#take your cigarettes from its holder

[abyssruler]

As we danced to the Masochism Tango

Bash in my brain And make me scream with pain Then kick me once again And say we'll never part

I know too well I'm underneath your spell So, darling, if you smell Something burning, it's my heart

excuse me!

[uranium]

this is still the craziest song ever....and she was born in 1959

[van-der-linde-worms]

Take Your Cigarette From Its Holder, Burn Your Initials On My Shoulder

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/ Mary Gillis Linton

Fic summary: AU in which Mary is wanted for the murder of her husband and that of her father, and Arthur is a bounty hunter going after her.

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Idiots in love, slow burn

~~~~~~

Chapter XIII: Unrequited

Word count: 7980

Last chapter: Chapter XII

“Hey, Arthur!” Mary calls out from the kitchen. “ ‘fore it gets too cold, I was figuring we could head out for a little camping trip. It’s clear out anyway.” Mary pauses for a moment. “You know anything about constellations?”

“Stars? Eh, I know the north star I guess,” he mutters as he stretches his arms. “When do ya wanna go then?”

“What'd you say about today?”

He looks up at her as he picks up his pants from the floor. “Today? Hm, can't blame ya for getting bored, being stuck here all day 'n stuff.”

“So, it's a yes then?” she asks, just loud enough for him to hear her over the sizzling of whatever she is cooking in the pot.

“'course.” He puts on his shirt and makes his way to her. He can hear a faint laughter and his arms encircle her waist, making his heart flutter.

A blissful sigh escapes his mouth as he nuzzles his jaw against her hair. The top of her head is just at the perfect height for his chin to rest on. His arms tighten around her, the soft smell of her hair is almost heavenly to him. 

“What's a good time then?” she asks. Arthur lets out a low croon and looks down at the colourless, chunky mix in the pan. 

“We ain’t in a hurry. What’re you making anyway? Eggs?” 

“It’s oatmeal. I uh, didn’t have coffee so I grabbed the wrong dish. It’ll be fine, just slather some jam on there, it’ll be fine,” she reassures herself. Arthur looks away and shuts his eyes, he could have sworn whatever the eldritch menace in the pot is certainly isn’t oatmeal.

“Looks fine,” Arthur lies. 

“I just had a look in the news and I read some comet’s supposed to pass earth around this month!” Mary gushes. “I’ve heard they��re so pretty.”

“It’d be nice to get out with you again, Mary. We ain’t done anything since…” Arthur trails off. 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking of. I think near that decrepit old ranch would be nice, there’s lots of open space and the view is just gorgeous.”

“Sure.” Frankly it sounds rather romantic, but he doesn’t dare get his own hopes up. She’d been so kind to him, despite the situation.  If only it could be anything more. 

“So, if we head out around eight, I think we should head out on foot this time. I think it should be safe, no bears or anything.” she twirls around, her skirt hits his shin ever so gently. She stands on her toes and steals a kiss from his lips. She finds one of the jars and quickly pops it open. Arthur nods and moves the pot from the hot stove.

“Ain’t you energetic?” he begins shoveling the odd food onto plates, unsure of whether to add  knives and forks or spoons to go beside them. 

“Well, I’d just like to spend some time with you again. It’s lonely out there, on your own,” she slaps a spoonful of their sweet jelly on the chunks, trying to mask it. She steadily adds more. Arthur grabs his plate before she can add more. 

“Thank you.” Mary stops a spoonful later. The two sit down again. 

A look of slight discontent spreads across her features as she prods at the clumps, mashing the jam in with her spoon. The first rays of sunlight twinkle in her dark eyes, a murky orange glow peeks through her lashes. Her lower lid moves ever so slightly, the soft lines around her eyes cast gentle shadows,, her soft crows feet twitch as she takes a bite of the food. She couldn’t be more perfect, she couldn’t possibly be prettier, she couldn’t be any more wonderful and… god, I love her, I love her more than anything, more than anyone. If only.

“I was thinkin’ I’ll go down to the post again today, see if Hosea’s written back yet.”

“Could you check if Jamie wrote back too? They’re getting graded again right about now, they should be getting them back and I want to see how he did this time.”

“Sure, you need anything from the store?” Arthur asks. The porridge isn’t that bad, just weird looking. There’s too much jam to his liking. 

“I’d just like the letter, thank you. Oh, there should be some mint around there too!” She notes After a period of silence, she speaks up again.. “Y’know, back in the day I used to be pretty good at finding herbs. Whatever the cattle hadn’t stomped was always good, used to be that we’d dry them out to be eaten.” “You mind pickin’ some then?”

 “If we even find any.” 

“It’s high time I get moving then, if we ever wanna get out there on time,” Arthur stands up, picking up their empty plate. Mary brings hers to the sink as well. Arthur quickly kisses her again before he steps out. 

Arthur rides out to the post, taking his time. The autumn air was unusually warm that day. The ride passes by slowly as he enjoys the fading summer sun.

There were a few letters at the post office, this time . He didn’t often get mail, but this time was different. Mary got one from Jamie, Arthur got one from Hosea, another from John and one from Albert Mason, a photographer he ran into a bit ago. As he checks through the letters, Charles enters. 

“Arthur, hey! Haven’t seen you in a while,” he pulls Arthur out of his thoughts. 

“Charles. Yeah, been busy with somethin’. How’ve ya been?”

“Same as before, been trying to find you around.”

“Figure we should catch up some time. You think we could go hunting some time tomorrow, catch up?”

“Sure. But I gotta get moving now, got someone to meet in town.”

“I'll see you at the ol' spot in the mornin' then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

*****

The sun is hardly touching the horizon when Arthur arrives home, yet he can already see the ceramic pot steaming on the stove.

“Ain’t it a bit early for dinner?” 

“Figured since we're heading out we should eat early. I’m not letting you slip on eating, you’re too thin as is.” She rubs his cheek. His heart skips a bit. I love you.

She notices the letters in his hands, he picks out the one from Hosea, eyeing it as if it were a trap. “Who’s that from?”

“Hosea.” Arthur sits down and tears it open. His eyes scan the text, his expression shifting from concern to an amused chuckle. 

“What is it then?” she asks from the stove. 

“John got some girl knocked up in town, I did tell ya about John?”

She thought for a while before shaking her head, “Don't think so. What about him?”

Arthur shakes his head, as if in disapproval, though the mischievous grin on his face remains. “He's been heading to the bathhouse a lot. 'm pretty sure Dutch was still alive the last time he took a bath. Apparently a girl there caught his eye and, well, now little Johnny Marston's gonna be a pa.”

She lifts her eyebrows, surprised, “Oh? Send my congratulations to them then.”

“Nah, don't think John's too happy about it,” he says, folding the paper and shoving it into one of the drawers. “'sea wants me to have a talk with him later. Oh, and here's Jamie's letter”

“Thanks,” she says, carefully tearing the envelope open.

He observes her face as she scans the letter. A small smile creeps up her face. Insignificant as it is, her joy is contagious to him. “How’s the boy doing?”

“Did pretty well in his first test; he joined some club in school too. I’m glad he’s finally making more friends.”

“Good for him,” he shakes the strap of the satchel off his shoulder. “Meanwhile I have my brat of a brother.”

“Oh come on Arthur, he’s just a kid. I guess he just ain't ready to be a dad.”

“Him? A kid? Nah, he may be a manchild but he's a grown man, whether he likes it or not.”

“How old is he even?”

“20 or so. I know, barely older than Jamie, but ain’t no kid. He messes around, he gotta deal with the consequences.”

“I guess,” she shrugs, going back to work at the counter. “Poor girl though. What is he gonna do then?”

“Somethin’ dumb most probably. He is John.” 

“He ain’t gonna leave them is he?”

“He wouldn’t do somethin’ like that. Think ‘Sea’s pushin’ him to marry her now.” “Well I guess that’s good then, she ain’t just gettin’ left in the dust.” she sighs, measuring out some salt. 

“Figure this is the dumbest thing he’s pulled in years. You’re lucky Jamie ain’t like that.”

“That boy's done his fair share of stupid stuff too, believe me.”

“Do I dare ask?” Arthur asks with a chuckle.

“C’mon now Arthur, ain’t like every kid can go running around like John.” Mary scoffs. “Why, it’ll be getting dark soon, we should get movin’ after eating if we wanna catch anything.”

“You got anythin’ else planned?”

“Not really.”

“How do you even pick out them constellations?”

“Well you have to look at em or have someone else point ‘em out. I figure I could make something up too.”

“Y’know, back in the bad old days ‘sea used to teach me about the stars. Thing is he doesn’t know a damn thing about them and there ain’t no thing called an Aphana star or a wolf constellation.”

“Oh, but there is! It’s actually called the Lupus constellation and it should be in view in June!”

“Welp. I think it was back in the winter though, any idea if it’s visible then?”

“Nope.”

“Hosea’s got a way with bullshitting anyway, ain't a surprise. Should’ve asked Dutch, he’d’ve known.”

“What did Dutch know then?”

“Something about astrology, how stars are s’pposed to affect how people are.” 

“Hm? Horoscopes?”

“That, yeah. Think he got over it once he got to Marx.”

“Marx? Karl Marx?”

“You know him?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Dutch wouldn’t goddamn shut up about him for a year, least it was better than the Greek phase.”

“Greek phase? This Dutch guy was into a lot of stuff huh.”

“All kinds of it, but none of them ever lasted.” Arthur grumbles as he sets the table, the memory of Dutch bringing a faint smile to his face.  

She carefully fills the bowl with scoops of stew, filled with chunks of meat and carrots, and waits for them to cool down before placing them on the table. She sits down next to him as he sends the spoon into his mouth.

It doesn't taste too bad, the broth is flavourful and well seasoned, but the meat is  tough, probably overcooked. 

“How is it?”

“Tastes like rubber,” he teases, laboring his teeth through the meat.

“That's what Barry said. Unfortunately the poor guy didn’t live to tell the tale.”

He raises his eyebrow at her rather dark joke, “What, you're gonna poison me too?” 

 “Well if I am you would have tasted something, my dear,” she jokes. Arthur chuckles and shakes his head.

“True that. Tastes fine though, you’ve improved.” 

“Thank you, means a lot from someone who’s clearly burnt out his taste buds.”

He quickly empties his bowl, despite his complaints. She is still eating as he drops his bowl in the sink.

“Gonna pack for the night, you mind doin' the dishes?” he says, putting on his hat as he unlocks the door.

*****

She potters around the home, gathering things, excitement painted on her face, the kind of innocent glee he had grown to adore. He grabs the bedrolls from where he had put them. Her’s seems rather worn and dirty, something he’d rather take. She’d get cold far more easily anyway. Mary paces into the room, grabbing something from the closet. 

“C’mon then! It’s really perfect timing, new moon and all!”

“Comin’”, he answers. “Gonna saddle up Boadicea. You grab something warmer, s’a little chilly tonight.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Oh, now you’re nagging me?”

He shakes his head, though not exactly in denial, “Like you ain’t always cold.”

“None of your coats fit me— here, take this,” she shoves a wool blanket into his arms. “Besides, I know you’ll keep me warm.”

“ ‘ppose we don't need this then,” he gestures to the blanket in his hands.

“Guess we don’t. You’re enough for me.” 

His heart skips a beat. He knows all too well that it's only a joke, but to think that he would ever be enough for someone like her… he would never be enough, but, if she really thinks so…

Her voice pulls him out of his stupor, “We better hurry up.”

“Sure,” he mutters, once again leaving the house to load the bundles in his arms onto Boadicea. Making sure that she has brought her compass and matches— even though Arthur has probably got these in his satchel, he's always prepared for everything— she throws a scarf over her shoulder and swiftly ties it around her neck, a simple makeshift cloak to protect her from the cold, before stepping out to join him.

****

The spot she mentioned isn't too far away, and they have got themselves settled in no time. She gathers some errand branches for firewood as he sets up the tent.

Arthur joins her around the fire once he is done. He watches as she gazes into the flames, the light of the fire dancing on her face.

“When did it happen, the thing with John?” Mary asks.

“Last week or so I guess. Why?”

“Well, I just keep thinkin’ about it. Ain’t really fair somethin’ like that could just happen,”

“Really ain’t. Don’t dwell on it too much, ain’t like things would change anyway.”

“I know. Y’know we used to try for kids plenty, Barry and I, and nothing ever came of it. He got sons already ‘n he always blamed me for it.”

Her expression is calm, yet Arthur still feels a needle poking at his heart upon her words. “Oh. Must’ve been a hell of a thing.” 

“I guess.” The air between them once again falls to silence, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the occasional crinkling of the grass as the wind makes its way through their swaying stems. “Heh, well, lucky thing I s’ppose. Never felt more trapped than back then with him in that place.”

Arthur inches his hand ever closer to hers, placing it in her open palm. Perhaps it’s an attempt to comfort her when he lacks the words to do it in any other way. Her skin feels wonderfully soft on his fingertips, the calluses under a delicate silken layer. The warmth emanates from her palm, her fingers are rather cool to the touch. Each wrinkle in her palm imprints itself in his mind, the contour of the muscle operating her thumb, the tiny little scars from a million little accidents over years, burns, cuts, abrasions. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but once again nothing comes out.

She pulls him close, placing a kiss on his cheek. He can feel his cheeks reddening, and he knows for a fact that it isn't the heat from the fire. I love you. 

She pulls herself onto his lap again, her lips meet his. The soft tingling doesn’t last for long. Mary’s fingers slip into his hair as she lays him down. Arthur feels a pang of sadness as her hands trails down his torso to his crotch. It’s childish, really, hoping that she’d somehow miraculously return his feelings. It‘s just sex to her, he reminds himself, nothing else, nothing more.

Yet he leans into her, pulls her closer until skin meets skin, flesh is inside flesh, thoughts melt into lust.

Just as the fire within them is quenched by the wetness between their legs, the flames before them simmer to red coals. He bites his lip as she lazily rolls down beside him. They both take a moment to catch their breath, and she points up to a bright star as he throws a blanket over them. She sits up to grab her compass, before once again lying down with him.

“That there’s the north star, and try to connect these seven dots, see that ladle? That’s Ursa Minor, the little bear,” she says, trying to map out the constellations before them with her fingers. Arthur feels a smile spread across his face as she connects the stars. “Under it, there’s a bigger ladle– Ursa Major, his mother. Oh, and right next to them!” Mary whispers, leaning on Arthus’s shoulder to align their view, so that she can point out the stars for him more easily. “See that long trail of stars? That’s Draco.”

“Let me guess, it’s a dragon?”

“Good guess, mister. Oh, and look to  the south west, near the moon, see that really bright one near the horizon? That’s Venus.”

“Oh, I remember Dutch pointing that one out to me, and the red one, Mars, is it?”

“Think so, I can’t really see it though, if we’re lucky we might catch it around sunrise. You see the hexagon above it? That’s Ophiuchus, the snake bearer.”

“And the line across it s’the snake?”

“Yeah, oh, and right at the top is Cygnus, the swan.”

“It does look like a bird. And what about that one next to it, the bright one?

“I’m not too sure– think that one is lyra. A lyre, y’know?” “A liar? Now that I’m familiar with.” “No, the instrument! You pluck the string like a guitar– well, probably more like a harp. It belongs to this poet Orpheus.”

“S’that feller on the sky too?”

“No, don’t think he is– if anything he’s going underground.”

“What’d ya mean?” “You see, this Orpheus guy who sings so wonderfully, the god of music himself gave him his lyre…”

As he listens to her story, Arthur pulls out his journal to mark down the stars, connecting the lines and writing down the name of each constellation beside it. It’s a bit dark, but the light from the campfire is sufficient. 

“...and his song is so beautiful, it moves the king of the dead to tears. So, he agrees to let him and his wife go, on one condition: Eurydice must walk behind Orpheus, and he should not turn around on their way back, until they reach the mortal realm, and if he does, he’s going back to the mortal world alone.”

