#I'm still trying to figure out how to rearrange my space to make room for a bigger snake habitat

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 3

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Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 3.3k+

Note: Oh my goodness thank you everyone for the kind words!!!!! I'm literally dying. Also if you're a programmer irl pls tell me if i sound like a boomer trying to write gen z slang. i also only did programming in school

xxx

The next two weeks blur into a rhythm I didn’t expect to find so quickly.

George and I fall back into sync like no time has passed. We have late-night conversations over leftovers, arguing about whether I should care about FIFA (absolutely not), whilst sitting too close on the couch without noticing. There’s an ease to it that’s both comforting and dangerous.

I find myself slipping back into old habits: stealing his hoodie when mine’s still damp from the wash, knowing exactly how he takes his coffee without having to ask. He still hums when he’s concentrating. He still leaves all the cupboard doors open like a gremlin lives here. It’s so familiar I almost forget how unfamiliar everything else is.

Chris and Arthur are new. I’ve never lived with them before, and the dynamic is still a little strange. Chris has a habit of narrating his thoughts out loud in the kitchen, and Arthur plays obscure indie music at volumes that feel vaguely confrontational, but they both seem genuinely nice. There’s a friendliness to them that doesn’t feel forced, just unpolished.

We don’t talk much beyond casual hallway chat, but I get the sense they’re good people. I’m still figuring out the rules of this new house: who uses which mug, whether it’s okay to steal someone’s oat milk, how long is too long to leave laundry in the machine. I tread carefully. It’s not mine yet.

I still haven’t unpacked properly.

My large suitcase lies half-open in the corner like it gave up halfway through. Every morning I rummage through it for something vaguely clean and wrinkle-free, and every night I promise myself I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I haven’t even begun to properly make space for myself yet. The best I’ve managed is rearranging a few things, so now I’m wedged between an unused exercise bike and a stack of old cardboard boxes labelled “wires??” in George’s handwriting.

I’ve discovered my cot sags in the middle. not dramatically, just enough to feel slightly tragic. I can’t decide whether to invest in a real bed now or wait until I have a flat of my own. I’ve saved over a hundred listings online, but I just can’t be bothered yet.

The room is not uncomfortable, just temporary. Everything about the space feels borrowed. Like I’m squatting in someone else’s life, waiting to see if I’ll be allowed to stay.

Instead of sorting out the mess of my personal life, I throw myself into work. Jira tickets and Slack threads are less complicated than the awkward limbo I’m in with George. And honestly, they feel like a better use of my energy than trying to figure out why I don’t quite feel like a real person yet.

The team at work are fine, in that aggressively polite British way where you can’t tell if they actually like you or if they’ve just been trained not to sue each other. I learned quickly who hoards the good coffee, who talks through every stand-up, and who has been very quietly dating the guy from DevOps for six months. The intern calls me “Miss Australia” like I’m some sun-kissed coding goddess. One of them asks how many snakes I’ve seen in my life. I say five. I make it sound casual even though it’s closer to zero.

In the evenings, I rewrite documentation just for the illusion of control. I start colour-coding my IDE themes. I spend an absurd amount of time making sure my folder structure is “aesthetically intuitive.” It’s easier to worry about whether my code is legible than to wonder whether George Clarke ever got over whatever it was that stopped him from liking me all those years ago.

Because sometimes I catch him looking at me like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still nineteen and in that stupid flat with the peeling wallpaper and the leaky bathroom and the futon we used to share when people stayed over. But then he blinks and it’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I imagined it.

Or if I just want to.

Life is just a bit weird right now. Not bad, exactly, just strange. It’s like that moment when you’re driving down the highway and suddenly realise: oh god, this is it. This is your actual life. Not a practice run or the bit before the plot kicks in, just the middle of the story, already happening. Emails and meal prep and laundry and pretending to understand council tax. Meanwhile, other people are out there getting engaged, starting companies, running countries. And I’m wondering if I can justify a full tank in a 2001 Toyota Corolla.

God, I miss that car. It wheezed like it had asthma and smelled like spilled iced coffee, but it was mine. Familiar. Predictable. I knew exactly how it handled on a sharp turn.

Here, nothing feels quite nailed down. Like I’m trying on someone else’s routine and hoping no one notices it doesn’t belong to me. I keep thinking real life is about to start any minute now, once I get settled or unpack or buy actual furniture. But this is it. The job, the cot, the too-quiet mornings and my severe lack of friends that I'm not harbouring a deranged crush from. I’m already waist-deep.

I just haven’t figured out how to feel real inside it yet.

xxx

One evening, I’m lying on my cot, doomscrolling through flat listings in Shoreditch. Spoiler: I can’t afford a single one. Cramped studio after overpriced shoebox blurs past my screen. Somewhere in the living room, the boys are talking. Chris’s voice bouncing off the walls, Arthur chuckling, George quieter as always.

I get up, thinking I should try to be social, or at least civil. They’re practically nocturnal, and I’ve barely exchanged full sentences with them. But just as my hand touches the doorknob, I hear my name.

“Y/N’s actually really pretty, isn’t she?” Chris says, like he’s surprised by his own observation.

There’s a pause. Its brief, but loaded. Then George: “Don’t.”

Just that. One syllable, sharp as glass. No laughter. No explanation.

I freeze. A chill curls up the back of my neck. Chris lets out an awkward laugh, mutters something I can’t quite make out, probably a joke, probably nothing. I slip my headphones back in like I didn’t hear a thing. But I did.

And now, I can’t stop replaying it.

The way Chris said it, So offhand, so casual, like he was commenting on the weather. The way George responded, fast and instinctive. One word. Don’t.

My stomach twists in that old, familiar way. What did I expect? A denial? A laugh? Maybe a 'Yeah, she is'? I’m not sure. But I know I wanted something different.

But I know George. He wasn’t being protective. He was being George. Keeping the peace. Not making things weird. He’s always been good at that—drawing clean lines in places where things get messy.

Still… he didn’t disagree.

I pull my blanket up to my chin, stare at the glow of my phone screen. I know better than to read too much into one word.

But I do anyway.

xxx

The party is a last-minute, thrown-together type of thing. George bursts into my room while I’m mid-doom scrolling.

“Come on,” he says, tossing my jacket onto my lap. “We’re touching grass.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s ten degrees and I’m in my trackies.”

“Perfect. You’ll fit right in.”

The flat belongs to someone George knows from work.

Ha, “knows from work.” He’s a YouTuber too. I think he has a podcast? Or owns a podcast studio? I’ve honestly given up keeping track of his friends. I have a 9–5. They have brand deals and discuss 'the algorithm'.  Whoever this guy is, he definitely doesn’t have enough cups.

There’s music blasting from a Bluetooth speaker taped to the wall, a weird smell I can’t place (incense? weed? vape juice?), and one of those cursed LED signs that says something like Live Laugh Lager or whatever. I already hate it here.

George disappears to stash his drinks, and I end up perched on a broken stool in the kitchen, clutching a lukewarm cider and wondering if I’m officially boring for not enjoying sticky countertops and people arguing over which club to go to after. I’m contemplating leaving when he walks in.

Will.

I know his name is Will because three people shout it at once “WILL!” like he’s just come back from war or prison or a particularly long bathroom break.

He’s tall, dressed like he didn’t try but still looks like he belongs on the event poster. Black hoodie, denim jacket, messy hair, sharp smile. There’s a confidence to him. No, not confidence. Ease. Like the room bends a little to make space for him.

I clock the accent immediately. Northern. Thick, unapologetic, and halfway through a passionate rant about oat milk being a scam. His voice slices through the noise, equal parts outrage and entertainment.

And then we make eye contact.

Just for a second. But it’s direct, disarming. He smiles. Keeps talking to James? Jacob? Whoever he is looks more arty than the rest. I wonder if he's friends with Arthur.

James-Jacob exits the conversation, and before I’ve even registered that Will is moving, he’s already walking over.

Straight to me.

And for the first time tonight, I forget how sticky the floor is.

“You’re staring,” he says, but there’s a grin behind it. Its teasing, not arrogant.

“You’re loud,” I shoot back, deadpan.

His smile sharpens. “Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.”

He steps closer, offering a quick, almost polite nod. “Hi. I’m Will.”

“Y/N.”

He tilts his head like he’s just solved a puzzle. “Of course you are.”

I blink. “What does that mean?”

He smirks. “Nothing. Just… George mentioned his uni mate was in town. Didn’t think he meant you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, eyes flicking over me with a grin that’s too knowing. “Dunno. Thought you’d be taller.”

I narrow my eyes. “And I thought people who rant about oat milk would be quieter.”

“Ouch,” he says, hand to heart. “We’re starting off strong, aren’t we?”

I don’t usually like cocky. I actively avoid it. But something about the way he grins, the way he doesn’t flinch when I bite back. It’s disarming. Confusing. He’s not my usual type, but there’s a weird… gravity to him. He makes the whole room feel like background noise.

George reappears, handing me a fresh cider. His eyes flick to Will, then back to me. It’s subtle, but there’s something in it, like he’s clocking the moment, not judging it.

Will picks up on it anyway. “Alright, mate.” His tone’s easy, casual, like they’ve done this a hundred times. I realise they probably have.

“I Didn’t know you were coming,” George says, leaning against the counter. "Good to see ya". He smiles.

“Yeah, wasn’t gonna,” Will says. “But I needed to touch some grass.”

“No way, that’s literally why Y/N's here.” George beams. “She’s been in the flat three weeks and already hates all of us.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say, taking a sip. “I just hate the constant yelling and your collective refusal to do dishes.”

Will laughs. “Sounds about right.”

Then he gestures to me. “She’s not your girlfriend, right? I feel like I would've heard.”

George snorts. “Not even slightly.”

“Cool,” Will says, shooting me a grin. “Would’ve been awkward if I kept talking.”

George raises a brow, still smiling. “When has that ever stopped you?”

Will shrugs, grinning wider. “Fair point.”

It feels a bit strange to be talked about like this, but I choose to ignore it.

George peels off a moment later, off to talk to someone across the kitchen, and I’m left wondering if that was nothing… or something. The exchange felt normal. Friendly. But the timing, plus Will’s question and George’s glance. It all lingers in the air between us.

“Oi, you’re double-fisting now,” Will said, grinning.

I choked on my drink. “What??”

“You’ve got two ciders in your hands.”

“Oh my god,” I laughed. “We say ‘double parked’ back home.”

Will shook his head, smirking. “That’s mental. Double-fisting is proper classic though. Means you’re serious about the party.”

George, overhearing from across the kitchen, called out, “Aye, Y/N's catching up already. Might be our most committed guest yet.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, taking a solid gulp from the half-empty cider.

Will raised his glass. “To double-fisting and proper nights out.”

I raised mine back, feeling the weird pull of fitting into this wild scene, still half confused, half curious.

I end up spending most of the night talking to Chris. He’s hanging out with Arthur, who’s, well… Arthur is smart, that much is obvious, but he's also three beers past the point of functional. He’s swaying slightly, his words getting a little slurred, but he’s still genuinely interested in my work. He asks me questions about programming, about how I got into it, and what languages I like. At one point, he confesses that he dabbled in it back in high school, which surprises me. I didn’t expect someone like him to have any kind of coding knowledge.

But here he is, drunkenly discussing arrays and variable types like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s endearing in a weird way. We keep talking shop, while the others drift in and out of the conversation like a blurry haze. I’m introduced to them all, but honestly, I lose track after the third guy who’s wearing a hoodie with an logo.

The host of the party stops by for a second, patting me on the back like we’re old friends. “You remind me of George,” he says with a wink, and I can't quite tell if he’s joking or serious. I nod, unsure how to take it, but I choose to take it as a compliment. No matter how weird, George is funny and good-looking.

The whole night, Will keeps hovering. Not in a weird way, just… present, popping in and out of the groups Chris and I keep forming. Will is the kind of person who fills up the space without even trying. He keeps throwing out jokes, arguments, ridiculous hot takes about tube lines and the food in London, and at one point, he tries to convince me to watch a Formula One race, despite the fact that I’ve already told him I’m allergic to high-speed sports.

Every time I think he’s about to move on, he swings right back into my orbit with something new, whether it’s an outrageous opinion on pineapple on pizza (pineapple can go on pizza, it goes on burgers back home) or an unsolicited, yet somehow fascinating, debate on why Spotify’s algorithm is “fundamentally flawed.”

And every time, I can’t help but bite back, giving as good as I get. I find myself engaging more than I expected, throwing in my own offbeat commentary, even laughing at things I’d normally find irritating. With him, it’s different. He’s relentless in the most entertaining way.

Meanwhile, George stays on the outskirts of the party, drifting around the edges of the room like he’s trying to blend in without fully participating. It’s familiar in a way that almost comforts me. He’s always nearby, but he's having his own fun, and I guess letting me touch my own grass. I try not to notice the way his eyes keep flicking over to Will every time he laughs, or the way his gaze seems to linger when I laugh with Will.

It’s subtle. Maybe it’s nothing. But I can’t shake the feeling it’s something more.

Eventually, I make my way to the door, my head spinning a little from the mix of cider and strange conversations. I catch George in the hallway, already on his phone, pretending to be ordering an Uber, which is the universal sign that it’s time to go. But just before I walk out, I hear Will's voice behind me.

