#and it is clear they adore each other and fit together like two very odd puzzle pieces

[russell-crowe]

[src]

[harrysgoldenbum]

Don't Blame Me for Falling - Epilogue

I know there were quite a few of you who were looking forward to the epilogue for this series, and I just want to say thanks for your patience, I hope you enjoy it, please be sure to like, reblog, and send feedback. 

You can read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 here.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: none

~~~

Three weeks later

She hears the key turning in the lock a few minutes before eleven. She tucks her feet under her on his couch and tries to look casual, like she hasn’t been staring at the doorknob for the better part of the last half hour. 

Harry opens the door and chuckles softly when he sees her sitting there. “Thought I might find you here.”

She gives him a look of mock indignance. “You thought! What about this text I got not too long ago.” Y/N grabs her phone off his coffee table and clears her throat, preparing to read his message in her sexist voice. “Use your key. I need you naked and waiting for me.” 

She watches him as he sheds his suit jacket and loosens his tie as his eyes sweep over her, a dangerous spark gleaming in his enchanting green eyes. “Two out of the three isn’t too bad, love.” Then his eyes cut to the coffee table and his face breaks into a smile. “You are too fucking good to me.” 

“I’m sure your dinner with that Bonbon chick was much classier than pizza and wine, but the portions at that swanky restaurant suck, and I figured you might be hungry.”

“Candy,” Harry laughs. “Her name was Candy.”

“And I know they don’t serve popcorn and Junior Mints at the symphony…”

He shakes his head at her and untucks his stiff white dress shirt from his pants. “Y/N, I’d rather eat pizza and wine and watch movies with you, over some overpriced seafood, and a symphony any day.” His fingers work the buttons through the holes of his shirt until he shrugs it off his shoulders. Her eyes take in his ink-covered skin, and a shudder travels through her body. God, he is glorious. She wets her lips as she greedily takes in his abs and soft hips. She wants to kiss her way down his butterfly and lick her way down his fern tattoo until she reaches his cock. 

“See, this is why I waited to fulfill the second part of your request.” She rises from the couch and saunters toward him, the silky material of her robe brushes her thighs as she walks. “I figured we could just get naked together… unless you’re hungry.”

“I’m hungry,” he agrees, tangling his fingers in the knot of her robe. He growls impatiently when he finds it double-knotted. “I’ve been famished for you all night.”

“I hope you made it clear to Cherry that you had a girlfriend…” she deftly whips his belt out from the loops, once she’s unbuckled it. 

He snorts softly. “You’re jealousy is actually quite adorable, darling. But yes, I told her upfront that while I was flattered she spent so generously, just for an evening with me, I was completely unavailable, and my beautiful girlfriend would be waiting for me when I got home. 

“Hmmm… someone was confident.” Y/N coyly toys with his zipper, dragging it down slowly, before he assists her in stepping out of his pants. Neither one of them says what they are thinking; that she’s spent virtually every night in his apartment since the night of the auction. The odds that she’d have wound up there tonight, with or without his text invitation, were all but certain. 

As it was in Mexico, they’re just so at ease with each other. Given how intense the start of their very unconventional courtship was, it seems only fitting that they’ve fallen into pseudo-domestic bliss so soon. Just yesterday, he had given her a key to his place and told her to feel free to let herself in any time, especially if she needs to crash between classes or clinic work. 

Harry finally gets her knot undone, and he smirks triumphantly when he parts her robe. She gives a subtle lift of her shoulders, and it falls to the floor. Her nipples tighten and a chill runs through her as she stands fully nude before him. 

“Fuck me, you’re perfect. C’mere.”

She holds up her hand and runs her tongue across her lower lip. “Not yet. You need to finish getting naked.”

He pouts at her, and she has to laugh because if he finds jealous Y/N adorable, she finds pouty Harry equally cute. As he reaches for the waistband of his briefs, her eyes wander to the outline of his cock, and she can see that he is already semi-erect. 

“Oh, wait… I forgot. I have a present for you.”

She makes a face at him. “You gave me a present yesterday… the key, the one used to get in here tonight?”

“That was a necessity. This is complete indulgence.” She unabashedly watches his ass, hugged by the cotton-spandex of his underwear, as he fishes something out of the inner breast pocket of his jacket. He walks back to her and hands her the envelop. She turns it over in her hands, excitement coursing through her. “Thank you for letting me out with another woman tonight.”

She snickers, “Like I had a choice.”

“You trustes me, Y/N. Obligation or not, you can’t know how important that is to me. Having trust…” he trails off and briefly adverts his eyes, looking down at his hands. “Go on.”

She stares down at the bed-and-breakfast brochure, her heart swelling as she studies the photos of the picturesque inn and the bucolic setting. “Its perfect Harry,” she whispers, throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her naked body against his nearly naked one. 

He hugs her strongly, carding his fingers through her hair. She whimpers softly when he starts massaging her scalp. 

“Mmm… there’s one of those little noises I like… ‘the playing with your hair’ one.”

She nuzzles his neck and bucks her hips against the bulge in his briefs. “You’ll get to hear a lot more of my noises, if you’ll just get naked and fuck me already.”

He reaches between them, works his underwear down his legs, and nudges it aside with his foot. He wedges one leg between her and they stumble over to the couch. “Have I told you today how much I want you?” he asks, stretching his body out along hers. She arches up, pressing her breast flat against his chest.

“You might have,” she whispers, suckling at his pulse point. 

“Hmm... well have I told you today how much I love you?” 

She freezes, her mouth still suctioned over his skin. She drops her head back down and gazes up at him, too stunned to speak. He smiles, brushing his fingers along her forehead, smoothing her hair out of the way. 

“Because I do… I love you Y/N…”

She sighs, her face stretching into a giddy smile. “I love you too, Harry. So much.” He presses her down into the couch cushions, kissing her passionately. “And you’re about to hear some new noises, just so you know…”

----

10 years later

“You hold tight to Kale, and I’ll hold tight to you, okay?”

She nods, her green eyes wide, and clutches her raggedy stuffed elephant closer to her chest. Harry leans down and scoops her into his arms, effortlessly.

“Now you-.” He turns his attention to Y/N. “You give me that bag.” 

“Harry, no, I can manage. Everything else is check. I’m not carrying anything.”

“Bull-” He catches himself and stops, cutting his eye apologetically to their daughter in his arms. “You’re carrying the most precious cargo of all.” He curves his palm over Y/N’s slightly bulging belly. “Now stop arguing with me and give me that bag.”

She signs and helps him hitch the carry-on bag onto his free shoulder. Then she reaches up and smooths their daughters dark curls back from her face. 

“You excited for your first plane ride?”

The big green eyes, so like Harry’s, shine as she nods. Y/N laughs and follows him down the jayway, smiling as she watches her little girl and her husband. The spindly little arms wound around Harry’s neck have lost all residual baby chubbiness, now that she’s a big girl of almost five. He talks to her, his voice animated, and Y/N hears him explaining all the things that are going to happen when the plane takes off. 

“...And if your ears start to hurt, you just open your mouth and yawn a few times.”

“What if I’m not tired?”

Harry chuckles. “You don’t have to be tired to yawn. I’ll show you.” He opens his mouth wide and a second later his eyes are squinching shut and he yawn exaggeratedly.

The flight attendant standing at the door welcomes then aboard, and she makes a big fuss over Kale that elephant. Y/N smiles as their daughter’s eyes light up and she starts babbling about how this is Kale’s first plane ride too, and how she’s had Kale her whole life, and how it was a present from her Auntie Gemma, who they are meeting in California, and that’s where she’s going, and she’s going to see Disneyland with her cousins…

“Hey angel, did Daddy ever tell you that he and Mummy met on a plane?” Harry interjects, exchanging an amused glance with Y/N. She shakes her head at him. She knows the flight attendant would have continued to humor their little girl, but her chattiness does need to have limits sometimes. 

“Really?” she squeals. 

Harry nods. “Yep. Right over there.” he uses his brow to gesture to the fifteenth row of seats. 

“Right there?”

“Well, not right there,” Y/N corrects. It was a different plane, honey.” 

“I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen… until you were born, of course.” he wiggles his eyebrows at Y/N and she playfully rolls her eyes at him. 