“That sounds too easy.”

“Things are always easier said than done.”

“He turns around?” “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“I s’ppose… but, I think I would’ve done the same.”

“Nah, that’s ridiculous, I’d never turn around if I was him.” “It’s a long way up, it’s dark and it’s cold, he can’t hear her footsteps and he can’t see her shadow, her being a ghost. We can’t blame him for doubtin’ if she’s really behind him.”

“He could have called her name if he’s in doubt.”

“Maybe he did and she called back, but he couldn’t hear her.”

“Even if so, he can, y’know, wait until they’re up above before turning around?”

“Well, yes, but doubt got the better of him.”

“Doubt, huh, ain’t no use doubting,” he grumbles as he flips to a new page of his journal. She chuckles, “Now that’s bold of you to say. Surely you won’t say that you’ve never doubted anything before?”

“Well, no, but I’m not letting it hold me back.”

“Can’t really say the same for me. And looking back, I don’t regret a single bit of it.”

“To each their own, I guess.”

“I guess. Oh! Look to the east, that’s Jupiter.”

“Which one?”

“The big one under the cluster of stars, you see it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Arthur replies, as he marks it down on the pages. “It’s right in the middle of Taurus, the bull.”

“Bull? Can’t see it.”

“See that cluster of stars? That’s Pleiades. That’s its body, And there’s the horn– here, I’ll mark it down for you,” she says, quickly outlining the shape of the bull in his journal.

“And what a coincidence– do you know Taurus is the bull that the god Jupiter turned into?”

More stars are mapped out and more stories are told,with the rising and falling of celestial bodies being the only sign of the passage of time, and despite it being well into the midnight hours, Arthur does not feel sleepy at all. To him, the night only seems to be passing too quickly. 

He steals another glance at her under the starlight. He can see her better now, despite the fading light from the embers, now that his vision has adjusted to the darkness. She looks just as beautiful as she does in the day under the daylight, her features looking all the more softer in the dim lighting. Suddenly he wishes– as silly as it is– that he can lie with her like this always, forever, until their bodies turn to bones, until the last star in the universe dies out.

“You see that board guy over there? Near Gemini?” her voice once again grasps her attention.

“What guy?” he asks, staring at the direction she is pointing towards. “You see those three bright stars? They mark his belt.” She grabs his hand and uses his finger to point out those stars for him. “And over there, that’s his bow. That’s Orion, he’s a hunter.”

“Think I see him now,” Arthur mutters, outlining the feller with his pencil.

“He kinda looks like ya, y’know, big and broad and all.” He lets out a small chuckle, “If you say so, ‘cept I don’t sparkle.”

“Right. Oh, and underneath! Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky other than Venus. It’s not fully out yet, but you can see half of Canis Major.”

“Let me guess, it’s a dog? The hunter guy’s dog?”

“Exactly, and you can see the rabbit running away from them…”

He can tell the sun is going to rise soon by the time the two finally settle down in their bedrolls, as the sky gradually changes from dark blue to pale purple. He pulls her over to the nicer bedroll before she has a chance to protest.

“I've got my own bed,” she says, though she slips under the sheets with him regardless.

“It's old 'n dirty, 'sides, we fit pretty well here don't we?”

“Hm, it's cozy enough,” she mutters mindlessly,  resting her head right above his heart. She can hear his heart speeding up the second she lays her hand on the other side of his chest, but pays it little mind.

A small smile blooms across his face as she yawns, she's kind of adorable like this, soft, docile, her usual defensiveness vanished into the night.

“You're so warm…” she mumbles, right before falling asleep, “I can hold you forever like this.”

Please do, it is the last thought he has before he, too, falls into slumber.

****

Arthur heads out shortly after they went home, only to return with another man an hour later. The two are engaged in a discussion as she steps back in, putting down the basket of clean  clothes in the corner. Seeing another person in the house is a strange feeling, her heart frantically jumps around her chest. They both look up, she feels she should just run off. Surely he’d recognize her, he’d know, everyone did, he’d instantly know and now she’s trapped in a house-

“Mary, was expectin’ you. Charles Smith, Mary Linton.” She reaches to shake his hand, the two make brief eye contact and engage in the courtesy.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith.” she greets, the man nods in response. She steps around the room and looks at them both. The two connected rooms offer little privacy and stepping out would be rather rude. 

“C’mon, sit with us,” Arthur invites her over. She sits by him and notices the cups of coffee on the table. There was a chip on one of the cups, a large one. The silence is broken by him yet again. “This is the feller I was tellin’ you about, we ain’t met in a while.”

Charles and Mary look at each other in silence and then glance back at Arthur. “And this is Mary, figure you read about her in the papers a bit ago.” Shut up, Arthur, just shut up. Please.

“Think I did. Arthur didn’t tell me about this situation.”

“Well, i-it’s not really a thing that should get out, in case someone hears, you see.” Mary excuses. Charles shoots a look at Arthur, silently shaming him for every single choice that led up to this. He had caught on the moment she stepped in. The two pillows on the bed, the little stitched on details and his neatened up appearance. A thing Charles hadn’t before noticed was the degree of his idiocy, apparently. 

Arthur notices her stilted mannerisms and places his hand on her hand under the table. 

“Why then?”

“ ‘s hard to explain,” Arthur squeezes her hand. She gently squeezes back.

“Ain’t really. We share a bed.”

“Oh.”  

Arthur chats with the man for a while, before the two get up to leave. Charles raises an eyebrow at him as he pulls a jacket on, questioning the whole situation. He eyes the strange lady observing them. 

“You wanna come with us?” Arthur asks, it snaps her out of her trance. 

“Well, I won’t be of much help or company. ‘Sides, I have things to do, you go on ahead darlin’,” Mary stands up as they step out. 

Darlin’.

Arthur pauseos at the door, turning back to look at her, their eyes meet as she steps forth. The door clolpsllles, the9ootttotototo to to tttttt  the 9brief moment ends as the door clicks shut. Arthur lets out a breath he only now realizes he had held in for the time. Something was missing, he thinks, but shakes the thought away.

Should have goddamn kissed her.

He gathers his thoughts for a moment and steps back to meet the younger man. 

“What’s going on with you, Arthur?” Charles asks. 

“Nothin’, nothin’,” Arthur denies, turning away. Charles furrows his brow. 

“At this rate I’d have guessed you married her.” His tone is only half joking.

“Huh.” he feels a flush creep up his face at the thought. It’s a silly, soft  thought but… that damned woman seemed to some strange aura about her. She wouldn’t ever, never in a million years even consider it would she, not with me. Fool.

“As a matter of fact ‘m hurt ya didn’t tell me.”

“Ain’t like that, Charles. She ‘n I ain’t involved like that, she’s got her own things goin’ on and she’ll probably leave me any day now.”

“Is that so?” Charles casts him a strange look as they walk into the woods, “I’ve never seen you act like that with anybody.”

Arthur sighs, he can’t help but be ashamed of these…stupid feelings, but it would probably do him good to let it out. It’s just Charles, ain’t like he will judge him for it.

“Well I do like her a bit, she’s been living with me for a while and she…she’s been real nice to me, y’know.”

“…I can tell,” Charles mutters, recalling in terror the way the two looked at each other. “Thought you were tracking her down just a while ago, and now you’re living with her?”

“Long story short, she saved my life, I owed her one, and she needed a place to hide so, we ended up sharing a roof.”

“And you said you like her?”

“Yeah?”

“Arthur,” Charles stops in his tracks, turning to look at him. “She killed her husband.”

“Yeah, that. That feller was a bastard, a child rapist. Can you blame her for that?”

Charles sighs, he can see the reason behind that woman’s action, if what she claimed was true, that is, but he sure can’t see any logic behind Arthur’s thought process. “Still. Of course she’d put him in a bad light in her story.”

“Even if she did lie to me it ain’t like I haven’t murdered anyone before. C’mon, let’s get going,” he urges.

“Fair enough. She does seem sweet on you, gotta say.”

“You really think so?” Arthur asks, his tone almost hopeful.

“That she’s sweet on you? Yeah. I’m guessing she’s why your den finally looks like a house now?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s been a great housemate.”

Charles wants to point out that housemate seems like an odd choice of word given the way they interact, but he does not comment.“ ‘m glad to hear that, but still, be careful.”

“C’mon, if she’s going to kill me she would’ve done it weeks ago. Enough about me, how have ya been?”

“Same old. There's this beekeeper who moved near me a few weeks ago and his little army has been bothering me ever since. Nothing interesting beside that, really. How’re you two getting on?”

“A beekeeper? Never would’ve guessed voluntarily keep ‘em.”

“Mm, yeah, all sorts of folk out there. What’s she been doing in this time?”

“They live out near the fields? Saw a bunch of flowers there, seems like a nice place for ‘em.”

“Heard there was someone new in town sellin’ knitted things ‘n embroidery”

“Yup. Does he get stung by ‘em often?” “Is it her?”

“Yup, so, how’re you two gettin’ on, other than that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hm? Means what I said it meant.” Arthur shrugs. 

“Hosea told me you were harbourin’ an outlaw, said it like it had passed. When’s she gonna be gone?” Charles dodges the subject.

“Hope not soon. Charles, I… I think I love her.”

A look of disapproval spreads across the other man's face. “I’m not gona do anythin’ about it, it’d… it’d be dumb.”

“C’mon, Arthur, I can see that, but I don't wanna see you get hurt. Might just be best to let her go.”

Arthur sighs heavily. 

“I know, I know. S’gonna hurt anyway. Enough about her, you said you saw a stag ‘round here earlier?”

*******

“Oh, you guys are back,” Mary says, emptying a can of beans into the steaming pot.

“Yeah,” says Arthur, swinging off his satchel to hang it behind the door. “Watcha makin’?” He asks, looking over her shoulders. 

“Just put together what I could find, we’re running low,” she says, stirring the mixture of beans, mushrooms, and potatoes. “And nice to see you again Mr. Smith,” she greets as the other man lays down several bundles wrapped in paper on the table.

“Charles’ fine,” he replies. Mary only hums in response.

“Yer staying for dinner?” Arthur asks. Mary secretly hopes he would refuse, not because she dislikes Arthur’s friend. In fact, she finds him a pretty nice feller, but it is just so awkward and unnatural, especially with Arthur being so at ease and Charles being clearly as uneasy as her.

Charles merely shrugs, “Sure.”

“What have you guys got?” she asks, sprinkling some salt over the pot.

“Just some rabbits. What’d ya say if we roast ‘em?”

“I’m fine with it.” Arthur nods as he grabs a knife to skin the rabbits. 

“Need any help?” Charles offers.

“No, it’s fine, you’re the guest,” Arthur says.

“A guest? You’re talking like I’m a stranger,” Charles jokes as he sets himself down at the table, slightly more relaxed now.

“You come here often, Mr Smith?” Mary asks, trying to break the awkwardness.

“I used to.”

“Oh?” Mary puts the lid over the pot, before walking over to pour a glass of water for Arthur, then another for Charles. He silently thanks her with a nod.

“Well, then you came.” Suppose Arthur doesn’t want anyone interrupting you two. Charles thinks, though he knows better than to say it out loud.

Mary freezes, trying to think of the implication behind his statement. There is not a single bit of repulsion in his tone, yet his words make her feel like an intruder. She wonders if that’s what she is to his friends and family, someone uninvited, a hindrance to Arthur’s life. They won’t be wrong, she thinks, she has been nothing but a dependent with little contribution.

“I won’t be disturbing him for long,” she explains. “He’s been a great host, but I’d hate to bother him for any longer. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can, right Arthur?”

A sharp metal cling tears through the room before her words fall. Mary turns around and finds that Arthur has dropped the knife.

“…Arthur? Are you alright?”

He shakes his head out of his trance. “Yeah, am fine, my hand just slipped.”

She picks up the knife for him before returning to the stove. Charles watches as Arthur ties a string onto the rabbits.

A silent sigh escapes him. His face falls, the happiness sucked away by those words. 

“You alright?”

“ ‘m fine,” he shakily picks the knife up. “These’ll be good.” he smiles, a weakness hidden behind those words. 

Charles smiles back, pitying the other man.

Fine. Fine! Completely fine. Just like she’s with leaving. FINE.

“Hey, well. I hope you two had fun out there, the weathers been fine all week!” she continues. FINE, FINE, EVERYTHING’S JUST GODDAMN FINE.

“Could have used you out there too,” Charles tries to break the tension. He notices his friend's hand tighten around the knife. He places a hand on his shoulder and notices the tension in his muscles.

He snakes his hand onto Arthurs and gently places the knife on the table. 

“What?” Arthur asks, confused.

“Nothin'. You're done with this, right? I'll take it to wash.”

“Oh, yeah, alright.” Arthur says. Charles drops it at the sink while Arthur kneels down before the fireplace, hanging the rabbits over the pile of logs.

Charles sits back down at the table. He notices how Arthur is still kneeling on the floor, despite having finished his work. He doesn't comment.

Arthur finally breaks out of his haze as Mary turns around, leaving the steaming pot behind. “Yer done?”

“Not yet, gotta let it simmer for a while,” she mutters, grabbing the unfinished needlework on the table. Charles immediately recognises it as Arthur's neckerchief. Huh.

Arthur brushes the ashes off his hands on his pants. “S'gonna take these at least an hour to cook too.”

“I hope you boys are not too hungry then,” says Mary, as she sits down at the edge of the bed, disappearing from their view.

“I can wait,” Charles says. Arthur casts the bedroom door another glance before sitting himself down at the table, opposite to the other man. 

“So, what have you been up to, other than getting all enamored and stuff?” Charles asks with a whisper. Arthur really has been a stranger lately. He can sense something has changed in him during the past few months. Though Charles can't really tell what it is, he knows Mrs Linton and Arthur's…feelings for her, have to be the reason for it.

“Eh, nothing much, just the old stuff.”

“Y'know, your house really looks a lot nicer now.”

“Yeah, like I said she's a great housekeeper.”

“You look a lot better than before too, you know that right?”

“Do I?” Arthur gives him a funny look. “How?”

“Hard to say, but at least you don't like you're gonna die in a week anymore.”

“That's a real nice compliment coming from ya,” Arthur chuckles. 

“I mean it, you look way happier than before.”

He shrugs, “S'ppose the extra company does me good.”

“...company, huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“So, you said you've got a new neighbor?”

“Yeah, a Jason Brown or something like that. I forgot his name and it'd be too strange to ask at this point.”

“Why? Just say you haven't got his last name or something.”

“Guess I should try that.”

“You said he keeps bees?”

“Yeah, he's given me a jar of honey a while ago. He's a pretty nice feller. His herd, not quite.”

“What'd they do?”

“They were supposed to be heading to the apple farm nearby— he mentioned something about them being pollinators and him having got a fund from the owner— but they kept heading to my house to bug me.”

“You ever got stung?”

“A couple times. Didn't even do anything to them.”

“Huh, what about that Jason feller?”

“Not as far as I know. I've seen him work from a distance before. They seemed to let him do whatever he wanted to their hive. He was wearing this net thing over his head though.” Their conversation is interrupted by Mary shuffling through, she grabs her needles. Arthur’s expression falls again, his gaze follows her out, an odd type of sadness masked behind his eyes. 

**** 

The two men step out, Charles pats Taima’s neck in greeting, the mare nickers as he grabs her reins. 

“Hope you’ll be comin’ back some time soon.” Arthur steps closer to the horse.

“Sure. You sure you’ll be alright, Arthur?” Charles asks, swinging his leg over the horse. 

Arthur laughs. “ ‘course I’ll be. Just a crush is all, no reason to worry.”

“You sure?”

