married for two years. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s not me. Read it.” You gestured for him to look at your phone.

Leaning forward to read, his brows furrowed in thought before sitting back again. “He’s such a child. You’re not getting divorced.”

“It would make sense though. We’re not communicating anymore, we keep fighting, and we’re so young still... I was 18 when we got married.”

“Take your time to think it over. Make the right choice for yourself.”

So you took his advice.

You spent more time at the shop with Osamu, coming in earlier and even staying until he closed for the night. In the morning you’d make breakfast together and help him make rice balls to sell for the day. After closing, you’d take inventory and schedule orders then go out for dinner, then he’d walk you home. It felt so familiar to when you first started working at Onigiri Miya, before you met his brother. You had almost forgotten how much fun Osamu could be.

Come to think of it, Osamu had changed quite a bit after you started seeing Atsumu. He became quieter and more observant over time, as if he were taking a step back for Atsumu to shine. You had gotten so wrapped up in your new relationship that you never thought to ask Osamu if he was going through something at the time. Seeing his smiling face and hearing his laughter now eased your thoughts. Whatever it was, he seemed fine now.

It was Saturday night and the two of you made plans to go drinking at a bar. You had done your best not to look so sad around the shop and despite Osamu willing to lend his hear to you, it wasn’t fair so you didn’t talk about Atsumu. That Saturday, however, just seemed so hard for you to smile so that’s when he suggested going drinking in hopes that you’d loosen up and share what was on your mind.

"I feel so stupid. I don’t think he loves me anymore.” You slurred, scrolling through social media. You’d just opened Bokuto’s stories and saw him taking photos with Atsumu and a bunch of random girls.

“Of course he loves you.”

“Then explain these pictures.” You leaned against him and tilted your phone in his direction, tapping through and showing him the posts.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I can’t.”

“They’re all so pretty and not me,” you cried, sipping on your cocktail. “I’m just a bitch.”

“Don’t compare yourself to those girls.” He sighed and gave you a thump on your head. “And you’re not even close to being a bitch.”

“I just... feel so sad.” A notification popped up on your phone and you swiped away. Atsumu had been sending you texts all night and you were ignoring them all.

“My brother doesn’t know how to care for the things he loves. I’m not like my brother when it comes to that.” His eyes were intense and you weren’t sure if it was him or the alcohol that made you feel so on fire. Wrapped up in this feeling, you barely registered that your phone had been ringing.

A. Kiss Osamu.

B. Answer the phone.

-

-

-

A. YOU CHOSE TO KISS OSAMU.

“Osamu, he makes me feel alone when we’re together. But with you... I know you’re there.”

“Can I be honest with you?” His gaze was unwavering and you felt yourself melting. Nodding, you only hoped you weren’t turning into a puddle. He drained the last of his glass. “When I introduced you to my brother, I didn’t expect you to fall for him. I just wanted him to meet you because I wanted to ask you out. (Y/N) I’ve had feelings for you. For a long time.”

You felt your heart pound. You were silent as you gazed at him. There were subtle differences between the two, appearance-wise, like their style and the way they wore their expressions, but their personalities could be light and day.

“I’m such an idiot. I should have noticed you,” you whispered, closing the gap between the two of you, the ringing phone a muffled sound in the background of your mind.

Kissing him felt like kissing for the first time: exciting, new, and intense.

A few days later, Atsumu caught you at home. The two of you sat down and talked about what’s happened and after another huge blow up, it was re-affirmed that you’d divorce. The two of you kept it simple and it was much easier than you expected, knowing how combative he could be. There had even been a moment where the two of you had gotten drunk together and you thought there was hope, but in the morning the two of you just couldn’t see each other as husband and wife anymore.

Just friends.

You continued working at Osamu’s shop. The two of you decided not to act on anything until after the divorce had been finalized and there had been a sort of mourning period. Honestly, it took two years for you before you were finally ready to bring it up. Osamu’s patience had been incredible the entire journey.

It was awkward at first. Osamu and Atsumu took a brother’s trip. It was then that Osamu asked his brother what he would think of him dating you. Atsumu simply laughed and wished him good luck. You dated for four years before marrying. That same year you had fraternal twins, a girl and a boy.

-

-

-

B. YOU CHOSE TO ANSWER THE PHONE.

If love isn’t the effort you put in, then what is it? Backing away from Osamu, you picked up your phone and slipped out of the bar to take the call outside.

“I don’t want a divorce; I want you.” Those were the first words to spill from his lips.

“Gaki otto*~” you mumbled into your phone, closing your eyes. “Why can’t you call me when it’s not so late? You always say what I want to hear at night. Why can’t you say it during the day?”

“Are you drunk?”

“I’ve been drinking.”

“Yome, where are you? Is someone with you?”

“I’m with Osamu. And aren’t you out with some girls right now? What’s up with that, you jerk.” You hung up your phone and crossed your arms, leaning against the front of the bar and letting the chilly air sooth your burning face.

Minutes later, Osamu walked out, leaning against the store front beside you. He was quiet for a while before he started speaking. “Atsumu called me. He wanted me to explain those were just fans that Bokuto invited to join them and that he thinks they’re scrubs.... He misses you.”

Pouting, you looked at him from the corner of your eyes. Atsumu wasn’t the type to just hang out with any girl - that was definitely more of Bokuto’s speed. He was pretty picky. “I guess that checks out. You didn’t tell him where we are did you?”

Looking down at your expression, he laughed lightly, resting his hand on top of your head for a brief moment. “Let’s just wait outside for a while. It’s hot inside.”

The two of you stood watching as people walked by on the busy street, taking in the nightlife in silence. There was a comfort in the loud sounds of people bustling by, laughing and chatting. Reaching up, you closed your eyes and felt your cheeks with your finger tips. So warm. Opening your eyes, a small gasp escaped you as you stood face to face with your husband. How long had you had your eyes closed.

It felt like time slowed down and everything blurred around you. You could only focus on him and his smiling face. Wrapping his arms around you, he held you tight. It was then you noticed that Osamu had left.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

Staring up into his eyes, you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. They were comforting and familiar against your own and warmed your heart. He kissed you back and you felt like you could breathe again.

After that night, the two of you sat down and spoke for a long time, deciding that a divorce was quite rash and not what either of you wanted. Atsumu suggested the two of you started over at square one and get to know each other again. In fact, he begrudgingly brought up couples counseling. The two of you fell in love again and were reminded of why you two married in the first place.

Two years later, you were both ready to have children, ending up with a son then the year after, twin boys.

- - -

* Yome: a common way in the Kansai area of Japan to say bride/my wife - kind of country and backwoodsy. * Shujin: socially appropriate way to refer to your own husband, means master. * Tsuma: basic way to say wife. * Gaki otto: bratty/lazy husband trope

- - -

tag list: @hihiq​

[lonely-full-of-secrets]

Wedding Date (Sweet Pea x Reader)

This is for @riverdale-events‘s Camp Riverdale Session Two Theme 4: Fake Dating with a smidge of Theme 1: Soulmates

Word Count: 7k words

Warnings: bad writing, a curse word or two, kissing, a mention of sex, some angst 

Summary: Sweet Pea needed a date to a wedding. You needed to get an invite to said wedding. 1 craigslist ad and several people to fool. Could you two pull it off?

A/n: This took forever so please let me know how I did. I kind of want to do a part two so if that is something you want stop by my asks or shoot me a message. Also, this got away from me, it started off as a 500 word drabble but somehow we made it here

Masterlist in Bio

Sweet Pea was desperate. He needed a date, like yesterday. Josie was getting married tomorrow and invited all her high school friends from Riverdale. Him included. Even though he was fairly sure he was long over her, he feared going alone. 

That’s pathetic right? Showing up to an ex’s wedding alone? It just screams “I’m still not over you” with a slight chance of “I’ll ruin your wedding”. Not the vibe he wanted to emit. 

Plus he had already RSVP’d for two. He couldn’t not show up with a date. That would only add to the humiliation. 

Something else that is pathetic is desperately trying to score an invitation to said wedding. You dated the groom in college, and you were sure he was your soulmate. You weren’t delusional with ideas that if he saw you there, he would drop his fiancé for you. No, of course not. All you wanted was to see for yourself that the woman he was to wed was good enough for him, that she made him happy. Who could blame you right? You were just looking out for your so-called soulmate.

You tried to see if anyone you knew was going but unfortunately you were shit out of luck. You two just didn’t have any mutual friends anymore. 

You tossed and turned in bed unable to sleep until you hear a notification ping coming from your cell phone.

It was an email from an unknown address with the subject It must be your lucky day. That was odd, you thought. You opened it anyway and the only thing in the body of the email was a single link to a Craigslist ad.

You debated opening it. What if it was a virus? Your thumb hovered over the link for a few minutes before you finally decided to take the plunge and click the link.

Not a virus. Not a virus at all. Instead it was what you were desperately praying for. An ad for a date to a wedding. The wedding you needed an invite for. Bless whoever sent you this link. This was your last chance considering the wedding was tomorrow.

You quickly sent a response asking if he still needed a date for the wedding. You really hoped whoever this was would see your message in time. 

Sweet Pea was having trouble sleeping as well. His stomach was full of dread that he even started creating different scenarios in his head to try and get out of going. Maybe he could fake being sick? No, everyone will see right through that and know something was up. 

Maybe he could jump in front of a car. That would cause him to go to the hospital and give him a proper excuse, right? But then he thought about how painful that would be and not to mention expensive. So that’s a no. 

That’s when his phone dinged. It was an email. Someone responded to his wedding date ad. Even a week after he posted it, it had gotten him zero responses. He later added that he was willing to pay someone to go if they could pose as a convincing date. Emphasis on the convincing part. 

He didn’t want to take just any lunatic but at this point he was so desperate and this was the only response he had gotten. He guessed something was better than nothing.

He wrote back that he was still indeed in need of a date. He made sure to ask if you had any concerns since the whole situation was not ideal. A few minutes later, he received your response.  

The email contained all your information plus a photo of you and what you are willing and not willing to do for this date. He smiled as he looked over your photo and wondered for a second if he was being catfished. You didn’t look crazy. You looked normal, beautiful even. He wondered why you answered his ad in the first place. Did you need the money? He could think of no other logical explanation, but he was sure you had your reasons.

He accepted your terms and sent you a designated meet up time and place he would be picking you up from. Sweet Pea wanted to meet you first to get a feeling of what to expect from this strange transaction.

You were nervous. Of course you were. You were meeting a total stranger to be his date. You didn’t know what to expect. He could be a total psycho for all you knew. Which is why you carried your pepper spray and taser in your small bag. You can never be too careful.

As you waited for him to arrive, you felt greatly out of place in the coffee shop. It was currently filled with a group of students, presumably studying, wearing very casual clothing. You with your hair styled, make-up done while wearing a dress and heels, stuck out like a sore thumb which only added to your anxiousness. 

Another reason you were nervous is due to the fact that you have no idea what this guy even looks like. You sent him a picture of yourself so he should be able to find you easily. You scold yourself for not asking him for a picture. It doesn’t really matter to you what he looks like, but it would have put your mind more at ease knowing who to look out for. 

When Sweet Pea entered the coffee shop, he was instantly able to pick you apart from the rest of the patrons. You were even more beautiful in person. There was this glow about you, almost ethereal. He couldn’t help but feel a small bubbling in his stomach. He blamed his nervousness. 

You were on your phone scrolling aimlessly when you hear an unsure voice call your name. You turn to find an incredibly handsome man wearing a powder blue dress shirt. You took in his appearance and instantly noticed how tall he is. You notice a tattoo peeking out from under his collared shirt, the first two buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows exposing the veins on his forearms. He has a strong muscular build. His clothes hugging him perfectly making him absolutely drool worthy. 

You could also see the way his eyes were completely fixed on yours. It felt as if he could see right into your soul. His eyebrows suddenly rose in uncertainty. 

You had been staring at him in awe for a while that you don’t register him talking. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were okay with that?”

“Yeah” you say a little breathless. You had no idea what you were agreeing to but you just went along with it and hoped for the best as he led you to his car. 

Before getting in you said, “I hope this dress is okay.” 

To which he replied with, “You're perfect.” You raised your eyebrows and laughed. “I mean, it's perfect.” You didn’t say anything but smiled to yourself as you got in. 

As he drove you to the wedding venue, things were pretty quiet. Not so much awkward, but dull silence. You thought maybe you should get to know more about him. For one, you were dying to know what such a beautiful man was doing posting an ad to get a wedding date? He was gorgeous. Surely he could have taken anyone he wanted but here you were hired to accompany him. 

“You’re staring” he mumbles, keeping his eyes on the road. 

“I’m curious is all” you reply still looking at him. 

He huffs out a laugh, “Ok I’ll bite. What pray tell has you so curious?”

You paused for a second unsure if you should even ask. He didn’t owe you any sort of explanation. You were there for one reason and one reason only. Everything else was just background noise. 

Sweet Pea finally turned and looked in your direction worried about the sudden silence on your part. But you looked fine. A little deep in thought but fine nonetheless. 

“I’m just wondering why someone like you has to pay for a date?” 

He tensed, squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. You didn’t notice. “Someone like what?” he asked, managing to keep his tone neutral. 

You laughed thinking it was blatantly obvious. “You don't need me to tell you that you are an attractive man, it’ll stroke your ego”

He relaxed his hold on the steering wheel, turned to you and smirked. “Maybe it needs to be stroked”

You felt your face heat up so you looked away. You hadn’t anticipated that answer. After you recomposed yourself you asked, “I’m serious. I was obviously a last minute addition considering we agreed to this, what like twelve hours ago?” You look at him challengingly

He sighed giving in fairly quickly which surprised even him. “Josie, the bride. I had a fling with her in high school. Just didn't want to show up alone and make it weird.”

You furrowed your brows. “If it was just a fling why does it matter? It’s not like you were in love with her.”

Sweet Pea scrunched his face and groaned. You really did hit the head on the nail with that one. 

“Wait. Seriously?” This could potentially complicate things.  

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I was in love with her but I wanted more than she was willing to give me and…” he couldn't finish his thought. They were old wounds that didn’t need to be opened up. He was long over Josie. 

After a second you tsked. “I know the feeling.” 

It seemed you and Sweet Pea actually had something in common. You were both attending an ex’s wedding. Only he didn't know that and you didn't plan on telling him. Your reasoning for going was pretty pathetic while his was at least understandable. 

“What about you?” he asked. 

“Hm?” 

“Why answer my ad?”

“Oh. Um… I’m actually a struggling actress.”

He gives you a is that so look.

"I haven't been able to book many gigs” you admit. “Or any at all. So I thought I could use the practice,” Sweet Pea nods in understanding, “and the money of course. A girl’s got rent to pay” you smile. 

Sweet Pea believes you. He doesn’t have a reason to doubt you and it kind of makes you feel bad for taking advantage of him. You didn’t need the money and you would have done this for free anyway. That is how desperate and pathetic you felt. 

“Opportunist I see.” He smirks. 

“I have to be in my line of work.” It’s true. It’s a cutthroat world out there. 

He parks the car and you both get out.

“Ready?” he asks. 

“I act for a living. The question is are you ready?” you ask because you can see sweat dot his forehead and he looks as if he might hurl. 

He wipes away the sweat and takes a deep breath. “I think so.” More like he hopes so. 

You thought it was kind of cute that he was nervous. It wasn’t something you expected from him. “Ok just remember to relax.” You place a hand on his arm. “I’m here to help you. You’re not doing this alone.” 