“Oi,” he calls, his tone light but with that edge that makes my stomach do a little flip. “You’re alright, you know.” He pauses for a beat, considering his next words. “For someone who calls it double parked.”

My brow lifts. “Wow. That’s going straight in my LinkedIn recommendations.”

He laughs. He genuinely laughs like a muppet. Instead of his jaw dropping, his head flings backwards dramatically. I’m not sure why, but hearing him laugh like that feels like an invitation to something.

Something dangerous or something fun I can't tell, but either way, it pulls me in.

Without missing a beat, Will pulls out his phone, flicking through it like he’s already got a plan. There’s a beat where I stand there, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t say anything, he just opens the Instagram search page. His fingers hover over the screen before gliding across. He looks up at me. There’s a challenge in his eyes, something playful but still sharp, like he’s testing me without saying it out loud.

I hesitate for just a second. Then, on instinct, I fill in my details. "Y/F/N.HTML?" he says, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What's that about, then?"

I shrug, trying to play it off. "Oh, I’m a programmer."

Will's grin widens, and I can see him processing that for a moment, letting it sink in. "fuckin' nerd." It’s not unkind. More like a compliment wrapped in sarcasm.

I roll my eyes. "Tell me something I don’t know."

Will gives me a thumbs-up and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, taps ‘follow.’ “I’ll see you around, Y/N."

I try to think of something to quip back, but he's already returned to the party.

As I step outside into the cold night air, the sound of George's voice calling out after me reaches my ears. "You good to go?"

I nod, but my mind is somewhere else entirely. Will seems arrogant and cocky, but his sweet moments are laced in. I can’t decide if I like it or if I should be annoyed.

I try not to let the thought linger too long, but somewhere in the back of my mind, Will’s grin lingers, and I can’t quite shake it off.

Somewhere about three blocks from the flat, I get a DM from Will.

I snort, despite myself, glancing over at George. He’s staring out the window, arms folded, looking like he’s thinking too hard about something. I don’t show him the phone, but I can’t resist. “Will says drop the big brother act.”

George glances at me, a little surprised, then smirks. “Right. Got it. I’ll stop looking out for you... and start letting you make terrible life decisions on your own.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Sounds about right.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Maybe I’ve been a bit much.” He grins sheepishly. “But you know, I’ve got to make sure no one’s corrupting you. That’s a full-time job.”

I laugh, but there’s a shift in the air. His eyes flick to me, and for a moment, it feels like there’s more behind his smile. Like maybe he's not sure how to let go of the old ways.

Something’s changing, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. But I can’t look away.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 7

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2936

Warnings: Angst, some Fluff, Dean being a sweetheart, Dealing with emotional stuff.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7

It wasn't an instant adjustment, but it took you and Dean a couple of weeks to get into a comfortable rhythm of living together. After rearranging, the two of you hung the dark sheets in the living room around the couch so that Dean had a space all his own. When he wasn’t sleeping or needing to be by himself, the sheets were pulled back.

His cleanliness surprised you a bit. You figured most guys who were single were sloppier. That whole “bachelor life” stereotype you had heard as a teenager and young adult. Dean was anything but. He even did the dishes sometimes. What shocked you most was that he cleaned up after he shaved.

The two of you kept in contact with Ellen, Bobby, Jodi, John, Mary, and Sam, but only when required and only with the burner phones Dean had gotten. Jodi had managed to get a restraining order against the Vaught family, which was helpful. You and Dean both knew that it wouldn’t stop Azazel, though, so stayed in the bunker.

Sam had made it down two days after you and Dean had locked yourselves in the bunker. He went over all the paperwork you’d left with the adults and said he’d be able to not only help you but also Dean with what was there. Then, he took a copy of it all and headed back to California to get to work.

There were awkward times between you and Dean, but he always seemed to find a way to get you to laugh or pull you from your thoughts and ease the tension. It was something you were utterly thankful for. 

That stupid little spark of hope had threatened to ignite around Dean more than once, and it was getting harder and harder to push it back down, no matter how many times you reminded yourself that he had a soulmate. 

You’d taken a couple of showers, but you hadn’t noticed it, not until during that third week. You had gone into the bathroom, and after stripping down, you stared at yourself in the mirror for a few moments when what looked like a smudge of dirt near your collarbone caught your eye.

Narrowing your eyes and getting as close to the mirror as you could, now on your tiptoes, you rubbed what looked like light lines of dirt that didn’t make much sense. You even tried using some water out of the sink to get it to come off, but that didn’t work either.

You were far too focused on trying to get the “smudge” off of your skin that you weren’t paying attention to where the water had dripped on the counter. When you went to lean a little closer, your fingers slipped on the wet counter, and with a scream, you went tumbling sideways onto the floor. Luckily, you didn’t hurt more than your pride.

“What happened?!” Dean exclaimed, opening the bathroom door within seconds and froze, seeing you naked, half sitting on the floor, rubbing your asscheek where you’d landed.

“I slipped,” you grumbled. Then the realization dawned on you, and you quickly pulled down a towel, covering your body, barely.

His gaze was fixed on you, but yours was fixed to your right, too embarrassed to look up at him. You were sure you were blushing to your toes at this point.

Dean’s hand was still gripping the doorknob, still halfway into the bathroom. The door was completely open, and he was staring down at you, mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“Can, you, uh, go… so I can take my shower?” you finally asked quietly, still embarrassed.

“Oh, yeah. Shit, sorry,” he mumbled quickly, pulling the door closed as he left. 

You sighed, then stood up, hanging the towel on the rack again. You inspected your asscheek where you’d landed, and it was a little red from the impact. 

Great, I’m probably gonna end up with a bruise.

Ignoring what you assumed was a smudge of dirt, you got in the shower. The hot water felt wonderful as it trailed down your body. You did try to scrub off the “dirt” again, this time with soap, but it didn’t work, which only aggravated you. During the rest of your shower, while you dried and then dressed, your mind attempted to figure out what you could have gotten on yourself that wasn’t washing off.

When you did finally return to the living room, dressed in a tank top and jeans, Dean was sitting on the couch with the curtains closed. You had wanted to ask him about the “dirt,” but seeing that made you somewhat sad, so you just went back to your room. 

He’s probably mad at me for scaring him for no reason. Then, he had to see me naked like that, and that probably bothered him. Not surprised he doesn’t want to see me right now.

There wasn’t much to do in your room. In fact, the only thing you really could do was read. The TV was in the living room, and you wanted to give Dean the space he was seeking. You rubbed the front part of your shoulder, where the “dirt” was, then sighed silently while sitting on the edge of your bed. 

Your mind wouldn’t stop, the thoughts not helping any, knowing the two of you were stuck in this bunker together until things got figured out. When you were about to grab a random book off of the bookshelf in your room, you heard an alarm sound coming from your closet.

It startled you, but you ran in, quickly sliding into the chair and staring at the monitors. There were two men, both dressed in suits, knocking on your front door. You didn’t recognize either of them. The burner phone in your pocket began going off, so you pulled it out and answered it, never taking your eyes from the screen.

“Jodi, there are two men at my house,” you began, but she jumped in.

“Whatever you do, don’t leave. They are there to take you due to the wedding thing. Sam’s still working on getting your case heard in court. It’s taking far longer than anyone wanted,” Jodi quickly explained.

“I won’t leave, I promise,” you replied, then Jodi hung up.

You closed the phone and set it on the desk, then slumped back in the seat, sighing.

“What happened?” Dean asked from the doorway, making you jump from his sudden presence.

“Two guys are at the front door. Jodi said they are here to take me somewhere for the wedding and not to leave,” you sighed, looking from Dean back to the monitors. 

He slowly entered the room and looked over your shoulder at the screen, then leaned back against the table, just watching.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you apologized quietly. “I wasn’t paying attention and slipped. I didn’t mean to scare you or make you have to see me naked.”

You were thankful that he couldn’t see your face. You were both blushing at the embarrassment and sad due to that stupid ember of hope you hadn’t been able to get rid of. However, that also meant you couldn’t see Dean’s face or how he reacted to what you’d said.

There was silence for quite some time. The two men on the monitors you and Dean had been watching left, and after their car drove away, the specific cameras stopped flashing red. Dean still hadn’t said anything, which worried you. It wasn’t until you went to get up that he finally spoke.

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not like you did it on purpose. I can’t help it, I worry about you,” he told you, somewhat quietly, and you could have sworn he almost sounded nervous or shy even. “As for the whole naked thing, well, uh… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and, I’m sorry for staring. Afterward, well… I needed some, uh, time- to myself,” he stuttered out.

Something you’d never really seen from Dean was him being shy or nervous, and his tone caused you to turn and look up at him curiously. “So, you’re not mad at me?” you asked, mildly confused, but you did understand what he meant by needing time to himself. The thought of that almost made you blush.

“Definitly not mad at you,” he chuckled shyly, which you found kind of cute.

“Wanna watch a movie then? Forget about the whole thing?” you asked, finally smiling a little and hoping to help take his mind off whatever was bothering him.

“A movie sounds great, but this time, it’s a western. You picked the last movie,” he teased you, but all you could do was chuckle at him.

As the two of you headed out of the living room, Dean spoke up from behind you, “What were you doing that ended with you being on the floor anyway?”

“Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that,” you replied, as you had forgotten with everything else going on. Dean was getting the movie set up while you got comfy on the couch and continued, “I’ve got dirt or something near my collarbone, but I couldn’t scrub it off. I was gonna ask you about it after my shower, but, uh… yeah. Your curtains were closed, so was gonna just wait.”

Dean raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at you, sliding the VHS into the player. Then, he narrowed his eyes a bit. You knew that expression to be his thinking face, which you were trying not to find adorable. “Lemme see,” he told you, now sitting on the coffee table in front of you as the movie began behind him on the TV.

You put your hair behind you and tilted your neck so he could easily see your collarbone. You were doing fine, up until his hand was on your upper arm, and his thumb was softly brushing over your skin where the “dirt” was. 

He has a soulmate. He wouldn’t think of me as anything other than a friend. God, why does he have to smell so good? Stupid brain, stop it. I’m not losing my virginity to a man I can’t have. And I’m NOT gonna let myself get close to him like that. It’ll just hurt more when he finds his soulmate.

The argument in your brain was only partially distracting you from the feeling of Dean’s hand on you, but it was his words that pulled you completely from your thoughts.

“It looks like your soulmate’s name is trying to come through,” he mumbled, still staring intently at the lines that didn’t make any sense to you.

That was when your eyes locked with his. He was far closer than you’d realized he had gotten, now being able to lightly feel his warm breath on your lips. You swallowed hard but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from those beautiful emerald orbs that you were getting lost in. And at the same time you felt like you were getting lost, you also felt like you were being grounded. Your lips parted slightly, breathing shallowly, not even noticing that he’d moved a little closer before you finally looked away and apologized but also thanked him for looking at what you had thought was dirt.

Dean took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh before moving to the side of the couch he’d practically claimed as his. You hadn’t minded, though. Now, you were attempting to focus your thoughts, even though your mind was arguing with itself again.

You barely watched the movie, arguing within your mind with yourself all about Dean. The marks on your collarbone were only tiny pieces of letters, and they didn’t make any sense. All you could tell, from what you remembered from the bathroom, was that there had to be at least four letters. That only caused more thoughts to circle their way through your mind.

“Are you gonna stay in your head all night, or do you want to come cuddle and finish the movie with me?” he asked, making you squeak in surprise. That only made him chuckle at you. “I still find that cute.”

You gave him a playful glare before moving over and snuggling up to him, his arm now around your shoulders. “I don’t mean to be so spacey. I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you said as apologetically as you could without actually saying you were sorry.

He sighed, and you felt it with how his chest moved, “I keep telling you that you can talk to me about it. I won’t get mad at you, and I won’t treat you like everyone else has.”

“I know,” you mumbled through a pout, playing with a little crease on his shirt. “It’s just…,” you trailed off, not even sure how to tell him what had been running through your mind. “I’m… I keep reminding myself that you have a soulmate,” you finally mumbled.

It felt like your heart not only stopped but also sped up. Or, perhaps, it was only beating so fast that it felt like it had stopped. You weren’t entirely sure. There were plenty of implications in what you’d said, and now you were worried that it would affect your friendship with Dean. On top of that, you weren’t sure how you’d react no matter what he said.

You glanced at the TV, recognizing it only as a Clint Eastwood movie, but you had no idea what the title was. “What does me having a soulmate have anything-” he began, then froze where he was sitting. You could even hear his heartbeat speed up a little.

Pouting, you ducked your head a little lower against his chest, wishing you could go hide in some corner, and figured your cheeks were beat red at this point. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, almost inaudibly. That only made Dean sigh.

He gently lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger, and when you met his gaze, you wished you could look away. “You really need to stop apologizing. I didn’t know what was bothering you, and I asked. I’m not upset. It just surprised me, if I’m taking it the way you’re implying it,” he told you softer than you thought he’d be with how he’d frozen a moment ago. 

It was how his eyes seemed to be darker than before that made you want to look away. Your mind was thinking far too many thoughts about being this close to him. He almost seemed to be undressing you with his eyes, but you tried to tell your brain that was what you wanted him to do, not that that was what he was actually doing. Your eyes looked down momentarily when he slowly licked his lips, the movement catching your attention.

“How do you think I’m implying it?” you asked through a mix of nervousness, anticipation, hope, fear, and shyness. It was almost too much to feel all at once.