“Who do ya think I am? She’ll be out ‘before you’re back, it’ll… pass.” he hesitates on the word. 

Charles nudges the appaloosa to a trot and leaves, glancing back at the other man, left standing in the dust. Arthur turns his gaze to the window and catches a peek at her, sitting there, working hard on another one of her projects. She tilts her head and her eye twitches. 

She’ll be gone soon, she’ll be gone and there isn’t a damn thing I can do.

Arthur steps back inside and she springs up from the spot, tying off two treads and snipping them as she steps over. She pulls him down and ties a black scrap of fabric around his neck. It wasn’t what she was working on before, he notices. 

“Did your friend leave?” she asks. Arthur nods as she adjusts it around his neck. “ ‘m glad to see you ain’t a real hermit just a, hm, a hermit of opportunity.”

“Can’t be a real one with ya here.” he forces a chuckle. “ ‘sides, ain’t fun like that, I don’t mind the company.”

“He'll be coming over again soon?”

“Dunno, maybe, why, do you want him to?”

“Not really.”

He gives out an airy laugh, “Oh, he'll definitely be hurt if he hears that.”

“No, not what I meant. He's a nice feller, but it's just a little bit strange with someone else here y'know?”

“What'd ya mean?”

“Guess I'm just used to being alone with you.”

A warm feeling blooms across his chest. Could she really enjoy being here with him?

Arthur swallows, calm down, she just said she was used to it. It doesn't mean anything.

“Huh, thought you'd be getting sick of my face by now.”

“Probably would have if you weren't so handsome.” 

Suddenly he doesn't know where he should be looking at, and his hands feel awkward hanging besides his hips, but he doesn't know where to put them. He looks away, hoping she isn't able to see his flushed cheeks under the dim light.

“Flatterer,” he mumbles. She smiles and stands on her tiptoes to give his cheek. He has never told her, but it's his favorite way to be kissed; quick, chaste, but sweeter and more intimate than any other kiss. He can almost close his eyes and pretend it's a gesture of something more than mere habitual affection.

He realizes he's still standing at the door while she has already sat down at the edge of the bed, folding her outer clothes. He slowly makes his way towards the room to join her.

“He's not gonna visit for a while. We'll be getting plenty of alone time,” he says, playing with her hair, which she has just let down. Her curls fall onto her shoulders adorning the outline of her face. He twirls a strand around his index finger, feeling its smooth silkiness.

“Good, more fun with just you and I here, isn't it?” 

“How so?” he asks with a knowing smile. The eager hands prying his collar open and the wild kiss that follows it are the only answers his need.

[softly-and-suddenly]

Tom Lehrer’s Masochism Tango would do numbers on Tumblr

[teddybeartoji]

彡 HE'S ANNOYING AND BEAUTIFUL AND HE'S GOING TO RUIN YOUR FUCKING DAY

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, he's stupid, he also has a massive fucking crush on you (and you're no better btw), reader smokes a cigarette gasp!! oh and reader is wearing a suit wc: 2.2k

+ a few hours later...

the spring sun warms your skin as sit on a little bench on top of the hill that overlooks your destination. a castle – it's fancy, fanciest you've ever seen. it's fucking massive and you can't help but wonder, how it would feel to sprint through the long beautiful hallways of the place...

way too many super cars are lined up in front of it and their various colors are making your eyes hurt. people in stunning dresses and equally stunning suits spill out of the machines and they laugh and roar, smoke blowing from their noses and lips as they flex their expensive pipes and cigarette holders. bald men with terrible mustaches flood your vision and you decide that you've had enough for the moment and let your head fall back. this is your last chance to recharge before the work begins.

digging in your inner suit pocket, you pull out a silver cigarette case with a beautiful engraving on it. memories reside in the little crevices of the art and the thoughts make a sentimental (albeit an annoying one. you'd never do this in front of him.) smile tug at the corners of your lips. the tiny machine was part of a set, a gift for you.

you try not to think about that for too long.

patting the side of your upper thigh, you dig out a lighter. it's just a plastic one; it's old as hell and it has definitely seen better days. but despite its tired look, you still consider it a friend, a partner, a helping hand.

you grab a cig from the box and place it between your lips before pocket the case again. the lighter is warm in your hands as you stare at the design on it. swirls and lines run all across the silver, dancing and merging together. a lot of memories are buried in the cracks of them and a sentimental smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

click! click! click!

perhaps today is the day you'll lay it to rest. there's no fire, no heat, but you're not mad. the cigarette hangs from your lips and you let out a sigh. you lean back onto your hand and close your eyes; if you won't get your final energy boost from nicotine, the sun will have to do it.

a gust of wind brushes over your skin, it cards through your hair and you feel alive. the laughter from down below finds it way up to you and it makes you crack a grin yourself – these rich pricks won't know what hit them. this'll be an easy job, no sweat. in and out, it'll only take a few hours tops if everything goes without a hitc—

click!

time slows.

cracking open an eye, you watch the stick catch fire.

engravings in silver – a perfect match to the ones on the case that's hiding comfortably in your chest pocket. right beside your heart. pale, slender fingers and manicured nails, a perfectly fitted sleeve – it's him. trailing up his arm with your eye, his cologne fills your nostrils and you realize that he's standing way closer than you thought.

it takes a mere two seconds and you craning your neck to meet his eyes. they match the clear sky, the only difference being that while birds twirl and dance in the blue ocean up above your heads, little stars twinkle in his.

satoru gojo.

and his stupid fucking smile.

you hate him.

he snaps the little silver machine shut before placing it back into his pocket with one swift move. his pearly white teeth shine under the blinding sun and the sight of his dimples makes your stomach churn. silly butterflies.

staring up at him, you hollow your cheeks and breathe in the smoke. it travels through your mouth and makes its way deep into your lungs. he's patient. the grey fog fills your organs and you let it simmer before letting out out again. you blow it at him but he doesn't budge; your eyes look so pretty in this light. he watches your lips curl into a pretty little smirk and then he's already being blessed with your saccharine voice. "gojo."

he does a dramatic bow as he stands before you – his one hand behind his back and the other on his heart. "my beloved."

the hum and the eye roll you award him with warm his insides. he straightens his spine and locks both his hands behind him, almost making him look like an innocent, virtuous person. it's that charming smile of his that's able to save him from just about everything. his ability to bare his teeth in the most endearing way pisses you off.

it really fucking does.

he twirls on his heel and the gentle gust of wind ruffles his snowy hair. he eyes the castle below and the little ant-people that buzz in front of it.

"you got an invite?" he asks in a sing-song voice. he seems excited. that's a bad thing for you. he will ruin your plans, you already know it.

"i did not."

you don't need to see his face to know that his smile has stretched even wider. you hate it. he quirps a little "hm" before spinning back around. his hand dips into his inner suit pocket and returns with an ivory envelope. his eyelashes flutter shut as he dramatically fans his face with it.

you hate him.

"that's too bad. they have this cool new system – they give you a keycard. they check it at the door, of course, but after that you can just go wild with it." he paces around in front of you while you just inhale the smoke back into your lungs as a way to alleviate the fact that he's going to ramble about a fucking key card. "there are tiers, you see. the smaller guys just get to use it as the invite while others..."

he turns to you with a big grin. "can actually open some super secret doors."

he flicks the envelope just to show it off some more and you wish you could suffocate him with the cigarette smoke. or maybe you should just push him off this damn hill instead.

"not that you would know anything about it though..." his words trail off as his eyes snake their way up from the ground and to your pretty face.

"and you're one of the big guys then, i presume?"

your remark is like water off a duck's back. it's the exact opposite actually – it only eggs him on. he watches the smoke slip from between your lips as you try to bite him back, he watches your chest fall; you look handsome in your suit. he's never seen you in an outfit like this - sure, he's seen you in some fancy fits before but this... takes the crown for sure.

you almost look like you belong here, though he skeptical on whether you'd think of that as a compliment or not. he doesn't say it, opting for something else.

"you look good– "

"you look good."

damn.

you blink up at him, he blinks down on you. he fiddles with his fingers behind his back and he bites back the comment he wants to make about you complimenting him, about you two speaking at the same time. something about being partners, something-something.

he does look good.

he's also wearing a gorgeous black suit on top of a pearly white shirt and a matching black bowtie adorns his neck, and it looks like he did try to style his hair just a little, but you know him – you know he likes it when the wind messes it up. he always says it makes him look more rugged.

you assume he doesn't know what the word means.

silence falls upon the two of you, engulfing you in this comfortable little bubble. your lips wrap around the cigarette again and he pockets the envelope in his hand.

"y'think so?"

he asks for praise so nonchalantly that you almost give in. "...maybe."

satoru's chest puff up and his eyes light up even more than ever – you regret your decision to tell him that. his lips part but you don't give him a chance to tease you any further.

you shake the cigarette butt before pushing yourself off the bench. satoru observes you, always so excited about everything you do. he can't tear his eyes from you. placing the cig back between your lips, you approach the man in front of you in a confident stride.

without locking eyes with him, you take your place a little bit too close in front of him and casually reach for his tie. satoru's breath hitches at the sudden proximity but he doesn't back away. you tug at the edges of it, your eyebrows furrowing in the process. you look cute, all concentrated and everything. his smile makes its way back onto his lips as he stares at you and his hands twitch at his sides.

smoke dances in the air as you take your time to fix his tie; the sun melts the two of you together as the silence settles around you again. the breeze plays with his hair some more, it grazes the apples of your cheeks and it's refreshing. this feels like the old times.

"smoking kills, you know."

his voice is barely above a whisper and you snort at him. "so do cars, dipshit."

"hm, douche."

you send a sharp glare at him and he doesn't even try to hold his ever-growing grin. the stupid fucking butterflies in your stomach are making you sick. he's about to say something ridiculous again, so you rush to give his earlobe a gentle-not-so-gentle tug. you laugh at the way he winces and the way his skin turns a dark shade of pink in a matter of seconds; it manages to bloom all over his ears and the apples of his cheeks before he decides to swat your hand away.

your eyes and the tingling pain in his ear are enough to distract him from your wandering hands. skilled fingers dip under the front of his suit jacket as you lean forward to whisper to him. "it's touché."

his eyes glue themselves onto the cigarette in your mouth, between your pretty lips, giving you more than enough time to swipe the envelope from his chest pocket with ease.

"right..."

dusting off some imaginary dust from his shoulder, you cock your head to the side and take the cigarette from your lips while giving him another good look. how could you not? despite his god-awful personality and his tendency to screw up every single one of your plans in one way or another – he's the most beautiful man you've ever seen. from this angle you could count the freckles that are scattered across his nose and cheeks, hell – you could count his damn eyelashes if you really wanted to.

(you kind of do.)

while he's being bewitched by you and your eyes and your perfume and the damn smoking stick in your hand, you hide the envelope behind your back. you make use of the promiximity between you two, your own body concealing the movement of you tucking the thing under your own suit jacket and into the waistband of your pants. you're here to steal afterall.

satoru rubs his ear and feigns a pout. it's the fakest one you've seen yet, but then a dopey smile makes it's way onto his lips and for a second you think that your plan didn't work, that he felt it, that he saw it—

"you know... if you wanted satoru to just get you an invite, you should've just said so, sweetheart."

...

you stare at him with a blank face and he shines right back at you. he plucks the cigarette from your hand and throws it to the ground, stomping on the thing, he puts out the light with the heel of his foot.

"but... since you didn't ask for it, since you didn't ask for satoru's help... you'll have to find your own way in, yeah?" he's way too smug, too arrongant and the only thing that's making you feel better is the thought of him being shut out from the party because he doesn't have the invite. anymore.

"stop referring to yourself in third person, it makes you look stupid."

"you don't think i look stupid in the first place then?"

.............

you can't wait for this day to be over.

"alright. go now. run along, little prince." you give his shoulder a shove but he refuses to back away, leaning closer a little instead.

"are you gonna be okay out here, hm? all alone? no keycard or nothing?"

even his breath smells good. you want to punch him.

"don't worry about me, gojo. i'm sure i'll figure something out."

"ahh! you always do! and that's why you're the greatest, baby!" wincing at the volume of his tone, you clench your jaw and press your teeth together. satoru loves it when you do that. "don't take too long, okay? i'll miss you."

he offers you another fake pout and turns around on his heel, but not before giving you a wink. he looks over his shoulder for the last time and...

"don't forget to throw away the cig! littering isn't sexy!"

he's so overbearingly annoying and he will so ruin your fucking plans.

[fuck-customers]

I think every cashier knows about sticky coins, straight from customers’ cars’ drink holders. I had a guy paying for a drink and pack of cigarettes entirely with sticky coins. Whatever, gross but I can always wash them off and wash my hands when he leaves. Except he notices me grimacing as I count his change, and goes “Oh here let me help with that”, sweeps the change off the counter and POURS IT ALL INTO HIS MOUTH. Swishes them around like mouth wash, then spits them back into his hand and offers them to me.

I just. Stared at him in stunned silence. He looked proud of himself at first and then started getting embarrassed when I silently stared at him. Having no idea what to say. After a minute he was like “Do.. you got a sink I could wash these off in?” And I just wordlessly pointed to the bathroom. My coworker saw the whole thing and offered to take over when he came out (looking sheepish and swearing up and down he washed the coins with soap thoroughly and dried them off too)

I just. In WHAT universe do you think its a good idea to shove money in your mouth to “clean” it and then expect someone to take it from you still wet with your spit???

Posted by admin Rodney.

[ask-maxie-boy]

Goonion's Ghoul (Part 3) [dp x dc]

(A/N we switching the official name of the goonion to The First Universal Henchmans' Union. Just makes sense, thank y'all for the advice)

(Parts 1 & 2: here) (Part 4: here)

"Before we begin, I'd just like to clarify a few things. Mainly, can I ask for your preferred name?"

"Is that a joke?"

"Well, I figured it would professional to come out and call you Mr. Cobblepot, but seeing as we're talking about a... certain aspect of your enterprises, I wasn't sure you wanted your legal name in the records. The Union takes confidentiality very seriously."

Oswald Cobblepot looked down at the scrawny boy in front of him. This was the guy that had Eddie shaking in his boots? He tapped the ashes off his cigarette into the ashtray, and scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as you remember who you're talking to before you open your mouth."

"Of course! As you wish, Mr. Penguin."

There it was. That smile just a bit too wide, just like Riddler had said. Oswald Cobblepot wasn't an amateur, he wouldn't let something like that throw him off balance. "Alright, kid, lets cut to the chase. Whats this all about a Union?"

"Oh, Mr. Penguin, I had thought you heard! The First Universal Henchmans' Union is a recently formed collective of working class freelance goons, henchmen, and grunts of all different colors."

"Hweh! And what do I care if a bunch of simpletons wanna have a party together?"

The kid's head tilted, a sickening crack! ringing through the room. Just for a second, its eyes seemed to glow.

When you deal with bats for so long, little things like that don't sway you.

"If they're so little to you in your mind, then surely anything they might ask of you shouldn't be that hard to swallow?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as the thing's face tried to imitate inquisitiveness.

Good. The Penguin likes it cold.

"You can toss away the whole intimidation shtick, boy. I didn't get to be where I was by bending over to every ignoramus who thinks they can get me to do what they want."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you start to pay more attention to little expressions. The way the shadows suddenly fall onto the boy's blue-eyed, black haired face as he tilts his head downward makes The Penguin's flinch, just for a moment.

"I promise you sir, the Goonion is a very real, and very serious organization."

Cobblepot sneers, cigarette holder angling upward, as he taps his umbrella on the ground. "I pay my people well. My lounge is up to code, too. You don't have a damn thing on me, and here you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Well listen here, boy, you don't run an operation like this in Gotham without knowing fear. Fear is watching every shadow, looking for the pin pricks of light. Fear is the cracking of bones in the room over as you know the jig's up. Fear is watching Gotham's shadow spawn appear from the darkness, promising the only thing he wont do is kill you. You're way out of your league if you think I'll bend to such a cheap trick."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you learn to keep your eyes open. You keep track of exits, you look for little disturbances, keep your ears ready for even the softest sound.