You feel some of the tension leave his body as he relaxes under your touch. It’s odd but Sweet Pea finds it easy to be with you, you pull him in close and you instruct him on how to make it all seem believable. 

Most of the wedding guests are not people Sweet Pea knows. He only knows his fellow people from Riverdale. He doesn’t know how they’d react to you. As far as they knew he wasn’t dating anyone. 

Right before the entrance to the ceremony he stopped walking and you were left confused as to why he had stopped. 

“Sweet Pea?” you asked.

“I can’t do this.” he said. “They’ll all know this is fake. I didn't even come up with a cover story as to who you are. If my friends start asking…”

You interrupt him before he could have a complete meltdown. “Don’t worry” you say rubbing his back. “I’m very good at improvising. We got this” you reassured. “Just follow my lead.”

He nods. “Ok, I think I can do that. I have some acting experience under my belt as well. I was the lead in the Heathers Musical in high school. I can do this.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Were you really?” you were impressed. This might just be easier than you originally thought. 

He smiled a bit embarrassed at what he revealed. “Yeah.” He feigned nonchalance. 

You laugh. “If this ends well. I’m going to need to see pictures or else I won't believe you. Better yet, you can sing for me.”

That seemed to relax him again. “It was a long time ago. Don't get ahead of yourself. First lets get through the ceremony, that's the easiest part. The reception is where the real challenge is.” He seemed more himself. 

“Then let's get a move on,” you pull him towards the meadow where the other guests have already taken their seats. 

You found your way to a pew on the bride's side despite not knowing her. The one you did know was the groom. But it would have been weird to sit on his side anyway, he didn’t even know you were here. 

Sweet Pea decided on staying a bit further back than his friends. He didn’t think he could handle them bombarding him with questions just yet. He only just managed to keep his cool. 

Even though he appeared better he hadn’t let go of your hand. It was a bit warm and sweaty but you didn’t mind. It actually felt quite nice. 

It was almost time to start and that’s when you saw him. You squeezed Sweet Pea’s hand when you did. If he thought it unusual, he didn’t comment on it. 

This was the first time you’d seen him in what seemed like forever. He looked just as handsome as the day you met only older and with a beard. He seemed on edge but not in a bad way. 

The wedding took place in the evening, the sun was setting as the couple shared their first kiss as husband and wife. It was very beautiful, if only you could ignore the pang of jealousy that rests heavy on your heart.

The reception was held just down the way from where the ceremony took place. It too was outdoors with the darkening sky as the backdrop. The place was decorated with beautiful lights making the whole place look like a dream. 

You walked in and took your seats. All seemed to be going well until Sweet Pea’s friends gathered at the table. He introduced you to his best friend Fangs, Toni and her girlfriend Cheryl. They all seemed nice but then they asked how the two of you met.

His immediate answer was, “at a party” while you said, “Through a friend”. You nervously look at each other but this only rose suspicion from his friend. Toni quirked an eyebrow waiting for you to continue. Cheryl looked bored and Fangs was oblivious. 

Then he changed his answer to, “through a friend” as you said, “at a party.” You mentally cursed yourself and Sweet Pea. He was supposed to follow your lead. 

Toni smirked and her eyes gleamed, having seemed to have caught you two in the lie. “Is that so?”

You two looked at each other again and despite stumbling over your answers, it was obvious what the next words out of both of you were. “At a party, through a friend.”

Toni didn't seem convinced but then before she could get another word in, Betty came and hugged you. 

“I’m so glad you made it” she said aloud. The added in your ear, “I was afraid I’d sent you the ad too late.” So it was Betty who sent you the link. 

Sweet Pea was beyond confused. What the hell did he get himself into? Maybe you really can’t see crazy from just looking at someone. He was under the impression that you were only doing this for the money. 

“Betty! It’s been so long, how are you? I was just about to tell everyone how you introduced me and Sweet Pea at a party a couple years ago.” 

She gave you a questioning look but quickly caught on as she realized you had a pleading look on your face. 

She shook her head as if clearing it. “Right, sorry it was so long ago I almost forgot.”

Sweet Pea was still quiet trying to process what was going on and Toni noticed.

“Is that how it happened Sweet Pea?” she asked as she stared him down. Oh no, you had a feeling she might actually be the one to crack him. You had managed to get this far, you weren’t about to let it go to shit now. 

Betty felt bad for having to leave but she didn’t know your cover story. She didn’t want to accidentally ruin it so she excused herself saying she needed to find Jughead. 

His continued silence piqued the interest of Cheryl. “Sweet Pea?” 

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. That is how it happened, Toni” he said slightly annoyed giving off the impression he was offended. “We didn’t get along at first and…”

You interrupted him incase he said something you couldn’t take back. “We didn’t stay in contact, obviously” you looked to him to make sure he was getting on the same page as you. “But we bumped into each other at a coffee shop a while back” a while being a few short hours, “and seeing a familiar although annoying face was just what I needed.”

Sweet Pea thought back to how you looked when he first saw you. “Yeah. She looked so sad,” he said without really thinking. Her beauty was obvious but now that he thought about it, you did look kinda sad. 

You didn’t know he had noticed that. Just before he had arrived you were thinking about how your soulmate was marrying someone else today. “I wouldn’t say I was sad” you paused. “Maybe a bit nervous?” you added. 

“Oh? Nervous for what?” asked Fangs finally piping into the conversation. Or slight interrogation since Toni was still seemed suspicious.

“A job interview, of sorts” you said. Which wasn’t technically a lie. You were set to meet up with Sweet Pea to see if you could pull off being his date.

“You had that audition that day right?” Sweet Pea added. You both seemed to be getting better at this improvising together thing. 

“Yes.” You looked to him and gave him a reassuring smile letting him know he was doing really well. 

“Audition?” 

“Mmmhh, I’m an actress.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, you knew you were going to regret them. Both Toni and Cheryl had that ‘gotcha’ face.

“I knew it! Sweet Pea did you hire this poor girl to be your date?” Toni tutted in disappointment. 

Cheryl chimed in “That really is low even for you Sweet Pea” in a tone that sounded a bit condescending. 

Meanwhile, Fangs was finally putting two and two together as he remembered about the ad. 

You and Sweet Pea blanche. This was it, you had been caught. He thought he might as well come clean but then turned around those thoughts and tried a different tactic. 

“You got me” he said as if he was admitting defeat after getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

You quickly picked up and said, “Damn. I swear I thought we’d be more convincing than this.”

“Oh my god. So it's true? He really did hire you?” asked Toni. 

Sweet Pea sighed but you continued. “Yes. The truth is. We met only a few hours ago. He came in these incredibly tight clothes” you lightly scratch down his chest, “and I just couldn’t help myself. We had sex in his car.”

Sweet Pea blushed, Fangs’ jaw dropped, Toni was stunned, and Cheryl eyed you two but nodded. “That explains the hair,” she was quick to point out. Of course she would think it’s sex hair. However, it was a bit of a mess due to Sweet Pea nervously running his hands through his hair all evening. 

You bite your lip to suppress a laugh. 

“Afterwards I asked her if she wanted to come to a wedding. We didn’t have much time but we made it in time.” He smiles down at you, wraps his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close. 

Fangs nods. Toni is still shocked. Cheryl looks over your dress, “And that explains the outfit.” You were baffled at her comment but kept your mouth shut. 

Deciding that the game was over, you said, “Seriously though, why would Sweet Pea hire me? Do we not make a cute couple?”

Toni and Cheryl gave each other a guilty look but Fangs had a feeling he knew what you two were up to. 

“Sorry. It’s just that we’ve never heard anything about you and we knew this day might be hard for him. Our mistake.” They seemed embarrassed and quickly dismissed themselves. 

After they walked off, it was just you and Sweet Pea again, he led you to the open bar with his hand on the small of your back as you two burst into fits of laughter. You cannot believe you actually pulled that off. 

Once the laughter wore off his face grew serious. He leaned into you and whispered, “You lied to me.”

You sigh, “I did.” You really didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ever supposed to find out. You were supposed to be his convincing wedding date, see your ex and at the end of the night he’d pay you and you’d never see him again. 

“Why? I told you why I needed a date. But you lied to me. You told me you were a struggling actress.” He looked genuinely hurt about being lied to.

You scrunched your face and groaned. Sure, you felt bad but you couldn’t take it back now. “Technically that's not a lie.”

He shook his head and called for the bartender to order a drink. “I don't like liars.”

Maybe you should have just been upfront about it. Maybe he would have understood.

Suddenly, you look up from across the room and see him. All smiles. He seemed to be glowing in happiness and his bride was the same as everyone cheers for them. 

He wondered why you had paused and followed your line of sight. At first Sweet Pea was curious as to why the bride and groom had gotten your attention. He looked at them. They looked unimaginably happy in their wedding bliss, it seemed as if they saw nobody else but each other. 

As he watched them he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. He wasn’t pining over Josie anymore but he couldn’t help but wonder why. Why couldn’t she ever look at him the way she looked at her new husband. Would anyone ever look at him that way?

He looked back over to you. Your body tense, your face expressionless but your eyes held that same sadness he noticed at the coffee shop. He recognized it as pain. The pain was masked well, but not that well. It’s the kind of pain you have when love isn’t returned and even though you wish them nothing but happiness you can’t help but feel as if your heart had just been stomped on. 

Sweet Pea was slowly piecing it together. “How exactly did you find my ad again?”

His question pulled you out of your thoughts. “Hm? Oh, umm… I think Betty may have sent it to me.” 

He questions you, “And how do you know Betty?”

You tear your gaze off the bride and groom and look at Sweet Pea. “College. She was my roommate freshman year.”

The bartender brings over your drinks. He ordered a few of shots and he slid one over to you.

You eyed him cautiously. He rolls his eyes, “We’re about to eat anyway. Come on.” He downs his first shot.

You say what the hell and just down it too. Then you go back to your seats just as the servers are bringing out the food. 

“Tell me. What's so good about him?” Sweet Pea asks. He managed to clue it together when he remembered your earlier words about knowing how it felt to not have feelings returned. He asked because he really wanted to know why you would want to come to ex’s wedding, on purpose. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have come but everyone said it was ok and he even spoke to Josie who asked him if there were no hard feelings. Of course Sweet Pea said no but as soon as those words left his mouth it left a bad taste in his mouth. 

A server passed with some champagne and you waved him over. You brought the glass to your lips, avoiding Sweet Pea’s gaze. He raised his brows at you waiting for you to answer. “I feel so stupid just thinking it” you take a long drink. 

“So you’re not over your ex?” he asks. 

“It's not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” he challenged.

You continue to avoid meeting his eyes and shake your head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Despite what you may think of me, I’m actually a pretty understanding guy. And when I want to, I can be a good listener too.” This time he smiles softly and encouragingly. 

You side eye him before downing the rest of your drink. “Okay but, don't laugh,” pointing your finger at him in warning. 

He pressed his lips into a thin line to stop himself from smiling but nodded for you to go on. 

What harm could telling him do now? You just wanted to rip the bandaid off and get the conversation out of the way. 

You set down your glass and faced him. “He was my first college boyfriend. My first real boyfriend.” Slightly shaking your head as you thought about it. 

“We were together maybe three months? I don’t remember but I was head over heels for this guy. We had so much in common. He liked going to all the same places I did, we had the same favorite foods and movies. It was like we were meant to be. Like we were… soulmates.” You gauge his reaction and find that he’s looking at you as if with concern. “What? I really think,” you caught yourself, “thought, we were soulmates.”

That piqued his interest. “Thought?”

 You shrugged. “I don't know. Seeing them together, it just made me think that maybe he was never really my soulmate. Maybe I was just too caught up in my first love to really see it.”

Sweet Pea just hums in understanding but he didn’t quite know what to say. So he went with, “Wow… you were right. I don’t understand.” His tone had a teasing edge to it that you couldn't keep the smile off your lips. 

“Look we all make mistakes when it comes to love. It’s just life.”

You sigh but don’t say anything, getting too lost in your own thoughts. 

“You know, you could have just told me this when I told you about Josie. It would have made me feel a lot better to know you weren’t a complete basket case.”

“You thought I was crazy?” you ask. 

He laughs. You notice the crinkles surrounding his eyes as he does so. “Oh I still do. Totally bonkers! Man, I fear for my safety.” At a passing server he asked, “Excuse me, do you know this woman she says she’s my date but I don’t know her.” The man ignored him and kept walking. 

You laugh too as you swat his arm lightly, partly because he was mocking you and partly because at one point you thought about the possibility of him being loony as well. “I’m sorry. Okay.” When the laughter between you died down you added, “I just didn’t want to seem…”

“Pathetic?” you nod. “That makes two of us.” By then, the food had been served and you had more drinks in front of you. He raises his glass. “Cheers.”

“What are we cheering to?”

“To being pathetic. We’re both at our exes wedding. And we’re both still single.” Sweet Pea scoffed a laugh, shook his head, and took a long swig of his drink. 

You took a long swig of your drink as well seeing as how Sweet Pea’s words rang too true.

“I had to post an ad to get a date, and you had to answer it to be here. I think we’re both pretty pathetic right now. How much worse can it get?”

After dinner and a few more drinks, you and Sweet Pea were getting more comfortable around each other, you were having fun but anytime any of you even looked at the bride and groom those feelings of inadequacy returned which really dampened the mood quite a bit.

During the couples’ first dance you two stepped out, away, not wanting to see that. It felt nice being alone without the chaos of the reception. Though you could still softly hear the music and people laughing.

You two held hands as he led you somewhere you couldn’t be seen.

“Uh oh, is this where you kill me?” you joke.

“Only if I wanted to kill you with kisses” he admits. 

You giggled unsure if it had to do with the alcohol you consumed or the company you were keeping. “Oh that was so smooth.”

He shrugs and shines his oh so cocky yet charming smile. “Lets dance, yeah?”

You bring your arms up around his neck while his hands go to your hips. You sway softly to the barely audible music and just look into each other's eyes. He really was very handsome and it still baffled you that he had trouble finding a date to this wedding. 

Sweet Pea was just thanking the stars, and Betty, for sending you that email link to his ad because he was really glad it was you he brought. He couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else. 

Everything just seemed to be working out. It’s been fun if you were being honest. 

“You know, I thought I'd be more upset.”

“About what,” he asked.

“About finding out he was never my soulmate. It definitely hurts to see them together. But I’m not too broken up about it, you know?”

He nodded but still asked, “What changed?”

You think about it for a second but come up blank. “I don’t know, but I’m glad it did.”

He looked up at the reception and asked, “Do you think we”ll ever have something this?

You follow his gaze, “We will. I mean who wouldn’t want us? We’re great catches. You managed to find a date, I managed to get in via plus one, and we didn’t ruin the wedding. I’d count that as a success.”

You both just laugh as you continue to sway back and forth. You stayed like that for another while longer just swaying, smiling and looking into each others eyes in complete comfortable silence. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be in this stranger's arms. Only he didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt warm and safe. Dare you say, he felt like home. 

Out of the corner of your eye you spot some movement, you try to ignore it but then you hear a giggle getting closer so you snuck a quick glance at who was coming your way. That was when you spotted the bride and groom heading straight for the two of you. 

“Don’t freak out” he quickly raised his eyebrows, “but the bride and groom are heading our way.”

“What?” he whisper yelled. He was about to pull away but you held onto him tightly against you. 