Your question only made him smirk in that delicious way that he did. Being this close to him was making thinking almost impossible. “That if I kissed you right now, you wouldn’t tell me no or try to stop me,” he said in a low, almost seductive tone.

You wanted to melt into him, let him do just what he’d said, but you couldn’t. The pain of losing him to his soulmate after letting something that intimate happen with him would only hurt you more. So, using the last of the resolve you had left within you, you pushed away from him gently but to the middle of the couch.

“I… can’t…” you told him, staring at the coffee table.

He furrowed his brow in complete confusion and even shifted so that he was facing you. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s bothering you?” he asked, far more concerned than he had been earlier.

It was something you’d refused to even let your mind think, but with his question, the tears slowly slipped down your cheeks. You’d been denying it since the first week the two of you had worked together. You were constantly pushing the thoughts and feelings away. 

“I like you more than I should. You have a soulmate, and one day, I’ll have one too. I’m sorry I fell for you and made things uncomfortable now that you’re stuck down here with me,” you managed through fighting the tears, some of them slipping out anyway.

You were too embarrassed to stay there and finish the movie with him, quickly getting to your feet and going to your room. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond, worried it would hurt more. For the first time since you’d been down there, you closed your bedroom door, intent on leaving it closed all night.

Burying your face into your pillow, you sobbed, letting out the pain at the thought of losing him, even though he wasn’t yours to begin with. You knew that other people fell in love with those who weren’t their soulmates and even lived happy lives together. You just figured Dean didn’t see you that way or feel that deeply for you. It had been your other reason for never making any sort of move.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. There was still a lot you didn’t know about and didn’t have the courage to ask. If you were being honest with yourself, it was more because you were terrified of what the answers were.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah

@xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @kdadss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @reignsboy19

@bonbonnie88 @ghostieghoul711 @flamencodiva @kayleezee @stillhere197

If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[bomberqueen17]

ow

lol so. i'm at home after the farm season right. i have so much writing i have been wanting to do, and i have succeeded at doing some of it! i had a brief "ah chicken season is over" hiatus before The Dread Deturkening, and spent that whole thing writing frantically, hence the solarpunk tall ships idea which is still in progress btw-- I did finally start a for real draft version to solicit feedback and now I realize a bunch of people's tumblr handles is not a great way to actually connect so i need to figure out how to do that-- which is beside the point of this post--

anyway. now that it's For Real Hiatus From Farm Season I'm trying to actually get my life in order and not succeeding very well.

Dude's company laid off a bunch of his team and therefore shut down the local office, so he, being the last man standing, had to go in and clear the space out. As part of that, his former desk is sitting in our garage, and I'm trying to clear out space for it in the basement. The basement is a black hole of fuckery because one year ago, some of you may remember, we had our kitchen remodeled, and we had contracted to do it in February but they called us the last week of November and said can we do it now instead, which sure but it meant I had to haul seventeen years' worth of stuff out of the kitchen into Literally Anywhere Else and then they needed me to clear out part of the basement erroneously believing they were putting in a new support pillar, which they weren't, but then they needed me to clear out a path to the back wall of the basement because the electricians needed to install a whole new panel there, so like, ok cool but it just meant a lot of things got haphazardly hauled from one corner of the basement to another in tremendous hurry with no time for keeping track of what's what. So that's a disaster and now's the time to fix it.

I have also been hauling some of it to the attic. I had been using the desk in the spare room for sewing on the days when Dude was working from his office. Since those days no longer happen, I have no access to those machines now, which are stacked in a corner. The basement is now too crowded for me to resume using the little space I'd carved out down there, so I have put some sewing stuff into the attic, which isn't insulated and is rather drafty now. But anyway. I'm rearranging a lot of things and can't make progress on any projects while that's happening.

I got a ton of reorganizing done on Monday evening in the basement (having spent the whole morning hauling shit out of dude's former office, which is now surrendered and locked and all set), and yet more Tuesday, and was hoping to finish it yesterday but Tuesday evening I fucked up my back, it felt all crunchy, and I was really worried until I woke up Wednesday in just torrents of gore, which I realized is my new perimenopausal normal-- I've started to realize that menstruation does fucky shit to all my connective tissues, so I shouldn't actually worry about my lower back destroying itself if it's also Cramp Time. So I spent yesterday absolutely immobile, dosed up on ibuprofen and just like that scene out of the Shining except wrapped in blankets and drinking herbal tea.

I also spent much of yesterday just. Unconscious? Which was weird. I don't know why I'm so fatigued but at least I'm sleeping.

(I also cleaned the oven. Do not recommend, especially not when one's lower back is doing mysterious rice krispie impressions.)

So today I was hoping to get back to work but I do feel like I've been beaten with sticks. Maybe instead I will finish working out how to get people who've expressed interest in beta-reading into a google doc.

A not so hilarious side note is that if I do not have a desk to sit at I have trouble organizing my thoughts?? IDK it's very weird but there are several tasks I need to do where I'll need to have my laptop and a sheet of paper in front of me I think, and my brain is like "illegal unless At Desk" and that's tough shit since I don't have a desk. I had started noticing it over the summer in the cabin where I also don't have a desk. How do I organize my thoughts if I can't Sit At A Desk to do it????? One would think I'd figure it out since i've spent most of my life without a desk of my very own, but. Not so far!!! Not currently.

Also a major thing my brain is Not Allowing me to do is finish preparing for Christmas. I'm not seeing family for Christmas, for the like tenth year in a row because every year we arrange to do it together my older sister fucking flakes out, and this year it was the off year but she flaked out of thanksgiving instead-- i'm not saying she doesn't flake out for good reasons, one of her kids was real sick and i'm not mad, but the fact remains, we're not seeing that bit of the family and she's not letting us make any contingency plans, so my brain is like Fine No Christmas Then and won't let me figure out what to get people for gifts and it is actually a problem because some of those people are kids and are expecting me to figure it out anyway.

argh.

my beloved godfather, my Type A mom's little underachieving alcoholic gay probably ADHD depressed college dropout brother, never was good at christmas presents for us kids either, and still managed to hold it together better than I am despite being in a relationship with a man who wouldn't allow him to tell us nieces about him and so he just showed up to all our family events and was my uncle's "friend" and we all figured it out anyway so there was no point hiding it from us but ugh they still did and i remember us at some point in the 90s, all us sisters sitting together ranging in age from high school down to elementary school and my older sister being like "we all know they're gay right" and us all being like "yeah why can't we just say it" and the oldest sister looking at me, who even then everybody knew was the gay one, and i was like "man i don't know" and we all just solemnly agreed to not mention it...

anyway

he did better than this but he died of lung cancer in '08 so I can't ask him how he managed it. (what i have in my favor is that my dad's side of the family gave me asthma so i never could have taken up smoking, so at least that won't kill me.)

He never got an ADHD diagnosis tho so I can't find out what meds he took. Well, he took whiskey, we know that. It didn't work though. and he wasn't really a loser, i've met so many people who knew and loved him now that i'm an adult and sometimes go around in the city where he lived. even now so many people remember him so fondly. and he bragged about us, his nieces, all the time, all these people know who i am as soon as i mention him. boy i miss him!!!

this is the miracle of the ADHD brain I was fretting about house cleaning and now i'm grieving my long-dead uncle, who of course I knew mostly through the lens of my mother who literally never understood him in the slightest.

[feelslikepants]

So apparently Illario was supposed to wear nail polish? Which is hot, but I made it (kind of) sad, my bad. And then I was thinking about Bellara getting him a present and this came out.

Pairing: Illario x Bellara, established relationship Rating: G

It is a beautiful, compact display case - clean lines of dark wood and clear panes of glass - that fits in with the motif of the rest of his room. There are even crows carved along the sides although the shape of them is a little too soft, not quite angular enough.

And inside, neatly arranged by saturation in all the colors of the rainbow, are dozens of bottles of nail polish - more than Illario remembers owning. A few of them shimmer with flecks of glitter.

"Where did this come from?" he asks.

"Hm?"

Bellara is not paying attention to him, face pinched in focus and tongue poking out the side of her mouth. She's holding tweezers, concentrating on fitting two small bits of metal together for whatever larger piece is strewn across his desk. It's supposed to burn things - or does it play music? Maybe both.

He waits until he hears her small cheer of success to avoid startling her around something that might explode, then he poses himself with his foot tapping and clears his throat to try again.

"I asked, where did this come from?"

"Huh? Sorry," Bellara apologizes. She only glances up at him briefly, but at least he has some of her focus now. "Where did what come from?"

He gestures at the box again, hand waving impatiently. "This."

"Oh, I asked my mom to make it. I found those at the bottom of a drawer when I was putting your clothes away, and I figured you show off all your jewelry and make up and stuff but there was no space for them."

There are so many things wrong, he's not even sure where to start. No matter how many times he tells her that they pay people to clean, she insists on helping the maids. And as if digging through his belongings wasn't enough, she is rearranging his room now, adding more than just the clutter of the artifacts and journals she brings over. With something made by her mother no less - she talked to her mother about him?

He wants to tell her that he hardly uses the polishes which is why they were tucked away, that she can take the whole thing away and get rid of it, that she should stop touching his things.

"Anyway, you always look so happy when you paint your nails," she adds, oblivious to his silent outrage. "So I thought if they were out, you'd remember to do it more."

Something cracks painfully in his chest. He does like to manicure his hands but the colors - it's too frivolous even for him, Caterina had said, obvious, harder to change immediately if he needs to. Clothes can be swapped like identifies, make up wiped off to change to the shape of his face, but nail lacquer takes longer to remove. It chips off during his work, makes him look sloppy then, and even when he wears gloves, he can still feel Caterina's disapproving gaze.

(Buried somewhere deep in the back of his mind in a place he steadfastly refuses to acknowledge, somewhere small and warm and where he lasts remembers feeling safe, he sat with his mother and held her hands while she helped him color each finger a different hue.)

So he opens his mouth to tell her that he absolutely does not need a display to showcase polish that he should have thrown out anyway, but what actually comes out is, "And what about your nails?"

"Me?"

"Yes," Illario declares. She has a hangnail that's been driving him crazy for two days, and he can use the opportunity to take care of her cuticles and the ragged edges of her nails; he can work on ignoring the display case after. "You're a mess."

"I guess," Bellara says while she lifts her hands to examine them. "Maybe after I finish with this?"

He walks over to her and digs a little into her trapezius. "You need a break before you develop a hunch."

"I'm fine," she protests, which is particularly unconvincing with the way she is melting back into him kneading her muscles.

"Oh? I could stop then."

"Maybe a small one," she concedes.

"Get your latest chapter," he decides and releases her. "You can read out loud, and I'll tell you what needs to be fixed while I work on your toes first."

"I can do that! I - wait, my toes?"

"Cara mia, you desperately need a pedicure. We might as well take care of both."

Bellara huffs in response, but she's already got her notebook in hand and is following him to the bathroom. "Do you remember where you left off last?"

"Yes, the character you refuse to admit is based off of me was being tragically and dramatically handsome while torn between his dangerous life and a beautiful woman."

"Lucanis took a lot of that out when he was editing it for me."

"I know - I added it back. My cousin's taste is pedestrian at best, and I am terribly attractive after all."

[eldritch-spouse]

[There is a poll on this one. Vote]

(It draws late. You're preparing to go to bed, shutting off devices and lowering blinds, eager to get some rest for the day.)

(As you pass by the living room, something makes you linger. It was a feeling, a vibe, hairs sticking up in reaction. For some reason or another, instinct bids you to stare at the table.)

(...)

(There's definitely something sitting across from you. You're not seeing things. There, in the suffocating darkness, an almost familiar figure stands, silent, motionless. You're almost afraid to blink, lest it fade and slink elsewhere into your home.)

(Suddenly, light pierces through that pitch black nothingness.)

" Ah. Greetings. "

(You recognize him.)

" Pardon me, I'm perfectly aware of how this looks, it's not as if I had plans to intrude upon your home. "

(The demonoid seems to hum and fumble for a moment, genuinely awkward.)

" ... But I feel as if we got off on the wrong foot, back then. "

(A silent beat passes.)

" Indeed, my name is Hudsyn. I realize now I should have introduced myself to begin with. That was... My mistake, truly. It has been a while, since I procured people like this. "

" So, I suppose, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, eheh. "

(In spite of his words, he looks uncomfortable, as if expecting you to boot him out of your home at any moment. You'd certainly be justified. Silence reigns for what feels like a small eternity.)

" If my memory serves me right -And it does- You said something about angels back there, didn't you? "

(Hudd finally seems to perk up.)

" By name, I know of two. They're notorious for being connected to the god-entities currently inhabiting the surface. One belongs to the upper echelon, the other... I can't quite place. I know he dwells in that establishment. And that is enough to tell me he's anything but standard. "

(He murmurs.)

" A lot of fuckery in that place... "

" Nevertheless! There is some basis to what you suggested. All angels are, to my knowledge thus far, capable of fluently interpreting siadar dialects. Even the ones they cannot speak themselves. They could, in theory, translate anything for us. "

(The demonoid nods, offering you an almost proud glance.)

" The problem comes when trying to make them... Cooperative, you see? "

(Hudysn points to his own horns, effortlessly conveying that demons and angels aren't the bestest of acquaintances. He seems to deflate, though not for long.)