“Mummy is the prettiest,” their daughter, concurs, her expression serious. 

“Yes, she is.” He cranes his neck over his shoulder and presses a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “And here we are, 19 A, B, and C.” 

He holds her in his lap as he lets her peer out the window, and she shows her how the little window shade lowers. She pouts when Harry insists that she has to sit between him and Y/N. They both get her settled in the middle seat, fastening and adjusting the seat belt, and Y/N helps her secure the oversized headphones on her ears so that she can watch her shows on the iPad. 

Harry leans over the little head, now thoroughly preoccupied, and he signals Y/N to come closer. She shifts in her seat and he kisses her, resting their foreheads against each other’s. 

“I think this is the first flight we’re taking together since that very first one where I’m not punching your mile-high membership card, my love.”

“Harry!” Y/N blushes, stealing a quick glimpse at their daughter. They both pause for a moment, and Y/N can hear the soft, melodic voice singing along to the show on the iPad.

“Like mother, like daughter.” Harry smiles. He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know its technically his first plane ride too.” 

Y/N rubs her belly gently. “You’re so sure that this one’s a boy, aren’t you?” She’s just over three months along, and while they might be able to find out the gender at her next appointment, she and Harry agreed that like last time, they want to be surprised again. 

“That I am. And I was right last time, was I not?” He tips her chin toward him for an other kiss. She strokes his cheek tenderly, gazing into his eyes. She never tires of looking at this beautiful man - her husband, the father of her children. He only gets better with age. 

When the flight attendant begins the safety demonstration and preparations are made for takeoff, she settles back into her seat, hands on her belly, marveling in how one chance encounter ten years ago could lead to all of this. 

~fin~

masterlist // come talk to me

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[blazernot]

The Magnus Archives Season 4

Okay so i like just finished the finale so my thoughts are very scattered but bear with me

John, my beloved, was trying so hard this season. But sadly he was stuck in a basement full of women that hated him. He tries but he's also a massive hypocrite. "We need to communicate" oh that's rich coming from you. He just kept making stupid decisions and never thought anything through. He is a disaster but it's very entertaining and I love him.

I of course love all the girlies. My favorite was definitely Daisy, if you've been following my liveblogs it's kinda obvious. But everyone else was also great. I love super spy Bashira. I feel really bad for Melanie choosing to blind herself but I also completely understand her decision. I hope her and Georgie can have peace, somehow.

Martin!! It was so weird seeing him be like the main thing this season. It made sense though since he always was the guy in the backround so it was nice to have him be center stage. It's also so sad that that's what tipped him off to the plan, he's not some chosen on hero. The lonely is honestly really fitting sadly. It was also so strange to watch him bite back at times and push John away, I'll get back to this later.

Peter is so entertaining, I mean Elias was as well but Peter with his "Grubby Jesus" and "Pet Murderer" stole my heart. They really are just a bickering divorced couple. Their fight in the tunnels was peak custody battle energy with Martin just awkwardly in the corner.

I love monster John, it's so eerie. Like that one lady and her encounter was so, eheheh, like I didn't want to believe John would do that, but of course he would. Everyone being scared of him, especially since last season John declared that he would trust them and be better, but I also don't blame them.

I did not believe that the Daisy rescue would work- but gosh I'm happy it did. I adore her. She's probably dead now after the finale but I have to hope. That whole thing was tense, but now they are the dirt duo and friends because who else is there to be friends with. They listen to bad radio shows its great.

OKAY SO- back in season one I thought stuff like "Oh the fandom totally ships John and Martin even though they hate each other" because that's what fandom does and that's a very popular dynamic. And I thought it would just stay like that?? Like it would be meek Martin and annoyed John and that would be their permanent dynamic. Looking back that was a stupid assumption but I'm used to ships like that going nowhere. But NO and oh my gosh I didn't think about John and Martin's relationship this much until this season. It was the pining the "I'm doing this for you" "I miss you" "I'm here if you need me" the distance that made it so clear that you're the only person that could get me, Martin defending John when he talked to Georgie. John wanting the two of them to gouge their eyes out and escape together. Then- THEN the finale where John once again saved someone he loved from impossible odds. And like, they're canon right? Like they openly love each other? They stayed in a hideout together for weeks and Martin tells him about cows he sees on his walks. Like what else could you want. I'm certain the fandom went mental

I'm also certain they went mental over the finale, like I currently am. I want, no, need Elias dead. I did not expect him to be the finale boss. Like what. I was wondering what a beholding ritual would even do or be, but I guess I got some kind of answer.

But seriously I hate Elias- Tim died for NOTHING. Tim died for literally no reason. So much of this could've been stopped but no. Brilliant plan though, like as it was being read off I was speakless. Like I am shook to the core, Yonah and Eli can testify they saw me go mental on discord. I kept expecting Martin to walk back in just on time to stop everything but no. And now we're screwed and I have no idea how this series will end but it'll be with a bang that's for sure

[tsaritza-mika]

Hey, if you’re taking HC requests, how about an MC who loves horse riding and somehow gains a foal as their familiar after the prologue ?

I can~ ^--^

The Main 6 with an MC w/ Foal Familiar

Asra 

Immediately brings out all of the hair decoration things. Ribbons, beads, chains, charms, and a few fun hair pigments. That mane and tail is gonna be the most chaotic mix of odds and ends, but in all the best ways

Is so into this sweet little creature and how it just fits you so well

Only gave maybe about a half a second to thinking about how to keep it properly, then he heard just the cutest little whinny and it was right back to admiring them.

Yes, he totally bought some animal safe chalks and has drawn psychedelic MLP cutey designs on their haunch. Yes, he has also done a new one every day, and no, he will not apologize for art

Journeys are gonna be a breeze now that you have this adorable little guy! If they’re cool with it, they can help carry souvenirs from wherever you two travel. Oh yeah, and you can ride them later too!

Is just so happy and proud that you finally found a familiar to match your passion for riding, and that you can now have the same joy he feels with Faust

Nadia

You’ve always spoken of your love for riding, and while she had been planning to gift you a horse of your own, having discovered that one was your familiar is not only better, but now she doesn’t have to hope you’d like her choice to gift you

Honestly, some of your best dates and closest moments have been via horseback, and now with this little one, there’s sure to be more in the future

Blankets from her native Prakra to keep them warm, a comfortable stable to house them, and your own small team of people to help look after them as they grow

Of course after they’ve grown some, it’s only the best instruction to help them get stronger and even more stunning

When they’ve grown, the two of you go riding a lot more. Whether it’s just to get away for a while, or because they need their exercise, there’s nothing quite like the wind in your hair on a clear day to feel free 

Her heart nearly melted when she found you sleeping with your familiar after a long day, in the stable she gave to you. You both looked so peaceful and happy, and to know she had a hand in that, lets her be happy too

Julian

Well that’s just fascinating... How exactly does this whole familiar thing work anyway? Is it based around favorite creatures in general, or perhaps the patron in question? Or is there some deeper meaning to all of this?

Still very happy for you, as now your familiar can enjoy your time together even more when they’re old enough for you to ride

Traveling will be a lot less complicated, since now you’ll have your own horse! 

Gets along with it fairly well; he’s been around his fair share of horses and foals in his travels, so he’s excited to ride with you in the future

Instantly goes into mental logistics mode trying to figure out how to help you take proper care of it. It’s not like the clinic or the shop have enough room to house it, but he definitely wants to make sure you two stay near each other. And how much does it cost to feed it on a weekly/monthly basis?

His favorite thing is just how happy you two look together. To know that this spindly little foal is able to make you smile like that, it just makes him feel all fuzzy inside

Portia

Adorable, absolutely the best in every way! ...also keeps giggling whenever the poor thing stumbles cause it reminds her of her brother when he was young XDDD

Surprises you by building a little fence around the back of the cottage so you can keep them safe and close by

Absolutely wants to find a way to get Pepi to ride them!! I mean, can you imagine a more majestic looking scene!? And Pepi needs a hat!! They can both have hats!!