You smile and giggle as if he just told you something funny. He looks at you strangely. You tell him, “We’re being watched.”

He looks concerned. He just knows Josie will see right through him and figure it all out and then the two of you will look like fools. 

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

He nods and follows your lead. 

“Look at me. Breathe in and slowly exhale. We got this. Relax. Now smile softly.”

He tries but appears pained yet you can't help but smile at his attempts. “Don’t look so scared Sweet Pea, I promised I wouldn’t kill you.”

That got him to relax a bit more. They were still a little ways away. You cupped his handsome face into your hands. 

“It’s time to put those acting skills to work, okay?”

He brought his hands on top of yours. Then he grabs your left hand and presses a gentle kiss on the palm of it. It gave you butterflies but you couldn’t dwell on that just yet. You were on a mission to deliver the best performance of your life. 

In the softest voice you could muster, you began. “Look at me as if you were experiencing the sunset for the first time. In a world with dull blacks and whites, the sunset is the first burst of soft colors you see. The swirling of pinks, purples and oranges.” 

You can see the start of a loving smile on his face. It suited him. He was starting to look more at peace than he had the entire evening. You continue, “Look at me like a parent seeing their newborn child for the first time. Happy that they are alive and healthy. Look at me like I’m your greatest love. Your soulmate.” 

Now his smile was so wide that it seemed to meet his eyes. “Like I just told you I love you for the first time.” 

As he continues to smile, his gaze briefly slides down to your lips before looking you in the eye again. To think that he wants to kiss you is so very tempting yet he seems unsure of himself. He knows he wants to kiss you. He’s been wanting to since he first saw you but he didn’t know if that was something you wanted. 

Sure, you’d been actively flirting with him but maybe you were just that good of an actress. Maybe you were just using your skills and he was falling for the wrong person, again. 

You could see his internal dilemma. He wanted to kiss you but he was holding back. Here he was being a true gentleman. Not every man in this situation would do the same. Some would have felt entitled for more but not Sweet Pea. 

It had been a long time since you had dated and you’ve seen people genuinely care about you but the look on his face was different. It was as if you had spoken life into the words you were describing to him just a few seconds ago. He was looking at you as if you were his whole world. 

Nobody had ever looked at you with such intensity. It made your heart tighten and your stomach flutter. You haven’t known this man for more than a few hours and already you felt a much deeper connection to him than the man you thought was your soulmate for years. 

You had to take that chance right? This kind of connection is what most people only dream of having. Who were you to let that slip through your fingers simply because you two had just met?

You leaned up to him and brought your lips together in a slow and sensual kiss. 

The two of you hadn’t noticed how much time had gone by until you heard someone cough in an attempt to get your attention. You pulled apart, slightly out of breath, and a bit embarrassed you had been so caught up in the moment. 

The bride and groom stood a few feet from you. His arm wrapped around his new wife’s waist as his eyes fell on you and it took a second for him to recognize you. 

Just before he could say anything, Josie unwraps herself from him and goes to give Sweet Pea a hug. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it” he lied. “It’s not everyday you get to show off that you know a star.” 

“Speaking of showing off. Is this your girlfriend?”

“No” you elbow him. “I mean yes. Sorry, I meant no as in...”

“Its ok,” you say to Sweet Pea as you take his nervous hand in yours. “We’re still figuring things out. It’s pretty new.” Hours actually, not that it was real but you really wanted it to be. 

“It’s a small world.” Josie’s new husband finally chimed in. “Fancy seeing you here” he told you. 

“Yeah.” This time it was your turn to lie. “I didn’t know whose wedding this was when I got invited. All I knew was that it was an old friend of Sweet Pea’s.” You turned to look at him with a shy smile. 

“Wait,” Josie looked between you and her husband. “You two know each other?”

You had no idea what he would say. He could straight up lie and say you were just friends or that you had a class together in college. In fact, you were prepared for the lie but it never came. “Me and Y/n briefly dated as freshman.”

Josie seemed surprised at the revelation. “Oh.”

To you, it felt more than ‘briefly’ but apparently to him it was something he had long ago forgotten. “Right. Briefly.” Had you heard him say that any other time it would have really stung but for some reason it didn’t. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you can see how happy he is now or the fact that you are having unusually strong feels for the man whose hand is currently in yours. 

“We had a general ed class together. That’s how we met. We had so much in common. Maybe too much, that's why we ended things.” He looked down at his wife. 

That is not exactly how you remembered things. You distinctly remember him saying that you two just wouldn’t work out in the long run and that you would be better off as friends, but it definitely wasn’t a mutual breakup. He made the decision all on his own and you had no choice but to go along with it. What were you supposed to do? Beg him to give you another chance? That really wasn’t your style. 

“I know I have my moments but it would be too vain to would want to date myself” he joked and Josie laughed. A real laugh, not just because she wanted to make him feel better about his obviously lame joke. He looked back to you. “Now that I think about it, I don’t understand why we didn’t stay friends.” 

You shrugged, “Different majors I guess. We sort of just lost touch.” 

It was quiet for a few seconds as nobody knew what to say, a slow fog of awkwardness surrounding you. 

“Congratulations on the wedding. Really, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you” they said at the same time and looked into each others eyes and giggled like shy teenagers in love. It was really weird to watch. 

“It really was lovely, Josie. I’m so happy for you” Sweet Pea said. 

She smiled. “Thank you Sweet Pea. That means a lot.” Before the awkward silence could seep back through she pointed out the question you and Sweet Pea had been dreading. “Ok so, me and Sweet Pea know each other from our hometown. You two met in college,” she points to you and her husband. “But how do you and Sweet Pea know each other?” 

It was an automatic answer. Too automatic that it sounded rehearsed. “At a party, through a friend.” 

This time you and Sweet Pea laughed it off. “Betty introduced us” said Sweet Pea. 

She laughed. “Ah, Betty. Always the matchmaker.” Which was totally true. She loved being in love with her high school sweetheart that she wanted everyone to have a taste of what she had. 

Finally Josie’s new husband spoke up. “Honey, we should get back before your mother thinks I’ve dragged you off for some pre-honey moon activities.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned, “You’re right, I swear that woman has been such a bridezilla about everything and it’s not even her wedding.”

“Cut her some slack, she just wanted her only daughter to have the perfect wedding.” He turns to you and Sweet Pea, “It was really great to see you and we hope you enjoy the rest of the reception.”

They waved and said goodbye and when you and Sweet Pea were finally alone again you both were able to breathe freely and after a second you both started cracking up. You two did it. You managed to get through the entire wedding and an interaction with the bride and groom without completely falling apart. 

After the laughter subsided, you realized you two were still holding hands as you both smiled at each other. It was a pretty quiet save for the crickets chirping in the night and the soft sounds coming from the reception. 

“You wanna go dance in there?” he nods towards where the dancefloor is located. “As my date real date to this wedding?”

 You smile brightly and he pulls you by your intertwined hand and you feel that same fluttering in your stomach you’ve been feeling almost all night. You don’t know how you got this lucky to be here. 

Sweet Pea turned to you and winked. He definitely was a charmer and you were already a sucker for it. 

[gwaciechang]

Love Run (9/15)

“And as the world comes to an end I’ll be here to hold your hand ‘Cause you’re my king and I’m your lionheart.”

This chapter is written entirely from Bobby’s POV and will contain no fluff whatsoever. Spoilers for the episode “Run Rabbit Run” of Stan Lee’s Lucky Man are all over this part. I’ve also tried my best to be inclusive by avoiding Robin’s name, and by using gender neutral pronouns whenever possible, which might not be the pronouns you use. I’ve also changed Chloe’s name to Maisie because “Chloe Choi” looks super weird to me when it’s written out. There is also a near-relapse for Bobby, as well as references to a stabbing murder, implications of prostitution, mention of human trafficking, and implications of dismemberment.

@wackiekebab @sunflowergrlpwr @danilanidingdong @scratching-wingless-thing @farewellfelidae @whatevermonkey @the-winter-witcher  

Bobby jerked up at the sound of the gunshot, heart almost ready to pound out of his chest. He strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear anyone over the screaming of other people who also heard the gunshot. It took one count of six off the bed, two counts of six to the door, three counts of six down the stairs, and four counts of six to the tire tracks and glitter on the ground. It took nine counts of ten before he could kneel down and pick up the pieces of Robin’s phone.

One, two, three, four-wait. He looked at the pieces in his hand. Except for the glass screen, they were all whole. Phones don’t shatter like that, he thought, breaking into their individual components. Someone specifically designed this phone to break in a way that, if he could put all the pieces back together, would be returned to perfect working order. He spent nearly three hundred counts looking for the pieces before going back inside.

The world fell away, silent, as he worked. By the time the sun came up, he realized he didn’t have the SD card. But he couldn’t possibly have missed it, he’d practically combed the ground. Just as he was about to go back outside and look for it again, the phone rang.

Without the memory card of stored contacts, the screen just showed the number, so he had no idea who he was answering. “Hello?”

“Robert Hayes, where the fuck is my youngest sibling?”

His throat closed up at the idea of talking to a lady he’d never met. But Maisie had agreed to store hard drugs, to lend her car to take him to a methadone clinic, and most importantly, had previously gone to extraordinary lengths to find the person he was looking for, too. “Someone with a gun took them. I didn’t see who, I just heard the gunshot, and there are tire tracks next to where I found the pieces of their phone. I didn’t find any blood,” He could feel bruises forming on his arms from how hard he was tapping.

Someone typed frantically on the other side of the line. “Turn your computer on.”

“W-what?” he had been expecting her to scream abuse at him, to which he would respond with endless apologies.

Maisie hissed something under her breath before saying, “You put the phone together, so you’re clearly very good at technology. You looked for blood on the ground, so you care about Robin’s wellbeing. Now, go to your lab or office or whatever, and turn your computer on. I’ve just emailed you a map of the area with convenience stores and banks highlighted, since they’re the most likely to have working security cameras. I already logged the kidnapping with the MET and I’m in the process of registering myself as lead investigator, so I need you to make a detective inspector’s ID for me. You can pull any picture of me within the year.”

“How did you-”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, have the footage loaded and ready.”

Having clear instructions helped immensely. He knew how to hack into cameras, he knew how to analyze security camera footage, and he knew how to make fake identification cards. He would be able to help Maisie find Robin, because the alternative was unacceptable. 99% of kidnappings ended in death within 24 hours, and the clock was ticking.

The camera from the front gate ran out of battery in the middle of his download.

The footage from the bank was useless, due to a large food truck passing in front of the camera.

The footage from the first convenience store was useless because of the same food truck. The camera from second convenience store was knocked into a different angle before he could see anything useful. When he got to the footage from the third store and discovered some sort of interference distorting it, he stood up to go to Maisie’s car for his emergency stash.

“Robert, I’m coming in,” Maisie called as she unlocked the door. Bobby felt angry for a second before relief flooded his system. She’d probably saved his life, and Robin’s, by extension.

Bobby checked the time. “You’re late,” he said. “You said twenty minutes, that was more than forty minutes ago. Do you not care?”

“I had to see a friend,” she said cryptically. “You have the footage?”

“Yes, and I’ve isolated the time frame we need, but they’re all obscured.” He’s tapping and counting, everything smelled like blood, any second Pearl was going to ask what was wrong with him, and once she knew she wouldn’t allow him to help her look for Robin, and he couldn’t-

“What do you mean, obscured?” Maisie motioned for him to sit down next to her without making a single move to touch him.

“There’s always something blocking it, or moving the camera. Here, some bird knocked into the camera. Here, there’s interference from a different device. Here, here, and here, there’s a food truck!” his voice echoed off the wall. Oh god, he’d been shouting.

“Show me the last one with the delivery truck,” Maisie spoke like he hadn’t said anything. “Aaaaaand pause, look,” she pointed to the reflection of the cars on the other side of the food truck from the store across the street. “Screenshot all those license plates.”

Bobby just stared at her for a few seconds. Was this what it felt like to have a reasonable voice in one’s head, instead of a voice that screamed out for heroin?

“Now, please,” she didn’t raise her voice, but it echoed through his head all the same, and he could only obey. It only took a few seconds, which he felt a little bit proud of. “Do you have a way of finding out who drives each of those vehicles from here?” she asked once he was done.

“I can find out from here,” he was already running the program when he spoke.

“I need to make a call. And don’t bother trying to take your heroin while I’m gone, I already went into my car and put it where you’ll never find it. Well, probably,” Maisie took out her phone and pressed a single key. “Laurie? It’s Maisie Choi. I need you to listen carefully.”

The rest of the conversation was too muffled to hear, but Bobby didn’t care, because he had a list of several names. He pulled out his phone and dialed the nice detective.

“Is everything alright, son?”

“Robin’s been kidnapped. There was a gunshot, but I don’t think it hit them. I’ve got their sister here, and we’re looking together. I’ve used the license plate to match owners with cars that drove near the apartment complex.” He left out the bit about the detective’s badge, he didn’t think Harry would approve of it as much.

“Who’s on your list?”

“Um, Alice North, Daniel Simon, Pierre Aladin, Connor Anderson-”

“Go back, what was that last one? Before Connor?”

“Pierre Aladin.”

“Send me that list, and don’t do anything until I get there.”

“Toss that idea right in the trash, Det. Clayton,” Maisie suddenly took the phone from Bobby. “We don’t have time to wait for you to meet with Elsa and then come here. We’ll go to you.”

“Who are you?” Harry demanded.

“I’m looking for a bracelet to match my hairpin,” Maisie said before twisting her necklace.

Bobby’s call cut out.

“Laurie hasn’t heard from Pierre for a few hours, ever since somebody broke into their apartment this morning. Interesting, huh?” Maisie smiled knowingly.

“You have a signal jammer in your necklace.” Bobby’s eyes flicked up to the pink butterfly on her hair. “Is your hairpin another signal jammer?”

“No,” she took it off so Bobby could see the USB drive under the center pearl. “There’s a tracker on Robin’s phone, attached to-”

“To the SD card,” Bobby made to snatch the hairpin out of her hand, but she moved her wrist at the last second and stuck the drive into the computer herself, and she kept her hand on it the whole time. “Why didn’t you say you could just find them?”

“I needed to know who took Robin in order to know how to move forward, and I need a way to keep you busy, so you didn’t overdose in my car,” her voice was ice-cold.

“I wouldn’t, not when,” his throat closed up before he could finish. He almost had. “How did you know Pierre Aladin was involved?” he asked instead.

“I’ve cleaned up enough of his hits that I know what kind of car he drives,” she said absently, focusing on the shrinking dot on the screen until it pinged an exact location. “Give me a plastic bag for this,” she said, producing a bloody cleaver out of nowhere. “They’re in the cabinets under the counter, to the right of the sink. And if there’s any liquid left in the green bottle with the words you can’t read, pour it out so Robin needs to go out and get better wine. Wow, this is a very good badge,” she pocketed the fake ID he made. “Come on, chop chop,” she clapped as best she could while one hand was wrapped around a giant knife when she noticed he was staring.

He decided not to ask about the knife and just do what she said.

“Thanks,” she said, now with her hair tied back and two pink pearls dangling from her ears. “Let’s go,” she motioned with a hand holding a piece of folded paper.

Rather than walk toward where her car was parked, Maisie went to where several men had just finished loading the garbage truck and hopped in the back. She cleared a space for him and motioned for him to sit down, something he wouldn’t have done if he hadn’t essentially spent the last two days covered in various bodily fluids of his own and Robin’s.