" I may have an idea in mind. Say, friend, are you willing to lend me a hand for a project of mine? In the future, of course... "

(He patiently waits for your answer, keeping a carefully neutral expression regardless of the immediate outcome, then rearranges his robes.)

" I see. "

" Well, if I'm still welcome in your living space... Perhaps we can converse? I know it's late for your kind... "

[2030kamenriders]

Life update: accidentally landed myself in some kind of a Toshiki Inoue Drama situation, but I'm not sure where on the scale of Faiz to Donbrothers it lands. So instead, I'm gonna vague-post about it and then we can vote on it together like some kinda AITA post (but with Inoue shows instead. You'll see what I mean, hold on)

So!

(gestures next to me) this is Desk. Desk has been with sitting in my room for over 15 years, and is very reliable, helping me through various situations. Fun fact: it is a gift from an old family friend that passed away a few years ago. Other fun fact: it's the kind with the piece of wood that slides out for a keyboard, and the sliding parts are still perfectly intact (to be fair, I adjusted it near the start of the pandemic, so it's even better than new).

Anyway, when I had to rent a place this year for university reasons, my parents ended up getting me... a second desk. I insisted against this, but they insisted for it (our reasons will be obvious in a bit).

See, the place for rent is a small place. It doesn't fit a desk. I did the measurements before moving in and everything. (So already this is a source of stress rather than making my life easier.) So I've been keeping the desk in one of the emptier rooms for a while until some of the other tenants move in and out (lots of rearranging going on).

Mom and Dad kept insisting that maybe there was a chance that the desk would fit in once things settled down at the place (not in my room). Then Mom started saying stuff like "wouldn't it be nice to replace your desk at home? I mean, this one has drawers!" (Again, I don't want to. Desk 1 may be a bit worn-out here and there, but I like it and it does the job more than well enough.)

So I bring this up offhand at the place I'm staying. One of the other tenants brings up that they're looking for a desk. I figure that I may as well avoid the hassle of lifting Desk 2 into a vehicle and taking it back home, so I ask my parents and the landlady about it. Dad is chill with it. Mom isn't. Landlady says she'll move Desk 2 to the garage once all the tenants move in, and I can do what I want with it.

I go back home without the desk. Dad and I figure that Mom wouldn't mind. Sure enough, she hasn't brought it up (she's just happy I'm here for the weekend).

Now here's where things get complicated.

Before moving Desk 2 to the garage, it was in a room meant to rent out (the room I currently rent didn't have space for it, but a couple other rooms did. I was staying in one of those rooms before all the Rearranging).

(2030 why the heck did you move rooms?! Listen it's a complex situation and I'm trying to go with the flow. It's difficult and I have other things to worry about)

So. The turns out that, before moving the desk, the new tenant moving into that room (not the previous one, who was in the building before I got there) saw it and was like "oh neat."

And then the landlady was like "oh that's for someone else, but they're trying to figure out how to get rid of it."

And then this tenant was like "can I have it?"

So I get a text from the landlady being like "kid why didn't you take back the desk?"

And I was like "what?"

And then she explained this whole Dilemma I just explained right here. And then she brings up the following:

I can't physically give it to both of them

If I pick one then the other person will get upset, and the last thing the landlady or I want is a feud between tenants

If I really wanna get rid of it, I should probably state a price. On the one hand, maybe only one of them will be able to buy it, avoiding a feud. On the other hand, if I give it for free, the other person is gonna feel really upset.

However, according to her, it's just easier to take it back

Now you might be wondering "well 2030, why did you get this other desk in the first place?". And again I say: I didn't want it! I repeatedly said I didn't need it and couldn't bring it!

And finally, the cherry on top: the desk doesn't even come with a chair. We did get a chair, but I promised my brother to give him the chair long before any of the other tenants knew about the desk.

With that all being said:

[starwarsmum]

Day 5 of Maribat March and I'm pulling back into Club Caper for Unsweet Revenge

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@maribatserver

Marinette glared at the table in front of her like it had personally offended her. Jason squeezed her hand sympathetically but didn't say anything as Wally and Dick argued with each other over whose fault this was. After all, so many identities had been revealed in a short space of time and there was no way they were going to be able to keep a lid on it with Oliver being aware.

“Enough!” Marinette said abruptly, shooting up to glare at the pair. Dick looked at her with a little fear as she stalked over to them and pointed her finger at them. “Sit down and shut up, please. This has been one colossal mess since Wally gave me a babysitter I neither wanted nor needed. Nobody is to blame at this point, we just need to figure out our next steps, okay?” 

“But- yeah, alright,” Wally relented, sinking into a seat. “Look, I'm sorry for sneaking around to have another hero watching over you. But I'm not sorry for asking Dick to do it - you're a trouble magnet at the best of times! And I'd do it again.”

“And that's the problem!” Marinette sniped back, eyes flashing. “You're supposed to trust me. Isn't that why you're introducing me to the Justice League soon?”

“Yeah, but this is different-”

“It's really not,” Marinette said in a flat tone, gaze unwavering. “I have every intention of moving to Gotham when I finish my degree, and you knew I was thinking about it before I met any of your friends there.”

“Well good luck getting past Batman's anti-meta rules,” Wally said just as flatly, as though that ended the matter. The look in Marinette's eyes promised retribution but she didn't say anything else. Instead, she grabbed Jason by the jacket and dragged him out of the room.

_ _ _

After a couple of weeks, Marinette was due to be formally introduced to the Justice League and Wally knew she was nervous because she had been shut up in his kitchen for the better part of twelve hours baking. As soon as he realised what she was doing he steered clear of the space.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Marinette emerged, a tower of pastry and cake boxes stacked high on the kitchen counter. She was pulling off her apron and smiling in that satisfied way she always did when things went according to plan. He had already been warned not to touch any of the goods until she had set up for the meeting and he was still trying to smooth over their issues after their argument about her moving to Gotham so he just reminded her they needed to leave soon.

When they arrived on the Watchtower, Marinette bounded over to a table at the side of the meeting room that was being used to induct her. She had packed the boxes into her yoyo and used the liminal space within to transport them. As she unpacked them, she opened them up and rearranged them to make them look somehow more enticing. 

“Hey,” Jason said, sliding up behind Marinette and ignoring Wally. The speedster narrowed his eyes at the back of Jason's head and moved closer to listen in. “Ooh, can I have one? These look incredible.” 

“Not yet,” she scolded, letting his arms slide around her waist and leaning her head back. Wally was annoyed that they were being so openly affectionate, he wanted Marinette to make a good impression as a hero before the relationship tainted people's views. 

Fortunately Marinette waved him off, promising that he could go for the baking as soon as the meeting started up. Wally saw how Jason looked at one of the macarons - it was slightly bigger, lemon yellow with a dark chocolate coloured filling - and resolved to grab it first. 

His plan went swimmingly. Jason was slower than Wally anyway, but with Marinette to distract him Wally was the first one to grab a baked treat. He smirked at the disappointment he could see plainly written on Jason's face and moved at a much more sedate pace towards him before trying it. 

Many other heroes in the room were exclaiming their delight at Marinette's creations so Wally made a commotion to show off how big the chocolate one he had snagged was before shoving the whole thing in his mouth.

Regret. It was immediate and violent, and Wally started spluttering and looking around for water. Marinette, who had seemed engrossed in a conversation with Wonder Woman eyed him evilly, that same satisfied look on her face from earlier. 

“Why is it salty?” He wailed when he had finally managed to chug enough water that he only had a vague taste of whatever he had eaten. Everyone was looking at him, alarmed, and seemed wary of taking any more of the treats.

“Because you are predictable,” Marinette said sweetly, not moving any closer to him. “That is for refusing to trust my judgement. Don't worry, it was something edible.” 

“Pix, what did you do to it?” Jason asked, barely suppressed laughter in his voice. The people who had come to meet Ladybug were crowding around, clearly interested in hearing this story. 

“I only put a savoury filling instead of a sweet one,” Marinette said nonchalantly. Jason, who had forgone the helmet today, looked like he was going to go into hysterics. In the crowd Wally spotted Oliver and Bruce and knew that this was going to go badly for him. “Don't worry, all of the others are made correctly.”

“And you knew he would take that one?” Bruce asked in his low, rumbling voice. 

“Yes, because as I said, he is predictable. I made it slightly bigger than the others and put it near the top so he would see it before everyone else.”

“You're an evil mastermind,” Jason said, sounding very much in awe. “Also, I thought these were store bought but are you saying you made all of these?” Marinette gave a nod and a bright smile and Jason sighed happily. “How on earth are you that perfect?” 

“She just admitted she plotted revenge by way of dessert, how is that perfect?” Wally demanded, feeling aggrieved. 

“It was excellent execution,” Bruce said thoughtfully. Marinette looked even more delighted, practically bouncing on the spot.

“Thank you! I wanted to speak with you in particular, Monsieur Batman. I have been considering relocating to Gotham for a number of reasons and was hoping to get your agreement as I know you don't appreciate metas living in the city.”

“...we can certainly carve out time to discuss it,” Batman said in surprise, glancing at both Jason and Wally curiously. “How do you know Red Hood?”

“Oh, I was actually in Gotham recently for a short visit before I made any decisions regarding a more permanent residence,” she replied offhandedly. “Nightwing was asked to keep an eye on me, although I wasn't aware at the time. It was explained to me that they were just civilian friends but a recent encounter with Green Arrow accidentally revealed the truth.”

“Green Arrow revealed our identities?” Jason looked like he was on the verge of laughing again, turning away with a hand clamped over his mouth. Wally started looking around for an exit strategy: he knew where this was going to end up.

“Whoa, hey, that's not really-” Oliver started up immediately, but Marinette interrupted.

“Not on purpose, and certainly by no real fault of his own. Honestly, it likely would have come out eventually anyway, since Red Hood and I are dating as civilians-”

The entire room exploded into conversation and Wally winced, knowing that he'd be answering questions at some point.

_ _ _

“I have no idea how you convinced B to let you move to Gotham,” Jason said later that evening, arms wrapped around Marinette as they snuggled on his sofa. 

“I can be persuasive when I want to,” she shrugged, giggling when he kissed her neck. “It probably helped that I know his identity; if I'm part of the team here in Gotham then it doesn't matter as much.”

“Huh, I guess I didn't think of it that way,” he murmured, tracing circles onto her thigh. She shivered against him as he kissed up to just behind her ear, his hand lazily moving higher. “Do you want help apartment hunting?”

“I…have ideas,” she said breathlessly. “But any advice you have is appreciated.”

“Mmm, well if you need somewhere to stay while you fig-”

Jason let out a groan when his communicator chirped and glared balefully in its direction. Marinette sighed and pulled herself up, laughing when he held on for an extra second or two.

“Come on Jay, the sooner we help out, the sooner we can come back and pick this back up,” she said in a flirty voice. She laughed again when he practically sprinted for his suit.

[malcontent-crow]

OK, I've been working on cleaning everything in my house, just a small section at a time.

The problem is, I always fail at this. I get started, then I lose steam and just sink back into depression or anxiety or stress in general.

So I'm trying a new approach. I'm currently searching for a new job, and I'm likely going to need to move for it. And that's okay! I'm looking forward to having a place of my own and getting a pet, not just my roommate's or my parents' dogs.

BUT! This is giving me the chance to try something new.

Rambling below the cut...

I'm cleaning like I'm getting ready to move. And it helps that this is a very distinct possibility! My brain kind of likes (and loathes) having deadlines, but deadlines that I can break into smaller projects and give myself mini-deadlines to meet the big one are a bit more manageable.

And it's like a flip has been switched! Suddenly, I can see what I do and don't need. Do I want to pack this to move cross country? It's an easy yes-or-no question.

I have thrown away, recycled, donated, and sold so much stuff. Stuff that I don't want to take with me. It's so nice. And suddenly, it's easier to keep the spaces I've cleaned cleaner. I can already tell that I'll need to do at least a couple rounds for each space, but each bag of trash, each tray of recyclables, each box of donations it feels like I can breathe a little easier.

I don't know what works for everybody else, but this is really working for me.

I have a plastic bag hanging from the doorknob on each side of a door, open for trash, one for recycle. When they get full, I tie them off and toss it. Then I get a new bag and put it in its place.

I have a box in the hallway for donations, and another for things to sell.

I have a series of cardboard boxes and shoe boxes that I fill with things that simply don't belong in the room im working on. No organizing it, just putting it in the box. When the box is full, I move it to the room it belongs in.

But it is figuring out how to break the whole "clean everything" into bite-sized pieces.

Bedroom? I can and have gotten mired in that alone. So, the first step was getting everything that wasn't furniture off the floor. Then, sort that into a simple "does this belong in the bedroom?" piles. And most of it didn't! So it's dismissed from my immediate concern. Then, putting all the clothes that aren't put away where they go. Dirty clothes in the hamper, clean clothes on the shelves or in drawers. And right now, they don't even need to be folded. They just need to go away. Because of those things I've done, my bed is clear, and I have a workspace! Then, I go one drawer at a time, but never more than one drawer at a time. This makes sure I can stop at fairly short notice and still have a clean bed I can sleep in. Don't forget that with my bed suddenly clear, I can wash all my sheets and blankets, making everything feel even better.