Braid party~!! Everyone is braiding everyone’s hair!! ...well, Pepi is supervising, but she’s the best supervisor, so it’s all good

The best at helping you take care of them. She loves nothing more than to help you brush them after a long day; it’s like brushing away all the stress and leaving a shiny, happy coat when you’re done

She could honestly talk riding and horses with you for hours. The way your face lights up, the twinkle you get in your eye, and just... you get so much more life in you when you talk about your passions, and she loves basking in that energy

Muriel

So chill when you bring the foal back to the hut. Before you even mention that it’s your familiar, he just starts building a little shelter for it nearby

Honestly just builds anything and everything you may need to help take care of it. Need a trough? Done. A chest to hold all of the brushes, tools, etc. to care for it? It’s in the corner

Muriel is honestly an undiscovered Disney princess, cause all the animals, even your new familiar, just fuckin’ love him without question.

He gets this cute little smirk on his face when the foal plays with Inanna right outside the hut. Just watching them run around and have some fun, and the fact that they’re such different species but are putting that aside, he just finds it beautiful

Surprises you by hand-making a saddle when your foal gets big enough. Also made sure to stain some of the leather to add some color, and press in some designs and a few metal studs for accent

So happy for you that you have a special connection with an animal friend like he has with Inanna. You’re important to him, and even if he’s never had a connection with many people, he really doesn’t know what he’d have done if he didn’t have Inanna

Lucio 

OMG YES!! IT’S SO FREAKIN’ CUTE!! WHAT’S ITS NAME!? DOES IT HAVE ONE YET!? HE CAN HELP IF YOU NEED HIM TO!!

The best thing is how stupid excited he got when he realized that M&M and the foal were about the same size. He kept asking you if you knew for like a whole week, and it would have been annoying if it wasn’t so damn sweet

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely get them a pair of golden horseshoes

Nothing but the best for them, just like he does for you. He makes sure the best people he can find are hired to help you take care of them, and when traveling on the road, you have the most comfortable blankets, brushes, combs, feed, everything

He’s never really understood the whole... familiar thing, but he does get the feeling of bonding with animals, and since it’s not only adorable, but also a passion of yours, that just makes things even better!

He might not understand all of it, but he could honestly listen to you talk about your love of riding and horse knowledge for hours. Not much out there makes him feel calm, but watching you care for your foal, talking about caring for them and why, it just makes him feel so happy

[writewhatyouwanttoread]

Fic Idea: 3

I truly adore the idea of a First Words soulmate au (the first words your soulmate says to you are inked on your skin) where Endeavor burns Shoto's words to shit when he's a baby so he doesn't know what they are. I'm also imagining that all words appear over the heart. But anyway Shoto can see that it clearly used to be a huge block of text because the dark part that used to make up the black words is still present, just burned to shit and very blurry because Endeavor MELTED his baby's skin with his hand. (You bet your ass Rei was PISSED). So Shoto knows that whoever his soulmate is says a LOT of things to him before Shoto gets the chance to respond

Shoto had probably decided that the only way he could tell if someone was his soulmate was to not speak first and then say something odd. So knowing this and wanting nothing more than to connect with this person who's meant for him so he can finally have something to look forward to in life, he comes up with the five most disconnected words in existence and whenever someone rambles at him upon meeting him, he says those five words (imagine like: frog, ashtray, lollipop, sailboat, molecule. This galaxy brained fool.)

Cut to UA. He's first meeting Izuku and our curly haired nerd goes on rambling about how cool Shoto's quirk is, fire AND ice, like holy wow, the things Shoto could do with THAT. Oh BOY does Izuku have ideas and QUESTIONS oh my he just wants to sit Shoto down and pick his brain. And after saying all of this and then getting a little bashful because he realized he was like rambming/muttering at Shoto, Shoto responds with, "Frog, ashtray, lollipop, sailboat, molecule," and promptly breaks Izuku's brain 😆 who's THRILLED to meet his soulmate

They have a cute little exchange that they cut short cause there are other people around and promise to meet up after school.

When they meet up after school Shoto and Izuku both want to see each other's words. Shoto kind of angrily explains about Endeavor burning his words but then Izuku is like, how'd you know to say the thing then? (Cause he'd seen him talk to other people and he'd never heard him say THAT). So Shoto shows him the scar so Izuku can see exactly how much real estate used to be taken up by black skin and explains that he knew that whoever his soulmate was, was going to say a lot of things to him when he first met them so he'd decided not to speak to anyone new first and to have a "code" of sorts to respond with so he knows if they were really his soulmate (this is something a lot of kids try and do but eventually grow out of because it's a pain in the ass so it isn't very common for people to actually choose to or remember to stick with it.) And Izuku is a little embarrassed but also kind of delighted by how smart Shoto is and how determined he was to figure out who Izuku was.

Now it's important to know that if I can fit the three of them together in an idea I ABSOLUTELY WILL.

So.

This is where Shoto asks to see Izuku's words to verify that they're really soulmates.

And this is where Izuku gets really shy and nervous.

Because he has two sets of words and he has no idea is Shoto ALSO has two sets because Shoto’s FATHER pro fucking hero ENDEAVOR melted his child's fucking chest. So he gets all bashful and decides that he really just had to explain.

So he does and then he pounds his shirt up for Shoto and tugs down the band that people traditionally use to keep their words covered while changing in group settings.

There are Shoto's words clear as day.

And just underneath that is, "My name isn't KACCHAN it's KATSUKI! Get it right!"

And Shoto is kind of floored.

Can't imagine that he personally had two soulmates, much less that Bakugou is one of them.

Nonetheless though, the next time he sees Bakugou alone (who he hasn't spoken to yet) he says his list of unrelated words.

And watched in pure surprise and shock as Katsuki's face goes completely blank before he scowls and yells, "You're the fucking reason that stupid shit's on my chest?!"

Cue Shoto, Katsuki, and Izuku figuring their way around a very messy and new relationship and bonding over their mutual hatred of Endeavor

[fruitcoops]

After the wedding, coops plays the newly wed game and Marlene is just like 😍😍

The newlywed game is so cute and Neil Patrick Harris did one with his husband a few years ago that is just adorable. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Welcome back, Lions!” Marlene said with a broad smile. “After a brief summertime hiatus, we’re back with Captain Sirius Black and our brand-new winger, Remus Lupin. Do you guys want to tell the viewers why you’re here?”

“You threatened us,” Remus said.

“Also, we got married,” Sirius added, holding up his left hand.

“Oh, yeah, that too.”

Marlene rolled her eyes as they turned to her with matching grins. “You two are hopeless. You’re here today to play the newlywed game, which will test how well you know each other. I’ll be asking each of you eleven questions that the other person has already answered, and you get a point for each answer that matches. Does that make sense?”

Remus gave her a thumbs-up. “Crystal clear.”

“Loops, because you slandered my good name earlier, you’re going first. I hope your husband wins.”

“Oh, I will,” Sirius promised, kicking the leg of Remus’ chair lightly as he tapped his cue cards on his thighs. “Alright, first one: what did we do on our first date?”

“Pizza at Sid’s,” Remus answered.

Sirius held up a small posterboard with ‘pizza’ written on it. “Correct! What was the last thing we bickered about?”

Remus thought for a moment. “You answered these today, right?”

“Yeah, honey, we did this in adjacent rooms,” Sirius laughed.

“Right, sorry. In that case, it was parallel parking because there weren’t any spots outside the building.”

“Correct! If our love life was a candy bar, what would it be?”

Remus frowned. “What?”

“If our love life was a candy bar, what would it be?” Sirius repeated with a devilish smile. “What, you don’t know this one?”

“Shit, what would you say to this?” Remus muttered. “Um…hell, I don’t know, a Snickers?”

The smile slipped off Sirius’ face. “Are you kidding me?”

“Did I get it right?” Remus’ eyes widened when Sirius held up the posterboard with ‘Snickers’ scrawled across it, and pumped both fists in the air. “Ha! I don’t even care who wins now!”

“Good, because it’s going to be me. Next question: If I could describe you in one word, what would it be?”

“If you could describe me?” Remus exhaled slowly. “That’s tough. Uh, chatty?”

“What?” Sirius asked through his laughter. “Chatty?”

“It’s true!”

“I said ‘sweet’!” He showed the board to the camera and they both burst out laughing. “Jesus, who do you think I am? Just rolling up to Marlene like, ‘hey, did you know my husband talks a lot?’”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You’ve only made it through four questions,” Marlene informed them, clearly amused.