“Why are we taking the garbage truck?” Bobby asked as he settled in.

“Because we need to pick up your friend,” Maisie responded cryptically. She didn’t say another word, preferring to twist her earrings.

“We’re wasting time!” Bobby finally exploded. He was getting itchy. “They could be doing anything to Robin!”

“They’re not,” she closed her eyes and gestured to her earrings.

Bobby stared at her until he understood. “You can hear them.”

Maisie hummed her assent and closed her eyes as a man fell somewhere behind Bobby. “We picked up your friend,” she said by way of explanation. “Please don’t interfere,” she said. “I’m trying to do you several favors.”

Bobby twisted his head to see Harry looking just as bewildered as he felt.

“And what favors are those?” Harry asked warily.

“Sheldon Blake, for one. And the stabbing at The Catalyst is also of interest to you, isn’t it?” Maisie smiled at Harry’s gobsmacked face.

“Do you know everything that happens?” he asked suspiciously.

“This is our stop,” Maisie linked Bobby’s arm with hers and hopped off the truck, steadying him when he almost fell. A flop and a groan a few seconds later let Bobby know that Harry was following them to the building that seemed abandoned, except for a single man in a blue tweed jacket and a surprising amount of makeup at the door.

“Hello,” the man waved cheerfully.

“Hello,” she purred back, nearly draping her body over his. “And who might you be?”

“Dixie,” he answered with an easy grin.

“What a beautiful name!” Maisie stepped back and showed him her badge. “Now, Dixie, would you mind taking me and my friends inside?”

Dixie swallowed. “I-I can’t-”

“You won’t get in trouble,” all the fake seduction fell away, replaced by soft concern. She whispered something in his ear before unfolding the paper she had taken from Robin’s apartment. “Go to this address right here and tell Shelley King that a friend of Laurie’s sent you. He’ll let you in. And then tell him the knife is in Callum Ballimore’s apartment.”

Dixie gave her an odd look, but didn’t leave even when Maisie gestured for him to go. “Miss, I don’t mean to insult you, but do you know what’s in there?” he asked, pointing his thumb to the building behind him.

“A human trafficking operation, right? One that took in two very willful people today as punishment for aiding investigations into Sheldon Blake.”

Harry gasped and stiffened next to Bobby, who felt like he might faint. He’d known Robin had been kidnapped for what he helped Harry with, but hearing it spelled out made him want to shower until he flayed himself.

Wait, two people?

“But here’s what he doesn’t understand: the past catching up to you refers to both your enemies coming to harm you and your friends coming to rescue you. There’s no sadness without joy, too. Now, let Shelley protect you and extend my apologies for making him do this again.”

This time, when Maisie pointed, Dixie ran.

[feminarrie]

in bloom - iv

Niall’s managed to change his outfit three times in a span of thirty minutes while Harry sits idly in the brown leather accent chair in the corner of Niall’s bedroom. He’s double tapping on different photos that fill his instagram feed when Niall expels a puff of warm air from his nose. Though it catches his attention, the lanky brunette never lifts his eyes from the blue light of his phone.

“Relax,” he says, thumb hovering over a photo of some words of affirmation typed on a pastel yellow background. “She’s seen yeh covered in your own sick. ‘s a noticeable improvement.”

Harry’s only jesting, but Niall hardly finds his humor comforting while his trembling fingers struggle to undo the top three buttons of his navy blue top. He has long since passed the nervous butterflies. In their place is a swarm of hummingbirds that somersault and kick at his sides. His heart rate feels as though it is climbing to match the rapid beat of their wings. It’s a nervousness that he has never felt before. At least not at the thought of a first date.

Well, he’s felt close to this feeling before. He tries not to think about that, though. Instead, his eyebrows furrow as he glares at the sliver of tanned skin and curly hair that peeks out from between unbuttoned fabric. His lips are pressed into a thin line as brushes an undone button. The white marbled plastic feels smooth against the pad of his thumb as he glances between it and Harry’s reflection in the full length mirror.

“Don’t think that she’ll think that I’m tryin’ too hard?” Niall asks, meeting Harry’s eyes when he glances up from his phone.

A dimple appears in Harry’s right cheek, accompanied by a genuine smile. He can see the worry lines deepen in Niall’s forehead. He stands to come up behind Niall. He looks comfortable in his loose yellow gym shorts and oversized Packer’s jersey. His eyes are half lidded with fatigue, but they’re soft and kind.

“I think she’d be worried if you weren’t trying hard,” Harry says, a ping from his phone following shortly after his words. He glances down to look at the source and claps a hand to Niall’s back with a quiet laugh. “Can’t worry ‘bout it too much now. She’s downstairs.”

Niall’s confused as to why she would text Harry that she’s arrived until he’s picking up his own phone. There’s a series of texts that are littered with playful emojis and capital letters. He breaks into a nervous smile before texting Levinia that he’s headed toward the elevator. (He’d typically take the stairs, but between nerves and a sore knee, he hardly wants to chance it).

The lift dings as it makes its descent to the first floor. It sticks on the second floor for just a moment too long, but with a few disconcerting noises he’s finally stepping foot into the foyer. He can see Levinia through the glass window that takes up three quarters of the door. She’s dressed in a black off the shoulder shirt that exposes her clavicles in a way that has Niall biting his lip at the thought of nipping at the taut skin there. Her hair is slicked back into a low bun and he’s happy to see even more of her face.

She looks beautiful. Though, Niall hardly thinks the word is enough. Ethereal. Breathtaking. None of the words seem to fit. Nothing encompasses the way she looks tonight or accurately describes the hitch in his breath. Not even how his eyes attempt to drink in every shadow, dip, and texture of her skin when he finally steps outside.

“Cat got your tongue?” Levinia observed, a playful smile lighting up the rest of her features.

She seems to be unphased by the entire situation. Her humor and wit as sharp as ever, and face free of any worry lines or blush. But, Levinia’s picking at the cuticle of her left thumb as the nerves rattle through her. The nail of her index finger makes a soft clicking noise that is lost in the sounds of the city.

Niall shakes his head with a scoff.

“Sorry I kept you waiting, love.” Niall apologizes, “I’ve been a nervous wreck.”

Niall recalls someone, years ago, telling him that the best way to shake the nerves was to just come right out and say it. And it does, just a little. It quiets the pounding of his heart in his ears, but hardly settles the fluttering deep in his tummy. He doesn’t mind that part as much, however. It feels nice to have such nervous excitement bubbling through his system, each swell and pop releasing more endorphins.

“It’s alright,” Levinia smiles, her tone sweet as heat blooms beneath her makeup. “There’s no need to be nervous. S’only me.”

Niall bites his tongue. Though he wants to tell her that being her is enough to rattle him to his core and turn him back into a blubbering school boy, he’s trying to save some face tonight. He doesn’t want Levinia to think that he’s just some sorry sod that can’t keep his cool around a girl. So, he offers a hand to her and really tries to be the perfect gentleman.

Helping her into his car. Pulling out her seat when they finally arrive at some slightly upscale restaurant that she’s chosen. Even splurges a little on a decade old bottle of red wine. He pays for everything, too, despite Levinia’s protests. They only compromise when Niall agrees to let her pay for the movie they’re going to see.

They agreed upon some action movie that Levinia’s interested in, but Niall only somewhat. Not because the plot is boring, but because he’s fascinated by the creature next to him. He’s committing each freckle of her profile to his memory. Connecting each one to create some type of abstract design and only sometimes losing his place when the screen darkens.

Levinia feels it, too. She can feel the way his blue eyes dance across her face while she watches a car fly into the air. The noise echoes in the near empty theatre. It’s only her, Niall, and the group of three teenagers that sit six or so rows in front of them. They’re boisterous and borderline distracting from the movie, but neither of them really seem to be paying any mind to the rowdy bunch.

She’s never been shy about wanting affection when she actually wants it. So, her nerves are just barely making her hands tremble as she reaches for Niall. She daintily plucks his hand from his thigh, index finger and thumb on either side of his wrist. Levinia brings it to lay flat on the armrest between them before resting her own hand on top. Her fingers look thin and delicate as she plays with Niall’s own thick digits. It’s an innocent gesture that reminds Niall just how soft Levinia can be when her guard isn’t up.

She mindlessly plays with his fingers as the movie continues to play. They both laugh at the appropriate times and Levinia scrunches up her nose at a particularly sad part of the movie. It’s all very...easy. There’s no inflated sense of romanticism or a need to be something they’re not. Authenticity in every sense of the word.

Real.

Tangible.

Simple.

Niall likes it this way. They’ve seen each other in the darkest of lights and when the light seems to light them from within. There’s no need to hide. No need to clean and polish any flaws away. They can just be whatever it is that they are.

Niall’s hoping that they’ll get to the point where a label has been placed upon their relationship. Not to signify ownership, no. The very thought is archaic. But, being able to introduce Levinia to his mother in a way that doesn’t just describe her as the woman who took pity on him months ago. The term that suggests that there is mutual desire and respect for one another.

He wants to be patient, though. It’s partially for his own selfish reasons. Niall isn’t quite ready to commit to the label yet. Because he can still feel a piece of his heart cave in every single time he thinks of that day. Even feels it swell sometimes when he thinks about the possibility of resurrecting the flame that despite being fed, burned out so quickly.

But, he’s trying to move on. He wants to move on. Believe him, he really does.

Yet, when he glances down at his phone when the credits begin to roll...why does his heart tighten with hope? Why does his stomach sink with guilt when he feels Levinia’s touch linger over his palm? And why is he making a piss poor excuse to head to the bathroom before the lights have even begun to light the theatre?

Perhaps because he’s delusional enough to think that a text from Penelope means that flame hasn’t completely burnt out.

[hq-cuties-pls]

Can I request Asahi Azumane and Kuroo Tetsurou scenarios (separate) in which they get to know their s/o through the internet chat? After a loooong time they decided to meet and see how their relationship would develop irl. They didn't send a single pic to each other so this first meeting... Can be interesting. (Bonus: S/o is vv shy and a little bit scared of touch but didn't told them about it.)

I used Recovery of an MMO Junkie as a huge influence on these. I loved writing them, though! They were super fun!! Enjoy~Admin Emma

Asahi

Breaking his leg was by far the dumbest thing Asahi had ever done. He would regret getting that damn motorcycle until the day he died, especially where a mild crash with it resulted in him being totally hung up in bed for at least six weeks, possibly more. He spent a solid day and a half after getting out of the hospital pouting. He was bored, damn it, and he could only handle so much of Daichi and Suga’s company before they either had to leave or he was ready to bodily throw them out, broken bones be damned. If Suga made one more Evel Knievel reference, Asahi might have to forget he was a nice person.

After he pouted, he got to work on his homework and his studies. His time in the hospital put him a bit behind schedule, and this way he could get caught up and then some. Maybe even get ahead, or do some extra credit. It really seemed to work out perfectly; he was a slow studier, and his mild attention issues often got the better of him, so it could be a great way to kill a lot of time.

Except that he lasted about four days before his brain felt fried and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

After getting caught up on his reading, watching as many trashy dramas on Netflix that he could handle (it wasn’t many), checking out that anime Suga’s… person kept recommending (he made it to episode three), and killing a few pages in his sketchbook, he hadn’t managed to make time go any faster. He was still hung up in bed. He could get up to go to the bathroom and that was about it. He was ready to climb the walls, or maybe just crawl out of his own skin.

About two weeks into his sentence, Daichi recommended an MMO he’d been playing with his girlfriend. It had really appealing character designs and a high skill floor, so it seemed the perfect solution. He made his character as pretty and bishonen-esque as he could just for shits and giggles… the farthest thing from himself that he could. He named his character Vaughn because he’d watched most of Vision of Escaflowne while he’d waited for the game to install and he was obsessed. He took up the starting quest and started exploring.

Within an hour, he had a chat notification pop up.

Nina: Hi there! Are you trying the Devil Dungeon Event?

Asahi was skeptical at first, because he didn’t see which avatar had pinged him, but then he saw someone doing some sort of pre-animated wave emote. He waved back before responding.

Vaughn: Yeah, I was thinking about it. Still have to grind, though.

Nina: Actually, our tank sort of bailed on us. My group could run you to 20 really fast and then we could do it together.

Asahi was still skeptical–he’d heard about scams like these–but he really did want to try the event, and on his own it would definitely end before he could even attempt it. He figured he’d just bail as soon as they started asking for personal information or money or something.

Needless to say, things went a lot quicker with three higher-level characters helping him out and outfitting him. He was invited into their group chat and he learned they were especially funny, but Nina-san was very nice. She seemed to just keep the group together, seeing as the two DPS players were ridiculous humans. They played and grinded through levels and chatted until Asahi looked up and he’d been playing for eight hours. They’d done the dungeon twice and walked away with several loot boxes he couldn’t wait to open.

Nina: Goodness, I didn’t realize it was so late. Thanks for helping us out, Vaughn-san.

Vaughn: Don’t mention it. It was fun.

Nina: Would you like to game with us again sometime? You’re really good. Is this your first character?

Vaughn: In this game, yeah.

Nina: That’s surprising! But the guild is taking part in a raid tomorrow night after we all get off work and school and stuff. What time’s good for you?

Asahi scowled, though not at Nina. He’d just started to forget that he was literally stuck in bed.

Vaughn: Aahh… I’m sort of free whenever. I can’t get out of bed for another month or so.

Nina: OMG are you sick!?

Vaughn: Broken leg. Crashed my motorcycle.

There was such a long pause–so long, Asahi was afraid Nina had disconnected–but she came back eventually.

Nina: That’s so cool! Well, the motorcycle thing… not the broken leg thing.

Vaughn: I appreciate that.

Nina: Anyway, we’re hoping to get started no later than 7:00 or so, so DM me whenever you log on, kay?

With that, she was gone. Asahi should have been tired, given how late it was, but he was strangely exhilarated. Despite the fact he’d just spoken to her in snippets about the game and they’d each given perfunctory details about their lives, he felt connected to Nina in a way. Maybe it was the barrier of the screen… that he could talk to her. He’d never been able to talk to girls like this in real life.

Assuming Nina is a girl. She could be anyone. She could be Daichi for all you know!

Asahi shook his head to banish his intrusive (if sensible) thoughts. He snapped his laptop closed, not bothering to shut it down. He couldn’t get to sleep–he was too giddy–and he had trouble pinning down why.

Over the course of the next few weeks–between doctor’s’ appointments, PT and slowly-but-surely returning to classes and eventually, practices–he kept logging on every day to play at least a quest or two with his guild, but mostly to talk to Nina. She (and he was convinced she was a she) seemed to like talking to him. Sometimes, after the entire guild logged out and it was late and they didn’t have any more quests to do, they’d just go to a private area and talk about nothing. He learned all about her, and she learned all about him. She was ecstatic when she found out they lived close enough to each other.

After a long time, he finally figured out why it was so hard to say goodnight every night; he was in love. It wasn’t long after he made this realization that Nina and him had… the conversation.

Nina: So, you’ve been logging on a lot less lately. I take it your doctors are letting you back out there?

Vaughn: Yeah, I’m mostly free. Doctor Nishimi isn’t thrilled that I’m back at practice, but I don’t have much of a choice. I’m on scholarship and my leave of absence has already been extended.

Nina: You can’t overdo it! If you hurt yourself even worse, you won’t be able to play at all!