Bathroom? Shower first. Then the countertop, then the cabinet, then the drawers. What products do I use? What do I not? Of what I don't, what's expired, what's new, what's donatable, what's not?

Kitchen? Pantry first. One shelf at a time. What's expired? What's stale? What's still good? What do I have multiples of? (Oh my god, so much honey. That's my fault. Everybody knows I like bees and their answer is to get me honey for gifts.) Rearrange it so what I use most often is at eye level, or one shelf above, or one shelf below. Bulk stuff, even if I use it often (rice) goes on the bottom shelf, but at the front of the shelf, so it's still visible. Then fridge. Same idea.

Crafting stuff and office space are next on my list, so I'll try to update this with how I go about it.

I've been at it for a few weeks now, but I can tell it's been making a difference already.

Wish me strength and endurance to keep it up!

[endlessreruns]

"actually I'm trying to decide if I want to rearrange some of the space in my apartment." She said still looking down at the paper in front of her. On part of it was a layout of the living room area, and then next to it was a list of furniture and other large items. "Trying to figure out how to make it feel bigger. More open."

@endlessreruns

Sawyer went to the coffee shop to get some much needed caffeine only to see it was pretty full table-wise. After getting her drink she sighed and looked around, just wanting to get off her feet for a bit, and she spotted Eva. She walked over to the other’s table and invited herself to take a seat. “What’re you working on? Lesson plans or something?” she asked casually, slumping into her chair and taking a sip.

[generalhumancloudalmond]

Compliments

Platonic!Yandere!Arlecchino x Child!Reader

Your parents were shoemakers, they repaired, made and cleaned shoes. And they taught you this from a very young age. Moreover, in addition to fixing and cleaning shoes, you were also trained to correctly identify people from the upper class, as well as to "talk" with them correctly.

It's sad, but fixing and making new shoes didn't work out well for you. However, this could not be said about your ability to "talk" to customers, thanks to it, you often stood either behind the counter instead of your mother, or shined shoes, if the client required it. Less honesty, more flattery and enthusiasm in the voice. Of course, there is no question about your own opinion. Your task is to say only what the client wants.

Arlecchino saw you and your flattery through, and she didn't miss even your cursory appraising glance. She could have stopped any of your speeches, but your insincerity caught her attention. A couple of times she couldn't resist and tried to tease you, but you adjusted to her every word. But even so, your compliments had their effect, but not in the way you wanted.

"You'd make a good actor, kid. What's your name?"

"Y/n."

"My pleasure, Y/n. My name is Arlecchino, the fourth harbinger of fatui. We'll meet again."

You stood there in mute shock when she left. The fourth harbinger? More? Is she planning to visit your parents' store again? You received the answers to these questions only two months after the sudden death of your parents...

Taking a suitcase with all the necessary things and wiping your tears for probably the five time, you were about to leave the room when suddenly someone came in. It was Arlecchino. You're frozen in place, trying to figure out what's going on. Of course, the house and store should have been transferred to the state after the death of your parents, but you still had two whole days to move out.

At first, you wanted to calmly ask what was going on, but when you noticed how other fatui came into the parents' room, indignation and anger outweighed all rationality. Ignoring the order of the fourth harbinger to 'sit still', you rushed to your parents' room. However, with one sharp movement, you were grabbed by the collar and thrown to the floor.

"I told you to sit still."

You looked at her in fright when she closed the door and went into the room. Arlecchino approached your suitcase and began to check it, after which she called one of the fatui and ordered them to bring a toothbrush. She also rearranged some your clothes and only then closed suitcase. Throughout this whole process, you sat motionless, your neck and lower back still hurt. Carefully, you watching her movements. Arlecchino did the same. Out of the corner of her eye, she was watching to make sure that you didn't run away or attempt to attack her. Both options would have been equally disastrous and stupid, but for all the time that the House of the Hearth was working, she happened to see both of them.

"Do you want to take something else? I folded your clothes more neatly and now there is enough space for other things."

Arlecchino's gaze is piercing and, frankly, frightening. However, you pull yourself together and ask.

"What's going on? Why are you here? And why did those fatui come into my parents' room?"

"Because you're going to the House of the Hearth. And I need all your personal documents."

"I'm not going to the House of the Hearth. I have grandparents in Mondstadt who have already agreed to take me in. You made a mistake."

"Lady Arlecchino, we're done with your task."

"Good. Now, Y/n, while you are on the territory of Snezhnaya, you obey the laws of this region. And in Snezhnaya all orphans and street children come under my care and under my subordination. I was not mistaken."

Arlecchino took the documents from the hands of the fatui and ran her eyes over them briefly. At the same time, a couple of other fatui started lifting you off the floor.

"So, what else do you want to take?"

[hawksugarbaby]

Deku x reader- don't forget

Smut + Fluff. Porn with plot

This is part of the Deku’s birthday collab by @rat-zuki I'm Very excited to post my first tumblr exclusive chapter! Happy birthday to our not so sweet sinnamon roll!

Chapter includes: begging, slight daddy, praise, orgasm denial, fingering, a lil mirror shit, swearing, unprotected sex.

You slammed the door of the house and kicked your shoe’s off, shoving them to the side of the coat rack with your foot while you shucked off your jacket and threw it over the rack, not even bothering to hang it on a hook. The living room was a mess, magazines and paper strewn over the coffee table and chewed pencils were stuck in the crevices of the couch. The landline was stretched from the wall to the arm of the couch and tangled in its own cord, somehow a pair of tights (you’d intended to put on) had weaved itself into the knot and the sight just made you angrier. 

As quickly as you’d moved away from the door it swung open again and your freckled boyfriend walked in hurriedly taking his shoes off and blabbering while he attempted to fix your coat.

“Bakugo is going to keep him tonight and drop him off in the morning. If you forget to pick my son up from school again and there will be consequences” your words are firm and send the message across instantly. 

“Okay honey.” he muttered into your neck, making you shiver but you were so angry it didn’t feel right to give him any reaction. He was the one who made you angry in the first place. “Well if bakugo has the little one tonight…” he trailed off and let you fill in the blanks yourself. 

You scoffed and slapped his hand off of you pulling out of his embrace and turned to stare him dead in the eye. You open your mouth to yell again but your lips are swiftly caught between his and his large hands slide up the back of your neck tangling in your hair and his other arm wraps around your hips pulling you forward forcing you to be chest to chest with barely enough room to breathe. He pulls his lips off of you and you gulp struggling to find the resolve you had mere minutes ago but the blinding anger was still apparent in the front of your mind. 

You push him back and head for the door only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled back towards him, turning toward him while you move leaving minimal space between you. His smile has faded. “Don’t push me” he warns and you tut shoving him away again but his feet are roots in the ground and he comes back to the center like a punching bag. He hoisted you up over his shoulder and dropped you on the bed facing the polished mirror and climbed up behind you sitting you in his lap. 

“Please apologise honey” he hummed into your neck, his thick calloused fingers drumming on your collarbone, thumb gracing your neck and you swallowed thickly making the digit bob on your throat. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at his staring reflection waiting for an answer he wasn’t going to get so easily and he sighed disappointedly. “Do I need to fuck one out of you princess” he asked nibbling on your earlobe and you roll your neck to the side letting your eye’s flutter closed for a second. 

“Fuck off I’m not apologising for anything” you grumble with a waver that didn’t go unnoticed by either of you and you curse yourself for letting it slip out. You squirm in his lap feeling his cock harden behind you. The thin fabric between your legs was growing dark with your own slick and your core throbbed with each of deku’s hot breaths fanning your cheek as his fingers inched closer to your neck. 

“Don’t talk to me like that” he huffed and his thick fingers curled around your neck and you choked on a gasp as they squeezed ever so slightly on the sides of your neck. His other hand trailed up the inside of your thigh and ruffled with the end of your skirt teasing you as his knuckle’s grazed your pussy and you whined in the back of your throat leaning back into him and shifting in his lap. “You're being such a good girl, you could have all you want if you just said sorry” he mumbled and you really did consider it for a minute. Your cherry face challenges you in the mirror, daring you not to. 

“No.” 

He rolls his eyes and slips up your skirt the pads of his fingers rubbing on the damp spot on your underwear drawing a hum from your chest and you close your eyes swimming in the ocean of sensations bubbling in your veins and a plea climbs up your throat only for the green haired male to laugh and retract his fingers. 

Your eye’s snap back open and you glare at your boyfriend looming over you and lifting you off of his lap. “No please Zuku I need it” you whimper and watch his relaxed figure in the mirror laughing away to himself. You knew what he wanted but you were too stubborn to give him his satisfaction, it was a family trait it appeared as your brother was just as arrogant and stubborn. 

“Then you have to apologize,” he smiled innocently like his cock wasn’t strained against the fabric of his jeans and like you weren’t sitting like a pretty whore begging him to rearrange your organs. Kneeling with your back turned to him and your knee’s spread apart slightly, hands resting in the space between your legs and your puppy eye’s and glistening bottom lip jut out to beg like a hungry dog. 

He couldn’t see you himself but he could see it all in the mirror in front of you mounted on the wall and he bit his lip. He didn’t manage to notice your hands slip under your skirt behind you and slide your underwear off of you, landing in a small pile on the floor. You flip up your skirt and present your bare cunt glistening with your slick urging a soft groan from his throat. Your fingers travel up your thigh dipping between your folds and your thumb flicking over the sensitive button making you hum in blissful pleasure. Your small fingers pumped in and out of your pussy, digits gleaming with juices. 

You pulled them out and sucked on your wet fingers, tasting yourself while watching your boyfriend out of your peripherals, hand down his jeans and trying to discreetly pump his huge cock without you noticing.  You chuckle and swirl your tongue around the fingers deciding your next plan of action. 

You pulled your shirt off and unhooked your bra, the skirt being the only piece of clothing left and you leaned forward putting yourself on your hands and knees. “Come on. Don’t you want this... Daddy.” a growl comes from behind you and you’re pulled back so that you’re stretched, arms out in front of you and back arched up so that your cunt is directly in front of deku’s face. You wiggled your hips with a giggle when a sharp strike landed on your ass and you yelped, followed by a soft moan. 

He gripped your hips with one hand denting the flesh around his finger tips while his other stroked along your folds gently dipping his fingers in and out every time you made a noise just to pull back out and leave you unsatisfied. You wriggled trying to get out of his grasp and just pleasure yourself if that’s what it took but his hand was as tight as a vice and you worried that becoming an escape artist wouldn’t be worth the pain you’d end up in either from tumbling off the bed or his determination to keep a hold of you. 

Deku swiftly moved his thumb over your clit, circling the button slowly while stuffing 2 fingers in your hole, curling them quickly in a ‘come hither’ motion. The pads of his fingers grazed the spongy spot inside of you making you jolt with every curl and whine needily into the mattress as your stomach pooled with heat. “Gonna cum on my fingers baby?” his thumb sped up and you gasped, whipping your head up. Your chest began to heave and you nodded, biting on your lip hard enough to draw blood. 

your stomach tightened and your walls began to flutter around deku’s fingers signaling your oncoming release. He slowed his thumb and pulled his digits out of you leaning next to your ear and whispering, “tough shit.” 

Your eyes snapped open and you looked around wildly as if searching for your missing orgasm. “W-what”?” Your denied release fizzled away in your stomach and you pulled your knees under you so you were kneeling and shuffle around to face him. “Baby please make me cum I need it!” you whimpered, leaning your head against his hard chest, your own fingers beginning to doddle beneath your skirt. 

Your teasing was enough to encourage him again and he pushed you down gently, laying you on your back and spreading your legs, gripping the meat of your thigh as his lips caught yours in an intense kiss and you hurriedly pulled down his trousers and boxers in tow. 

His thick cock sprung out of his boxers standing to attention. Your small hand wrapped around the shaft and moved up and down slowly, your thumb swiped over the slit leaking pre-cum and he grunted bucking his hips in your hand. You come away from his length and draw your hand over his toned stomach tracing each muscle with a long fingernail that tickled.

“Patience daddy” a small giggle escapes your lips and you're pinned to the bed quickly, both wrists clasped together in one of Izuku’s dry, calloused hands and held above your head while Izuku rubs the head of his cock over your folds.

“You want it?” he asks inserting the tip and pulling out again drawing a moan out with it and jerk your hips up toward him. “Use your words honey I can’t give it to you if I don’t hear a yes” he hums next to your ear. 

Your wrists writhe in his hand and you nod “Yes! Please baby please I want you to fill me with your cum” the words echo off the wall and go straight to his cock, jumping in his hand. He pushed in quickly and you both moaned in unison, your head falling back into the pillow and deku buried his head in the crook of your neck kissing along your shoulders and up your jaw as his hips pummeled into you at inhumane speed. “Ah~ fuck deku your gonna rip me apart” your words are broken up by tumultuous moans that couldn’t be held back no matter how hard you bit your tongue. 

The burn of Deku's thick cock stretching you out again was blissful and the artful kisses he left behind were euphoric, seeping into your skin and lighting your veins on fire with pleasure filling them with napalm. “You feel so good honey. So warm and soft I could stay here all day. Cock buried in your perfect little pussy it’s like you were made to be my little sleeve” his words came out in a growl and you felt your stomach flip and tighten. His relentless thrusting left you hot like your fever pitch had turned into a real fever and you could feel your wrists redden and bruise as he grabbed them tighter with his oncoming release. 