You pay attention to that little voice that says you're being watched.

"Mr Penguin, do I need to remind you just who these 'simpletons' are? They're the men who carry your goods to and from your lounge. They're the ones who rig up the Riddler's bombs, traffic weapons in and out of the city. What happens when deals go south, when plans are canceled partway though?"

When you deal with Bats for so long, you watch the shadows. They practically live in them, entering and exiting like they're made from the stuff. Anything that might give away their position.

The shadows are dancing. Pulsing with something even darker than Gotham. He swears he can hear the sound of a bat gently hitting someone's hand. Distant laughter, not natural, almost forced.

"You know, Mr. Penguin, The Joker is easily one of our worst offenders. One of his more interesting complaints is the lack of security in regards to chemicals. See, he doesn't really care much if there's missing inventory, or what happens after his plan, as long as there's enough for what he needs." A vial flutters between its fingers, eyes almost bored as a forked tongue slides between sharpened teeth. "I wonder, where does it all go?

Eyes, green as emerald and as bright as the sun burn into Ozwald's. A grin stretches wider, wider, quite literally from one ear to the next filled with jagged teeth. "Do you want to find out?"

...~☆~...

"...My... smoking habits."

"Yeah, honestly. Its like you said. Most of your stuff is up to board, and your workers are fairly happy. Its mainly just an issue for henches with asthma, though secondhand smoke isn't something most people enjoy."

"You did all that over my cigarettes?!"

"its fairly understood that the Iceberg Lounge is not a smoke-free area, so you can do as you please there, but when it comes to abandoned warehouses or other places of business, we ask you please refrain from smoking."

"I can't believe this."

"For what its worth, the goons understand its part of your whole outfit, and are willing to compromise. We have a list of alternatives that visibly resemble a lit cigarette, and will fit in your holder, but wont actually release any smoke..."

@akikkobara @thegatorsgoose @addie-lover-of-stories @apointlessbox @screamingtofillthevoid @semiprofessionaldumbass @sailor-goddess @malice-of-the-sunrise @savaton @spikedlynx @emergentpanda-blog @starlightcat04

[in-daddy-price-we-trust]

All I Wanted - Part 1

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence

Part 2

A/N: this is like my first fanfic in a while, and first on tumblr (yay!) any tips and tricks would be so helpful!

this also plans to be a series but posting might and will be inconsistent, thank you in advance!

You always had a difficult life. Being abused by your parents up until you ran away at 13. After you ran away, you got in with the wrong type of people, promises of hope and money, food and validation was all they needed to say to get you hooked in their business of organised crime. Some good came out of it however, they gave you a home and how to defend yourself. They taught you how to shoot a gun and the best place to make someone bleed. They taught you nothing else mattered except them, they became your new family.

You were 15 when you were tasked with transporting a couple crates of weaponry and drugs. The organisation you joined knew you well enough and practically raised you to be the strongest you were. So one cargo ship to Amsterdam later, you find yourself in a rotting, metal warehouse, wearing pink apparel, pink puffy skirt and a white hello-kitty shirt. A baby pink cardigan is draped over your shoulders and over-the-knee white knitted socks. A chrome covered knife strapped to your thigh.

“Zus, how much for it all?” he stood across from you, a cigarette lit between his lips taking a long drag as you assessed his question. His black, slicked back hair elongated his face and the three piece suit almost made this deal professional.

“How much are you offering?” was all you said as a small smile graced your lips, ‘the higher the offer, the better’ you remember being told before you left. They weren’t the best weapons but they were definitely worth at least a couple K.

“25”

a grimace, “80”

a growl, “40”

a hum, “55”

“65. Final offer,” his teeth were bared, almost like he was sweating already.

A sinister, sweet smile stretched across your face, “Wonderful, and how are you wanting to transfer that?” out of seemingly nowhere you pulled out a notepad and pen, writing down the bank details before you gave him a pointed look, “You have one week to transfer the money, or I will have your head.”

His face paled, almost embarrassingly so. For how innocent you appeared to be, you knew how to handle yourself in these situations. You turned to walk away, the sound of baby pink mary janes clacking against the concrete as you bounced towards the rusted metal doors, sliding them open as you looked back at the man one final time, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” and leaving.

You were good at your job. It was easy, for the most part. Gather intel, pass forward that intel. Transfer somewhat illegal items from one holder to another. So it comes to you as a bit of a surprise when you exit through the dusty doors when a bullet wizzes past your face, luckily just missing you. Swiftly pulling out the hand-gun out your waistband and shooting in their direction. You wish you had your sniper, but it was left in the hotel room you managed to stay at.

As you shot in the direction of the fire, you failed to notice someone sneaking out behind you, kicking your knees in. Dirt caked your socks as the grip on your gun became loose. Acting as quick as possible, you flipped onto your back, retching the knife from its holster. Before you could act, black invaded your vision as you felt pain shoot from your head. Shit.

-

White light invaded your vision, a grumbled swear leaving your dry lips at the pounding in your head. "Jesus Christ," your wrists hurt, rubbed raw by the shitty metal handcuffs they strapped you in, "Whose bedroom did you get these out of? Couldn't even afford good quality cuffs?" fell out of your mouth before you could think to stop it. No one reacted.

It was a van, you could tell that much. The interior white with small wooden benches lining it. Two men sat on either side of you whilst the other two sat across. From what you could make out, another pair sat at the front, driving to this unknown destination.

Maybe you should have been more scared. More begging for them not to hurt you. Four big, burly military men could definitely kill you much easier than you kill them.

They studied you like you studied them. The one on your left was most likely the oldest, a fisherman's hat upon his head and mutton chops-moustache combo was the dead give away. He had his eyes closed and arms crossed across his chest, legs spread wide.

You couldn't make out the one on your right quite as well. A black balaclava with painted white skeletal teeth paired well with the upper half of the skull mask he wore. He seemed to be in a similar position as grandpa, although he had an ankle resting on his knee instead, head tilted back against the cool metal of the van.

The two across from you seemed younger. One had a darker complexion, his eyebrows furrowed in a thoughtful expression. He was smaller than the rest but no doubtfully as strong.

Lastly was the man with a mohawk. His eyes bore into you the most, not so angry and more trying to figure out who you were. Breaking you apart and putting you back together with his eyes. Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. His face morphed into one of slight surprise before rolling his eyes and looking towards the front.

It was quiet. The hum from the light ticking like a clock in your ear. Trying to gauge where you were and how much time had passed, your foot started tapping on the floor.

"Stop," A gruff voice said suddenly making you jump before mumbling a sorry at the skull-faced man. It was quiet again. It numbed your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Gravel sounded under the tires before voices outside sounded, signalling your arrival.

The doors pulled open, sunlight shining in. As mohawk and shorty left, skully pulled your arm to tug you along out with him, a short yelp escaping past your lips at the action.

You tripped over your feet, pins and needles shooting up your legs from sitting for so long. "Can you be gentle?" you spoke as you found your footing, "Please?" it was tacked on at the end for at least the tiniest bit of sympathy.

Skully looked down at you as he continued to drag you towards what you hoped was a five-star hotel with bed and breakfast. At least your death would be a quick one.

The halls blurred together until you were sitting in a leather chair in someone's office, back to the door, although you felt the looming presence of the men behind you. Mutters were heard outside before the door clicked opened, footsteps and a click again.

Gramps stood in front of you, leaning over the dark stained oak table. He had a file in his hand, putting it on the desk before sliding it over to you. "What do you know of El Sin Nombre?" it wasn't as much of a question than you'd like but an order for information.

Your mouth was so dry it felt like you swallowed cotton. As much as you wished to answer him, you look at him with furrowed brows and a confused expression. It took you a couple minutes before words formed in your throat, "Who?".

He didn't enjoy that answer. One of his hands slapping on the desk as he seethed, repeating the question again as if that would change your answer.

"I don't know who that is! I can't help you," you felt that burning sensation under your eyes as you desperately tried to convey your emotions. Tears meant weakness, and that's the one thing you didn't want to show to your captors right now.

Pairs of eyes hammered into your head. You felt like a child again, staring down at your toes being told off for not doing the dishes or not being quick enough to grab a beer. You braced for the hits, the punches to your ribs as you made promises that fell on the deaf ears of your mother and father.

"Price," A voice sounded behind you, soft and comforting. An accent coated the words that flowed through the air you didn't pick up on. The more time passed the more your eyes stung, tears slipping past your defences. Shoulders shaking as you try to curl into yourself, strings of "I don't know" and "I'm sorry" being nothing more than mumbles.

The room grew cold and quiet as you sobbed. Footsteps couldn't be heard over your own cries, so when an arm wrapped around your shoulders, you jolted. Expecting this is where you get hit. Bracing for the impact and sting they usually brought with them.

Instead, the arm pulled you into their chest, hugging you close and stroking your hair, along with shushing you softly. It only made you sob harder. When was the last time someone hugged you like this? Sure, you got the occasional pat on the back for a job well done, but never an embrace like this.

Time passed through your fingers like sand, not knowing how long you sat there for before you calmed down. The arms didn't pull away until you did, cringing at the wet patch you left on the man's shirt. Speaking of, you looked up to see mohawk looking down at you, eyes soft and an equally soft smile. "Y're alright now lass?" his accent leaked into the words, a curt nod allowing him to pull away and stand up again.

A heavy sigh sounded above you as you dragged your eyes up to meet who you presumed was this 'Price' figure. "What’s your name?"

Gears turned over the question in your head, thinking of an answer. Technically, you lost your name when you left home, gaining a couple new names at the gang.

Your silence was taken for an answer. "What are you doing in Amsterdam?" this you could answer.

"A business exchange. I'm just the messenger, I don't know any of the customers - I promise! - I just get the money and dip. I promise I can't help you-" you were hyperventilating at this point.

"It's alright sweetheart, deep breaths, calm down for me, yeah?" Price's voice was gentle now, seemingly not wanting the same thing to happen.

"Can you tell us where you're from? Who you work for?" He asked once he saw you calm down.

"Uhm- I'm from England. And I don't really work for them but I'm a doberman. They're some organisation that took me in," you weren't really interested in going into full depths of your life with these complete strangers.

Although, you felt the gazes lift off you and onto Price, his own eyes looking back at his men, a million silent conversations happening right above your head. Price inhaled sharply before he asked his last question, "How old are?"

"15." The air knocked out of his lungs.

[latenightsundayblues]

Bash in my brain

And make me scream with pain

Then kick me once again

And say we'll never part

I know too well

I'm underneath your spell

So, darling, if you smell

Something burning, it's my heart

'Scuse me!

Take your cigarette from its holder

And burn your initials in my shoulder

Fracture my spine

And swear that you're mine

As we dance to the Masochism Tango

[ay0nha]

Some Unholy War | Theseus Scamander

SUMMARY: In an ideal world, you’d like to think you and Theseus could be friends. Frankly, though, his compassion made you nauseous. Or maybe it was nerves. The feeling was always hard for you to distinguish. You wished the way he looked at you would bring warmth to your chest, but it only reminded you of how that was another impossibility. 

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x f!reader 

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, mentions of smoking and drinking, angst, morally gray reader, mutual pining, semi enemies-to- lovers, protective Theseus, etc. 

A/N: Lowkey proud of this one, so comments and feedback are Super welcomed! This was based off this request, so thank you SO much anon, this was a blast that might have to be a series. Also Huge thanks to @kalllistos​ for all the help, couldn’t have been done without you!! Enjoy.

PART II, PART III, PART IV

You fit in so absolutely.

The rim of your glass was still lined with enough sugar to enjoy dwindling sips. Theseus knew it was gin. Your lipstick left a mark on everything you kissed, the pattern was found on your glass, and the cigarette holder balanced between your fingers. You made everything look so serene. Simple.

Scanning the room, you hadn’t seen Theseus yet. However, he, too, fit in—tie properly knotted to show his status and pocket-watch cleverly tucked in his waistcoat. Once he joined you at the secluded booth, he’d complete the idyllic image.  

Yet, Theseus lingered for a moment, taking you in. Your confidence was always envious. It worked silently, exuding from your presence alone. Your magnetism couldn’t be credited to magic but to how you evolved, becoming pointed and moving without fault.

Theseus was one of the only ones remaining to know it hadn’t begun that way. He remembered you, a few years below him, always sprinting to class, already late. The professors would scold you, and your confidence was read as insolence. You challenged everything and excelled in doing so, but it only lent itself to trouble. It created a barrier always present between the two of you.

“You’re late.” You sucked in a crackling breath. With pointed eyes, you took his presence in. Even late into the night, he was always so poised. Professional.  “I’m risking a lot showing my face here.”

“You look beautiful.” Theseus slid into the leather cushion. The charm always came with his supposed  professionalism. It came in waves and never crawled under your skin the way intended. “Relax…It’s fine.”

Unbuttoning his suit jacket’s button, Theseus settled. It was bold of you to accept his invitation to meet so publicly, but he knew you couldn’t resist. You just needed to play your part smartly and get what you want.  

“Your promises are too shallow for me to trust.” You crossed your legs, making it easier to lean and be heard. Then, you clicked your tongue against your teeth with sarcasm, “I think I’d rather you arrest me.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve clocked out for the night.” Theseus was an intentional man, a clever man. He was protecting his image just as much as yours. “It’s just you and me.”

“That’s why you wanted to meet here…” You hummed with feigned realization. The muggle restaurant was a precarious cover but equally as rewarding in its purpose. “You know there are better ways to ask someone on a date.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time…” Theseus matched your hum absentmindedly. The banter was a buffer, something to ease into an inevitable unwanted conversation. Reaching into his heavily charmed jacket, he pulled out a file.

It was always a fucking file. The folders were always pristine, never quite full of all the information, just enough of what Theseus was willing to share. It grew over the years of the unorthodox relationship, but you knew not to mistake that for trust.

The figures in the picture were blurry, moving incoherently as they entered a building. The stack of images moved in sequence, following rushedly an exchange that was meant to remain a secret. Without seeing their faces well, you knew who they were, and you held back from using your cigarette roach to burn it all away. Instead, the image repeat over and over before you, but your expression was trained with passivity.

“When did he get out?” You finally met Theseus’ eye. Your composure could fool most, but to a trained eye, your discomfort was obvious.

“A month or so at this point...”

Your laugh was bitter. “So, I’ve been a sitting duck.”

“You’ve been avoiding me...” Theseus countered, his tone just barely teasing. There was truth in jest, as there were plenty of owls following you. You looked at him, knowing what came next. His compassion would get him killed. “...I can help you.”

“Careful.” You cocked your head, musing a buried thought. “You’re getting awful sentimental these days.”

“Don’t you want those off?” Theseus leaned in like you had, voice low. Although his fingers were threaded together, he pointed to the bracelets on your wrists.

You smirked, “And ruin my outfit?”

Rarely did you acknowledge them so explicitly. The bracelets—admonitors—dampened your magic by tracking your every spell. They made you feel like a child with a trace spell. Part of you wished you could say you grew accustomed to the constant surveillance, but you grew weary of lying.

The offer was too sweet, and you wanted more than just your magic untraced. “What’s the catch?”

“You help the Ministry find him.” Theseus was trying to protect you, but you were too filled with vindication to notice.

“You mean work for you.”

He frowned, correcting you, “With me.”

“There truly isn’t a difference in your world.” You spat. The ministry was the reason you were in this mess; they branded your cuffs as a daily reminder that your autonomy was shared. “You’d be using me as bait.”

The conversation would go in circles, as it always had. It was the reason more time was added between meetings. Every time you left, that bitter taste grew stronger, and it was difficult to put it aside to face Theseus again and again. This was different—more threatening, but your anger prevailed.