“What is your weirdest quirk?” Sirius read off the board.

Remus paused. “Like, what do I think my weirdest quirk is?”

“I think so. It threw me off at first, too.”

“This is not grammar correction hour,” Marlene called.

“I think my weirdest quirk is that I can’t end stairs on my left foot,” Remus said after a moment. “I’ll skip a step if I have to.”

Sirius hummed. “I didn’t even think of that one.”

“What did you put?”

“Pre-game superstitions.”

“Hypocrite,” Remus said with a grin.

“Perhaps. Who is my celebrity crush?”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you want me to tell them?”

“It’s not that weird!”

“Freddie Mercury.”

“That is a little odd,” Marlene agreed when he showed the board.

Sirius looked between them in disbelief. “Why?”

Marlene snorted. “Because the person you married is basically the exact opposite.”

“There’s a difference between thinking someone’s hot and wanting to marry them.”

Remus pouted slightly. “You don’t think I’m hot?”

“Oh my god,” Sirius groaned. “Next question. What is my favorite book?”

“The Hobbit.”

“Nope.”

“Three Musketeers?”

“Nope.”

“Winnie the Pooh?”

“What the fuck?” Sirius laughed. “It’s To Kill A Mockingbird. Marlene, can I skip the next one?”

Remus leaned closer. “Well, now I’m curious.”

“Which of us would win at Trivial Pursuit?”

“Oh, baby, I would wipe the floor with you.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I know. If I needed a lift at 3 am, who would I call?”

“James.”

“Yep. What is my silliest fear?” There was a brief pause. “Really? I thought this was one of the easier ones.”

“There are several to choose from,” Remus mused. “But I think you would say your silliest fear is dishsoap bubbles.”

Sirius held the final board up. “Unfortunately, you’re correct. They’re all slimy and gross. Last question: what is our favorite activity to do together?”

A smile twitched at Remus’ lips for half a second before he regained his poker face. “I would say hockey, but I think it’s actually road trips.”

“Incorrect,” Sirius said smugly.

“We literally had this conversation two days ago. What did you put down?”

He flipped the board around. “Movie night. You’re not entirely wrong about road trips, but bonus points helped you win last time, so I’m never doing that again.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Remus waved him off, as if he wasn’t having the time of his life. “Okay, number one: who is the better driver?”

“Me,” Sirius said without hesitation.

“Indeed. What did I wear on our first date?”

Sirius bit his lip in concentration. “You wore jeans and a sweater. Your green one, right?”

Remus glanced to the camera, clearly stunned, then held up his board. “Yeah, you nailed it.”

They high-fived and Sirius leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You thought you were so smart with that Snickers answer, huh? I know things, sweetheart!”

“Who is the tidiest?” Remus continued with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Me, but you clean more often.”

“True. Who is the funniest?”

“You.” Remus shook his head and Sirius gave him an offended look. “You’re way funnier than I am!”

“We’re funny in different ways,” Remus conceded. “You make really good puns, but I’m just sarcastic and people think I’m kidding. Who does the most cooking?”

“You, for sure.”

“Marley, these questions are too easy. You’re rigging the game against me.” Remus shot her a teasing glare as he set the used boards on the ground. “What is my ideal date?”

“Going to the bookstore and staying there for at least four hours.”

“I don’t know about four hours—”

“Re, I love you, but that is exactly what we did last weekend.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded. “Fair. What is my favorite junk food?”

“You are an Oreo hound. We have, what, three boxes stashed in the house right now?”

“Five,” Remus muttered.

Sirius’ jaw went a little slack. “Where? I only saw three in the pantry.”

“I’m not telling you, you’ll steal them!”

He turned to Marlene with a disbelieving look and she shrugged. “Hey, I’m just here to moderate. This is reality tv for me.”

“If I was a Disney princess, who would I be?” Remus asked before things could devolve further.

“Belle, obviously.”

“Hell yeah. What do I think your best feature is?”

“Again with the wording,” Sirius sighed. “Hmm. You’re always messing with my hair.”

“It is very soft,” Remus agreed. “But that’s the wrong answer. I think you have the prettiest eyes.”

His cheeks went pink. “Really?”

“Babe, I’ve told you this a million times,” Remus laughed.

“Still.”

He shook his head and moved on to the next question. “Which of us has the worst handwriting?”

Sirius frowned. “Neither of us has bad handwriting.”

“Which one is worse than the other?” Marlene clarified.

“You, maybe?” he guessed. “I really like your handwriting, though.”

“Yeah, I put myself for that one. It’s kind of a weird half-cursive with a bunch of loops. Which is fitting, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Ready for the last one? You’re totally going to get this.”

“Don’t jinx me.”

“What was our last date, and when?”

“Last Thursday,” Sirius said. “We got takeout and watched The Princess and the Frog.”

“Did you sing along?” Marlene asked.

“Of course we did,” Remus said with a playful scoff. “Alright, who won?”

Behind the camera, Dorcas cleared her throat. “Remus, you got seven out of eleven correct, and Sirius, you scored a grand total of…nine.”

Sirius whipped back around to face him. “I told you I would win!”

“I’m crushed,” Remus said drily, though he couldn’t keep down his smile. “Oh, no, my husband knows me too well!”

“Did you guys have fun?” Marlene asked.

“We always do.” Sirius slid the boards across the floor to her before looking up to the camera. “Thanks for joining us today to see my victory at last, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe to Lion Pride for more content like this.”

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Judgement

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | seven

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Things have changed, things have stayed the same.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: e m o (i can't stress this enough), illusions to mental health issues (?), emo, mature themes and language, EMO, family-trauma related angst, emo

Notes: I wanted to completely cut Din's perspective out of this chapter to emphasize the reader's pov. Hopefully it tracks? Big lovey-dovey shout out to @pedros-mustache for bonking me in the head with a proverbial pool noodle. ily friends. Be kind to yourself. Cheers x (gif credit: @bestintheparsec)

This is fine. You’re fine.

You’re okay with this.

You’re okay with this.

You’re okay

You’re

You think, perhaps, the sting is made worse by the normalcy of it all.

You think, perhaps, that this stabbing—this splinter in your gut, prodding prodding prodding—would not be so sharp if it were different between you—if things were different; if it were clumsy and cumbersome and mauled. Ruined.

But it isn’t; it’s the same. You and Din and his boy, his adi’ka—it’s ordinary. Evergreen.

You suppose you should be grateful—grateful your dynamic hasn’t shifted, hasn’t sullied any. Grateful you still have your Mandalorian piloting you home. Grateful you have his foundling to keep you company, to keep you preoccupied.

But you feel false.

It’s as if you slipped into an alternate reality—one where you and Din touched each other, held each other; one where he buried his frustration to the hilt in your womb and you moaned his name like your tongue was formed for it—and then were snapped back to this one here—this nothing, this void—without anyone taking note of your absence. Because your routines—those domestic tableaus—remain unchanged. They are well-oiled and operate regardless— undeterred, succinct.

The days start the same.

You set aside a warm bowl of fruit and porridge, steam rising to greet him as it fans over his helm. Good morning.

Exiting the fresher, you find the dishes washed and dried—the towel folded neatly into a square beside them. Good morning.

You return the bowls to their shelf, nestling them right next to your unfulfilled expectations and embarrassing desires—butted against your silly, silly heart.

“Anything good?” he asks one night, passing through the galley as you thumb through the news on your holopad

You nearly choke on it—your throat closing up tight around the casual banality of the question. Because that’s what you two share now: you have things. You have quips and lines and normal and none of that disappeared after you’d made each other unravel not four paces away, pressed there against that wall—the wall that stands there even now, a tall and mocking reminder.

You wonder, if you sealed your ear to the bulkhead, could you still hear yourself? The symphonic reverb—your girlish pants, Din’s hoarse rasps— trapped there in the seams of the steel siding like the grooves of a record, to be played and played again.

“Never,” you say, like you’ve always said, and do your best to flash him a grin—the one you’ve worn before, the one, perhaps, you hope he likes. The one where you go dimpled and dove-like.

And then he makes for the cockpit and you are left

without.

The afternoons stretch familiar, too.