“My hands deku” you chuckled and he let out a small gasp of panic letting go and used his hands to hold himself up, the right hand cupping your face and stroking your cheek like you were the most precious thing in the world to him despite his length ruthlessly tearing into you. 

“Sorry honey”

You shook your head afraid that if you spoke all that would come out would be high pitched squeals and broken moans getting caught in your throat. “Deku ‘m gonna cum fuck ahh.” you rocked your hips against his but he slowed his thrusting and you whimpered gazing at him with glassy eyes. 

“You can’t cum until you’ve apologised” he stated flicking your clit with his unoccupied hand and you squeaked pushing away from him with your feet.

“Apologise? Apologise for what!” you shout hitting his hard chest with an exhausted slap and his eyelids dropped to adorn a primal gaze watching you like pray. 

“Pushing me. And hitting me just now.” you crossed your arms and turned away making it clear you werent apologising. “Fine I guess i’ll just finish myself then” he pulled his cock out with a sigh leaving you feeling empty and you grabbed his large bicep staring at him desperately. 

“Fine! I’m sorry I'm sorry just please baby I need to cum so bad” you beg with misty eyes and he thrusts back in sharply eliciting a loud moan and a groan from his chest. “Fuck yes!” he thrusts into you forcefully the tip kissing your cervix and with every pull out he grazes the sweet spot inside your walls. His thumb circled your clit and he could feel your walls clamp around him making it slightly harder to move. 

“What a good girl. Gonna cum for me?” he praises and you nod with a whine and your hands dig into his back as your stomach tightened. 

And tightened 

And tightened

Until it snapped and you wailed into the air. Your back arched and head dropped into the pillow, your dark orbs rolled back into your head and deku could see the sweat collect on your brow as your vision clouded with white and your body went red hot. 

He kissed your forehead and kept thrusting into your exhaustion riddled body. “Well done honey” he smiled and thrusted a few more times before he quickly came painting your walls white and filling your womb with his thick hot cum. He must have been pent up as he kept cumming as he pulled out, his seed dripping out of your whole, sliding down your ass cheeks and the rest was spent on your stomach. 

“You did so well” he hummed quickly standing to grab a warm cloth from the master bathroom and wipe you down but the sight of his cum dripping out of you was almost enough to get him going again. He picked you up and laid you on the chaise beside the window while he fixed the bedsheets and duvet. Re-fluffing the pillows and propping them up the way you liked them.

You whined and stretched out for him making grabby hands at him “come cuddle me” you whisper and he smiles, nodding while he put you back on the bed under the warm blankets and climbed in beside you pulling your lassulus body into his and turning off the lamp. 

“I love you.” he mumbled into the top of your head and you smirked lightly. 

“I love you too”

[chaotic-jjk-fiction]

hi, smol! congrats on your 400 followers!!!! i've been following you for quite some time now and it makes me feel happy and proud to see you achieve something you truly deserve and i'm sure you'll be achieving more in the future. one of my favorites from you is the selfish series, that was so good!! for your 400 followers special, can you do prompt #50 and #206 with toji? thank youu!

You’re making me feel old haha. I’ve only been around for a month, but thank you for sticking around. I’m glad you like the Selfish series. 

Toji holds a special place in my heart and I thank you deeply for requesting him.

#50:  “Ah-ah. That’s not how this works. You don’t get to leave me.”

#206: “I don’t want to chain you up, but I will if I have to.”

TW: Manipulation, Threats, Yandere (duh)

You had only been dating Toji for a month when he asked you to move in with him. It had felt sudden but you had agreed against your better judgment. You didn’t even know what he did for a living, but what was the worst that could happen? He surprisingly owned a little house on the edge of Tokyo. It had been much nicer than you had expected, making you question just what his profession was. It was a little awkward sharing a bed for the first time, but that evened out after a while. 

One day while he was gone on business you decided to snoop around the house. You had been living there for over a month now, and you still hadn’t seen all of the rooms. There was one in particular that had your curiosity peaked. It was the one that Toji called his “office” but he kept it locked and you knew you weren’t allowed inside, but you figured that a little peak couldn’t hurt. You were dying to know what the profession let such an… interesting man like Toji, pay for such nice things. Luck was on your side today, and you found that he had forgotten to lock the door. You cautiously pushed it open to reveal a room full of weapons of all different kinds. You wondered around the room in shock before noticing a small desk with a few files on it. You couldn’t help but look over the files, seeing what appeared to be people who were being “targeted” and the sums of money tat would be paid in reward. He was a bounty hunter. You stumbled back a little, it made sense, but you were having a hard time processing it all. The man you lived with killed people… for money. How could he not tell you that? You quickly rearranged the papers and left the room closing the door behind you. You rushed to the bedroom and started to pack your suit case. 

You needed space from him after your new discovery. Surely he would understand when you told him that you wanted to move out back into your own place. You didn’t have to wait long, because as you finished packing up your stuff, you heard the door open. Toji was home. 

“I’m in the bedroom” you called out. Although you were nervous there was no reason you thought, that you two couldn’t talk this out like civilized adults. You heard his foot steps get louder as he got closer. The bedroom door opened to reveal a slightly sweaty Toji. He looked from your face, down to the suite case by your side.

“What’s that for?” he asked in visible confusion. You paused for a moment, trying to piece your thoughts together and decided how to phrase what you were going to say. 

“I’m going to move out for a little while,” you paused looking for any sign of a reaction on his face, “I just need some space.” His blank expression was starting to worry you. You didn’t quite now what to say now. Toji took a step towards you. 

“Ah-ah. That’s not how this works. You don’t get to leave me.” he stated quietly. His gaze on you was almost a predatory one, and it made you shrink back a little. 

“It’s my choice weather I leave or not” you retorted, trying to stand your ground as he stared you down, attempting to move around him, suit case in hand. 

“You don’t get to decide what I-” you were cut off by Toji grabbing your wrist,

“I don’t want to chain you up, but I will if I have to.” The ice cold tone of his voice let you know that he was dead serious and his grip on your wrist was starting to hurt. You thought about weather or not to try and break free and attempt to leave, but after what you had seen today you decided against it. Instead, you settle to stay and become Toji’s prey. A little bunny stuck in the wolves den.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Lady Of The House Pt. 2 (Henry x Reader)

Heyyyyyy, so I finally finished this part, please let me know if you want to see more of this. Enjoy!

Part one

-

After the delicious breakfast Henry and (y/n) had he told her that they must attend a charity event that his brother was throwing. She always enjoyed those types of outings with him, she liked the attention and how Henry would proudly show her off and twirl her around the dancefloor, Henry always made her feel wanted and appreciated. However with that type of short notice, she was left running around her wardrobe room with Jennette and Angelina on her side, trying to pick an outfit, it wasn't like she didn't have any, but she always wanted to be perfect, the Cavill family had accepted her but not without difficulties, at the end of the day they all saw her as this little shiny toy Henry would dispose at some point.

"What about this? It still has the tag on it"

Angelina spoke lightly holding up the extravagant green gown Henry had bought her one day, she had mentioned her favorite designer so the next day Henry sent her 8 different gowns that he liked.

Angelina was new to the roaster, Jennette (y/n) quickly came to the realization that a few of the maids and butlers were giving out information about (y/n) to Henry's mom, she was a wonderful lady when (y/n) was around because she saw her as just a girlfriend and not the wife, so they swiftly got replaced. (Y/n) approached Angelina and let her fingers trace the fabric as she turned to look at Jennette.

"Isn't the slit a bit too much for a family event?"

"I think it's finally time for you to make this statement... miss Cavill"

(Y/n) giggled at the name, Jennette liked calling her that as a small joke and a reminder that she is now the lady of this house. (Y/n) was always a big personality but this life made her feel small and uncertain. She bit her lip before she started nodding to herself, Angelina smiled in triumph due to feeling accomplished with finding the dress for (y/n).

"Angelina help miss (y/n) put the dress on, I'll be downstairs if you need me"

"Yes miss jennette"

As (y/n) started to take off her robe to slip on the right dress, jennette walked out of the master bedroom and towards the entrance of the house, that's where Mister Henry was waiting for his lady. Jennette was curious about the reason he had asked to see her privately to talk about (y/n).

she wasn't worried about it though, Jennette had a good feeling about this since everyone could clearly see how madly in love he was with her, he had brought other women home in the past yet they were never introduced to the staff, they had remained anonymous visitors. She slowly walked down the marble stairs while Mister Henry was standing in front of a mirror, fixing his tie.

"You asked to see me sir?"

"Yes Jennette"

His tone of voice was light as a feather, kind and melodic as he finally rearranged himself and took his eyes off his reflection and turned to Jennette who was patiently waiting close to him.

"How's (y/n) been doing?"

"She is finally getting comfortable, Angelina has been helping with making her feel in charge"

Henry slowly nodded as a ghost of a smile on his lips. He remembered how scared she was in the beginning, how she would stutter while talking to the staff or some days she wouldn't even leave the bed until he came home. He could recognize how much she has flourished and rose to the occasion. He was so thankful when (y/n) started to smile while talking to him about Jennette, she needed an ally and now Angelina was another soldier

"I'm going to ask her to marry me"

Jennette gasped in a happy demeanor and started to clap fastly with her fingers while her palms remained together. Henry was aware how close the two of them had grown to become, Lady Jennette has been around his family since he was a young adult, when he first started getting involved in the "family business".

however all his brothers had kids and a wife, (y/n) was the only woman he could see a future with, just the thought of her with a big round belly made him feel all warm and fuzzy, he felt alive next to her and her presence never left his mind, he had a reason to keep living and working. As soon as he had laid eyes on her that night he stayed at the hotel she was working at he just had to have her, it was almost compelling

"Of course you can't tell her"

"I would never dream of such a thing sir"

Before Henry could speak he heard the door of his bedroom open, along with giggles that probably came from Angelina and (y/n). Both of them waited for her to turn the corner and appear.

(Y/n) felt his eyes on her as soon as she stepped at the top of the stairs. Jennette was smiling at the sight of her while Henry remained silent. Angelina helped her lift up her dress ever so slightly so she can take the steps down without a problem. You could hear her heels click on the well polished floor. Ever since she met him the look he gave her every time he saw her was addictive, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world when he gave her this intense look that scanned her body.

"If the slit is too much I can go change"

"You look stunning my love"

He reassured her and walked to her. His hands immediately found hers and her raised one to his lips to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles while never breaking eye contact. She smiled back and instinctively she filled the space between them so she could hug him, his cologne made her feel safe knowing that he was there was the most comforting idea.

After a few moments she pulled away but their hands remained intertwined. Every single time they had to attend a family event he could sense her anxiety, at any other gala she was right at home but when it came to his family she looked like a kid going through school exams.

"Don't be nervous love"

"I'm not nervous"

She quickly shot back in defense. She could tell that he wasn't convinced, yet he chose to let it go, acknowledging the fact that pushing her more would only do more damage than good. Her hair was down and styled to perfection, her make up was done to bring out her beauty even more, she looked like a true goddess coming to bless the mortals.

"Don't wait for us jennette"

"Yes sir. Have a good night"

-

The car ride was spent by (y/n) looking out the window while her one hand traced her necklace and the other held Henry's, he chose to silently support her. He could comprehend how scary his family could be for an outsider, of course they were nice when she was around but (y/n) was no fool, she noticed the quick side eyes and the few whispers when she turned her back, she only bit her lip and smiled for Henry's sake, as well as the fact that if she wanted to be in this family she had to outsmart them, she was aware that they acted like that because she was the girlfriend, as soon as Henry would propose nobody would dare to say anything, she would officially be a Cavill. It was a shallow reason but she just wanted to be recognized for what she was, a woman that all she did was fall in love.

As the driver opened the door Henry got out first and then he helped (y/n) get out, before she got the chance he slightly kneeled in front of her to fix the end of her dress that touched the floor. His gentle grace of his fingers from her calf that went over her thigh brought goosebumps all over her body.

"I love this dress on you"

"I think you will have to wait until we get back home to show me how much you do"

Henry's reply was to lean down and press a kiss on her naked left shoulder before offering his arm for her to take as they walked in the Mansion as a couple.

(Y/n) felt the awfully familiar tightness in her chest as they entered, people were mingling, the smell of cigars lingered in the air as you could see the smoke in the air, even though the staff had done it's best to open windows and keep the air fresh.

"(Y/n)!"

She heard a woman call her name at a rather enthusiastic tone. As she turned she saw it was Henry's sister in law Chiara. She was dressed in a black dress that was a bit more modest than hers, yet it complimented her delicate figure in such a way that made her look like the glamorous Hollywood stars back in the day. The brunette woman opened her arms and offered (y/n) a warm hug. (Y/n) hugged back, feeling grateful that the host was one of the people in this family that she actually got along with. Chiara had married into the family years ago, she was rather tall and very intimidating, she vividly remembered the story of how Charlie traveled back and forth from the UK to Austria just to get a date with her.

"You look exquisite"

(Y/n) complimented her, Chiara smiled as she gave an up and down look with a smirk on her painted lips.

"Same goes for you dear, the hawk is going to have a heart attack… love it"

Chiara and (y/n) had bonded over how tightly Henry's mother held the strings, Chiara was the first to pull (y/n) aside and warn her that she is like that with anyone however she is all bark and no bite. Many nights have been spent over the phone with Chiara giving advice to (y/n). They were so different yet they found comfort in one another.