“I won’t do it.”

“Catching him will clear your name.” Theseus all but begged. He remained poised, but you knew it would only last for so long. Those around you looked your way; interest piqued in conversation they weren’t privy to.

“I’m not innocent.” You were blunt. You had been called cold because of it. But it was a trait that you favored, especially at times like this. You wanted to see Theseus break.

You had done unspeakable things, figuring it was an acceptable way to siphon your affection. You were young and blinded by false idolization. Theseus chose to see the best in you, even now, even after everything. He, too, was blinded by an image of you that hadn’t changed since you were children.

The table held your drink, forgotten and diluted. The air was tense and hushed. Theseus needed to move fast, knowing you were moments away from fleeing. But he knew he had just enough time as you lit another cigarette, this time not for vanity but to quell your nerves.

Your nails tapped on the base of your cocktail glass. Your fingertips twitched, begging to satisfy their itch for magic. You debated on if your actions would be worth it.  Theseus decided for you, hand flexing to replenish your drink.

Your lipstick remained fresh but still marked the glass. It was perfectly cold, calming the swarm of nerves that hit you. “It’s a bit strong.”

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.” Theseus appreciated your teasing; it meant he was doing something right.

“This place is quite charming, you know,” You looked around before shifting forward even more. It may have been improper, but you leaned over the table, elbows resting comfortably. “Next time, we’ll have to venture and order food.”

“Sure.” Theseus agreed, body language mirroring yours. To anyone else, the pair of you would look smitten. “Anytime you’d like.”

“Anytime?” Your eyebrow ticked up as you tapped at the ashtray.  “Come on, I’m surprised you’ve stuck around as long as you have.” Your knuckles crept forward, almost bumping his as they dragged to the middle of the linen cloth atop the table. “Truly—We haven’t—”

You stopped yourself with an uncharacteristic laugh. A tinge spread below Theseus’ freckles, assuming your humor was chastising him. But you were laughing at yourself, at how ridiculous you felt. You were enjoying yourself.

The feeling felt foreign, so you prickled. “Be practical, Theseus.”

Your worlds barely overlapped, and where it had highlighted the worst parts of each of you. Your world was dark and hidden; you stole and bribed. You were suitable for it and resisted morphing into the image Theseus expected of you.

He was as kind as any Hufflepuff, putting other needs first and blindly placing his kindness. He mistook his demeanor for bravery, but his true bravery formed by sitting across from you. The only barrier seemed to be Theseus’ incorruptible moral code, a space where you couldn’t quite freely exist.

“I need to know the full story.” His voice was commanding, betraying his desperation.

Theseus looked warm, contrasting the winter blizzarding outside. A bubble was created that was becoming suffocating, but with him across you, it seemed just marginally bearable. His hand flexed, skimming yours, hoping to regain your attention.

“You already know how it ends. What does the rest matter?” You thought to sink back, but you chased the small contact. “I want nothing to do with this. With him.”

“I’ll be there the entire time,” Theseus promised, voice low and steady, reflecting his sincerity. You could make out the warmth he was willing to share, but you weren’t willing to accept it wholly.

“And my interests?”

Theseus’ expression fell slightly at your evasive rejection. It reminded him of his position, of his strained relation to you—what he was supposed to do but always found a reason to put off.

“It depends on where they lie.”

In an ideal world, you’d like to think you and Theseus could be friends. Frankly, though, his compassion made you nauseous. Or maybe it was nerves. The feeling was always hard for you to distinguish. You wished the way he looked at you would bring warmth to your chest, but it only reminded you of how that was another impossibility.

You wished his gaze would turn you to stone; that way, you could avoid everything else. Instead, it made you melt, it made you pliable in way you opposed with others. There was a suspicion he kept returning just because of that—despite your bluff and his willful ignorance, you weren’t made of stone, and deep down, he knew that. Probably not consciously, but he did.

You always came back. Or he did—another indistinguishable something. You could still feel his fingers reaching for yours. It almost made you cave. Yet, your back met the bench of the booth, and your hand drew away as you placed your cigarette on your lips.

Although you were still present, Theseus watched you flee. Your guard returned stronger, but he didn’t regret his words. Theseus’ eyes were pleading, and you went to blame his naivety, but you found something distinct there. The reason you were here tonight was not for a favor.

It was an ultimatum, not a request.

“When was this decided?” You asked. You thought Theseus came alone, and now the naivety fell on you. There were too many eyes on you now to dismiss the crowd as solely muggles.  You fell so perfectly into the trap that all you could do was laugh.

“I wanted to keep you out of this,” Theseus admitted. It was the truth, but he knew what needed to be done. The greater good, you could already hear his defense. “This is the only way.”

“Your way.” You shook your head. Another laugh. “And what happens when he kills me? Hmm?”

“He won’t.” Another promise that made you sick. “I’ll be there the whole ti—

“Then you, Theseus—” Venom dripped from your every pointed word. From the corner of your eye, you saw how the undercover aurors were ready to respond to your agitation. If they wanted a spectacle, you were moments from providing it. “— are ill-prepared for what he’s willing to do.”

“You need to trust me.” Theseus attempted to regain the conversation but failed to recognize any mending he made was lost.

“And why should I trust the man that watches my every move?”

Theseus put you in this position; he was the wizard who held your wrist tightly all those years ago to secure the admonitors. For your own good, he told you. He believed it, and yet again, you found yourself at the hands of his so-called mercy.

“And if I decline?” You weren’t in such a position to, but Theseus understood your question only brought ruination. 

“The only way you're walking out of here is because of me.”

A threat, how original.  Your cigarette threatened to burn your lips. The ash tarnished the linen that fell over your lap. Apart of you hoped it would set the entire thing aflame. Maybe then you’d have a chance at a genuine escape. For now, though, you resolved to the final word.

“You think you are blessed with morality—” You finished your drink, the taste becoming sour. “—yet what sits before me is nothing but a boy that’s only purpose is to follow orders blindly.”

[voxsremotec0ck]

What's even better then reader secretly doming all the vees? All the vees secretly trying to get reader to dom them.

(Veader hanging out with all of them at night)

Velvette: Can you believe that some bitchboy thought he could manhandle me? Like can't they see this outfit is for stepping on people, not to be stepped on? Hashtag AreYouBlind?

Valentino: I understand all too well. The new bitch thought that bring out handcuffs that she could top, so I had to remind her of her place.

Vox: Yeah, just had to 'fire' the star of my latest show. He thought that being bigger and broader than me ment he should be 'in charge'. You know how it is, right Veader?

(Veader flashbacking to that morning)

Flashback!Velvette: (wearing a skimpy outfit) Hey Veader~ Look at the new outfit I just released. It's sooo trashy~ I can't believe how well its selling! I look like a bratty succubus, just begging for someone to put me in my place and feed me their lust! Does this look make you want to feed me your lust? I'd like an 'honest opinion' from you~ ...Where are you going Veader? Doesn't these pigtails atleast my hair look pullable?!

(Veader flashbacking to that noon)

Flashback!Valentino: (half under the table) Oh hey there Veader~ I dropped my cigarette holder and it rolled under the coach. I tried to get it but now I'm stuck! Maybe if you grab my hips, you could pull me out~ ...Where are you going Veader? Come back! I actually think I really am stuck.

(Veader flashbacking to that evening)

Flashback!Vox: (Tied up by tons of computer wires) H-Hey Veader. I don't know what happened but I appear to be a little tied up now. I got my legs free but I can barely move my arms! Everytime I move it just gets more tangled! It's getting pretty tight~ Maybe you could help me out~ W-where are you going Veader? No seriously, get back here. Please, this will take hours to sort out!

Veader (in the present): I have no idea what ya'll are on about.

Veader looking at them all like “I know what you are”

VELVETTE LET ME SEE YOUR OUTFIT PLEASE I BET YOU LOOK SO PRETTY AND YOUR PIGTAILS ARE PERFECT HANDLEBARS DW

VOX HOLD ON BEFORE I GET YOU DOWN LET ME JUST SUCK YOUR DICK REAL QUICK

Valentino… I hope the couch breaks and crushes you tbh sorry not sorry

[riya-kaur]

calum thomas hood

summary: everyone knows about the crush you and calum have on each other, but still, the two off you brush it off. calum thinks hiding his feelings by acting differently will help him get over you, but it doesn't.

cw! swearing!

eight years.

part two!

december had quickly approached by, which meant soon it would be everyone's favourite holiday: christmas.

this year, you had decided to tag along to a ski retreat with ashton, mali-koa, and your absolute favourite person in the world- calum hood.

you had first heard about this weekend trip on thanksgiving, when everyone had gathered round michael's to celebrate his newborns' first thanksgiving.

after your interest was peaked, you decided to ask if you could tag along, and ashton and mali jumped with joy accepting, whereas calum stayed stone-cold.

so nearly a month had passed, the car that was parked outside your house, honking impatiently.

"fuck" you muttered as you sat on your suitcase, hoping to press down some of the weight. your hands pulled at the zipper, you let out a sigh as you continued to tug on it.

"you're gonna break it" a deep, familiar voice says from behind you. you turn your head, meeting calum's soft eyes as he leant against the door frame with a cigarette in his hand.

"can you make yourself useful then, and help?" you sneer as you throw your hands up in the air. calum chuckles before he walks past you. his steps stop once he reaches your window. he takes his cigarette from between his lips and burns it out before tossing it outside.

"move" he nods his head to the side.

you sigh as you stand up from the suitcase, taking the same position on your bed.

your eyes observe calum as he kneels down beside your suitcase, "you sure there's nothing you can avoid taking?" he asks as you he lifts up the top of the case.

your eyes fall onto calum as he lingers a stare on your clothing that lay at the top; swimsuits and your underwear.

flustered, you reach over and shut the top of the case, "nope"

calum shakes his head before muttering something under his breath. he places a heavy hand on the top of the case, forcefully pushing down as his other hand found the zipper. in a swift movement, his hand pulls around the case, zipping it close.

"easy" calum retorts. he stands up and lifts the suitcase up onto its' wheels, "can we go now?" he asks, you nod before thanking him. the two of you make your way out of your house, and you lock it from the outside before catching up to calum.

he sets your suitcase in the trunk before the two of you take a seat in his car.

the journey to the resort was a quiet one. you tried lightening the mood by humming along to the radio, but once you saw calum giving you a glance, you settled your lips in between your lips, feeling embarrassed.

the only talking he did throughout the drive was when mali, his sister had rang him. letting him know that her and ashton had bought the food shop and had made it to the cabin you were all staying at.

what had felt like hours, the two of you had finally arrived.

"what took you guys so long?" mali exclaims, opening up the front door wide. "someone wanted starbucks" calum rolls his eyes before walking past his sister with both his and yours' suit cases in his hands.

"i got it for everyone!" you retort, setting the cup holder down on the table in the hallway before hugging mali.

ashton then comes running into the hug as he wraps his arms around you both.

"come on, cal" mali shouts over her brother. "no, thanks" he mutters. "calum thomas hood, if you don't get your ass over here right this second, i'll show everyone that picture of you dressed up as a bratz doll" mali rambles but as soon as she threatened calum he came jogging over beside you and ashton.

you turned your head slightly and held your arm out to calum. his eyes flicker between your arm and your eyes before letting out a sigh.

he moves his gaze over to his sister, giving her a death stare. his arm hovers over the small of your back whilst his other arm tightly wraps around ashton's shoulder.

the four of you stand there laughing before pulling away. "that was cute," mali giggles, picking up a cup of coffee from the table.

your move your eyes over to calum, "d'know what would be even cuter?" you ask him. "what?" he snaps back. "you dressed as a bratz doll" you giggle, taking small steps towards him.

you let your hand rise to his hair, your fingers combing his hair. he looks at you, embarrassed. his cheeks turning a deep red. once you realize what you were doing, you quickly retract your hand back, dropping it to your side.

"shit, sorry. i don't know what-" you began to ramble, "it's fine, " he huffs. you nod awkwardly before trying to change the conversation.

"so room situations?" you ask as you look over at mali. "there's three rooms" mali begins. "and only one master suite" she finishes as she nods her head over at calum.

"so?" calum asks, shrugging his shoulders. "you're gonna have to share, calum"

"fuck, no. you take the suite and share with her" calum shakes his head. "stop being difficult calum, besides i've unpacked my stuff already," mali exclaims. calum looks over at ashton, "c'mon mate" ashton speaks up. "i'm totally fine on the couch" you pipe up as you twiddle with the rings on your fingers.

"it's fine" calum says once again, "you're with me, i guess" he let's out a sigh as he grabs the suitcases, trekking them up the stairs. "come on, then"

"coming!" you hurry up the stairs, following him into the master suite.

"we should set some ground rules." calum starts. "good idea," you return. "you have that half of the room, and i'll get this half." calum points at the opposite side of the room, letting you know which side yours was.

"seriously?" you raise your eyebrows at him. he nods his head, shaking his head to the side. "calum, that's so stupid. we're not kids"

"fine, what rules did you have? he asks. "i dress here, you in the ensuite. i want the side of the bed closest to the window and no bringing anyone back here cause i don't want to walk in on anything that you're up to" you list.

"is that everything, princess?" he curtseys in front of you with a sarcastic tone, and his eyes stay glued to you as he does so.

you put up your middle finger, aiming it towards him, he simply rolls his eyes.

"we should unpack"

whilst the two of you were finishing up unpacking, mali called you both down for dinner.

the four of you sat around the fireplace, pizza boxes scattered around you all as you sat and watched 'gilmore girls', the boys complaining at every chance they had.

whilst absent-mindedly watching the tv, you reached for the last pizza slice in the box. once you had felt another's hand already on the slice, you jerked your hand away.

"take it," you look over at calum, who had now moved his hand away, nodding his head over at the slice.

"no it's fine, it's yours." you shake your head before letting your eyes fall on the tv again. "just take it, y/n," you hear him say, but you simply shake your head to the side, keeping your eyes on the tv.

calum sighs before picking up the slice, which you saw out of your peripheral eyesight.

seconds later, you see him open his palm out to you, "here, take it" he says. you look down at his palm the see that he had tore the pizza in half.

you hear ashton say something in the background which made calum roll his eyes, "take it y/n, i made it fair" he shrugs. you give him a nod before taking one of the halves out of his hand, "thanks cal"

after finishing up, the four of you decided to play some card games, which led to every game being won by mali.

"what can i say, i'm older so i'm wiser." she smiles proudly. the three of you chuckle at her as she takes a bow.

"well, tonight's been fun guys" you pipped up, standing up from the floor, which you were seated on.

"i'm gonna get some sleep for tomorrow" you say, "make sure you guys set your alarms" mali exclaims, "yes mom" you roll your eyes playfully at her.

"goodnight guys," you smile. "i'll be up soon" calum says. you give him a nod before making your way into your shared room.

you lock the bedroom door behind you before pulling out a pyjama set; an oversized black tee and some short, baggy, grey shorts.

you headed over to ensuite, pulling your hair up in a messy bun on the top of your head, strands falling onto your face, to help frame your face.

you then washed your face and patted it dry before beginning to brush your teeth.

as you brushed around the toothpaste in your mouth, you heard a lazy knock to the door. knowing it was calum, you headed to the door, unlocking it.

"hey" he says, dropping his phone on the bed. with you not being able to reply with the toothpaste in your mouth, you gave him a small wave before returning back to the ensuite.

you once again shut the door, thinking he would change into his pyjamas.

once you had finished brushing your teeth, you called out to calum, "can i come in, cal?" you ask.

"yep" you hear him say, with that you open the door to see him already laid in bed.

he pulls the covers over himself, but before he does so, you scan his body to see what he's wearing: a black tank top and grey joggers.

you walk around to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers.

you laid on your back as you stared at the ceiling. the room was dark, but with the small lights from the window coming in, you could see calum in the same position as you.