Din flies the ship and you watch the child—steering him clear of disasters and shenanigans the best you can. He tugs gentle at your hair; you nip at his little hand until he’s dissolved to giggles—the same the same the same, all of these acquainted patterns continuing to revolve on. Din lands and prepares for his hunt—banging around the belly of the ship, gathering weapons and ammunition and rations—and your eyes skitter along after him, following his hulking figure as he steps past where you and Munch are seated, heading towards the mouth of the Crest.

Din.

You’re half afraid of what it will sound like now— what it will feel like, bruised and jagged in your mouth. Like it doesn’t belong there, like it has no right laying claim to your tongue.

“Din,” you call hurriedly to the span of his broad back as he leaves the ship, your spine straightening out of the chair. You say it; you speak his name and to your surprise find it is none of those things—none of those ugly fears, none of those roughened gums. It’s worse.

Because scarier still, it comes out cotton soft; it comes out comfortable and true. It tastes like home maybe — like a version of home where people could come and go and laugh and not be frightened. Where they could hold little children in their arms and sleep and breathe and be and say I am here with you. Here we are. How special. I have chosen this. I have made this with you.

Din.

His shoulders tense and his feet stop short, just before the apex of the ramp. He turns to you, slow. Controlled.

“Good hunting.”

Din looks at you, the heavy umber of his eyes settling on your own, and he freezes—stock-still, his blood and muscles and bone thickened to paste, rendering him motionless. His dark gaze scans over you—the wisps of hair dancing around your face, the sag of your shirt lolling from your shoulder, his son in your lap. You bounce Munch on your knee and he gurgles out a quieted hum, glancing between his surrogate parent and you.

“Thank you,” Din replies, stilted, and you think you discern a subtle scrape of his modulator; you think you sense his lips part, pained and breathy, the cusp of another thought—of more, anything more— corralled by his sense of duty, hampered by the armor that plates him.

You untangle the boy’s claws from your hair and slip your fingers around his wrist, waving his green hand in a delicate to and fro.

Goodbye, it says. We’ll be right here when you get back.

He stays. For another glimmer of a millisecond he remains, sunlight pouring in through the opening of the Crest—shining off his beskar, off the gunmetal grey covering his body—focus trained on you both—before he pivots, cape whipping behind him as Din vanishes like he does without fail—away. Away.

To vapors.

Three days of this—three miserable days. Seventy-two suffocatingly mundane hours.

You figured this would be easy. You figured it could be as painless as you chose to make it. You were two consenting adults, after all—you both had needs, and you both met them—and you thought that this would be simple.

What you failed to take into consideration however, is that Din Djarin is anything but a simple man.

Because he is all these things, paradigms and paradoxes, coiled into one very tightly wound warrior—a warrior who can dismember a blaster just as effectively as he can sop up baby vomit from his foundling’s brown robes—one handed, no less. In flight. Din is all sharp edges and smooth silver, he’s cold and calculating and roguish and endearing and you can’t grapple with the dichotomy of him—with all these mismatched pieces at odds with themselves that somehow fit perfectly, inexplicably together.

You were naïve to assume you could go back—as if you could unremember the shape of his fingers as they filled you; as if you could make yourself forget how needy he bowed against you, how hot and thick his cock rested in your palm when he pitched his hips and released his desperation in white streaks along your skin.

And when your mind isn’t wholly consumed—smothered with the crushed velvet sin of that time-capsuled memory—it’s tortured in other ways, with crueler techniques. Pointed. Specified.

You watch him. You wish you could look away, but there isn't anywhere else to look. There isn’t a corner you can escape to, nor an inch of the Crest that isn’t him—isn’t an emblem of him, isn’t an extension of his personage.

You see him - day in, day out - interact with the child and Maker, it’s so precious and he’s so damn good. Two arms, cradling Munch snug to his chest—you know their strength now, you know their weight—and you observe as Din holds this boy with the same hands that unmade you—that molded you like clay and parted your wet heat. You see this man—so stoic, so reserved—dote on his child in a way that you never were, and bit by bit, it breaks you.

You caught them napping together once, compressed in that dingy of an alcove by the refresher. Your feet halted in their tracks at the sight and you held your breath—he’s a light sleeper, you didn’t dare wake them—Din’s helmet nodded to his chest and the kid, open-mouthed and adorable, nestled into the crook of his arm.

It made you want to sing. It made you want to cry.

You had to pry your boots from the floor and force yourself to move, to scram. You had to be anywhere else but there, ogling like a spectator at a zoo, nose smushed against the glass, watching the last of some great species simply be as nature intended—calm, drowsy, at peace.

You busied yourself then, scuttling preoccupied about the Crest but the image never evaporated, it never faded—it dogged you, tacking itself onto your psyche: the picture of him there, Din and his boy, holding on to one another like anchors while they slept, and you can't resist drawing the question.

Is that what it’s supposed to look like, to feel like—a father’s arms around your shoulders? Is that what safe looks like? Is that what family is?

You wouldn’t know. You cannot recollect the glow of it—the memory of such an embrace—on your own skin, and isn’t that what makes it all so achingly befitting, so inevitable. As if the Moirai—those weird sisters—spun this string of fate tailored to your being and plucked it like a harp, curating a melody for you and you alone.

Because you see Din give what you never got, and it makes you want. You want him. You curse yourself for it, but fuck you want him—every sordid part of you is tugged and pulled in his direction. You want him, magnetically, you want him you want him you wa—

And Din is fine. A Mandalorian pillar, undisturbed. He is bedrock. This is the Way.

And while he withstands the weathering, you crumble beneath it. It's eroding you. Like tides crashing monotonous against a beaten shore, you are in granules—and these morsels, ever-fine, they nick you - gritting - sanding you raw, abrading you rugged.

You thought you could ignore them at first. They were but lace whispers behind your ear—muted and tickling and just far off enough to deflect. But with each passing moment those feathered words grew loud—rude and vocal and you couldn’t keep them out. Round and round, they wriggled into your most tender swathes of skin. Skipless. Poison.

He regrets it.

He didn’t want it.

He didn’t enjoy it.

He didn’t want me He doesn’t want me I’m not wanted

These thoughts, insistent and pervasive, they are sewn into the bed of your mind one ugly seed at a time. You water them. You don’t mean to, you don’t wish to cultivate these errs but you know they will fester and grow with or without you. So you tend them—watchful, you garden—and they push up through the soil, sprouting weeds, choking the dirt. Marring it fallow.

But you’re okay with this. You’re fine—look at you, you’re fine.

///

The planet of Jelucan is bustling.

It’s got a pulse of its own, energetic and thrumming; there’s an electric current charging the cool air. It’s alive. This place is alive. Towers and buildings are chiseled into the cliff faces of the mountains framing the city, reaching tall towards the pale blue sky overhead. The capital—Valentia, you learned—is almost offensively busy— far busier than any of the backwater territories you and Din had explored in the recent months. There’s so much noise, it’s cacophonous— speeders dodging pedestrians milling about the throughway, engines whirring and backfiring, merchants arguing, hawking foods and goods from their windowed shops and brightly colored stalls, politicians and well to-dos seemingly gliding above it all as the common rabble of varying species and origins mingle and mix.

You suppose it reminds you of Coruscant. You suppose that makes you nervous.

Because you’ve been holed up in his ship and flitting through the Outer Rim, seeing the stars and the moons and planets and there’s just so much life—everywhere, everywhere— this galaxy is chalked full of it; it’s spilling over the sides with it all. And Maker, these months have felt like an adventure; they’ve felt like a fantasy, like an escape. You’ve eloped, caught in the whirlwind romance of it all—shirking your duties, your career, absconding from your shitty, shoebox of an apartment back home.

But Valentia is all too quick to ground you, all too eager to remind you of that blissfully forgotten reality; it taps on its wristwatch, gutting you with a look:

your time, my dear, is up.

The cobbled pavement underfoot is stony and industrial, each step landing too hard, too hollow—like everyone can hear your chipped heart pounding through your boots—exposing you, coloring you a liar.

This is fine. You’re fine. You’re okay with this.

You’ve been telling yourself that—bargaining, pleading—attempting to manifest into fruition; speaking it to yourself like a chant in hopes it’ll stick—in hopes you’ll fall for the ruse.