"How are you Chiara?"

Henry joined in, he didn't care that Chiara forgot to greet him, quite the opposite he was pleased (y/n) was getting the attention she deserved. Chiara looked at him and in the meantime Charlie started to approach her from behind, (y/n) had to admit that even though she met Chiara while she was married she still felt like Chiara was a single woman, Charlie traveled a lot which Chiara had stated multiple times that it was the reason she was still married to him, she needed her space and craved time alone. So as one can assume that she wasn't really eager to have a baby either.

"I'm well, I'm surprised you guys made it. I thought you had to be in Scotland"

"(Y/n) is not fond of Scotland"

He simply responded. To be fair she thought it was a beautiful country but it was springtime and she wanted to go somewhere with a bit more sun. A waitress approached the two couples and offered champagne, Henry reached for two glasses and offered (y/n) one, Chiara and Charlie were already holding a glass.

"Here you go love"

"Thank you"

"Cheers, to another successful season"

Henry raised his glass while the others followed. As they clinked their glasses and all the group took a sip, the taste of the bubbly drink soothed (y/n)'s nerves, her shoulders started to relax and the tightness on her chest was little to none.

"Where's mom and dad?"

"Oh last time I saw them they were talking to our brother"

"We should go say hello"

"Alright, it was nice seeing you"

(Y/n) said before Chiara leaned in a bit to whisper in her ear "you got this doll".

(Y/n) giggled at her and Chiara just stepped back and gave her a playful wink. Henry's hand found the small of her back before gently guiding her away from the couple, the last glimpse she got off the couple was Chiara turning to say something to her husband as she flipped her long wavy hair back.

(Y/n)'s heart stomped so loud she started feeling the pressure on her ears, out of instinct she clenched her jaw and tried to mask her nervousness. Henry spotted his parents and walked to them, knowing well that (y/n) is already done with the situation and depending on how this goes they might have to leave immediately.

"Henry and (y/n), is so good to see you"

Henry's father, Colin, was the first to greet them with a kind smile on his face. Colin had always been nothing but kind to (y/n), which was surprising to her since she had stereotypically thought that the father would be the hardest one to crack. Colin hugged his son and then proceeded to take (y/n)'s hand and give a kiss on her hand.

"It's good to see you young lady"

"Thank you"

"How are you dear?"

His mother Marianne said before going in for a very forced hug, yet she was grateful they still had a civil type of communication especially around others.

"I'm well, how are you?"

"You've lost weight, I was hoping you would have gained some, oh you would look so cute with a little baby bump"

(Y/n) let out a nervous giggle, not knowing how to answer. They weren't even married, let alone have a baby, she wanted to have kids but she was still young and wanted to enjoy having henry for herself a little longer.

Henry's hand went from the small of her waist to wrapping around her as a way to bring her closer to him. He had heard this over and over again, the only difference was that to him they questioned if she was worthy to bring an heir to the family.

"Not yet mother, I still enjoy seeing her in these tight clothes"

"Henry we are still your parents. He is right Marianne, let them have some fun"

"I'm sure (y/n) can have fun but Henry you are not getting any younger"

(Y/n) was at the edge of just disassociate as her gaze started to focus on a vase behind Marianne. In any other case if this woman was a random stranger she would have popped off and started to insult her. The squeeze she received from Henry's hand pulled her out of her trace. She bit her lip as she tried to find the right thing to say, she wanted kids but the subject of babies was something they hadn't even discussed other than the cheeky comments during sex. The squeeze she received from Henry's hand was enought to bring her out of her trance and now the tightness on her chest was replaced by a fire of anger.

"You know last time you questioned my credibility as a potential wife, so this new situation of wanting me to get pregnant is at least a step"

"Honey I don't know what you are talking about"

"You do, we all do"

She hit back before downing the rest of her drink. Henry smiled in triumph, he was taken back by her boldness on one hand, on the other she held her own and showed the spark he loved to see.

"I think it's time for us to leave. I love you both"

Henry hugged both of his parents and his dad gave (y/n) another kiss on the hand, when she turned to Marianne (y/n) smiled and took her in for a big hug, making Marianne let out a small "oh".

"Water under the bridge… dear"

(Y/n) said at a lower tone before she pulled away and took her spot again next to Henry.

"Have a good night"

Henry said before taking (y/n) away from them. Henry's hand slowly slid from her waist to her bum, he didn't do anything he just let it rest on it. (Y/n) was smart enough to understand that this small change of movement meant that not only was he not mad she responded, he was turned on by her.

"You never seize to amaze me love. I'll call the chauffeur but we got 15 minutes before he arrives"

"Plenty of time to see what decor they have in the bathroom"

Taglist

@the-british-koala @little-smurf @twhstuckylover @angywritesstuff @angelcavill66

[love-amihan]

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PLAYLIST // OKKOTSU YUTA

amihan's note: finally got myself to get this going from the drafts, it's been collecting dusts there i swear. story is kinda unplanned, just had the plot in mind and went with it happy reading!

summary: okkotsu yuta confessed to you using the playlist he created just for you.

friend!yuta x gn!reader

"heads up, your boyfriend is coming" your friend who you were talking to, informs you.

you turn around confused since you don't even have a special someone, "what?" you mumble after seeing the person, your mouth forms an 'oh.'

"yuta!" you wave, greeting him with a big smile. okkotsu yuta has been a long-time friend of yours, it's not even surprising how you two are often mistaken as a couple.

it's not like you despise the label but it's better to play it safe than sorry.

you feel neutral around him, if he likes you then maybe you'll say yes, if he doesn't, then the two of you will stay as friends. it's as easy as that.

"hey," he greets returning your smile, he turns and greets your friends also. "can't walk with you after school," he says while rubbing the back of his head.

you look at him with your shoulder slump, "oh," you nod, "it's alright" you give him a small smile.

yuta bites the inside of his cheeks holding himself back. he mutters a quick farewell, running off to who knows where.

"aww, no boyfriend today huh?" your friend teases. you look back at them glaring, "not my boyfriend."

they shrug while grinning, "your facial expressions say it all y/n, you can lie to yourself but you can't mask your feelings that well."

they shake their head taking a bite of their snack, "anyways, back to what i was saying..." their voice fading as you begin to space out.

yuta's brows furrow in concentration, pushing his buds deeper in his ear, his face coming closer to his phone screen as he completes the playlist he will give you.

he's been adding song after song for a long time now, picking the perfect ones he thinks will suit your taste and will hopefully convey his feelings.

he scrolls through the playlist, tilting his head slightly to the side. somehow seeing a pattern, he stares at it having a hard time trying to figure out the said pattern.

he snaps his fingers finally realizing, with the songs he picked he can spell out your name! he just have to rearrange the order a little bit and it will be all set.

"i'm home," you mumble as soon as you enter your house.

you hear a hum from one of the rooms greeting you. you make a beeline to your room, plopping down on your bed after throwing your bag at the rack.

you sigh, mind still on yuta, your thoughts are soon cut off by your phone buzzing one after another.

you lazily reach out for it, your screen displaying messages from yuta. you let out a confused noise, sitting up while you open the messages;

yuta ;p: hey did you get home safe?

you: yeah :))

yuta ;p: i got something for you

you: ???

yuta ;p: just give it a listen, after that call me, tell me what you think

you: okay..?

yuta ;p: great, here [link to a spotify playlist titled 'for y/n']

your eyebrows slightly furrowing, is this why he didn't walk with you today?

you click on it, your eyes scanning the description. your jaw drops after comprehending the sentence. there it said,

'i don't know how to put it into words but i do know how to express it using music. i also know that you love listening to songs. i dedicate this playlist for yoy... i guess this is my confession? ahh this is so lame now that i think about it.'

you cover your mouth, hands slightly shaking from excitement? anticipation? you don't even know.

all you can focus on is the soft music slowly coming out from your phone. the song describing a young couple who are in love but haven't told one another yet.

after going through the playlist, you can't help the smile on your lips. you dial yuta's number, your cheeks getting warm and chest feeling full and complete.

it rings a few times before you hear his soft voice, "what do you think?" his voice trembling a little.

you're about tell him you like him back but you get cut off by him, "i know y/n we've been friends for a long time, i get that you don't wanna hurt me but it's okay if you don't like me back. you don't have to force yourself, i just want you to know how i feel," he says in one breath, getting confused by your muffled laughter.

"what's funny?" yuta whines at his phone, blushing a little.

"yuta, i like you too." yuta hums, his brain on auto-pilot, "i see, i hope it wouldn't affect our- wait what?!" he shouts.

you giggle, "i like you too, cutie." smiling widely, you press your phone closer to your ear. "hello?" you panic a little, not hearing anything from him.

"are you serious?" his mouth wide agape, "is that how you will ask me out?" you fake a disappointment pouting a little.

"i-i-" you hear lots of shuffling from the other side, you chuckle at how easily you can fluster the boy.

"then it's a yes," yuta lets out a squeak as you take the matter in your own hands. "do you have a first date in mind or do i have to do everything myself?" you lean on your hand, staring at a distance with a smile.

"of course i do!" his voice not carrying any confidence, you shake your head at his cuteness. "of course you do," you tease, copying his tone.

let’s just say that you two make a great couple, a sweet couple that can’t get enough of each other, the ever-growing love between you two as days pass by.

copyright © 2021 by love-amihan all rights reserved. do not repost in other platforms. reblogs are welcome and highly appreciated! <33

[korissideblog]

ohhh i'm lowkey very proud of this one <333

sillie little characters: Hiroharu [@compoundhero ] Michiko [@residentquirksupport ] and Ikuto [@the-heartbeat-hero ] <3

i didn't finish all the sketches i wanted for this fic, but i also wanted to get it out today, so maybe i'll reblog it or edit it later with the drawings <3 there are like two that i finished on time, but ahugghieisdifs whatever. it's officially midnight and i have work tomorrow <3

(also, if heartbeat-hero is reading this, thxs for reading over it for me, and i changed the ending a tiny bit so you could have something new to read <3)

“And then he’s going to put the ring on you-”

“But the ring is poisoned.” “Yes, we’re not gonna let it touch you. We’ll be there before anything happens.”

“Alright and- you can go tighter than that Mich.” Aito said, looking over his shoulder to Michiko, who was busy tying Aito’s corset.

“Any tighter and you won’t be able to breathe. You’re gonna be wearing this for longer than you think.” Michiko warned, tying the knot as flatly as she could. “Plus the dress is already fitted, if your waist gets smaller the fabric would look baggy.” Aito fought the urge to roll his eyes and turned back to Hiroharu.

“You know Jeje, I thought you would have brought me a gift.” She said, crossing her arms. “New silverware or something.”

Hiroharu closed the file in his hands as he looked at Aito in confusion. “Why would we have done that?”

“Because!” Aito said, walking to the other side of the dressing room, passing Ikuto- who’s been nervously rearranging Aito’s bouquet for the last 20 minutes- and unzipping a huge dress bag. A short but fluffy white dress spilled from it, and Aito unhooked it from the hanger.

“I’m getting married!”

______________________________________________________________

Aito was kinda spacing out a bit.

In his defense! He’d already done the walking-down-the-aisle-over-pretty-rose-petals bit, and that’s all he was really looking forward to at his wedding.

He knew Haru and Michi and Iku would be here any moment to break up the arrangement, but he had to play it cool, smiling and giggling at her groom as he read his vows.

Haruto Suzuki, better known as the White Phantom, was Aito’s target. He was cunning and malicious and a hopeless romantic to anyone who could get ahold of his list of ebooks. Aito spent almost half a year in this role-Ichika Yokoyama, for the time being- and worked a bit harder than necessary to get close to Suzuki. She just liked her cases ending with a bang, and what was more exciting than a wedding?

______________________________________________________________

Hiroharu listened intently to the wiretap under Aito’s dress, trying to time the ambush while the support team rounded the back, ready to catch any of the villains in attendance. The support team was being led by Michiko over radio as Haru focused on Suzuki.

“-I promise to always remember that you are indeed human. That you may sometimes make questionable decisions, decisions I don't agree with, like when you got a red velvet wedding cake when I asked for vanilla”

The reception laughed and Haru could hear Aito smack Suzuki’s hand playfully. At least she was staying in character.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You’ve always been like that, headstrong and sure of yourself in ways I could never be. You’re always right in the end- red velvet is my favorite flavor, I was just worried about other people’s opinions.- and… and I think that’s why I love you, Ichika.”

“I don’t think I would poison someone if I loved them.” Ikuto huffed, trying his best to stay in his chair in case pacing would alert anyone to the ambush.

Hiroharu remembered the call well. The one where Aito told him that he found messages between Suzuki and another villain, messages describing how Suzuki knew that Aito was speaking to someone behind his back. Secret calls to Michiko and Ikuto about the mission turned into hidden calls from a lover in Suzuki’s eyes, and he was going to take his revenge. Hiroharu was ready to pull Aito out of the mission then and there but… Aito wanted to continue.

“He didn’t tell me that he knew.” she reasoned. “If the wedding goes as planned, there’ll be at least 3 villains in attendance, as well as a few people who might have information that we need! He’s not gonna kill me before the wedding, so let’s keep going!” Hiroharu hated this plan, but Aito was stubborn enough to get her way.