you felt your eyes becoming heavy as you closed them. you had felt like you were falling asleep until you heard your phone ringtone blare out. "shit, sorry," you apologise as you scramble out of the bed to grab your phone of the table.

you checked your phone to see crystal calling you, and you slipped out the room, shutting the door behind you. but you stayed in front of the door as you answered her call.

"y/n, how was the drive?" she asks, "mali mentioned you came with calum" you giggled at the thought of mali and crystal talking about you and calum.

"yes, we did. it made sense to just take one car" you whisper. "has calum made a move yet?" she squeals. you furrow your eyebrows, "what'd you mean, made a move, crys?" you ask.

"what do you mean, what do i mean? this is so obvious y/n, " she starts, "everyone knows about you and calum, " she ends. "babe, there is no me and calum, i'm pretty sure he hates me," you pipe up. you hear crystal cracking up on the other side of the phone. "y/n, surely you've noticed how he acts around you"

"like friends?" you question. "ask mali, she'll back me up" crystal says.

you try ending the conversation as soon as you can, wanting to not talk about this topic. and you definitely weren't going to ask mali either about her thoughts. that would be embarrassing.

after ending the call, you made your way back into the bedroom, tiptoeing back to your side the bed. just in case calum had fell asleep.

you slip under the covers, placing your back against the mattress again. "was it crys?" calum asks. you look over at him and watch his biceps flex as he tucks his hands behind his head.

you hum in response, "is she okay?" his voice laced with concern. "she's all good cal, baby and mike too," you answer, and you feel his head nod.

"goodnight y/n"

"goodght cal"

it was now the next day, you had woken up to bright flash to your eyes.

you stirred in a warm embrace, nuzzling your head into the pillow.

"look how cute" mali's voice is heard in the room. you blinked open your eyes as you took in your surroundings.

shit! your hand was hung loosely around calum's bicep, your calf slightly tangled with his leg, and your head was nuzzled in his neck.

you brushed yourself off of him, causing him to stir, "what's happening?" calum asks, his voice hoarse and croaky.

"nothing!" you say quickly. a bit too quickly.

mali giggles before turning her phone around, showing you both the picture she had taken, you noticed calum had his head on yours, one hand still behind his head whilst his other laid dangerously low on your back.

you felt your cheeks growing red as you turned away from them both. calum clears his throat before sitting up on the bed.

"me and ashton are heading to the slopes, you guys woke up late so we'll meet you there" mali informs the both of you, you give her a nod before you watch her leave.

"i'm sorry" he apologizes. you shake your head as you look at him, "no that was on me, i was on your side of the bed, shit i'm sorry" you ramble.

calum follows suit and shakes his head, "it's not that deep, right?" he asks. "of course, not" you faked a smile before excusing yourself to the ensuite.

maybe everything crystal had said to you yesterday was getting in your head, making you unconsciously act out.

you tried brushing off the feelings, but you couldn't. you started replaying times when you and calum were together and the little things he used to do. you always thought he hated you, but maybe he didn't?

"you nearly done in there?" you hear calum ask from the other side. "just a few minutes" you call out. you snap out of your thoughts and start brushing your teeth before washing your face.

you walk back into the room, beelining straight to the wardrobe. as your hands were occupied with finding an outfit, your eyes sneakily fell on calum before he entered the ensuite, locking the door.

"fuck" you muttered, letting out a heavy breath that you didn't notice you were holding in.

once you had found an outfit suitable to the cold, you applied some light makeup: blush, mascara, and lip balm.

you then called out to calum, letting him know you'd be waiting for him downstairs. whilst making your way downstairs, you pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket, dialling crystal's number.

she answered after the first dial, "i need your help, i'm going crazy. like i don't want to be dealing with these feelings right now crys, i don't know what the fuck is happening to me. one minute, i think he's a jerk, and then the more i start thinking about him, i get butterflies in my stomach, and they hurt crys, it fucking hurts" you rambled over the phone, not even allowing her a moment to speak.

"say something," finally reaching downstairs, you take a seat on the couch, awaiting for a response. "are you okay?" your eyes widened when you recognized the voice over the phone as not crystal's.

"perfectly fine, mike." your cheeks turning into a deep rep shade, "where's crys?" you ask, a nervous laugh coming following suit.

"she's out with sierra, she left her phone at home," michael says. "oh okay, well, no need to let her know i called, but i should be going now," you try to hurry the conversation to an end.

"okay, no worries" he says, "y/n?" he says quickly after. "are you sure you're okay?" he asks. you let out a little sigh, "i'll be fine"

"ready to go?" calum says running down the stairs, he stands at the end of the stair, looking over at you. you give him a nod, "one sec" you mouth to him.

"i have to get going, mike. i'll see you soon. " you finish off the call after hearing michael saying his goodbyes.

"is he okay?" calum asks you, as he watches you now walking over. he give him a nod. "we should probably get going, it's like a twenty minute walk" calum informs you.

"can't we take your car?" you ask, frowning your lips. "we can't, there's no cars allowed up there" he says. "but we can take a cable car?"

the two of you stood in line for one of the cable cars. it wasn't busy, so you both managed to get a cable car for the both of you.

you both sat on opposite sides to each other. looking down, you watched as the cable car left the tunnel, your eyes widening at the extreme height.

"is this a bad time to say i'm terrified of heights?" your eyes find calum's soothing brown ones as you nervously place your bottom lip in between your lips.

"just don't look down, okay," his voice soothing, he leans forward slightly, watching as you twist the rings on your fingers. you nod your head at the advice.

but you felt your chest becoming too hurt as you exhaled heavier breaths. "hey, you're gonna be okay" he quickly rushes over to your side, sitting beside you. "sit back" he says and so you do.

he let's one of his hands cup your cheeks, "just look at me, focus on my breathing, okay?" and so you start following his breathing pattern. once you had calmed down, you realized calum's thumb rubbing circles on your cheeks.

you looked up at him before glancing at his hand that was still on your cheek. he quickly let go, clearing his throat, to help fill the silence.

"we're here" he spoke in monotone, whilst looking out the glass.

he stands up, waiting for the doors to open, you follow behind him as he walks out.

the exit tunnel was extremely overcrowded, which hinted at the fact that the slopes would be busy.

"c'mere" calum says, reaching out for you hand, pulling you against his chest as he lead you both out of the exit tunnel.

your body melted against him, his chest pressing into your back, making you weak in your knees. his hands settled on your waist as he guided you.

once the two of you had finally left the tunnel, you were both met with the brightest snow on the slopes.

"let's go look for the others," calum says as he pulls himself away from you. your lips turned into a small frown at the loss of warmth. not wanting him to see you, you quickly plastered a smile on your lips before giving him a nod.

after minutes of searching, the two of you had regrouped with mali and ashton. the four of you decided to have some hot chocolates from one of the pop-ups. so whilst ashton and calum went to go buy them, you and mali sat at a table.

you noticed mali giving you a wide grin, "what?" you giggled. "nothing," you could tell she was lying, so you simply just raised an eyebrow up at her.

"it's just you and calum -" she starts, but you quickly stop her. "i feel awkward talking to you about this. he's your brother." you shake your head.

she opens her mouth to start speaking again but gets interrupted by ashton and calum, placing the hot chocolates down on the table.

calum takes a seat beside you whilst ashton sits besides mali.

the four of you make mindless conversations whilst sipping on your hot chocolates.

after what was around an hour, ahston and mali decided the wanted to ski down the slopes.

"you guys wanna join?" ashton asks. "you guys go ahead, i'll watch you three," calum gives you a quick glance, "i'll stay with you" he says before finishing off his drink. "we'll find something else to do," he says.

you quickly shake your head, "no cal, you should go, i don't want you to miss out" you argue. "no, i don't even want to ski, we'll go find something else, okay?" he asks. "are you sure?" you ask him and he responds with a nod.

"we'll see you guys later then" ashton says. "let us know if you end up going back to the cabin" mali says before running off to catch up with ashton.

"so what'd you wanna do?" you ask calum.

"sleigh ride?" he raises his eyebrow whilst asking you. "that's sounds perfect!" you squeal.

so the two of you make your way over to the sleigh carriages, taking a seat in an unoccupied one.

the two of you sit back whilst you watch the reindeers start to take small steps forward.

"so, have you always been scared of heights?"

you turn your head to look at calum, "not always, but as i got older, i guess i got sacred of the lack of stability and control" you say, "sorry that was a bit deep" you giggle. calum gives you a smile in return.

as the forty minute sleigh ride went on, the more the two of you talked, on a personal and connected level.

ashton and mali had also made their way back up to you guys.

"it was honestly so fun!" you exclaim as you tell ashton and mali about the sleigh ride. you notice calum's lips turning into a smile as he watched you ramble about how good the sleigh ride was.

"cal" mali exclaims, trying to regain calum back in from his daydreaming. calum replies with a hum. "what did we always do up here when we were younger?" she smiles as she jumps up and down on the spot.

calum rolled his eyes playfully, "snow angels" he chuckles. "come on, everyone!" she announces as she falls back onto the snow, letting her arms and legs push around the snow as she flaps them in the snow.

the three of you follow suit as now the four of you create snow angels.

once the shape was imprinted in the snow, mali and ashton rose back to their feet, and you once again followed shortly behind them. "need a hand," you giggle as you watch calum, struggling to get up.

he hums as he reaches for your hand. before you know it, you feel him tug on your hand, making you fall forward and on top of him.

your face inches apart as your hands now lay on his hard chest. you look up to his eyes as he looks down at yours. he places his hand on the low of your back.

"hey" he smiles. "hi" you smile back. "y-y/n" he whispered, and you hummed in response.

"get a room!" ashton chuckles. you notice calum bite his cheek before opening his mouth again, "you're on me," he says. "oh, yeah, shit, sorry," you rambled as you quickly found your stance back onto your feet, brushing of the snow that was on your clothes.

"what the-" you begin to say as you feel something being thrown at you. you turn around to see mali throwing snow balls at you. you giggled before bending down to create a ball of snow in your hands.

you stood back up and threw it on her back.

"snowball fight!" ashton called out.

and there, the four of you were throwing snowballs at each other.

after throwing multiple at ashton and mali, you decide to throw some at calum. so you had two snowballs in your hand, about to throw them in calum's direction, but before you could, you felt a heavy weight being thrown to your head, making you trip over your feet.

"fuck! are you okay?" you hear calum say, panic in his voice, as he rushes over to your side.

you brought your hand to your head as you rubbed it. "it's hurts" you winced. "i'm so sorry" he repeats as he brings his hand over yours, rubbing the place he had hit you with the snowball.

he then moved my hand from it, letting his lips leave a small kiss on the area. "i should take her back" calum says as he helps you up on your feet. you shake your head, "i'll be fine"

despite saying you were fine, calum still made you go back to the cabin with him. you told mali and ashton to stay out still and to still keep having fun.

the journey back to the cabin was pretty much quiet except when you were back in the cable car, you felt your head starting to pound so you winced from the pain and calum had asked you if you were okay.

once you had gotten back, you went straight into the bedroom and got changed, calum doing the same in the bathroom.

you were sat in the bed as you massaged the side of your head.

"how're you feeling?" calum asks as he enters back into the room, this time with a tracksuit on.

"i'll be fine, calum," you shake your head as you look up at him. you watched as he walked over to your side of the bed, kneeling down in front of you.

he didn't say anything, just simply looked up at you as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb creating shapes on your cheek.

"you confuse me" you scoff as you catch his eyes with yours.

"what do you mean?" he asks as he rises from his knees.

"i thought we were getting along on this trip, cal. i thought you were lossening up around me. i thought you had dropped your jerk act, but as soon as you do, you put it back on again. why? why won't you let in?" you let your hand intertwine with his, tugging on it, making him take a seat beside you on the bed. which he did.

"how long have we known each other for, y/n?" calum ask, you furrow your eyebrows, "eight years"

"eight years, it's been y/n" he starts. "eight years of me being completely and utterly infatuated with you. eight years of me wanting you for myself, eight years of having you consume my every thought. eight years of knowing i couldn't be with you because i don't deserve you, eight years' worth of songs that were written about you because i couldn't bring myself to tell you how i'd felt"

whilst he was expressing his feelings, you noticed at some point he had reached for you hands, he was looking down at them, twiddling with them.

"i thought if i could try distance myself away from you by acting the way i have, it would hurt less but fuck it hasn't" he sighs.

he looks up into your eyes, "can i be selfish for a second?" he asks as his eyes flicker to your lips.

you nod as you watch him lean into your lips, placing a delicate kiss on them.

he moves his hands, so he's cupping your cheeks, "i've wanted to do that for so long"

"i wish you told me" you shake your head. "i'm sorry y/n about everything," he says as he rests his forehead against mine.

"it took you eight years calum" you begin, "let's not make its nine, okay?" you nod before letting your lips catch his.

a/n: i wanted to extend this, but i didn't want this to be too long, so it'll be either be a part two to this or i might change it a little bit to be its own work to be different but regardless it'll be the next post.

also this took me forever to writeee :'(

[screechwhisper]

Take your cigarette from its holder,

And burn your initials into my shoulder.

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 6

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary: The Feds search Melissa's restaurant and question her. Meanwhile, you consider your options...

WC: 4k

When the girls are waking you a few hours later for breakfast; you're not much better. The extra hours of sleep have made you not a zombie but you can feel that your tank is near empty- that one more thing might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. You only hope it isn’t something the girls do that makes you boil over. It takes almost everything you have to get them fed, dressed, and actually to school. What keeps you going is the thought of your wife with agents tearing apart her beloved business and the tiny little hugs your twins give you when you say goodbye that are as tight as their little arms can make. 

A few minutes drive takes you from the school to your wife’s restaurant. You still see Agent Shaw’s car in the parking lot as you pull in next to Sammy’s.

You see Melissa sat on the curb outside the entrance with a cigarette held between her forefingers as her elbow props on her knee. You should feel surprise. She stopped smoking when you started trying to get pregnant, both in solidarity with you and in an effort to improve her health for the kids you were hoping for. Now though, after the last few days, you're not surprised in the slightest. A stress cigarette has always been her one vice.

You exit the car, walking to the curb and sitting next to your wife. Wordlessly, she offers you the cigarette. You take it, taking a drag yourself before handing it back as you exhale the smoke. 

“It's a goddamn mess,” Melissa finally says. “And they're still lookin’. For what, I don't know.”

You lean into your wife’s side, an arm wrapping around her shoulders and your hand gently shifting through the red locks you can reach. “We’ll fix it,” You murmur. You hope you’re telling her the truth.

Melissa hums around the next drag from the cigarette. You will. She knows you both will set it right when they finally decide they're done. It doesn't make it better though. This shouldn't even be happening, but it is. 

You kiss her temple, inhaling the familiar scent of your wife’s perfume mixed with the cigarette smoke. It reminds you of when you first met. She had met you in a dark alley, and the first thing that you noticed about her was her striking green eyes- ones that knew exactly what they wanted. The second thing you noticed was the near intoxicating scent that you’ve only fallen further in love with as the years have gone by.

“I love you,” You whisper. You hate it, but it's the most you can offer her right now- the one thing you have that is unwavering and unchanging. 

“Ti amo, mi amore,” Melissa whispers back as she takes another drag of the cigarette. 

Her eyes flit up to yours, searching for any sort of comfort you can provide. Then they gaze over at the restaurant. She can see that everything is out of order. The chairs are strewn about at random, the booths have been moved and the agents have ripped up the painted walls in their haste to try to find something- anything. The front desk is a mess, menus everywhere and not in the designated holder. Decorations have been ripped off the wall and thrown carelessly, some ruined. And that’s only what she can see. Your wife doesn’t even want to know what they’ve done to the back- her beloved kitchen where everything has its right place. 