Vaughn: Don’t worry, one of my teammates had a friend with a bad knee back in high school. He’s making sure I take it easy.

Nina: Look, I know we’re both busy and all, but… Vaughn I think I might… could we meet sometime? Soon?

Asahi froze. Hadn’t he wanted this to happen? Wasn’t this end game? Or… well, would it be weird? There was a distinct possibility–the only thing he knew for sure about Nina was her love of this game (and any loot box that guaranteed something extra pink and extra adorable). But that wasn’t it… and he knew it.

He knew that if he met her, she’d have to see him. In all his 188 cm glory, with his fucking man-bun (which he still hadn’t gotten rid of, for some reason) and goatee and too-wide shoulders and his scary face… and she’d reject him. And he didn’t want Nina–his Nina–to reject him. Not when it was so good.

Despite all his fears and trepidations, though, he did want to meet her. He wanted to see Nina for real. And go on a date and buy her coffee and call her by her real name. So he agreed to meet on their next day off.

Which was the next day.

~~~

He was looking for a pink cardigan, which sounded just… too cute. He shouldn’t have been surprised, given Nina’s enthusiasm for all things cute and pink in the game. He swallowed hard, debating if he should get decaf today so as to not act completely spastic when he finally met her. He tugged on his wine-colored sweater, trying to not put too much pressure on his left leg, and waited. He didn’t want to be too overt scanning the crowd, in case Nina was there and thought he was a molester or something. Then he’d go to jail and Nina would think he stood her up, which just… wouldn’t be good.

“Um.. excuse me.”

Your small voice at his elbow nearly made him jump, but it was worth the fright, because you were wearing a pink cardigan. His eyes widened at the bright smile. You were so cute!

“N-nina?”

You grinned even wider, a precious pink blush across the tops of your cheeks; “Actually, my name is ____. You must be Vaughn, then.”

“Asahi,” he corrected. “Azumane Asahi.”

“Well, then, Azumane Asahi, should we get a table? This place has amazing crepes, and their coffee is actually really good given the price.”

He smiled, a bubble of pressure releasing from his chest. He followed you to a shaded table under the kitschy awning, ready to get to know you for real.

Kuroo

Kuroo had a dilemma. A quandary, if you would. A predicament. It was the shittiest predicament ever, and he was pretty sure that if he brought up his predicament to Yaku he’d get his balls ripped off for being “ungrateful” but it really wasn’t that simple. See, his dilemma was just this; he liked two people.

Now, to people who’ve never gone through such a trial, it wouldn’t be so bad. Liking two people and all. And some people could take advantage of the fact, especially given how young he was and how prevalent casual dating was. But people weren’t Kuroo. People weren’t the serial monogamist who looked like some sort of casual-sex God (apparently… Kuroo still found that high school reputation highly unsettling) but was in reality a giant cuddle spoon full of shmoop and love.

The other problem was he didn’t exactly know the other person he knew. He gamed with them from time to time, when he got a free hour or so, but they communicated mostly via Skype’s chat function. He’d never even seen their picture. He didn’t even know their real name. But they were an awesome person–they put up with his sense of humor, they could keep up with him, they didn’t seem to mind listening to him pour his anxieties all over them at 2:30 in the morning when school was hard and grad school applications were piling up and what the fuck even is a statement of purpose? And they just… listened. And it felt so nice to just be heard.

And then… well, and then there was you. He didn’t have quite as intimate of a relationship with you as he did with his online friend, but he still liked you. You and him had similar classes, similar taste in music and movies, even similar senses of humor. There were times when he’d tell his online friend a joke only for you to nearly parrot it at him the very next time you saw each other. Most of all, though, you were sweet and caring and beautiful… and for that matter real. Like, he knew you were real. And that was the problem.

His online friend had never seen him, so they got to know him separately of his reputation and his appearance. He could really be himself, whereas sometimes with others–even you–he always felt like he was putting up a front. It wasn’t any fault of yours, it was just an old habit that was hard to break. It was hard showing everything to someone and having them reject it… he knew from experience.

He didn’t know what to do about any of this, but he knew that if it was keeping him up at night he should probably solve it soon. The problem was that there were three people he typically went to when it came to this sort of thing, except Bokuto was at this hyper-intense training camp with the rest of the National team hopefuls, Kenma was caught between research for his undergrad thesis and applications to grad school, and, well… the other person was Nao-chan…

He huffed under his breath, opening his laptop and tapping it impatiently to get it to load faster. He pulled up Skype; Nao-chan’s icon had the little yellow bubble next to their name that showed they were away. Kuroo decided to message them anyway and hope they’d get back to him when they got back.

Kuro-kun: I have a conundrum. Can you talk?

Kuroo smirked at his own name. It was his handle in the game he played with Nao-chan. It wasn’t exactly creative, but too much of his mental energy went to school and maintaining his volleyball scholarship to come up with fancy names for his MMO characters. He went to get his bag to maybe work on some studies, thinking that Nao-chan probably wouldn’t be at their computer for a long time.

Instead, the little indicator lit up with a new message.

Nao-chan: Sure thing, Kuro-kun. The doctor is in. Tell  me about your mother.

Kuroo laughed; Nao-chan could always get him to laugh. They were a lot like you that way.

Kuro-kun: Very funny, Doctor. It’s stupid, but… well, it’s kind of serious.

Nao-chan: Are you dying?

Kuro-kun: Not any more than most people. No, it’s more of a moral quandary.

Nao-chan: Oya oya? Now this I have to hear.

Kuro-kun: I know it’s weird hearing this from me, but could you be serious for a second?

Nao-chan: Sorry, sorry. Bad habit. Seriously, Kuro-kun, you know you can tell me anything. Talk to me

The little heart emoji made this so much harder, but he didn’t want to tell Nao-chan that.

Kuro-kun: See, it’s like this. There’s this girl in like… half my classes. And she’s smart and pretty and she’s really nice. She likes the same music and books and stuff as me, and we have a lot in common and she likes my friends…

Nao-chan: She sounds perfect

Kuro-kun: That’s sort of the problem. I mean, it would be easy to just… pretend that she was the only one. But the problem is I like someone else.

Nao-chan: More than her?

Kuro-kun: Not more or less… just different. See, I can be honest with this person. I’ve told them things I don’t tell anyone. I’ve let them see a side of me I don’t let anyone else see. But I’ve never even seen their face. Maybe if I knew what they looked like… if we talked face to face, it would be easier. Then this other person would be confirmed real and… I sound like a raving lunatic, don’t I?

Nao-chan: Kuro-kun…

Kuro-kun: It’s you, Nao-chan. I like you. I like you a lot. I don’t.. I don’t want this to end. I want to get to know you better and see you and… all that other gross coupley stuff that couples do. Like get coffee and talk about our day without euphemisms. I want to see your smile and hear your laugh and I want to talk to a person when I talk instead of just typing it out. I totally understand if you’re not comfortable. Those are just my feelings.

There was a long pause. A heartbreakingly long pause. Nao-chan went horrifically silent. It was long enough that Kuroo sat and questioned every decision in his life that had lead this moment. He paced around his apartment twice, fed his cat, got a snack, boiled water for tea, and had a very minor panic attack in the time it took for them to respond.

Their response wasn’t something he could have ever anticipated.

Nao-chan: Do you have your webcam set up? If so, don’t respond. Just… start a video call with me.

Kuroo didn’t question it. He immediately hit the little video button, not caring that his laptop was probably in a place where he looked like shit on camera, and his apartment was a mess, and he was pretty sure he was wearing Bokuto’s Spyair sweatshirt, which sent so many wrong messages…

Then, his screen filled with a face. Your face. Your… your perfect, beautiful smiling face. You looked just as surprised as he was, but that gorgeous look of shock and awe was something he wanted to see over and over and over again.

“Hey there, Kuro-kun,” you said, somehow sounding so much better now that he knew who you were. “Nice name, by the way. Did you spend a whole ten seconds thinking about it?”

He couldn’t even defend himself from your teasing. He was too busy trying to not embarrass himself by breaking down into the most ridiculous tears any grown ass man had ever produced. He didn’t have to choose… he could have it all.

When did he get so lucky?

[savrenim]

so Event Horizon happened and I am.......full of feelings

I played Osiris Aeon, who was this kid-AI; she’d been a normal kid running around the ruins of Din Shass getting into trouble and playing pranks on other gangs of kids with her friends and going on mock-expeditions into the Ancient ruins and just getting into trouble, until on one of these expeditions, she collapsed. She woke up a few hours later in the med bay and thought she was fine but her best friend and sister insisted that they wait for the prognosis and when it came in....it wasn’t good. She had a neurodegenerative disease. It was incurable. She was going to die in a few months, and there was nothing anyone could do as week by week she lost more and more control of her body until she was trapped in it, unable to move, unable to do anything.

To save her, her sister came up with a crazy scheme, a highly illegal and experimental procedure to upload her consciousness in an android body. It worked. Mostly. The parts of her brain that did motor control were too far gone, so she ended up a virtual consciousness. Not dead, but digital. She had been an AI for two years and made a lot of friends on the interwebs, other AIs and hackers and private detectives and a corporate spymaster who caught her hacking his documents because she was bored and went “okay, what if instead of blackmailing you I let you have access to the documents as long as you don’t share them, and also what if I kind of act like a mentor figure to you to make sure that you don’t fall into this trap again.” She became an Augment and AI rights activist, rather secretly, because she knew her family wouldn’t really approve, She became friends with CAS, the AI that controlled the biggest corporation in the galaxy, because hey, why not. Oh, and her mother, Tempest, leader of the Stormriders, the biggest crime syndicate in the galaxy died, leaving her older sister the new Tempest. 

That’s where I was at the start of game.

Osiris was a good person. She cared about her sister. She cared deeply about the team of Stormriders that she was the hacking-support to, even though she knew and was somewhat morally conflicted about “we’re kind of the bad guys, or at least one version of the bad guys considering how corporations are the other bad guys but I’m working for the bad guys,” she was one of the integral members of a group that was going to pull of a hack to try to steal Enterios Augment designs and post them open-source online, she was trying to hire a hacker to remove the intelligence cap from one of her AI friends, she was deeply invested in a lot of people’s lives and their struggles and their stories because she’d met them and she’d listened to them and she cared about them even though she wasn’t really sure who she was or what she was or if there was anyone else out there like her at all.

And then she met Glass.

I knew about Glass, I helped write the character sheets for this game. Glass was a much older AI, with a very long-term mission, who thought that she is saving the galaxy and is ready to do anything to ensure that her mission is completed. When I was reading things and writing things, and learned about her, my reaction was “oh, she’s.....so right????” I wanted to be a part of her plotline. I really, really wanted to play something adjacent to her. I put in a request on my character sheet to get to be involved in the Glass plotline.

My corporate spymaster friend happened to have a copy of Glass, and when he learned that Osiris was looking into her--Osiris only having heard about the maybe existence of an AI named Glass who might be like her, might have been a person once too--offered to let Osiris meet her. Osiris was very interested in meeting her, and promptly, Glass forcibly downloaded herself into Osiris’s head, overtook all of Osiris’s systems, and essentially trapped Osiris in her own not-even-body-anymore again, unable to move, unable to control anything, until Glass had deemed Osiris on her side enough to give back bits of control, and spent the rest of the night impersonating her so that besides the tiny bits of messages Osiris had been able to get out about something being wrong, no one knew, and she could only watch as Glass slipped into her life and lied to her friends and began to enact her own will.

(There was a video message for my team to decode the next day that was suitably Dramatic about all of this: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1eXBjce5ypC7Ac4QM87LVVycXS0H0ld9n/view?usp=sharing )

Except Glass wasn’t cruel, not really. Glass opened a line between her and Oculus (the corporate spymaster) because Oculus knew, so Osiris did have one person to talk to so she could stop having a panic attack about dying all over again. And Glass was talking to her, ensuring her that she wasn’t overwriting her code to destroy her, that it was going to be a help, not a hindrance, to have Glass there too, that Glass could provide stabilization and support. Glass told her about the end of the universe, and what she was doing to stop it. And Osiris agreed wholeheartedly with that mission, with everything that Glass was doing because someone had to do something, this was so much bigger than her, this was so much bigger than all of them, maybe she could make a difference.

There were a lot of other really, really fantastic plotlines that I connected with. My detective buddy pinged me asking if I could scan an AI’s memories to see if they’d been in an Android on a certain night, and I said yeah, and then CAS, the most powerful being in the galaxy, pinged me going “here, I have the memories for you to look over” because it was CAS trying to clear their name. I got closer with my sister, including an incredibly emotional conversation of telling her about Glass and telling her that I was okay with Glass and a whole bunch of emotional stuff that we hadn’t addressed of Osiris having physically died and not really being as okay to suddenly only be virtual as she’d claimed and what it meant to her that Glass existed and that she wasn’t alone in that way anymore. And I continued to be involved in the crazy murder plot of hacking for receipts and scanning memories and tracking Augment signatures. Operation Kernel, the hacktivists, successfully got those Augment designs. I had people pinging me right and left about could I look up this person or find dirt on this corporation, we found deserters of the Stormriders but made a deal not to make an example of them if they helped our group track down a computer virus that had been split into 16 parts that, if assembled and decoded, could allow the user to take complete control of any AI or computer operating system, I was decoding and putting together the computer virus, I got my friend uncapped, I found my maybe-father who didn’t even know I existed and learned that he killed my mother (also cue a dramatic video message: https://drive.google.com/file/d/17bcaqzwSMJh-tARM7z-LJTRWYscqqv2k/view?usp=sharing .) And we sort of...re-initiated contact. There was also the incredibly stressful moment in which I (okay, Glass) successfully pulled off a negotiation with Admiral Therra, potentially the most revered, feared, glorified, and hated figure in the galaxy, the man who had immolated a planet during the Homeworld war and spent the rest of his life trying to fix it which included 30 years ago stealing the Agerran Capital ship above New Gyr and using it to recruit a fleet of sort-of pirates called Ya-Rett’s Irregulars to form a blockage against Agerre, Therra’s former homeworld, because he believed that he needed to dismantle the society that created him before he died--and I pulled off a successful negotiation of “do not hunt me or my team down, you let us get away with this virus, and I will not use it against you, and will give you all the information you want on the procedure that turned me from a human into an AI.” It was a damn wild adventure full of ups and downs and interesting connections and friends and stories.

Glass didn’t kill Osiris directly. But over the weekend, I slowly watched her die. I slowly watched thoughts about the universe ending, about the Mission, about expanding and gaining power and assets and controlling things from behind the scenes become more and more prominent in Osiris’s head, and the things that she was saying to her friends about caring about them or wanting to make things right becoming more and more blatant manipulation instead of her own genuine feelings. I gained Glass, and I lost everyone I loved, or at least my ability to care about them. And that was a really heavy experience for me.