Hiruharu noticed a slight change in Suzuki’s voice, silently getting Michiko’s attention with a wave of his hand. The vows were about to end.

“And that’s what today is all about… it’s not about arguments over cakes or venues or honeymoons… it’s about getting past all those arguments and realizing that… that I would go through a thousand more if it means I get to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

And Aito laughs, tears threatening her makeup as she gives the signal that the ring is in his hand- it’s time to go.

______________________________________________________________

The small reception turned to face the doors of the building as the heroes crashed through it, but the entire room stood still as the scene settled.

There he was, Aito Takao, Ichika Yokoyama, the blushing bride… with a golden band on her finger.

Aito’s eyes drooped a bit, as if she couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. Her hands clutched weakly at Suzuki’s lapels as she tried to regain her balance, his breathing getting heavy as he tried to stand up straight. “H-Haru…?” she asked just above a whisper, nobody sure of which one she was talking to as her body leaned back and she fell to the floor, limp as a corpse.

… a corpse…

Hiroharu could… he could feel Michiko’s hand clutching his wrist, but it was like he was remembering it, not like it was happening currently. Like he was asked to describe what happened as he watched his friend collapse into a pile of lace and satin, white and cold like a dead dove. Asked to describe the feeling of loss as he felt Ikuto slump onto his shoulder, holding onto his sleeve as if he couldn’t stay upright, like his body told him to meet Aito on the floor. Asked to describe Aito, her breath shaky and pained, the last one leaving her chest like a deadly flower wilting.

Something wicked… but also delicate in it’s own way.

What Hiroharu couldn’t describe was the sound. He knew there was silence, the telltale ringing of the room as no one dared inhale, as if Aito’s death would proceed all of their own, but there was also something else.

There was laughter.

Laughter Hiroharu recognized well. Notes and melody that he could recall from his high school years, a finger pointed at him as his friend laughed at whatever trick she had just pulled.

And oh what a trick he had pulled.

Aito sat up lazily, looking up at her groom- the villain shocked and nearly shaking as he looked down at his corpse bride- laughter spilling from her lips like blood as he gazed at the man in black through her eyelashes, batting them playfully as he finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Oh, you think I’m stupid, right?” He asked, one hand sneaking under her skirt. “Thought you could just kill me- didn’t wanna talk out our issues, baby?” He spat, his teeth pearly white and dangerously sharp as she smiled. From under her garter she produced a short poll, which when swung extended into his iconic golden colored staff. Aito took the ring off his finger as he stood, holding it up to Suzuki like a prize.

“I switched the rings~”

______________________________________________________________

“I can’t believe you did that.” Ikuto sighed with exhaustion, the fight was finally over, looking over the party as Michiko and the support team made quick work of arresting everyone involved. “I was so scared- I thought you died.”

Aito shrugged and continued eating the small slice of red velvet cake he somehow managed to salvage after Haru threw a guy into it. “That happens sometimes. Who’s feeding Jiji while I’m away?” He asked, as Ikuto realized that Aito really didn’t know what he did wrong, and also realized that he didn’t have the energy to explain.

“One of your neighbors. She’s like 2 doors down-“

“You got Hasegawa to feed Jiji!?” And now it was Ikuto’s turn to roll his eyes at something he saw as minuscule. “I hate her! You know that!”

“You don’t have to like her for her to feed Jiji.” Ikuto responded, his dismissal similar to Aito’s. Aito responded with her usual dramatics, shoving his plate into Ikuto’s hands as he turned to the gift table, sorting through the things that could be evidence (all of it) and the things he wanted to keep (also all of it). He held up a little envelope, and read the words on the front aloud. “Suzuki, for you and your new wife- and two bodyguards.” He tore it open with curiosity and four tickets fell into his hand. “Oh they‘re for-“ Aito gasped quietly as he read the name on the ticket, immediately holding it out to Ikuto. Before Ikuto could actually read the tickets, Aito stepped away and jogged over to Michiko.

“Mich~” Aito sang, holding up the tickets, but failing to catch Michiko’s eyes as she watched through the open doors, Suzuki in handcuffs being escorted into a large black SUV. “guess what?”

“Do you… Aito?” Michiko started, as if she was unsure about whether she wanted the answer to her question or not. “He… I know he’s a villain and he’s done terrible things but…” she leaned her head so she could see the SUV drive away. “He thought… I mean… he really thought he was going to kill the love of his life today.” she held herself, as if just the thought of it brought a coldness that would make her shiver. “I mean could you even imagine-” and then… she looked at Aito. Aito, with his droopy yellow eyes, completely unfazed by what Michiko was describing.

She knew Aito could love. She knew that Aito loved his mama, and Ikuto like a brother, and she knew that Aito loved her and Haru like best friends but… given the blank stare… she wasn’t sure if Aito…

“You dated him for half a year- Aito, he even asked you to marry him.” Michiko said, trying her best to describe her ideas in a way that Aito could understand. “That whole entire time did you ever… you know…?” Aito seemed as though he was about to respond, but paused, as if he really wanted to think about his answer.

“He… he really had a thing for poker.” she started, watching as the last of the SUV slipped behind the horizon line. “He’d play with his friends and… if he won big he’d…” Aito raised her hands gently, as if holding something delicate. “He’d buy me a dozen roses… and he’d tell me I was on his mind. That I was his good luck charm.” he laughed, recalling how silly it all sounded. “And… for just a moment… I’d forget it was all a job.”

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Both of the women jumped a bit as Haru came up from behind them, quickly turning to face him and forget their prior conversation. “Ikuto said Aito found something and she wanted to show us.”

“Ohh Boss!” Aito chirped, immediately snapping out of whatever mournful spell him and Michi were under. “You’d never guess!” she then held out the four tickets for them to examine. “Pack your bags! I know where we’re going next!!!”

[papipopsicle]

HANDMADE HEAVEN PART ONE

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Hargrove!Reader

Summary: In which the new Queen of Hawkins High finds herself falling for the fallen king.

Song: Easier by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: swearing, asshole parental figures

Words: 1.7K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

The house itself was fine, not pretty and polished like the one she grew up in, but at the very least she was grateful not to be sleeping in another motel bed filled with broken springs and anonymous stains. Susan greeted her like a good little home maker, tightly waved hair bouncing against her shoulders as she walked down the steps of the porch.

"How was it, sweetie?" The ginger woman waited with pursed lips while her step daughter stood from the vehicle. She really hated that car, it stood out like a sore thumb next to her husband's silver SUV, especially when her brothers parked alongside the two.

"Not the worst." Y/N shrugged. She missed the silent solace already, "Has Max decided which room she wants?"

Susan nodded, leading the blonde into their new home, "She's at the back opposite your father and I. William hasn't arrived yet so you have the choice of the one next to hers or ours."

Without hesitation she chose the one next to Max's. Her father helped unload her heavier furniture from the U-Haul currently fixed to the back of her red muscle car. The room was in the shape on an 'L', mirroring her step sister's. Her small double bed only just managed to fit in the crook, creating a cosy space to drift away in.

Hours of rearranging the room passed before a navy blue Camaro could be heard pulling up onto the curb and a muggy sunset made itself present in her bedroom window. Emptying out her socks into the small drawer of her dresser, Y/N dropped the empty black bin liner behind her and rushed to greet her brother.

"Billy!" She squealed, attacking him with a hug. The two would roughhouse and swear at each other like drunken sailors, but their love for each other would always be the first thing anyone noticed about the twins. He picked her up with ease and spun her around, quickly dropping her to the floor again.

Y/N's twin would sometimes forget the rude masculine persona he put on and actually behaved like himself, but it never lasted long with their father close by.

"See that hunk of crap didn't kill you on the way here then?" Billy joked as they both carried a bed frame into his new room. His distaste for the nineteen-sixty-eight Mustang Cobra was evident whenever it came up in conversation, only due to it being left to her rather than him in their mother's will.

"Not just yet." His sister hummed and the two let out a huff as they dropped the mattress onto the wooden frame. They talked about the bullshit of finishing their senior year at a completely different school and what that we're going to dress up as for Halloween. It was their favourite holiday and this year she planned on being Tom Cruise from Risky Business. Nobody would understand it but it was better than Billy's 'slutty teen boy' costume he wore most days anyway.

"Y/N/N honey, could you come into the lounge!" Susan's sugary tone rang through the house. The twins shared a look that always subconsciously found their faces when she attempted to play doting step mother.

Fucking doormat of a woman.

"Coming." The blonde shut her brothers door on the way out and walking down the hallway into the small living area. By now any remnants of the sun had long hidden away from Hawkins and only warm ceiling lights lit up her face.

Susan appeared from the kitchen door with a tray full of oatmeal cookies, grin etched into her features like puppet strings pulling at her cheeks, "Try one, would you?" She gleamed, pushing the metal tray out for emphasis, "I'd ask your father but he'd just say they were nice, never wants to upset me. He's too good."

Not wanting to answer, Y/N took a small crumbly cookie and bit into it, eyes bugging out at the statement only able to nod in response.

The step mother watched in anticipation, hair bouncing at her shoulders as usual, "So, gorgeous? Be honest with me, how are they?"

"Really good," She didn't like the woman, but couldn't deny her ability to copy a recipe, "I think these may even top the peanut butter ones."

Susan's sterile smile managed to stretch further and Y/N was scared her lips may crack and bleed from the force, "Perfect! We're handing them out to our new neighbours tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need you to get some new trainers for Maxine tomorrow, nothing expensive though, they're just for gym class. She's a four now.

The blonde resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead nodded while an idea popped into her head, "I drove past a giant superstore on my way here, I'm sure they're still open I can just go now."

"Are you sure, honey?" Susan sounded concerned, but Neil didn't share the same feelings, "Curfew is eleven until you start school on Monday, same rules apply here."

"I know, Dad." She nodded curtly and turned on her heel, not wasting a moment grabbing her brothers old khaki bomber jacket and her car keys. The front door shut just as quickly as it opened, leaving the small U Haul sitting on the driveway next to Billy's Camaro.

It had been her brother's favourite jacket since he was sixteen, but he'd gained so much muscle his arms couldn't slip into it anymore. Although Y/N was tall for the average girl, the material still managed to shroud her frame.

Y/N felt amazed after managing to get to the store fairly easily, she picked up some plain black pumps and paid for them with cash, pocketing the receipt to make sure Neil would reimburse her. That took less than fifteen minutes. There were still over two hours until she needed to be back at the house and she needed to make the most of any freedom from her father.

She was her mother's daughter and the opposite of Susan Mayfield-Hargrove; if someone showed themselves as a thorn and not the rose they seemed to be, they were a thorn. She could accept it and move on, which is difficult when they own the house she calls home. Her step mother was a fixer, finding wilted petals and taping them up against the thorn to appear more sightly. If Neil was the thorn, Y/N the rose, then Susan was a daisy in a field where she didn’t belong.

The younger Hargrove twin decided to explore her new home, driving around cul-de-sacs and roads which mirrored one another. After a while of aimless driving, Y/N parked up at the side of a quiet road, seeming to back onto a rich neighbourhood. She locked the muscle car, Ellie, and began walking on the edge of the road.

"Stay put, El." She whispered to herself, echoing her mother's voice. Meredith Hargrove always swore her car changed parking spaces whenever they went somewhere together.

Y/N couldn't imagine having so much space, no family was big enough to make use of it all. Her feet brought her into the small forest area, passing a few more eccentric gardens before finding one which intrigued her. The lights were all off, moonlight bouncing off the unmoving water in the centre of the garden.

Swimming had always been something the Hargrove girl not only loved but turned to in uncertainty. Billy would surf alongside her a long time ago, but he hadn't for years now. Her eyes danced around each room, unable to see any kind of life within the mansion. Against Y/N’s better judgement, she left the tall trees and let her toes edge onto someone's private property.

It seems a shame not to.

Fallen leaves stopped crunching under her brown boots as they found concrete slabs. The family must have employed a cleaner and gardener as nothing seemed out of place or dirty. The water was clear and not a single leaf or bug lay on its surface. Crouching down, her fingers drifted along the water, creating a small ripple, confirming her suspicions of how cold it would be.

She didn't care, stripping down into her underwear in the cool autumnal winds, anyone would've thought she was a crazy person. Y/N ignored the small ladder next to her and gracefully dived into the pool, swimming down to the bottom until she needed to come back up for air. The blonde lay on her back, staring up at the stars wondering what her friends were doing on the other side of America. Probably at Sadie's getting high.

Y/N wasn't sure how much time had passed, her fingertips were now wrinkled but it didn't bother her. She was in her element, so much so she didn't register when the kitchen light turned on and alerted the homeowner of someone in their pool.

Steve's body was overcome with terror as he did a double, triple take out of the kitchen window at the figure in his garden. He only wanted some leftover lasagne. Grabbing his nail punctured bat, the home alone teenager unlocked the back door, and against his own better judgement, creeped towards the intruder.

As he came closer, he was thankful to find a girl than a demogorgan, a girl he certainly didn't recognise. Her blonde hair lay on top of the water like a halo as she floated in her own world.

"Hello?" He questioned, bat still firmly in hand, "Why the fuck are you naked in my pool?"

Y/N left her mini trance, flailing in the water as her eyes found a teenage boy wielding an odd weapon, only a scream leaving her lips in response.

part two?

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