“My god,” Melissa puts her head in her hands, and you have to quickly remove the still burning cigarette from her clutch to prevent her from catching herself on fire. “My restaurant...” and then she’s mumbling expletives in Italian. When she’s run out of curse words to be said in Italian, she switches to Irish. Then she switches to English. 

“My love,” you sigh as you pull her impossibly closer- she’s nearly on your lap. “They aren’t going to find anything, because there is nothing to find.”

“I don’t even care about that,” Melissa whines into her hands. When she lifts her head, you see the tears in her eyes. “They trashed my restaurant, they’re going to take half of my shit, it’s not going to look the same, and I’m losing at least half a day’s worth of customers because of this! And then when people realize that we had to close for lunch because we were being searched, we’re only going to lose more business! I- I don’t even know what to do right now, Y/N.”

“We’ll put it all back together,” you promise her. “I’ll make some calls and have the family come down to help us put it back together, and we’ll get good business. We’ll make it all work, mo ghrá. I promise you, it will all be alright.”

“I just can’t believe this,” the redhead wipes at her tears harshly. She stuffs her hand into her jacket pocket, only to pull out another cigarette. She lights it and inhales deeply.

You pluck it from her hands. “Mel, smoking is not the solution right now. We can’t have you getting addicted again.”

“This is the one thing I can do,” your wife takes it back from you and takes another drag. “If you’re worried about the girls finding out, I’ll make sure I shower before I see them next.”

“What does that mean, love?”

“It means,” Melissa groans as she gestures in the general direction of where Danik and Shaw are now emerging from. “That if the way they’re walking over here is any indication, I’m about to be taken down to the station for a shit ton of questioning, and you’re going to be on mam duty today. Who knows what time I’ll be home.”

“They have no reason to take you in for questioning,” you try to tell her. “They found nothing.”

“They have every reason to take me in for questioning when we’re married,” she sighs as she stands.

“Melissa Schemmenti, we need you to come down to the station to help clear up a few things we found in your restaurant,” Danik states.

“Youse didn’t find nothin’,” Sammy rolls his eyes. “There is no need to question this poor, innocent family any further!”

Your wife sighs though as she stands from her place on the curb. “If youse want to interrogate me over nothin’, be my guest.”

“Honey,” you breathe out as you stand as well.

“Just get my restaurant back together before we have to open up for dinner, and please... tell the girls I’m sorry I couldn’t come pick them up today and that I love them,” Melissa tells you as she walks off with the officers. 

You watch Mel slip into the back of the car. You don’t move as you watch the car pull off down the street once it turns out of the parking lot. You come back to yourself as Sammy’s hand lands on your shoulder. 

“They got nothin’, kid.” He says, for what feels like the thousandth time.

You shake his hand from your shoulder, shooting him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be in your fancy ass car speeding to the station to protect my wife’s legal rights?” You say through your teeth, stepping past Sammy.

You don’t bother looking to see that he does get in his car and leave. You know he will. If not he’ll be having to answer to a lot worse than just you and your anger.

You step into the restaurant, sighing as you glance around. Melissa’s dream, torn to pieces without hesitation. Your hands curl into fists. You force them to uncurl and recurl, taking deep breaths in attempts to soothe yourself. You aren’t sure that it works- the only thing that would soothe you is if your wife was by your side and here to tell you that it’s all going to be okay despite her not knowing if that sentiment is true. This is what you didn’t want- Melissa and the things she loves upheaved, the things she dreamed and worked hard for. Sure, the salon and the front made it possible, but the success? That’s real. Melissa worked her ass off for this restaurant because she loved it and had a passion for it all. Now what was there to show for it? The place looked like it had been robbed blind and flipped.

You fish your phone from your pocket, dialing a number before placing it to your ear. You wish Mickey was out. You’d rather have called him. Instead, you’re cringing just a little when Mel’s cousin Vinny answers his phone. “Hey, you busy?” You ask instead of answering his question of how you’re doing.

You nod, silently willing him to hurry along as he chats around the simple yes or no question. “Can you grab Rocco and some of the other guys, bring ‘em down to Mel’s restaurant?”

This makes Vinny’s chatty nature stop suddenly. “Why? What’s goin’ on, Y/N?”

You sigh. Apparently news hadn’t reached this end of the family yet. The last thing you wanted to do was spread it further, make even more people jumpy over all this. You don’t have much choice though. “The Feds did a search warrant on the restaurant today. Mel’s at the station right now… I need some help putting it back together. They really did a number on it.”

You check your watch as Vinny agrees to gather who he can and be down as soon as possible to help. You still have a couple hours before the girls are out of school. Hopefully you can get things put together by then. You don’t want to have to ask your mother-in-law to pick them up again Though you know she’d hardly say no. Still, you’d like to minimize just how much she knows things are turning wrong if possible.

It breaks your heart more with each piece of the restaurant you pick up. Another little bit of your wife’s effort and care torn apart by the search. Still, you pick your way through what you can. By the time Vinny and some of the other men arrive you’re grateful there’s extra hands. It’s too much on your own, especially paired with your emotions. You’re half a second away from breaking something worse with the frustration you have building. 

You help Vinny and the others until you have to pick up the girls. On the drive to the school, you make up your mind. You take them to your own mother’s house, the both of them excited to see their Nan. They don’t see your side quite as often as Melissa’s, with them living on the edge of the city. Still, today, the extra drive is worth it. It helps that you get to see your own mother too, reveling in her warm hug and kiss that’s planted to your own cheek as you drop the girls with her. You promise you’ll be back to pick them up by seven before you kiss each pair of chubby cheeks and hug them tight before you set back on the road again.

You briefly stop back at the restaurant. Your worry is a slight assuaged when you return to find Valentina helping direct putting things back together. It looks like they should be finished in time to open back up for dinner. You thank her yourself and make a mental note to tell Melissa she doesn’t pay her enough.

When you’re back in the car once more, you dial Sammy. Repeatedly. You know he’s still in the interrogation room with Mel. You dial until he finally calls you back before you can call him again. By then, you’re almost to the station yourself.

“Christ, Y/N, what is it? I’m tryna help your wife here and you’re blowin’ up my phone so much she’s lookin’ at me like she’s gonna kill me herself, nevermind the damn Feds.”

“I’m pulling into the station now, I need you to meet me outside.” You say and hang up before Sammy can say anything else.

In a matter of moments, he’s stepping out of the door and throwing his hands up at you in exasperation. “What the hell is goin’ on, huh?” He spits as you step to meet him on the sidewalk.

“You’re the lawyer, I need legal advice.” You say with a shrug.

“Now? Right now? When I’m tryna help your wife get home tonight, huh?” Sammy crosses his arms firmly across his chest.

“I’m tryna speed that process up myself, Sammy.” You retort. “What are the chances they keep Mel outta this? From here on, her and the restaurant?”

Sammy looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Basically nothin’, Y/N. They might not have found shit but they’re convinced, and they’re gunning. She’s as tied in as you are. You know that, though. So what’s the real question?”

“How long would I get if I copped to the money launderin’?” you ask seriously.

“What?” Sammy’s arms fall slack to his sides. Now, he looks at you like you’re absolutely insane. Maybe you are.

“I don’t got time for the ‘what are ya crazy, why would ya wanna do that’ talk, Sammy,” you roll your eyes. “Turn on the lawyer's brain, yeah? How long would I be lookin’ at?”

“The least you’d be looking at is ten years. The most…’round twenty. Plus whatever they wanted to fine for it…could be as much as doublin’ what they can prove you laundered. With you comin’ forward, we could probably get a plea, bring it down, but not by much.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “If I did, though, it’d be over wouldn’t it? They’d be off everybody’s backs?”

“They’d still be lookin’ for who killed Bobby…but things- they’d be mostly back to normal. Mostly. You know your girl in there would tear me to shreds if I even considered lettin’ you do this, yeah?”

“They tore her restaurant apart, Sammy. They’re tearin’ our whole damn life apart, ‘cause of me,” you sigh.

“It ain’t just because of you,” he tells you. “Sure, you took the business from Bobby, but you an’ I both know you would never kill him. You’d never order a hit; you don’t got it in you. Hell, you couldn’t hurt a fly- I’ve seen the way you rescue those damned stink bugs when they get into your house.”

“I took the business from Bobby. I get why they think I had something to do with it and are confused with how the business is doin’ so well,” you sigh as you scratch the back of your head. “But I- At the end of the day, this falls back on me, and Melissa shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“Yeah, so your big brained solution is to lock yourself up, huh? Away from ya wife, ya kids. You really think that’s gonna make her feel better? That she ain’t gonna pay for it if you’re put away for years.”

“I think she’d understand…eventually,” you shrug. 

Sammy laughs, outright. “You sure you’re the one married to Melissa Schemmenti? ‘Cause the whole damn neighborhood knows what you just said ain’t true. You’d be sooner lookin’ at your own divorce papers.”

You shrug. “At least they’d be left alone.”

“You’re really willin’ to throw yourself into prison for all this? Think about everything you’re gonna be missin’ if you go to prison. Melissa will divorce you, you’ll miss your girls growing up- miss milestones that you won’t be able to get back.”

Your eyes go hazy for a few seconds as you see your life flash before your eyes- past, present, and future. You see your girls celebrating birthdays by themselves, or at the prison to visit you. You see them potentially graduating high school and Melissa potentially sending them off to college on her own if you get locked up for long enough. You see the way that the girls change once your presence is no longer there. You see things you don’t want to happen. You see them throwing their lives down the drain because you aren’t there to show them the love that they crave and need. They end up in the same shoes you’re in now. And you- you hesitate in your decision to throw yourself under the bus enough that you really are unsure of what is the right thing to do in this impossible scenario. 

“I don’t know what else to do, Sammy,” you whisper, and you hate the way your voice cracks and your eyes well with tears. You hate that all of this is wearing you down to the point that you don’t see a way out and you’re about ready to break. You hate that you can’t run in there and cling to your wife like your life depends on it, the way you want to. You hate every single thing about this situation. 

“The only thing that you can and should do right now is let me go in there and do my thing for Mel, because they really don’t have shit on her this time,” Sammy tells you sternly. “Go home, spend time with your girls, and I’ll handle everything with Melissa.”

“You fuckin’ better,” you warn. “My wife has nothing to do with this side of the business, and I ain’t lettin’ no one take away her dream. She’s worked too damn hard for this. And when you have her side of all of this squared away, you better get your ass ready to sue the fuckers for all of the damage they caused at the restaurant- place is fuckin’ torn to hell.”

You turn back to your car, climb in, and speed off. Sammy shakes his head- he hopes you don’t go over him and get yourself into more trouble before he walks back into the precinct to finish off this interrogation that Melissa is dealing with.

“My restaurant is not a front!” Melissa shouts for the seventh time. “I mean, really! There are so many other places that don’t bring in half of what I do, a quarter even! If Twelve Tables really was a front, do you think I would’ve put my whole fuckin’ life into it?!”

The agents just look at each other. They’ve found what really gets your wife to tick. Insult her restaurant, and she gets feisty. “That’s what you want us to think, isn’t it?”

“You just tore apart my wife’s salon, our home, searched our cars, and practically destroyed my God damned restaurant! You didn’t find fucking shit! Get off of our fuckin’ backs!” Melissa slams her fist- the one that still has bandages on it from the knife incident-  on the table. It’s a decision that she immediately regrets as her hand starts to throb. 

“If you don’t have any evidence on my client,” Sammy says quietly. “I think it’s time we head out. There’s nothing you have to legally hold her here.”

“Damn right,” Melissa huffs as she stands and straightens her shirt out. “Don’t fucking come back to my restaurant.” She grabs her purse and storms out of the station. The lawyer is hot on her heels.

“Melissa,” he shouts as he tries to catch up with her.

“What?! I need to get back to my wife and kids!” She dares him to stop her.

“I’m just trying to tell you that I’ll drive you home,” Sammy rolls his eyes as he falls into step with her. That gets a bit of your wife’s fire to die down, and she allows him to lead her to the shiny Mercedes in the parking lot

You call your mother, asking if she minds keeping the twins for the night. Of course, she doesn’t. It really is impossible to say no to those tiny faces. Especially if they’re clinging to her and singing a made up song about staying at Nan’s when she asks if they want to have a sleepover.

You miss them. Despite seeing them every day, it’s been awhile since you got quality time with your little family. Even before all this mess started, you were working extra and lucky if you got to read the twins a bedtime story or even just say goodnight. More often than not, you would have to settle for kissing their sleeping heads and whispering how you loved them, hoping their subconsciouses at least picked it up. 

Your wife, you’ve seen a bit more of. Usually, she’s awake when you do get home. She isn’t able to sleep well when you’re not. Not with the life you’re both in. You might be on the safer side of it but it doesn’t mean danger isn’t always around the corner. All it takes is one mistake and you could be targeted how Bobby was. You both know that. 

Even so, you still haven’t spent much time together. It all boiled down to recapping your days while both fighting sleep. If that. Maybe a night just the two of you is what you need in the midst of all this.

It won’t go away, you know that, but maybe a night with your wife will make it feel more like it’s possible to get through it all. Like fighting is worth it. As you walk back into your home; you don’t quite feel like it is. Not with the amount of pressure it’s putting on Melissa. You’ve seen it grow with each day, just as you’ve felt it grow on you. Except, the pressure you feel on you isn’t what bothers you. You’d gladly put up with it if it meant your wife and the rest of your family felt nothing at all. 

You mindlessly set about making dinner. It isn’t often you can convince your wife to let you make it instead of her. At best, you usually can convince her to let you help. You hope they won’t keep her at the station, going around in circles, for much longer. You hope it will be warm when she gets home and does not need to be reheated. The less for your wife to worry about, the better.

You’re just finishing cooking when the front door slams. If it were a normal day, you’d be concerned about who is coming in and slamming the door. Except it hasn’t been a normal day for a few days. You know it’s your wife- the knowledge confirmed by the Italian you can hear muttered as she pulls her shoes off at the door.

By the time Melissa makes it to the kitchen doorway, you meet her there with a glass of wine held out in offering. She softens when she sees you and the wine. She takes the glass from you with a quiet thank you. The rest of what anger your wife is holding out dissipates as she realizes you made dinner when you set her plate in front of her just as she all but falls into a chair at the table.

“Where are the girls?” Melissa asks you softly as she takes a bite of the Irish dish you made tonight.

“With my mom,” you tell her quietly. “I figured the two of us could use the night, just me and you, and then tomorrow is a full day dedicated to them.”

“I can manage that,” your wife tells you with a soft smile- really the first smile you’ve seen out of her all day. “I have to stop by the restaurant to make sure that everything is in order for the Saturday rushes, but-”

“Everything should be in order,” you promise her. “I had Vin and some of the guys come down and help me put Twelve Tables back together as much as we could. Val was instructing them... we really don’t pay her enough.”

“I know,” the redhead sighs out. “But with the financial trouble we’re potentially in, I don’t have the room to give her a raise right now.”

“When we’re out of this mess then,” you tell her as you set a hand over her own, your thumb brushing across her knuckles.

The two of you spend Friday night cleaning the house over glasses of wine, content to put everything from the past couple days out of your head even if just for a few hours. It’s warm, it’s soft... it’s the easy domestic life that you wish the two of you had all the time.

[whole-circus]

hi! since your requests are open, could I ask for some room hdc?? with characters of your choice 🧎‍♀️

please take care of yourself and take your time!!

Creepypastas room headcanons!

➥ Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu, Eyeless Jack, Ben Drowned, Clockwork and Hobo Heart

Oh hi and thank you!! Here you go sweetie! If you wanted someone more then feel free to uptade!! :33

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☆ Jeff the Killer

What a stinky men. Im sorry but his room is messy for sure and you can't convince me otherwise! Dirty clothes, empty cans, leftovers, stains..man, hire him a maid or something. Some dead plants and messy grafitties, stolen traffic signs and construction boards! Propably never in his life made bed, and his sheets aren't changed often.