But it’s as if each dulled footfall shakes the rust from your neglected truth, revealing all too plainly that no. No, you’re not. You aren’t.

You and Din do not walk in tandem—his gait is longer, and he’s a stride in front of you—but there isn't so much space between your bodies that his presence doesn’t distract you completely, doesn’t eat you up and make you fizz. Your gaze could latch anywhere in this packed, teeming city, and you would still see him. Still feel him—on the nape of your neck, in the wet pink of your cunt. Throbbing reminders of the man that has knotted himself so seamlessly into your world.

You shake your head, locks rustling— as if you could rock him loose from where he clings on to your mind— when you feel a spindled hand at the wing of your back. Startled, you spin towards the touch.

There’s a woman— she isn’t human, but judging by her general appearance she’s some species close to it. She’s old. Whittled. Her maroon eyes are clouded, her silvered hair swooped back into a low bun, wiry frizz haloing the crown of her head.

She’s petite, but it looks wrong— inorganic. Too knobby, she’s all elbows and boney angles where she shouldn’t be. It’s as if she’s shrinking, right there before you. Time, pressing her in— pressing her down.

She’s lived a life in the sun; she wears lines on her face, deep and haggard, and her skin is pulled taut around her skull like hide stretched over a tanning rack. She’s ancient, prehistoric.

She’ll probably outlive you all.

An alien language you don’t recognize comes spilling fast from her thin mouth. You can’t decipher the string of words rushing like river water, the current unstoppable, but you garner she’s insistent; there’s no misconstruing the earnest fervor in her voice. Something woolen is held tight in her grasp—a blanket, by the looks of it, intricate and pleated—and she’s handing it to you like her very existence depends on it.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, confusion evident on your brow, “I’m sorry I don’t—”

She continues speaking, urgent and desperate and pleading—gesticulating as she offers you the throw, the shiny golden thread needled into the patchwork winking in the afternoon sun. The child slung at your side chirps curiously, saucer-large eyes following the shimmer of the fabric.

“I’m sorry, it’s beautiful - really - but—”

You’re jobless and blowing through your savings at a blistering speed. You barely have two measly credits to rub together; getting supplies is tricky enough as is. Purchasing something as ornate and superfluous as a blanket was out of the question. Munch coos sadly, a twitter of his voice, and it ruptures your heart to say it, “I can’t afford something like this.”

The bell on the door to the adjacent shop grabs your attention, producing a Twi’lek as it opens. She’s younger, perhaps around your age, and her lilac lekku bob as she bounds over to you.

“Hi,” she breathes, lips pulling back to reveal a charming smile as she glances between you two. “Everything okay?”

Before you can get a word out the elder resumes chattering, incensed as she addresses the other store attendant—you think it might be Old Corellian, some archaic dialect you presumed died out eons ago, predating the Battle of Yavin by centuries.

Just how old is this woman?

There’s a hushed exchange between them—the Twi’lek’s attempt at the language proving stiff. Her cadence is clunky, nowhere near as smooth and lilted as the other woman’s, but they must come to some sort of a conclusion, because they face you—two sets of eyes, burrowing blinkless into yours. The girl takes a small half step towards you, speaking - blessedly - in Basic.

“The blanket. It’s for you. She wants you to have it,” she explains, “for the little one.”

A twitch notches your eyebrow, gaze flickering back to the older woman, something akin to a crinkled smile worn into the grooves of her wizened face. She nods, fervent and solemn—a seriousness set in the desperate way she bores into you, urging you to understand. To see.

More foreign utterances pass between them— the younger woman listening to her soft vowels and gritting consonants for a beat, before continuing to translate.

“She says, you have a beautiful family. It makes her—” the Twi’lek pauses, choosing her next words, “yearn for the past, to reclaim time.”

Family. A beautiful family. A beautiful—

You consider telling them.

You consider correcting her, informing these kind souls that you’re only temporary. A fleeting thing— like the seasons, autumn dying cold into winter— you’ll leave when the time comes. You consider telling them that that’s the arrangement you agreed to, and that you’ll be delivered back to Coruscant and deposited off at your doorstep with nothing but a cheap, portable cot and an unused blaster the bounty hunter had unfathomably given to you once upon a time. That they’ve mistaken you for someone else—someone important to Din and his foundling. Someone relevant. Someone permanent.

But, you don’t.

You don’t rectify their assumption. Your silence betrays you, confirming the lie, and you grant yourself to revel in it. Like slipping into silk sheets, you roll in the luxury of the imaginary sentiment— letting it swaddle you, comfort you, kiss your skin.

And just for a moment, maybe you allow yourself to believe that this is real: the three of you, a perfect band of misfits; entwined together, fated and star-crossed.

A family.

“She hopes you know that what you have is special. She says, she hopes you hold onto them—never let go. Never.”

Fuck.

Can they hear it? Can they hear the way parts of you fracture like slate and quake to the asphalt in shards? Can they see the shiver in your knees—how your nails dig into the rough tweed of the satchel hung long beside you?

You steal a trepid glance back at Din who has since stopped and stands idle in wait—there in the middle of the lane, a single stone splitting the sea of people passing through. He’s unreadable, his visor illegible. He appears statuesque, arms immobilized in plaster by his sides—inhuman under all that effacing steel as life moves in flurries, eddying around him.

The kid babbles, snapping your focus off the Mandalorian and returning it to the two women. They adorn their sincerity openly, as one would a badge, extending the blanket to you—you, a perfect stranger.

Shit. Tears prickle the wells of your eyes. There’s something lodged in your throat— a canary in a cage, batting violent against its bars. You attempt to swallow it down with an ugly gulp, but it provides no relief. This emotion you’ve leveed—your joy, your pain and embarrassment, your desire and need—it swells in you, threatening to slosh over. You blink it back, keeping it confined safely behind your lash line.

“I—thank you,” you manage, looking between them. Awed and humbled, you accept their offering, handling it with the care of something holy—something sacred—and drawing it to your chest. Immediately, Munch latches a claw into a drooping corner of the woven material, a happy hum sounding from his droll grin. “Thank you,” you murmur again, reverent and breathy, reversing away from them—refusing to drop their gaze until you must—before finally righting yourself and walking on.

You’re shaken. You’re shaking.

And it is on shaky feet that you meet Din some steps later, pausing once you arrive next to him. His helm shifts; you register the sweep of his eyes roving over you—the burn of them along your shoulders, sloping down to the blanket folded against your breasts, slipping lower to his adi’ka sitting in the satchel at your hip. He’s clutching at the new token, dipping the edge of it into his tiny mouth to teethe.

And then,

he lifts at the wrist, orange glove tips raising - reaching - towards you. Din takes the hem of the quilt between his fingers experimentally, massaging the feel of the fabric—his knuckles brushing the exposed skin of your arm, searing into your flesh like a hot iron, lingering there mesmerizingly.

It’s the first he's touched you. It’s the first he’s touched you since, since—

His hand drops, hinging back to his side.

“Ready?”

His modulated voice crackles indiscernible and your stomach leaps to your neck. Are you breathing? Kriff, you’re not sure. You have to check—deliberately drawing in a gust of chilled air, the rush burning your lungs as you suck it down. With a nod of your head, a placid smile glosses over the shudder of your features, dousing the singe of your nerves.

“Ready.”

///

You think about that old woman later that day, and the many days that follow, her visage marked with centuries and regret and history. Life, evident in the spider’s web of wrinkles engraving her. But there was love too, clearly wormed into the lines of her face. So much of it— almost too much for a galaxy this hard and war-torn. The things she’s possibly witnessed: the atrocities, the devastation, the loss.

The wisdom she has gained while all of those she’s ever known succumb to the inevitability of age, as her past decays around her. The knowledge she absorbs while she withers—while time does nothing but skip by. Blameless. Forever onward.

In your dreams that night, she appears in front of you like mist rising off a lake, astral and ephemeral— there, but not. Haunting you, inescapable wherever you fix your eye. The woman nods silently. She’s mouthing something to you, but the words never come.

You understand.

tags:

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @djarrex @djarinsbeskar @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled @bookishofalder @helmet-comes-off @grumpymuffinmama @niiight-dreamerrrr @spideysimpossiblegirl @janebby @greatcircle79 @gracie7209 @thatonedindjarinfan @altered-delta @email2ash @stevie75 @shegatsby @onebrownoneblue @sammysdaisy @uniquebiscuitmongerdonkey

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 20: Nattduksbord

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

This means something; Mulder can feel it.