An incredible experience. An incredible story. And I have it all written down so I can go back through it, hell, I have chat-logs between Osiris and Glass because I am that extra, it was a beautiful and it was tragic and it’s probably hitting harder because I was up until 4AM every night keeping up with the rest of the game happening in a different timezone, but it was beautiful, and it was worth it, and also damn if I’m not going to have feelings about everything that Osiris became, and about what she sacrificed for all that Glass-and-Osiris gained.

[littleshroomclan]

Follow Through

Previous | First

BOI, this is a looooong time coming, and I’m so excited to share this with everyone!! Things are really kicking off now !!

P.S. I used Toci’s future preview in the header, one day she’ll actually look like that LOL

pings:@carnifex-rising @deadlanddisciple @murdoch-fr @clockworktophat-fr @unkorea @kattafr@avalonianrising @jadedragons @majestyrising@webwing-alpha @fusefr​ @corpsejack-fr​ @hellkite-fr​ (Please let me know if you’d like to be pinged!! Sorry if I forgot anyone!!)

Warnings: Implied sexual abuse

“Are you sure about this?” Mortis carefully wrapped linens around his palms, flicking his gaze up to glance at Toci, “When it all kicks off, there won’t be a lot of time to react. Things could go wrong very quickly.”

Toci fixed her solemn stare on Mortis. The two were both veteran warriors, who shared many hardships and battles together. He didn’t often question her judgment or decisions, usually agreeing with her plans without fail. She shook her head, unwavered by his indecision.

“Things are about to heat up anyways, the child was successful. Once Betsalel discovers that the Emperor is dead, both Absinthe and Watcher will be at risk. It must be now.” Mortis nodded, he had agreed with her already, but secretly wanted to test her resolve.

“Do you have the spell memorized?” Toci probed, silently beginning the job of applying different protection and stealth runes to her skin. He grunted in response, patting his pocket.

“Plus extra copies just in case.” Toci finished her work, moving on to craft more runes onto Mortis.

“Good. Let’s go.”

The inside of the makeshift castle was bleak, as always. The setting sun peeked in through windows carved out of the clay walls, casting long shadows down the hallways. The pair snuck through the winding passageways, sticking to the sides. Eventually they reached two rooms, they split off, each going into one.

“Your Majesty, it’s time.” Mortis stepped over to Watcher, who was slumped over onto a clawed up table. Watcher’s pale, blind eyes looked towards Mortis, almost hopeful.

“Absinthe.” It was a question, even through all the pain he had suffered at the king’s hand, he still worried only for his sister.

“Toci is with her now, do you need to gather any of your things?”

Watcher shook his head, “No, there is nothing for me here.” He attempted to stand, nearly falling to his knees before Mortis caught him.

“Your Majesty, are you alright?” He wrapped his arm around the waist of the frail man.

Watcher coughed bitterly, clutching his side “Yes, please excuse me, Betsalel just left.” Mortis looked away, ashamed.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t come sooner.” He held the prince tight to his side, bearing most of his weight.

“Let’s just go.”

Across the hall, Toci had begun preparations for Manto’s spell. She’d mixed the herbs, made a salt circle around Absinthe, and placed crystals for each cardinal direction. She thumbed the mixture, swiping it across Absinthe’s forehead, which pulled a layer of dirt and blood off of her.

The state of the Queen was devastating: blood was caked to her whole body, her hair was matted in knots, she was covered in scratch marks and dark colored runes that oozed a putrid liquid. She was barely clothed, a torn sack that showed off bruised skin taut over bone. It disgusted Toci, that Absinthe had been treated this way, practically left to die unless Betsalel wanted her to bear more children.

Mortis came in with Watcher, and they watched the door while Toci began her incantation. The spell was designed to repel the Shade away from her, the very Shade that was keeping her in unnatural sleep. Light began to glow in Toci’s hands as her chant started to speed up. She pressed her palms against the Queen’s chest, pushing the light into her skin. Absinthe’s body began to glow with a soft light as black sludge melted out of her pores, dripped down her body and dissolved into the salt circle. After a few moments the light dimmed, the black runes that covered her had faded to dull scars, and her breathing returned to normal. Toci gingerly picked Absinthe up, carrying the Queen in her arms bridal style.

“Quickly, it won't be long until he takes notice.”

Toci stood outside the hut they’d taken the wounded royals to. There, Manto and Marrow tended their injuries, and made sure there were no lingering traces of shade. It had been a few hours since the rescue; there was still no word from inside the hutch, and Toci was beginning to grow anxious.

As if on cue, Manto emerged from inside ,fixing her gaze on the horizon.

“They are well, before you ask.” Manto didn’t break her stare, choosing not to meet Toci’s eyes.

“I expected no less, diviner.” The castle was barely visible in the distance, above it were angry grey storm clouds, and crackles of thunder echoed through the territory.

“Their injuries were horrific, to say the least.” Toci nodded, reflecting on what she had seen, “They were even worse than you saw. The physical injuries were cruel, but both of their mental conditions are… fragile, to say the least. They have long healing journeys ahead of them.”

Toci remained silent, nothing she could say would even begin to express the hopelessness of their situation. Even though the Emperor was dead and their monarchy was secure, they still had to finish the rest of their plans to secure the safety of the clan and defeat Betsalel.

“Do you think he knows that it's begun?” The storm clouds over the castle had migrated to the swamp and small drops fell through the husk of the Gildergleam. Manto allowed the drops to splash on her dark, freckled skin. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, enjoying the smell of the fresh rain. Exhaling, she opened her palm to catch more raindrops before scanning the castle once more.

“Without a doubt.”

[heyktula]

59 + kylux please (idk when you posted the meme, hope im not too late)

59: mistaken identity (I’m deeply sorry that it took me so long to get to this--but I hope you like the result!)

It’s the fourth ruined console this week, smoking and sparking and melted. They’ll have to laser-cut the fucking thing out of the kriffing wall in order to replace it, and the custom finish they use on the Finalizer’s interior durasteel panels isn’t fucking cheap because Hux thought he could afford a bit of luxury, could afford some fucking matte black panels, because he hadn’t banked on having a fucking toddler with temper tantrums and a lightsaber on his fucking flagship.

Hux is completely fucking done. 

Fuck billing him for the repair expenses, Hux decides. Fuck it.

He’ll just have Lord Ren assassinated.

It takes less than a week for Hux to identify his future assassin. The Knights of Ren are rarely seen without their masks. They don’t all use the training facilities—Hux assumes they have training space in their rooms, though he hasn’t been down there since they arrived because he doesn’t care to know what they’ve done to the section of his ship designated as theirs—but one of them has been using the common facilities late at night.

Presumably the knight thinks no one else is awake, but he clearly doesn’t understand that General Hux is always awake, always watching—and so Hux has a front-row seat via the security feed to a remarkably young human adult male with a non-regulation haircut, beauty marks scattered across his face, and a truly phenomenal physique running through the same series of training moves every night between eleven pm and one am.

Tonight, Hux has the security feed broadcasting over a secure channel to his private datapad, and he’s standing outside the room in question, waiting for the knight to finish his training, which should be—ah,  yes, there. The knight finishes his last series of moves, and then pauses in the center of the room, bent over panting with his hands on his knees.

Hux slips into the room, and executes the code that simultaneously locks the doors, shuts off the security feeds, and turns the lights down to forty five and a half percent. He’s already halfway across the room when the knight notices him and throws out a hand, stopping Hux in his tracks with one of his banthashit force techniques.

"Oh, come now,” Hux says. “I don’t really think that’s necessary, do you?”

The knight hesitates, and Hux notices again how very young he is. The security feed really hadn’t done the man any favours—he’s easily twice as beautiful up close, with a slightly crooked nose and lips that Hux would love to bite until they bleed.

The knight staggers back and lowers his hand, and Hux finds himself free to move again.

“It’s only,” Hux says, advancing again with a slightly slower pace, as though he is stalking the  younger man—which, truthfully, he is. “You look so beautiful when you’re training. You must be one of his best knights.”

“I am,” the young man says unsteadily. “One of his—his best.”

“But not the best,” Hux says casually. He’s close enough to touch the other man now, and be damned if the other man isn’t exactly his height, and kriffing hell, those lips are just made for cocksucking. Hux lifts his hand and places it on the younger man’s bare chest, pressing his fingers into sweat-damp skin.

“I could be,” the man insists.

“Yes,” says Hux, and he drags his hand up the man’s chest to his jaw, caresses the young man’s cheek with his thumb. “You could be.”

There is a droplet of sweat on the man’s cheek. Hux brushes it away with his index finger, then pulls his hand away, watching the way the knight sways toward him before stabilizing.

Hux lets him gain his footing, lets him think this is over—and then takes three quick steps toward him, bringing his arm up quickly and shoving the knight in the chest. The knight yelps and goes over backward, and before he can get up, Hux has pressed his boot into the other man’s crotch.

The knight stills underneath him, breathing heavily.

“You could be one of his best,” Hux says, letting his voice drop and go throaty. “Or … you could be one of mine.” He takes a moment to get his breathing under control, because it wouldn’t do to appear affected this early. “Do you want to be good for me?”

“Yes,” the knight breathes.

“Good,” Hux purrs, and he pushes his boot down harder into the knight’s crotch.

His right boot makes an irritating squeak as he heads back to his quarters twenty minutes later, but he’s satisfied with his progress.

Lord Ren is glaring at him on the bridge the next day.

Typical, Hux thinks, but he doesn’t let it bother him, because his plan is in motion, and Lord Ren won’t be a problem for much longer.

The second-tallest knight, Hux’s knight, is hovering behind Lord Ren, though, and Hux makes a specific point of letting his hand casually graze over the knight’s robe as he passes by. Just so the knight knows that he’s there. 

Just so the knight knows he’s watching.

“You were staring at me today,” Hux breathes into the knight’s ear later. They’re in the training room again, and the knight is naked to the waist, Hux straddling him and pinning him down.

“Y-yes,” the knight says.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Hux says. “People will notice.” He shifts upwards, onto all fours, and carefully shuffles backwards, until his hips are aligned over the knights.

“I was careful,” the knight insists. “Nobody saw.”

“Lord Ren might have seen,” Hux muses.

The other knight inhales sharply, opens his mouth—and Hux drops his hips, grinds down onto the knight, and the other knight moans and contorts upwards, pressing what feels like an awkwardly large dick up against Hux’s crotch.

Hux tips his head up to cover for the eye roll that he can’t quite repress, and lets the knight continue grinding on him.

There’s a wet spot on Hux’s jodhpurs when he leaves the training room that night.

It’s not his.

Hux is proud of how smoothly his plan is going. It won’t be long now—and it’s well-worth the inconvenience of the knight’s ejaculate, because it gets Hux that much closer to Kylo Ren’s execution.

Hux is standing on the bridge. Lord Ren refuses to look at him, which Hux finds hilarious because they’re in the midst of a discussion about a rebel base that they’re planning to attack that evening, and Ren is being such a fucking child about the whole thing.

Hux makes eye contact with the knight that he fondly thinks of as his from across the room, and subtly taps his temple with his finger. Continues to speak to Lord Ren about deployment of stormtroopers and the number of units Hux will agree to release to him while vividly imagining sucking the knight’s cock.

The knight doesn’t so much as twitch or react, and Hux is so, so proud of him.

“... will that be satisfactory, Lord Ren?” Hux asks.

There’s a sharp burst of static from Ren’s vocoder, before Ren turns on his heel and stalks out.

Hux’s knight keeps watching Hux, and Hux winks at him before going back to his console.

“I want more,” the knight breathes. “I want more, I want more, I want—let me—”

Hux swallows, tips his head down to grimace, and swallows again, before looking back up at the knight. “I could be convinced,” he says gently. “But I would need you to do me a favour.”

“O-oh?” the knight says.

He always looks so shattered after an orgasm, and Hux loves it, loves him, loves watching him fall to fucking pieces underneath Hux’s tongue, and oh, fuck, the things he and this knight will be able to do once the knight has assassinated Kylo Ren for him …

Hux stands back up. “What would you do for me?”

“Anything,” the knight breathes. “Anything, General, please—I would do anything for you.”

Hux lets himself grin. “I need you to kill Kylo Ren.”

The day after Hux’s discussion with his knight, Kylo Ren destroys another console.

Hux shrugs it off.

The problem is temporary, and not worth the inevitable migraine.

“I want to see it,” Hux muses as he rotates his gloved fingers inside the knight’s ass, holding the knight’s hips still with his other hand. “I thought I might like you to do it in private—but no, I’ve changed my mind. I want to watch.”

The knight pants underneath him, black curly hair in complete disarray around his face, lips bitten, honey-brown eyes hazy with lust. “You—you want—to watch—me—confront—Kylo Ren.”

“Have you thought about how you might do it?” Hux asks, pulling both his fingers out, pouring lube on his glove, and then working three fingers back inside the knight. “How you might kill him?”

“With my, uh, saber?” the knight asks.

“Don’t sound so uncertain,” Hux says, curling his fingers up hard against the knight’s prostate.

The knight bucks his hips up into the air, gasping and coming untouched all over his own chest.

“Figure it the fuck out,” Hux says casually. He pulls his fingers out of the knight, and then pulls his glove off completely, drops it on the floor with its mate. Hux has no intention of bringing lube-soiled gloves back to his room—but maybe the knight will use them to jack off later—who knows what kind of perversions he holds. “I want him assassinated, and quickly.”

“And you promise,” the knight says, voice raw and broken. “You promise—that after I … subdue Kylo Ren.”

“Kill,” Hux specifies.

“That afterwards … you’ll let me fuck you?”

“Yes,” Hux says. “I promise.”

Hux looks down at his datapad when it pings, sees a meeting invitation from Kylo Ren to a conference room on the second deck. The invitation gives him pause for a moment—he’d expected it to come from his knight—but then he recalls that none of the knights had been issued datapads, so this makes perfect sense.

“Lieutenant Mitaka,” Hux says casually, tucking his datapad into the pocket of his greatcoat. “The bridge is yours.”

Mitaka snaps into a salute, nods his head as Hux departs.

Hux is half-hard by the time he reaches the conference room, wondering if his knight has started already, if he’ll open the door to a mess of blood and guts and gore, if he’ll open the door just in time to hear Kylo scream, the sound crackling through the vocoder—or if he’ll open the door before things have even properly gotten going, and will then be able to watch the entire assassination, from start to finish.

Hux takes a deep breath outside the conference room to compose himself, and then walks in.

There is only Kylo Ren, standing in the middle of the room. Hulking in the middle of the room. The conference table has been pushed aside, and the chairs all shoved against the wall.

“Kylo,” Hux says coolly, and he busies himself by pulling his datapad out of his pocket, and dismissing a few notifications. “Will your knight be joining us?”

“Not so much,” Kylo says, and there’s a click and then an odd hissing sound. “It’s just you and me, General.”

Hux’s blood runs cold, because he recognizes that voice. He recognizes that voice, because how could he not recognize that voice, because—

“You,” Hux spits.

“Me,” Kylo Ren says, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

They’re the same fucking lips that Hux has been watching contort in pleasure as he’s fingered or sucked orgasms out of the knight, the knight Hux had been seducing specifically to assassinate Kylo Ren, the knight that Hux had thought was his—

“The whole time,” Kylo confirms. “It was me the whole time.”

“I’m leaving,” Hux says flatly. “This meeting never happened.”