Definitely has many band posters on his walls too! Maybe some vinyls too?? Mostly the black, red and grey colours can be seen. Hates the big light, so usually sits in dark or with small lamp. His drapes 24/7 covered. He is emo and plays loud music.

Smells like cigarettes and like room that hadn't been aired for long time.

☆ Homicidal Liu

Pretty, clean and organized room! The only 'messy' thing could be mugs he forgot to clean (same tho). Im sure he has gramophone and listen some of this old, silly, romantic songs! Also - a lot of plants, maybe even lego flowers? Couple of this aesthetic posters, some gobelins, small paintings. Photos with his friends, S/O! His bed is almost always well made. He have many books, and an easel (what an art hoe of him).

Mostly green, brown and beige colours. He loves natural light and candles, and if the weather is nice then his windows are open.

His room smells like cleaning detergents, soil and candles (usually the flower ones).

☆ Eyeless Jack

Soo..his room is not as clean, but its caused by his wild side. On his walls and furnitures are many straches from his hands (or even teeth!). Otherwise? You don't have to worry about surviving visiting his room, you have high chance to not caught anything! I would say his room is pretty dark, only becasue his walls are in gloomy colours - maybe not black, but gray, green or navy blue (all in dark shades).

Let's pretend that he actually was into medicine before all his tragic events..pls? Propably has some decorations, like skeleton, anatomy-related posters! Also likes to keep his blinds shut, he is pretty hypersensitive in terms to hearing, sight, smell. And maybe..he would have this small, funny fridge in his room, you know - to keep his..food..fresh!

About the smell..maybe a bit of blood? And something rotten? But its not that strong tho!

☆ Ben Drowned

Musty, dusty and rusty room, but we still love him! He would clean once in a while, and he do that very solid..but that doesn't last long - his room gets messy very easly. When he isnt gaming then he is sleeping..pretty productive, huh? Bed is never made, lots of junk food wrappers, empty (or not) cans..

LED lights 25/8! His room is pretty dark, propably never seen the sun. On his walls are posters from movies, anime and games. Has pretty professional gaming set when it comes to computer (I would describe it but i only know that computer need screen and keybord lol). High chance of having some psp gaming corner! Like bean bag pouffe, TV and stuff. Also! Collects figures like funko pops, anime figures, nendoroids. Ben have pretty nice Lego collection too!

His room smells like sweat and energy drinks.

☆ Clockwork

A bit messy, but in this aesthetic way - in other way, chaos under control! You know, some clothes at the floor or on chair..some dirty mugs..and her trash can is a bit too full..but as I said - everything looks pretty planed..! She has many blankets and plushies (she would never admit to that tho) on her bed.

In her room dominates mostly shades of dark green and white! Has many fun stuff in her room - rocks, animal skulls..sorry fellow animal lovers, promise they were found! But also a guitar! Full jewelry holder - and they are all well made! Thats why they are a bit too messy.. And she keeps many fake plants, she sucks at taking care of them. Clockwork has many string lights in various shapes!

Dunno, but I cant really assign smell of her room! Maybe something like dust and coffee?

☆ Hobo Heart

Ahh I miss this pretty boy to be honest! His room is clean, end of the sentence, thats it. I also think that he would have some pet in terrarium or aquarium - lizard, frog or just some fishes. Even if they are small, he treat them with proper respect and like the family members!

Has white walls with paintings and photos of his friends/SO, but most of the decorations are in shade of red. Also vinyls as decorations and posters of his favorite singers/bands (m sorry but he totally looks like somoene listening to Lana Del Ray vibes T^T) - all in this 'aesthetic way'! Simple light bed sheets, and when his bed is made (which is pretty often) he put pillows that have this silly shapes. Like to keep his room natural lightened and loves candles!

His room smells pretty like vanilia, but its not a strong scent.

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

[1-helluva-hazbin]

Always Something Underneath

Chapter 1 - Hints of Vanilla

Lucifer x Fem!reader (prostitute character w/ accent)

Content warning: heavy flirting, slow burn, smoking, writing the accent

Summary: A curious answer during one of Charlie's groups from a new resident stokes Lucifer's interest. Him choosing to pursue a brief conversation with the new resident sparks the beginnings of something new.

Thank you for all the love and support you choose to give!

Word Count: 2476

Chapter 1 (You are Here) 𖤐 Chapter 2 𖤐 Chapter 3 𖤐 Chapter 4 𖤐 Chapter 5 (WIP)

“Good job everyone! Thank you for all the awesome participation today!” Charlie said as she clapped her hands, ending the last session of the day.

You stood up stretching. Just a quick shift of your shoulders and twist of your body had it popping and crunching from having sat for the last 45ish minutes. You made it fast though as you didn’t want to get caught up in conversation with anyone. You needed to get some nicotine in your system before you headed off to work. You ducked from the room before anyone could notice you dipped and briskly headed off.

It hadn’t been long since you had come to the hotel. Only a month if that. You had quickly made yourself at home though. Eagerly participating in the group sessions, partaking in the lobby bar with some fun drunken shenanigans, and taking advantage of the hotel amenities such as the many balconies to indulge your nicotine addiction. As you made your way up to the left wing balcony on the second floor, you put a cigarillo in your cigarette holder and prepped your lighter. Approaching the door, you turned pushing it open with your rear enabling you to simultaneously light up. You took a quick puff twirling out the opened door, that quickly swung shut with a slam behind you, and sighed as the smoke invaded your lungs teasing your addiction. 

You made your way over to the banister on the far side of the large balcony to lean on it, your plush bosom getting a lift. You brought the holder to your lips and slowly took a long slow drag. You had gotten vanilla cigarillos this time which was just the taste you wanted as it brought about a light buzz fully quelling the craving that had been gnawing at you. “Mmm…just what this gurl needs.” you hummed to yourself. Your free hand snagged your phone from its tucked position in the waist of your skirt bringing up one of the various social media sites you frequented. Your finger speedily flicking through the vast amounts of meaningless content people spammed the site with looking for anything remotely entertaining.

To your surprise, you hear the door behind you open and close. You perked a brow and glanced over your shoulder to see none other than Lucifer making his way over. His hands behind his back holding his cane as he confidently strode over. “Good afta’noon your majesty.” you coo, giving a half wave with the hand holding your cigarillo. 

“Good afternoon.” he politely responded, taking up a spot to your right leaving ample room between the two of you. “Very good session this afternoon. You gave a very,” he paused thinking about how he wanted to phrase it, “honest answer.”

“Well,” you laugh softly, “Chawlie’s always goin’ on about honesty bein’ important. An’ I figya, I ain’t got nothin’ to hide so I ain’t got no reason not’a be.” You took another slow drag watching him as he gazed out towards the city. He seemed a little nervous; his fingers drumming along the shaft of his cane and he shifted his weight from his heels to the front of his feet and back. That tickled you a bit. You tucked your phone back into the waist of the skirt and turned towards him. “Alright, what’s goin’ on. You don’t just stawt conversations with anybawdy.”

A devious smirk slid onto your lips as you decided to mess with him. You leaned towards him, bending at the waist so your cleavage was in full view for the king. “You lookin’ for a little fun ta’night? Bold of you I gotta say but, I’m game. I got werk but… I could stop by your room afta.” 

Lucifer blanched and he immediately put both hands up, as if he would push you away should you dare to get too close, while stepping back. “ABSOLUTELY NOT. Nooooooo. No, no, and NO.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from unabashedly laughing at his reaction. The satisfaction of freaking him out feeding your desire to tease him further. He looked like he might launch into an asthma attack, if he had asthma, from the shock though. You knew you couldn’t push too far considering how good you had it here and the fact you had JUST gotten here. “Sorry, sorry. I gotta mean streak don’ I.” The smile lingering on your lips as you lean away from him easing his anxiety. “But really. What’s up?”

A quick flick of your fingers sent ashes to the air before you brought it back to his lips, giving him a moment to recover and answer you. As you waited, you looked over the eye candy before you. You really wouldn’t have minded if he wanted a private session with you. He was far easier on the eyes than most of the clients you saw at the brothel. Damn if you weren’t really curious about how long that serpent tongue was as well. 

“I wanted to talk about your answer in the group.” he said after having collected himself, not having missed the fact he was being visually eaten alive. “About how one of your reasons for wanting to get into heaven is to find love. You know there isn’t a guarantee you’ll find that up there right? Plus Heaven… has it’s own challenges. Let alone who knows what the winners will think of prior sinners joining their ranks.”

You took a moment, processing what he had said. “Hmm… I mean, your not wrong. There isn’t.” you paused, lightly tapping your cigarette holder on the banister as you pondered, “If ya’ think about it though, most’a the people down heya, don’t have a reason to be betta. Like, there’s no reason to improve. Most people prob’ly get worse actually since, ya know, they can’t get inna heaven. It is what it is kinda mentality.”

You purse your lips, looking out towards the city. “It’s pretty hawd findin’ somebody who wants’ta commit when everythin’ around’ja encourages ya to just do whateva you want. I’ve had my faya shara of cheats and use’as. Then when they aw decent, usually cause they fresh ta hell, the extermination gets’em. ” You turn back to Lucifer taking another puff of your cigarello.

“People in heaven though…” you look at your hand as you twirled the cigarette holder making designs in the air with the smoke while looking out at the city as you talked, “obviously they did sommin’ right. Probably werked on themselves. Read those self improvement books or saw’a shrink. Actually tried to fix their issues. Ya’know? Decen’ people who wanna be good. For themselves an’ their foreva person.”

A sigh slipped from your lips as you thought about it before you glanced back at him. His face was neutral, though you figured gears were turning. “I got’ta give myself some’in to look forward to. THOUGH,” you added with an omph, “If I don got’ta werk up there. Love dos’nt matta. That’s gold. Sign me up. I’ll werk on me while baskin’ in the joys’a Heaven and if love comes along I’ll giv’it a try.”

He laughed out lightly. He shook his head clearly bemused by your monologue. While looking out just as the sound of gunshots sounded just a couple of blocks away, his smile fell slightly. “You’re not wrong about people not trying down here…” 

“Good thing we gawt Chawlie. Keep us awll in line.” You let out a single laugh drinking him in. “Does our resident angel think it’s pawsable? Redemption?”

He side eyed you looking down towards the ground and shrugged. “I can’t say. It hasn’t been done before as far as I’m aware.”

A hum of acknowledgement leaves your lips before you suck in the last bit of your ciargello in one long drag. You hold it, before slowly breathing it out, “Shucks. Well, guess awll we can do is try.”

He perked a brow at you glancing over. You smile at him. He hesitates before returning your smile and nodding. “Yup.”

You bend down, putting out the cigarello nub on the ground standing back up with a huff. You take the burnt down bit from the holder and flick it off the balcony, not missing the disgusted look from Lucifer. “Well, I don’t really wanna cut this shwort but, I gotta stawt gettin’ ready for werk.”

His brows furrowed, his expressions were just the cutest. He had heard you mention it previously but he had been so focused on shutting down your advances it hadn’t registered. “Why are you still working? You’re supplied everything you need at the hotel aren’t you?”

“Well, a gurls gawtta’ protect herself.” You gave him a lopsided smile paired with one raised eyebrow as if it should be obvious. “Since we dun know if it’s gunna werk I can’ bank on it. If I quit the brothel and it don’t, I hav’ta restawt building’ my reputation awll ova. Jus’ cuttin’ my ow’as to a couple nights, protects me from fully restawtin’.”

You waggle a finger at him, “AWLSO, it actually has been helpin’ me too. Supply an’ demand kinda thing. The less ow’as I have ta offa, means the clients who rreaaally want me, ah willin’ ta pay little more. They awlso have been bookin’ mora head’a time. Full books, less ow’as, with a little more comin’ in has been SOOO nice. I actually havn’ lost as much money as I thawt I would by comin’ here.”

Lucifer was staring at you with a clearly bewildered or overwhelmed look in his eyes. He hadn’t expected such an extensive, practical answer. He had just sort of assumed you enjoyed the sex from the way he had seen you act. You laughed seeing the look on his face, “It’ jus’ makes sense don’it?”

“I suppose you’re right. That was… certainly… a different answer than I expected.” 

“So diplomatic.” you roll your eyes playfully. “You're not gonna hurt my feelin’s none by saying what you actually think.” You pull your phone from your waist, groaning seeing the time. “I do gotta head out. Werk ‘n that.”

“Oh of course.” he said before pausing. “Since you entertained my questions, would you like a portal to your door?”

You gasped out at the offer, genuinely surprised. You then smile at him, trying to act a little sheepish though you were far too excited to successfully play it off. “You don’ gotta if you dun wanna BUT I. Would. Love that.”

He let out a soft laugh at your attempt to hide your excitement and with a quick motion of his cane a portal materialized before you. You watched completely mesmerized. You then whipped your head towards him, “If I could travel first class like this alla time, I would. I do, greatly appreciate it ya highness.”

“Please, Lucifer is just fine.” His cane rested in front of him with both hands on the apple top. His chest puffed just slightly, his ego bolstered by your reaction.

“Oooo,” you purred, “first name basis. You jus’ open a can-a-worms. You bet I’ma call you every nickname in the book now.”

He laughed nervously, his eyes shifting off to the side and then back, not certain what kind of teasing he had just incidentally unleashed upon himself, “Lucifer’s fine.”

The playful smirk climbed onto your lips, pleased with his reaction. “Thanks again for the portal dwoll.”

As you started to walk through the portal to your bedroom door you hesitated, suddenly turning around and walking over towards Lucifer again. You saw him tense slightly as you made your way back to him.

“You know…” you allow your voice to take a sultry tone, to feed into the uncertainty he was feeling, stopping right in front of him. Using a finger up to lightly push his hat up a smidge so you could see his face a little easier, since you were just slightly taller than him with your heels, you give him a real smile, “you seem like your one’a the good ones. A real decin’ persin.”

“A lil rough aroun’ the edges. But, considerin’ ur age and all the bullshit you’ve see along with, ya know, where we aw. You’re pretty swell. It’s not really a mystery where Chawlie gets it and why she makes me wanna be betta persin.” Your smile grew seeing him blink in surprise before a thought crossed your mind that made your face deadpan.

“Most’a the time. I still have days where I wanna commit mass homicide but~,” you said quickly waving your hand as if to dismiss the comment as if it was a sidenote, “I’m gettin’ betta. More good days than bad days. It’sa stawt.”

Lucifer didn’t let the comment pass though as his face twisted into one of alarm and question before he attempted to mask it with a plastered fake smile that was pulled too tight and didn’t reach his eyes. “Hahaha..yeah…that's totally normal!” he looked away with wide eyes real quick before putting a gleeful facade back on, “Well you better run along! Can’t be late for work!”

“Ah, shoot! You're right!” you spun on your heels and quickly made your way towards the portal waving at him from over your shoulder. “Thanks for the portal, Luci babe! Lets do this again soon~!” 

The moment you walked through the portal, it closed with a resolute ‘whish’. The smile immediately fell from Lucifer’s face as he sighed out, emotionally spent. He fixed his hat before turning to lean on the banister collecting himself as he played through the conversation with you. You certainly were quite the character, like most of the hotel guests, but overall you had seemed…pleasant. Minus the homicide comment. Also minus your sexually charged teasing.

He looked out towards the city as he thought about what you said before the homicide comment. Him being a decent person which is where Charlie got it. That made his heart swell. While Lilith had certainly taken up the role of primary parent, he liked hearing there were still parts of him in Charlie; especially good parts. He might have fucked up most of the things in his life but, hopefully Charlie would never be one of them. She was too good and he would do everything in his power to make sure she stayed that way.

The image of your smiling face as you pushed his hat up popped into his head. He hoped you were a decent person. It had truly seemed as though you had said all of that in earnest. Your eyes had been soft with a kind smile. A small glimpse of a potentially good being.

“What a whirlwind…” He laughed softly, running a hand down his face, mentally preparing for more social interactions, before he made a portal for himself back to the lobby.