This signifies a shift in their relationship; a step forward, from platonic partners to a romantic couple. It’s a shared experience that has the potential to change their dynamic forever. Years of trust, fighting together against a common enemy, seeking the truth… it could all come crashing down today, in a shopping mall in Woodbridge, Virginia.

They’re going to IKEA.

Summer is on the rise, and the humidity is close to stifling as they buckle into his car. Scully’s wearing a little striped t-shirt, capri pants, and sandals, revealing sky blue painted toes. For a disorienting moment Mulder wonders if he’s going to develop a foot fetish. Probably not, but Dana Scully could make even the most vanilla of men want to do crazy things.

“Do you have your shopping list?” Scully asks as he starts the car.

He pulls the folded scrap of paper out of the chest pocket of his white t-shirt. “Right here,” he replies, eyes darting over to her for one more look as he holds out the list.

She takes it, catching his eyes momentarily. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks.

I want to suck your toes. “You look nice today, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Scully can probably tell he’s desperate for her; she can read him like a dog-eared, yellowed paperback. He’s simultaneously grateful for her sharp instincts and embarrassed by his carnal desires. He hasn’t gotten laid in four years, and he fears he’ll be too eager when the time comes. As it is, he can barely believe she’s let him have even the smallest glimpses of her as a sexual being. She’s intoxicating, and he’s dizzy with the knowledge that this beautiful, brilliant, downright edible woman actually wants him. Him, a mortal man of aliens and bad ties and a porn collection that’s gradually becoming least seventy-five percent redheads. A man without a bed.

Hence their Saturday morning pilgrimage to the shrine where all new couples journey to find furnishings, low prices, and themselves.

“So, we’re looking for one tall bookshelf, a locking filing cabinet, a bed, and two night tables,” Scully reads. She refolds the paper and reaches across him to tuck it back into his shirt pocket. “That’s clearly not all going to fit in this car,” she notes.

“I’ll get the bigger stuff delivered,” he says.

It’s only a twenty minute drive from Mulder’s place, and they have the air-conditioning on. Mulder is starting to relax; it’s been a long time since he’s had a partner, in the domestic sense, and he’d forgotten that it makes the mundane more bearable.

Scully clears her throat almost imperceptibly. “I’m proud of you, by the way.”

“Really? Why?” Mulder asks.

“You managed to get rid of a lot of stuff,” she says, turning up the dial on the car’s air conditioner. “And organization is very clearly not your strong suit, so progress should be acknowledged and celebrated.”

“Yippee,” Mulder deadpans.

“You know, it’s odd; we’ve known each other for all these years and I never asked… why don’t you have a bed, Mulder?”

There it is, the question he knew would come up at some point. He clears his throat, grips the steering wheel a little tighter. “I, uh… I lived with someone, around ‘91. Another agent, actually. We were together for a while, and then one day she took some assignment in Europe and that was that. I got rid of everything that was hers, and that, uh, included the bed.” Technically our bed, he thinks. He winces. He’s never talked to Scully about Diana before, and he wonders if she’ll be upset that he was withholding such a large piece of personal information.

Scully is quiet. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “That’s… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry I never mentioned it,” Mulder says. “It’s not like it’s some big painful secret. I just… don’t really think about her anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Scully says. “I think it’s best for these kinds of things to come up naturally. And… I was dating someone when we met,” Scully confesses. “We broke up as soon as I got back from Bellefleur.”

Mulder looks at her quickly. “Really? Why?”

She furrows her brow. “Multiple reasons, but primarily I realized that this job, my assignment, was bigger than I’d anticipated. And the things you and I went through together, the things I’d seen… when I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to be tied down to him. To have to go home and have this man ask me how my day was, as though he could ever understand even half of what we do.”

“So you chose the job over him,” Mulder muses.

“In essence… I chose you,” Scully points out. “Whether I knew it then or not. I’d never be able to turn my back on you.”

Mulder exhales slowly. He’s strangely moved.

“Take a left at the next light,” Scully prompts softly. “And yes, I do realize the irony in breaking things off with a man because of his normalcy, only to continue trying to date so-called ‘normal’ men.”

Mulder shrugs. “No, it makes sense. Maybe he just wasn’t right for you, but the next normal guy could be, right?”

“Right,” Scully sighs. “Einstein’s definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.”

“I’ve been led to believe that being with me is another type of insanity,” Mulder points out. “And objectively, I can’t disagree.”

“You do make me crazy,” Scully agrees, voice low. “But that’s not always a bad thing.” He feels her small hand squeeze his thigh. “And I fully intend to return the favor.”

Mulder lets out a quiet groan, hands sweaty on the steering wheel. “You planning on giving me some roadside assistance, Agent Scully? Because I’m gonna need it if you keep doing that.”

She removes her hand, tucks her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t do anything,” she says innocently.

“Uh huh.” He pulls into the IKEA parking lot. “Well, we’re here. You ready?”

“As ready as a person can be for a labyrinthian furniture store on a muggy Saturday,” she replies.

-

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Mulder says from his spot on the bedroom floor, surrounded by scattered pieces of a ‘HOLLEBY’ bedside table. “These instructions are useless and-” he flips through the booklet, “-thirty-two pages long, Jesus.”

Scully doesn’t respond; her eyes are glued to her own manual as she assembles a drawer from the second of the two nightstands. “Shh,” she hushes him softly. “I’m concentrating.”

“How have you managed to put any of these pieces together?” he asks, scooting across the floor to her. “There aren’t even words, just vague illustrations.”

She has a screw between her lips as she lines up two of the wood pieces. “I took wood shop in high school,” she says around the metal pin. She removes it and inserts it into a pre-drilled hole. “I guess that was some kind of preparation for assembling flatpack furniture?”

“That’s adorable,” Mulder says, rising to open a window. The room is stuffy with the day’s heat, and his t-shirt is glued to his back. “Do you still have any of the things you made in class?”

“The step stool in my kitchen,” she replies. “And my mom might have some things I’ve forgotten about.”

He casually strips off his sweaty t-shirt and tosses it in the laundry basket. “Remind me to look at that stool the next time we’re at your place,” he says. “Also I’m gonna order a pizza, you interested?”

Scully looks up at him then and is seemingly surprised by the absence of his shirt. “It’s hot in here,” Mulder explains, almost defensive.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Scully says, eyes shamelessly traveling his torso. “And I’m always interested.”

“Are we still talking about pizza here, or…”

“Make my half one with everything, please,” she says, attention returning to her project.

“Wait a minute,” he says, dropping to his knees next to her on the carpet. “I’m not done here.” He leans in and presses his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin. How she can still smell so good on a sticky June day, he doesn’t know; but he wants to lick her entire body.

“Mulder,” she sighs, putting down her screwdriver, “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the idea,” he says, lips wandering up her neck and behind her ear. He flicks his tongue against her earlobe. “Forget the furniture, honey,” he says, all hot breath and lust. “We don’t need it for what I have in mind.”

Suddenly she’s facing him, looping her arms around his neck. “I’m doing this for you,” she purrs. “Do you think I like putting together IKEA furniture? No one likes it, Mulder. It’s like a multidimensional jigsaw puzzle.”

He pulls her onto his lap. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says, nibbling her ear. “You like being capable Doctor Scully, in charge of things… showing me what those hands can do.”

She leans in, licking his full lower lip. “Not everything is about you, Mulder,” she says, pressing a scorching kiss to his mouth. “I’m just doing my coworker a favor.”

“Is that what they call this nowadays?” he asks, hands clasping her hips as she grinds down on his lap.

She shuts him up with a kiss, the furniture and pizza forgotten.

[chibinekochan]

Obey me! They are your penpals

Loosely based on a request for you having a penpal but this just gave me more ideas. 

Your penpal is one of the obey me boys but neither of you knows.

  Leviathan 

He just started this since he saw it in an anime somewhere. 

I mean talk about old school right? 

Well, he really gets into it not much later. 

He loves hearing about human culture and you both have so much to talk about. 

His letters are more like books. 

Levi just always goes off a random topic about some anime, game or idol group. 