“I think,” Kylo says, running his fingers down the sides of his surcoat, and then pulling the surcoat over his head and dropping it on the floor. “That you owe me a fuck, General.”

“I owe you no such thing,” Hux snaps.

Kylo is standing right next to him now—still taller than Hux, but less so now that the mask is off. He ducks his head next to Hux’s ear. “You’ll find,” Kylo breathes, “that I’m quite subdued at present.”

Hux is not overly surprised when he turns to leave and realizes that he can’t, that Ren has locked him into place with the force.

But with Kylo this close to him, with Kylo’s gloved hands hovering just above Hux’s waist and his hot breath in Hux’s ear, knowing exactly how Kylo pants when Hux touches him, how his voice gets breathy and uneven when Hux twists his fingers on Kylo’s cock the way Kylo likes, how Kylo’s hips jolt when he orgasms …

… Hux finds that he doesn’t mind all that terribly.

After all, subdued is subdued—and if Kylo’s not dead, at least Hux can make use of his cock on occasion.

.

[luciferiswriting]

Winged 5 #5

Title: A Few Eons in... 

Author: luciferiswriting

Characters: Angel!Reader, Metatron, Chuck (God), Dean, Sam, Casifer, Amara, Donatello

Words: 3,044

Warnings: Spoilers season 11, Character death, angst?

Tags: @molethemollie @archer-whovian-violinist @supernatural2202

Summary: A couple of eons in, and you’re current orders are to watch Metatron. Whilst the Darkness causes chaos and ruin, you’ve to keep you’re sights trained on an ex-angel that gets you into some action. Finally…

Masterlist

Eons Later…

The Winchesters sat in the bunker talking with Chuck, God himself, trying to make sense of everything. Finally, after the many years of watching the Winchester’s, God actually decided to make a move. Someone should’ve broke Amara out of her box a long time ago if you ask me, but that’s not my place to say. However, God could at least speed things up just a little bit and get on with the problem at hand, instead he decides on diddling about and I’m left sitting in a bar with Metatron.

He keeps going through the book God wrote earlier, drinking more and more. He’s overthinking everything, trying to figure it all out, but it just makes him more depressed and I can’t help but become slightly worried for him. It’s not long before the television in the bar grabs his attention and he’s away climbing the bar itself to get a better look. I just watch him, curious to his next move. He then sits on the bar, crossed legged and pulls out his phone. I can’t hear the conversation he has and curiosity always got the better of me, but I was unfortunate to reach him just as he ended the call.

“Come of the counter Metatron.” I say to him gently, to which he obliges and takes a seat at the counter. I watch him curiously and hesitate to take a seat by him. Nothing is said but him ordering two drinks and then passing me one.

“You shouldn’t let him get you down so much.”

“How long have you been by his side?” He questions me.

“I’ve been aware of his movements. I haven’t been by his side. I too, was left in heaven if you recall.”

“But you still knew where he was. If he kept in touch with you, surely he knew how much we needed him.”

“It’s God. I was given direct orders, I had to obey. If things were different, you know I would have said something, but… he’s God. Who does God listen to, apart from himself?” I finish the small drink in front of me and let the silence fall once again between us. It’s only a couple of hours later when Metatron speaks up.

“Uh, barkeep, dos margaritas! Top-shelf tequila please for my amigos. Their treat.”

I furrow my brows when I look up and find the bottle that sat in front of me was moved and a hand was gestured for me to move a seat. I look to see whose hand it was, to come face to Dean Winchester himself.

“All right. We’re here. Don’t try to pull any crap” I hear Sam from the other side of Metatron. Turning around to face him only to hiss.

“Metatron. What are you doing?”

“I’ve lost my grace. Look at me. I got nothing.” He replies, only causing me to fix him with a glare, as I now realised who he was on the phone to.

“Why did you call them here? Metatron.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been in touch with Chuck. A.K.A you know who.”

“Yeah, yeah. Is this going anywhere? Yes, Chuck agreed to take on Amara.” Sam stated. I raised my eyes to Sam in shock.

“He said that? Used those words?” Metatron asked.

“Pretty much” Dean said, clearly fed up. Metatron looked up to Dean, then in an instant looked at me.

“Huh.” He faced down towards his drink, seeming emotionless.

“So what – he’s not confronting Amara?” Sam questioned.

“No…” I trailed off looking at Metatron trying to find more of an answer. I was being kept in the dark for most of this, which was suddenly strange. After years of keeping some sort of tabs on the Winchester’s, I had suddenly been tasked with other duties that kept me from knowing what they were up to.

“He’s gonna… meet with her. He’s just not gonna take her down. He’s gonna… sacrifice himself. Let her do whatever she wants with him.” Metatron finished. Sam smiled to himself.

“Do really expect us to buy this?” Sam said with confidence, looking between both me and Metatron. He was so sure of himself. I couldn’t help the glare. Metatron chuckled as if he knew it would come to this.

“No. Of course not.” He looked to me, asking for the paper. After a short while I pulled it out from inside my leather jacket and tossed it onto the bar. Both Sam and Dean looked at it confused “Ignore the typos, but read it. It’s in his own words. It’s not an autobiography. It’s a suicide note.” Metatron carried on. Sam now didn’t seem so sure and hesitated to look at what was written. Not too long after they had left. Probably to confront God, but how it would go down? We wouldn’t know until later.

I was lost in thought when Metatron suddenly got up and left the bar. Confused, it took me a while to realise that he had actually left the bar. Immediately I flew to his side. I couldn’t let him out of my sight. Orders. However, I wouldn’t complain, it had felt like I had been in nothing but bars for years. Silence was now a normality when around Metatron, but curiosity was always a bad habit of mine.

“What are you doing now?” I asked him. He didn’t reply, too focused on his phone. Rolling my eyes, I accepted the fact I would find out later, or now. I noticed we had walked in a circle, and it seemed he was continuing to do so.

“Metatron. What are you doing?” I said more firmly, but only lead to him stopping and looking at what looked like a door to sewers. Scrunching up my face I continued. “We are not. Going into the sewers. What could possibly be in there of importance!?” Then suddenly the door opened and Sam came out. He stood there looking at us, an unamused expression and beckoned us over. Metatron didn’t need to be told twice. “Metatron!” I yelled, as he ran in after Sam, shutting the door behind him. Throwing my hands up in the air and looking around the place seeing no one was around, I flew into the place standing not so far away from Metatron.

“Oh. Donatello! Pleasure to meet you. Metatron, Scribe of God.” Metatron introduced himself to the prophet.

“I’m pretty sure it is now, was. You don’t have grace remember.” I glared at him. Ignoring me, he continued on.

“I was there when you were designed. I wrote your name on the inside of the angel’s eyelids.” He smiled.

“He’s freaking me out” the prophet said.

“Get used to it.” I muttered

“Okay.” Dean said, shutting everyone up. “You said you wanted to help. Besides world-class douchery, what do you have to offer?” Dean looks at Metatron, with a quick side glance to me.

“Oh, nothing.” Metatron states as he takes a seat, but before he can say anything else I cut in.

“We can leave now?” but he just sends a quick glare to me and continues.

“I just transcribed the angel tablet and know all the spells. And I know what makes Amara tick. And I had a relationship with the big guy for eons. Shall I keep going?” he leaned over and grabbed a bear that was on the table, but before he could drink it Sam lunged forward taking it back claiming it as his.

“As much as I hate to admit it… he kind of has a point.” Sam stated looking at his brother with question.

“Ugh, Metatron always has some sort of point when he mentions his relationship with God. Doesn’t mean it’s a good one.” I state, taking steps closer to Metatron I pull his chair back so it’s leaning on the two back legs. “We’re leaving. Now.” I hiss.

“They need all the help they can get. Even douche help. Besides this is where it gets interesting for you.” He says. I let go of the chair letting it go back to its upright position with a loud thud, not saying anything more.

“When did you jump on God wagon? You never used to give a damn.” Dean asks after a bit, taking his focus back onto Metatron.

“Well, I didn’t… at one time. Now he’s gone all kamikaze, leaving us with the Darkness, I…” He paused, giving a sigh “I was beside his side since the creation. He believed in me. If there’s something I can do to help save him and his creation, then… it seems like I should.” He finished.

“Help save God…” I mumbled with distaste and a roll of my eyes. Only to have Metatron look at me with what seemed as defeat. My jaw started to clench, I refused to say the words I knew I would say but after a while I gave in. “Fine.” I grit out. “What’s the plan then?”

“The plan is to rescue Lucifer from Amara. Then he teleports us out of Amara’s hideout and we convince Chuck to use him to fight her.” Dean answers, causing me to laugh and Metatron to Scoff.

“That’s your plan? Do you even know where Amara is?” Metatron asks

“Finding Amara is the easy part. Convincing Chuck? Convince Lucifer.” I chuckled.

“Convincing Lucifer won’t be that hard.” Metatron said looking up to me with a knowing look, to which a scowled at nearly baring my teeth.

“I think I might know where Amara is. I’ve been getting this vibe. Uh, it’s like a ping in my cerebral cortex.” The prophet spoke up, seeming nervous. Poor sod, having to solve an idiot’s mess.

“Oh, so either Amara or a stroke.” Metatron mocked, to which I kicked his chair. “And how are we supposed to keep Amara busy while we’re… liberating Lucifer?”

Dean looked off to the side in a thinking manner, but also bobbed his head as if contemplating something. I furrowed my brows watching him closely. It was soon decided that he would go out to the woods and try to call out to Amara, whilst the rest of us would get Lucifer out. Great. I offered to fly us all there, but they didn’t want to risk the timing of us getting there before Amara had actually left. So here we are in the Impala, going to Amara’s secret little place.

We had pulled into some sort of abandoned work site, stopping outside one particular building. As Metatron, Donatello and Sam got out, they looked up to the building in what I would say was for dramatic effect, but I could sense a nervousness of Sam. I suppose his history with Lucifer would do that to him, but I got out and headed in pushing Metatron along with me.

“The quicker we’re in, the quicker we leave. C’mon.” I stated not waiting on any of them.

However, when entering I didn’t expect to see him tied up and sagging. He was brutally beaten. The further into the building and out of the light, his vessel was clearer to see. But it wasn’t his vessel I saw. Castiel. But I couldn’t feel Castiel’ grace. Seeing his vessel in this state brought back memories of long ago. A familiar feeling resurfaced. Anger. But not because of what Amara had done. I slowed my pace as Metatron ran down to start unbinding him.

“Oh, goody. Search and rescue?” Lucifer asked as Metatron approached, he then noticed Donatello and started talking to him. I ignored what was being said, I was too busy taking in everything. How much he had changed. It all started to hurt. Everything. He wasn’t the archangel I once knew so well. I was only brought back to what was happening when I heard him start to yell.

“You see what she’s done to me? Do I look like a fan!?”

“She puts your work to shame.” I spoke up quietly, but loud enough to be heard, earning a soft glare from him. Metatron keeps chanting. Lucifer glances to him, with a roll of his eyes he looks back to the three of us below.

“Did you grab this from the steno pool?” he shoots out.

“You understand you’ll be working with your father. Is that gonna be a problem?” Sam asks, with a groan Lucifer managed a reply.

“That’s family. This is bigger.”

“So you’ll table the old stuff?”

“What happens in Heaven stays in Heaven.” Lucifer says looking at me, causing me to blink a few times and look over to Metatron.

“Metatron, are we anywhere closer?” I ask.

“I’m – I’m – I’m narrowing it down.” He replies, continuing on with the chanting causing me to roll my eyes. He’s always so slow, but he keeps trying. Soon enough he hits the right one and Lucifer falls to the ground, the binds undoing themselves. I move closer as Sam asks Lucifer to zap us out of here.

“No can do.” He breathes out. Sam beginning to panic asks what he means, but then looks to me as if I can do it instead.

“There’s something… Something’s stopping me. We’re carrying him out, c’mon.” I stated. Just as Donatello spoke up.

“Guys, I’m – I’m feeling her! She’s coming!” Sam helps to throw Lucifer’s other arm over his shoulder as I take his right one.

“Alright, Metatron, come on.” Only now did I notice him hanging back.

“It’s okay Sam. You go.”

“What!?” I yell back. “C’mon Metatron, we don’t have time for this, move!”

“I’m serious. I got this.” He says determined. I move Lucifer’s arm off my shoulder and tell Sam to just go.

“Metatron. What are you doing? This is Amara. She’s too strong for Angels like us!” I hiss at him ready to grab him by his collar, but I see him painting a spell in his own blood, hearing the tyres screech away. “Metatron!” I grab him by his jacket. “She will kill the both of us if we don’t leave now!” I snarl.

“The secretary.” I hear Amara address Metatron. We were too late. I turn to face her, my eyes wide. I knew her power. She looks towards me, about to say something but Metatron slips out of my hold and activates the spell. A white blinding light hitting Amara, however, not lasting long. An unamused expression sat on her face.

“Idiot.” I mutter.

“You were kidding with that, weren’t you?” She asks, Metatron shakes his head.

“You. Fucking. Idiot.” I spit, glaring at him.

“He meant well. Spare the universe.” He said in a last plea, still completely ignoring me. Amara’s expression only grew angrier.

“Spare this.” She rose her arm towards Metatron. Knowing that only bad could come from her action I jumped off the podium away from Metatron. A black smoke swirled around him, crushing him, and soon devouring him. I watched in fear as Amara’s anger grew stronger. As soon as there was nothing left of Metatron she let her arm drop to her side and turned her glare towards me. I stood there, saying nothing. My chances of ending up like Metatron were very high, I had to be careful if there was any chance of getting out.

She took slow steady steps towards me, watching me closely, until she was right in front of me. But she wasn’t there long, before I knew it I was thrown back into the bunker’s kitchen. Where was Amara then? Before I could even think of leaving, God himself waked into the kitchen.

“Watch Metatron. Those were your orders.” He said. Not looking too pleased.

“And I followed those orders. I watched him. I followed him. Never once was he out of my sight.”

“But he is now.” God raised an eyebrow at me.

“He sacrificed himself, because of you! He tried to help!” I shot back. For a moment silence fell, and I thought maybe he was actually starting to listen, but instead he clicked his tongue and waved his hand as he went to pick up the case of beer.

“Well it’s done now. I suppose he won’t get in the way, definitely now.” And with that he left the room. Immediately I tore after him.

“That’s all you have to say!” I yelled after him. “He’s been lost for so long without you answering his prayers. Any of our prayers, and he still sacrificed himself. FOR YOU!” Anger coursed through me. We had entered the map-table room where Sam and Donatello stood at the other side of the room, with Lucifer leaning against the doorway. God sighed, and took a beer from the case.

“Occasionally, I do answer a prayer.” And opened the bottle. Lucifer moved from the doorway to a pillar, closer to us. He sighed and continued. “You’ve changed.” He said to Lucifer.

“You’ve changed.” Lucifer replied back.

“Well, still… I’m really pretty much the same.” God said, causing me scoff.

“Yeah. Still a big bag of dicks.” I said venom leaking into my words. God sighed, glancing at me, but then turned back to Lucifer and made a hand gesture of flicking a switch and healed Lucifer. Lucifer still didn’t look happy, a scowl still on his face as he stood taller. Just then Dean came in through the Bunker door and started his way down the stairs. As he reached the bottom, he looked between Lucifer and God, and could sense the tension.

“Right. Donatello. Let’s get you back, yeah? Great.” And immediately, Dean, Sam and Donatello left the bunker. Silence still filling the air, tension thick. After a while Lucifer had turned and headed into the Library, and I let out a breath I didn’t know that I was holding. Shaking my head I took a seat at the war table and started to spin my angel blade, as God stood there not knowing what to do or say, but then took a step to the front of me and went to say something, but I interrupted him before he could.

“Don’t… Just… “I sighed and looked towards the Library for a moment, before looking back to God and pointing my blade between him and the Library. “Talk to him first.”

[black-strike-otp]

part 43

Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

“What do you mean I can’t go with them?” Novastrike whined, offering her most pitifully pouty pucker.

Guard stared down at her with a gentle smile. No matter how round and pleading those youthful gullible optics were as they stared at him, he wouldn’t budge. He offered his own twinkling gaze in return; soft and easy-going as he was with a touch of warm that came along with his smile.

“We’re going to need bots good at classifying and organizing equipment brought on board to stay here, Novastrike,” he reminded her. “That’s just as important as a duty.”

“Yeah,” a mech agreed, giving her a snooty look. “Besides runt, you can’t exactly carry much. I mean, look at these guns.”

With dramatic flair, the mech flexed his arms over his helm, followed by an unimpressive flex downward as he hunched over.

“I’ll shot you some guns,” Nova threatened.

Chuckling softly, Guard gave a soft wave of his servo. “Show some restraint Nova; and as for you Raid, don’t hassle the femme. I could just as easily swap you for another to head off into the wreckage left behind.”

The mech instantly sobered and bowed his helm. “Of course, commander. My apologies, Novastrike.”

“Can I at least punch him?”

“No, Novastrike. Be polite.”

“Uggghh, finnneee.”

Turning her helm back, Novastrike looked to where Blackout stood near the open hatch. He was speaking with the majority of the group he was taking out with him. From the expressive motion of his servos, the mannerisms he provided, and the individual remarks he gave as he spoke to each mech in the optics, he was enjoying leading the group.

It didn’t seem he was the only one happy. The mechs and femmes hung on his every word. It gave Nova reason to smile. When they’d first rescued him on the ship, little to no one thought he’d make it. Most thought he was already dead despite what the medic stated. Once he’d come around, everyone began to fear he was a traitor that was going to lure them into a Decepticon trap.

Now everyone looked to him with so much reverence. They didn’t speak of the horrible acts he committed but chose to focus on fragments and tales. Maybe they couldn’t fully accept who he’d once been like she could; or like she thought Guard could, but they respected him deeply.

There were few on the ship with as much well-rounded knowledge as Blackout on board the ship. He’d went out of his way to help them on numerous occasions. Of course they’d adore him.

“I’m going to go speak with Blackout about a few things,” Guard commented. “Give him an idea of some non-essentials he can have everyone search for in all this scrap. Mind your manners, Novastrike.”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed politely.

The old mech nodded down at her with a treasured smile. His servo reached out, pulling at the mech’s armor that had just been antagonizing her to get him over to the exploration team where he should be.

Placing her servos in front of herself, Nova smiled in her suitor’s direction. She couldn’t be more happy to see how far he’d come being here, too. From the mech she’d encountered on Cybertron now, she could tell some of his hard edges were a bit smoother. He was a bit more willing to communicate, to listen; more open to what was around him.

After the life he may have had prior, he deserved that kind of second-chance. And she was happy to be part of that fresh start in his life, no matter where it took her next.

~

Absently jotting down notes onto her datapad, Novastrike stepped around the pallets and randomly tossed around products the team had thus far brought over. They were already out scavenging through the junk once more but had already managed an impressive haul of energon and medical equipment. Thank Primus for those lessons she’d had with the medic, at least she could identify most of what they discovered.

The medic too had been asked to come down and evaluate the collection and see if anything was beyond saving for her own med-bay. It made it a bit less lonely work having her around, since the only other individuals in the room working weren’t bots Nova felt especially inclined to.

“Oh, look at this!” the large femme stated, brimming with joy as she pulled out a stack of viles. “From the look of these, I’d say they’re sedatives. Let me check their ID code and- yep! Now that’ll come in handy.”

“Not still planning on using those on Blackout, are you?” Novastrike teased.

The medic turned a crafty optic upon Nova. “No, unless you’d like me to?”

Unsure of exactly what the femme was trying to incline to, Nova offered a half-smile. “I’d rather not.”

“Judging by the coloration, I’d say these are a bit old, so I’m going to need to run some tests to see how powerful they still are,” she commented softly. “Nighthawk would have hardly let something go so far pass its expiration date. I’m sure they’re still effective though...”

Twitching her audios, Nova glanced back at the medic. In the most off-handed way she could, she asked quietly, “What’s this about your mentor? Why do you bring him up so much?”

Giving a slight snicker, the femme waved her servo. “Oh, if only you’d known him. Nighthawk was a good looking mech if I do say so myself; a bit on the old side, but I don’t think he’s as old as our dear Guard.”

“He’s a bit of a stiff grump at first but once he warms up to you, he’s absolutely charming. You just have to make sure not to get distracted when around him or the next thing you know you’ll mess something up and he’ll be on you like a scraplet.”

“Oh, dear,” Nova quietly murmured with surprise. She tried comparing this explanation to the brief flashback in the back of her helm meeting the mech. Nothing about the black and red decal seeker said cranky too her. He’d seemed absolutely calm, assertive, sure of his work and very sympathetic.

“It wasn’t bad,” she admitted. “I needed the knee in my aft to keep it together. Honestly if it wasn’t for his tough methods, I wouldn’t have gotten where I was. I thought about giving up entirely a few times, but Nighthawk was determined. Said he saw potential in me. For the best I guess; I love my career, even if it’s just babying a bunch of grouchy rogue bots.”

Nova flashed a smile towards the femme, catching her winking just in time. A soft giggle escaped the little femme in response.

“Grouchy rogue bots, huh?”

“Hey, as my temporary assistant, you’ve seen ‘em.”

“You couldn’t possibly be inferring to Blackout, could you?”

“Not in the least,” the femme hummed playfully. “Not in the least.”

~

Nova was a bit disappointed when Blackout decided to join a refreshed second crew to continue reclaiming things from the debris field instead of recharging that evening. He seemed nervous when she’d brought it up, much to her concern. He didn’t seem concerned up until now with her recharging in the same room with him, or on him, what was the big deal now?

Since he didn’t seem to have the time to talk about it and Guard approved him to continue working, she had no one to recharge with that evening. It made her restless. Sure, she could go sleep alone or back in one of the designated rooms with part of the rogue gang, but she didn’t particularly want to.

Call her needy and pathetic, but she’d rather be snuggled up against her-

Novastrike’s audio receptors burned, glowing softly. Her companion.

Primus just call him boyfriend already.

Or lover.

Okay- not lover- not yet- she thought as the strength of her glowing ears seemed to brighten.

Roaming the halls, Novastrike decided to slide in and make a stop in the med-bay.

Inside, the medic was placing some of her approved and cataloged items away throughout the room in neat order. She turned as the doors opened, half-surprised. It looked like she was expecting an unexpected patient.

Then she laid her optics upon Nova’s tiny form.

“Oh, hello dear one. Sorry I was a bit caught up in what I was doing. What brings you to the med-bay?”

“Just wanted to see if you needed any help,” Nova offered.

“No thanks, dear, I’m nearly finished,” the femme admitted with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be going to recharge after I finish all this up and getting back to it once I wake. By the way, have you seen Guard wandering around anywhere? He’s supposed to come in soon...”

That wasn’t odd. Guard could push anyone to do anything but himself. If someone tried convincing him to see a medic, or get a cube of energon, or even just sit for a moment, he refused. Always a stubborn aft; never taking directions as well as he could deliver them.

“No, I haven’t. Why, do you want me to go look for him?”

“No it’s fine, but if you see him, let him know he’s still welcome to come by.”

Slightly confused by the phrasing, Nova gave a bob of her helm. “Yes ma’am. Ping me if you change your mind and need anything.”

“Will do, assistant!”

Humming to herself, Novastrike moved out of the room and down the hall once again. Trailing past bots here and there, she’d offer a polite word of greeting. As she walked by one of the lengthy spans of glass that looked outside, she’d stare out at all the metal floating. Lonesomely hovering in space without reason. No planet in sight, no star close by. It was simply a darkness with shadows and shapes registering in her vision moving aimlessly around.

Not just junk, but products of war. And even after it was all said and done, even when the war was over, this would be what was left. Areas out in space never recovered. Dead and dying planets sucked of their resources and decimated by battle. Races lost and others forever tarnished by what they’d seen. Debris just floating. Bodies left behind; bots left behind.

Novastrike shuddered violently all over from the tip of her ears to her tail and pedes. It made her tanks seize up to think about it, and left a bad taste in her mouth.

Then she was filled with dread. The dead never to be recovered. The dead mech at her own servos.

She tore her optics away from the crime scene and lowered her audios, venting heavily.

Walking down the empty corridor, Novastrike peered down at the ground. Counting her steps, she tried placing her attention on the present actions rather than the past.

One. Two. Three.

Now she was in a relationship with Blackout. She was still alive, still helping in what she believed was right. Bots were fixed up by her own servos when the medic called upon her for help here and there.

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

They were finally going to replenish their energon and have surplus once again. The rations would be upgraded again for a short time and everyone would be filling a little extra full for a while. Moods would certainly be improved and brightened.

Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four.

The defensive weapons worked, and it was all thanks to her teamwork with Blackout. Sure she didn’t condone violence if she could help it, but they didn’t even need to so long as the shock wave generator continued working.

Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy.

Pedes scrapped against the floor ahead. Novastrike looked up, tilting her audios slightly. They shifted by minuscule amounts, pinpointing the position of the sluggish, off-key tempo.

Following the distressing noise a while longer, Nova came upon a door. She looked up at it a moment and then up and down the hall.

But, this was Neutroboost’s door?

Hesitating a moment, Novastrike stepped closer. She lifted a servo as if to knock and was surprised when it opened of its own accord. Clearly the mech hadn’t bothered to lock it the last time he’d stepped in.

At first glance, nobody was inside.

“Commander Neutroboost?” Novastrike spoke up, slowly walking inside. “Sir?”

The lights were off. A faint glow was coming off of the command console set up in his room. As Nova walked further inside, the door shut behind her and she jumped slightly.

Inhaling as the air moved through the room, Nova nearly gagged on the thick fog of smells that invaded her senses. She immediately ceased her ventilation system and blinked rapidly at the tears that invaded her optics.

“Neutroboost?” she repeated in a slightly more raspy voice, moving further in the room.

Her senses felt on edge. Picking up signs of furniture recently sifted around, she could see a florescent glow on the floor.

She moved closer to it.

The pungent odor grew stronger as she breathed in a small air to cool her core. Nova coughed.

Energon.

What was energon doing on the floor?

Nova stepped wide of the energon and peeked around the large-framed case meant to contain memorable, books, and knick-knacks.

Neutroboost was sitting on the floor, his helm hanging limp.

A sharp, strangled gasp escaped Nova. Primus, he was dead.

“Neutro-Neutroboost?” she sputtered.

With a groan, the mech’s helm moved, revealing the shining radiant liquid to be not just on his chassis and neck, but on his chin and from his mouth.

Glancing him up and down, Novastrike spoke softly as she moved closer. She was deeply alarmed by the amount of energon on him and on the floor, but clearly he assumption was incorrect.

“Commander, sir?” she whispered softly. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

He cycled air out and in. The terrible smell exuded from him, Nova realized as she choked to hold back purging.

“Are you sick?”

“Sick?” the mech garbled. “Sick? Nooo...m- m’not sick. Wait, what’r you doin’ in my room?”

The small femme’s ears stood straight up. “Sir, you’re... you’re overcharged, aren’t you?”

Panic settled into Neutroboost’s optics. He suddenly looked down at her, startled.

“Oh- no! No, no I’m... I’m fine. I just had a... a little accident...”

“Sir, pardon me but, you’re drunk.”

“Oi, guess I am.”

Novastrike frowned deeply. Her ears began to slowly fall back against her helm, and she drew her tail closer against her leg. She looked down at the floor a moment, and then up to the confused and unfocused optics of the mech.

“Sir,” she spoke softly. “Have you been stealing energon?”

Guilt flashed across Neutroboost’s faceplate. He shamefully nodded his helm.

“Yes’m,” he slurred. “Needed it to make high-grade.”

“Sir, that’s against-”

“I know what it’s against!” he suddenly roared, slamming a fist down.

It came so close to Novastrike that she jumped back reflexively to avoid being smashed.

“Ya don’t understand. Spoiled and loved. Just look at ya; cuddly face and spitefully adorable frame. No one can deny a wee thing like ya,” he grumbled. “Get what ya want easy, don’t ya?”

“Commander, I don’t-”

“Husssh,” he growled. “Hush ya now. All ya do is blink them optics and what do they all do? Drink up ya stupid words. I’ll give ya this, ya likable too boot. Got even that big fragger trippin over his pedes to please ya. Me? Bots like me ain’t but half a credit or less.”

Novastrike drew her optic ridges together. She didn’t have a clue what he was rambling about, but it sure had a way of making her feel like his state was somehow her fault.

“Neutroboost, sir, maybe I should hail the medic-”

With suddenly blinding optics, the mech turned fully to her. He placed his servos to the floor, physically begging as he slurred, “Aye- I’m sorry there I didn’t mean it, Novastrike. Can- can ya do me a favor? Listen I need this high-grade. It keeps me sane. It relaxes me. Ya wouldn’t take away a mech’s only joy would ya?”

Nova took a step back nervously. “Sir-”

“Please!”

“Sir-”

“I’m begging ya!”

Neutroboost sank lower to the ground as she moved further back. One of his servos caught her arm and she went entirely rigid with fear.

She swallowed a lump of bile in her throat. Giving a tug on her arm, she tried freeing herself of Neutroboost’s grasp. Frankly he wasn’t gripping her too firmly, but it was unnerving nevertheless.

“Let go of me,” she requested quietly. Lord Primus, why did she have to go prying.

Neutroboost went to kiss her servo like a petty servant. She cringed from the contact, more of a slobbery dog than a sophisticated action. Energon and saliva dripped off her servo and arm.

“Can ya just do me this one little favor?” he urged. “Please.”

Novastrike felt her spark twist in sympathy. Every rational part of her said no, but the part of her being held, terrified of what he’d do if she refused and feeling pity on this damaged mech, wanted to please. Or at the least, save herself.

“Yes, okay,” Nova replied stiffly. “I can keep your secret.”

“Thank ya,” the mech breathed with relief.

He went to kiss Novastrike’s servo again, much to her revulsion.

“Sir, can I be excused?” she implored, trying to pull her arm away from the mech. She’d pay weeks of her ration to be free of this mech’s grip.

“O’ course, I ain’t stoppin ya.”

“Sir, my arm.”

“Aye, yes, m’sorry.”

Neutroboost went to release her slowly. There was a goofy smile on his face, but a disturbing light in his optics that made Nova’s protoform crawl.

“Our little secret?” he questioned, although his voice sounded more of a reminder.

“Uh, yes, commander, of course.”

“Good,” he mumbled, slowly nodding his helm. “Good, good, very good, thank you. I’m gonna t’a go back to my recharge now.”

“Of course, sir,” Novastrike coolly answered as she backed away. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Ah a good little helpful femme you are Nova,” he gushed.

She wasn’t sure which was worse, the smell or the invoking light of his optics.

Walking stiffly, Novastrike headed for the door. She gave a flick of her arm, trying to get as much energon off of her as she could before she stepped out.

Pressing her sticky and still slightly goo-covered arm against her chassis, Novastrike wrapped her other arm over top of it and placed her helm down. She hurried in the direction of the shocker racks, her thoughts racing.

“Hey, Novastrike, where you off to in such a rush?” a mech called out as she scurried by him. “You look like you’ve seen a spider-bot,” he joked.

No, she’d seen far worse than a spider-bot. But it had the same trick; ensnaring her in a tangle of lies that she had no way of knowing how she could possibly escape the web before she’d be devoured by her innocent mistake.