He even does small little doodles for you. 

It does bother him to have to lie to you about some things, like being a demon and all but it can't be helped. 

Levi honestly wishes to get closer to his penpal but he can't just go to the human realm and he is sure you wouldn't like him in real life. 

When you come to the devildom you think that your penpal is human and so you just write that you are an exchange student in a different country. 

So it does take some time for you both to figure it out. 

I mean of course it seems odd to both of you that your penpal has so much in common with the other but it doesn't really click until you see Levi writing one of his novel length letters. 

You are surprised and then do a lowkey face-palm, since you honestly should have seen it right away. 

Levi is equally surprised, mostly due to the fact that you aren't running away screaming from him, honestly it's a daily miracle. 

He is very happy that he can finally see his penpal and hey you are also friends. 

Levi is pretty glad that he overcame his fear of being in some sort of love triangle, since he is crushing pretty hard on his penpal and on you. 

So now where you are the same person Levi doesn't feel like he is cheating anymore, crisis averted. 

  Mammon

You became penpals a pretty long time ago, when you were still a child. 

So to Mammon it was always like having a cute little sibling. 

One that actually adores him and that believes him. 

Mammon always loves to hear your little updates and he melts every time you add a little gift to your letter, like the snowflake you made for him after he told you that it doesn't snow in his home country. 

His letters are usually short but it's clear to see that he cares and he often gives you advice and encouragement. 

Over time your letter exchanges become more irregular.

Mammon is sad about this but he knows that you are getting older and you can't write forever to him. 

It makes his heart ache but he hopes that you will be okay, even without big brother Mammon to help you. 

When you come to the devildom, honestly, it's a lot to take in and as much as you always enjoy writing, your penpal life just kinda gets in the way. 

On top of that, you now have Mammon to give you support when you need it. 

Somehow he reminds you of your penpal, despite his tsundere ways. 

One day you notice that Mammon is a bit wistful, you wonder why and then you see something vaguely familiar. 

It's a small felt plush toy that you made, you are surprised to see it and ask Mammon how he got it. 

Soon you both realize that Mammon is your old penpal. 

Mammon was sad this entire time about losing his penpal but here you are. 

He gives you a big hug. 

Of course now your relationship has changed but Mammon doesn't mind that part at all. 

  Asmodeus 

He always liked getting letters from his admirers. 

Asmo keeps these letters in a huge box and reads them from time to time. 

Then he has the idea to woo someone just with his words. 

In the end you become his penpal. 

Asmo resists the urge to send his pictures to you many times.

Over time Asmo forgets his original goal, he just enjoys writing to you. 

It's funny to him how much these letters start to mean to him. 

Asmo waits for them and has a whole routine of relaxing and reading the letter. 

He is so glad that he had this idea. 

He never thought a relationship built from words could mean so much to him. 

As much as he would like to meet you he also doesn't really want to change the type of relationship you have with each other. 

He is also scared that you might not click in reality. 

He is pretty content with this. 

Then you come to the devildom and become fast friends with Asmo. 

Since it just feels like you've known each other for ages. 

You talk for hours and just have a ton of fun. 

One day Asmo tells you about his penpal and how much he enjoys the letters, he even shows you one. 

Right away you admit that it's your letter. 

Asmo finds this hilarious. 

How can you make him fall for you not just once but twice? 

Asmo wishes to continue your letters, since it's just so enjoyable for him. 

You agree, since it's equally important to you. 

  Lucifer 

It started more or less accidentally, by sending a letter to the wrong address. 

Your reply made his day and so your conversation continues with letters. 

Lucifer is starting to really enjoy the exchanges. 

He can just write about whatever he wants and you don't judge him at all. 

It's pretty relaxing for him to be able to be so open to someone. 

He has to change some details of course but it's so refreshing. 

Your perspective on everything just feels really nice and he feels very understood. 

He finds himself reading your letters many times over, whenever he feels troubled. 

Lucifer always takes the evening off when he gets a new letter, since he takes his time reading it. 

His brothers are baffled but (ab)use the situation. 

Lucifer doesn't realize that his penpal is you when you come to the devildom. 

Lucifer soon gets some suspicions after noticing the similarities between your way or writing and your way of speaking. 

When he sees your handwriting it's confirmed. 

Lucifer isn't sure if he should tell you for quite some time. 

He just really enjoys your letters. 

When you two grow closer he finally tells you that he figured out that you are his penpal. 

You are a bit upset, since he knew for so long but eventually got over it. 

Lucifer writing you a very heartfelt apology letter helps. 

  Diavolo 

He was always very interested in other realms but he has very little time as is. 

Still, when the opportunity arises, he joins a letter exchange program. 

You are the person to receive his letters. 

Of course Diavolo has to change a lot of details, so you believe he is just a very busy man. 

Diavolo always has so many questions that you come to the conclusion that he must be very sheltered but you think of him as very charming and gladly answer him all you can. 

Sometimes you even send him some pictures of your hometown. 

Diavolo always loves these very much. 

He keeps every letter in a binder and often reads parts of it to Barbatos. 

Diavolo often marks the days he got a letter in his calendar. 

Usually with a star or a heart. 

He enjoys writing long letters to you about whatever comes to his mind. 

Especially when there's something funny about Lucifer or something cute like a random kitten that he saw. 

His letters always make you smile. 

Diavolo can't always reply right away, due to his busy schedule and his long letters but he always shovels an evening free for this. 

He is very excited about meeting another human, you have set high expectations in your letters. 

Even when you are just a pretty regular human. 

You fit right in but now you are also very busy and you sadly have less and less time to be penpals with your mysterious penpal. 

It's quite sad, since you always wanted to meet him. 

At some point you have to get something from Diavolo and go to his office. 

There you see a picture on his desk. 

The scenery looks awfully familiar to you. 

You take a closer look and see it's your hometown. 

At first you don't add two and two together and just casually ask him about it. 

After a bit of back and forth where you both take too long to realize that you are each other's penpals it finally clicks. 

You both laugh about it and then spend hours talking. 

Now your letters turn into a weekly meeting to just talk about whatever. 

  Beelzebub 

It started as a recipe exchange. 

Beel is always looking for new meals to make or give Satan a recipe to cook. 

Soon the recipes changed into questions about ingredients. 

Since Beel uses demon food you have never heard about and you use human food and appliances that Beel never heard about. 

Then you two talk about your family's and other random things and soon you are normal penpals. 

You both just have fun exchanging letters. 

Beel doesn't even notice how much your letters make his day great whenever he gets them.

He always has a huge silly smile on his face. 

Belphie shakes his head and rolls his eyes but Beel doesn't care. 

Then you arrive in the devildom. 

Until this day you didn't really believe that Beel was a demon and just thought that he was trying to be funny or was just strange. 

Much to your surprise the devildom is real and everything that Beel talked about is also real. 

It's pretty amazing. 

After meeting Beel you can tell that he is the guy you have been writing to all this time. 

You confirm it rather quickly with him, Beel instantly gives you a  big hug. 

You are his cooking letter buddy after all! 

He is pretty happy to finally meet you. 

After cashing your breath, after the surprise hug, you are equally happy. 

  Simeon 

Your letter friendship started with an angel letter exchange program. 

Simeon enjoys it, despite being forced into it. 

At the start there are many penpals but over time he has less and less people to reply to him. 

Simeon enjoys every single letter but somehow he always liked yours the most. 

He doesn't even know why. 

It just feels like you two click the most. 

Simeon doesn't think deeply about it. 

After all you are a human on earth. 

Some are unreachable on many levels. 

On top of that Simeon can't be a hundred percent open with you, since he can't just come out and say that he is an angel. 

So your relationship is always a bit distant in the letters, as much as he regrets it. 

Simeon knows that your relationship will end someday, no matter how it happens but your letters will stop. 

That's fine with him, Simeon just cherishes whatever time you two have. 

Then he gets sent to the devildom. 

He takes his work very seriously and Simeon enjoys his stay in the devildom a lot. 

He still keeps in contact with you but it gets harder to keep up with it. 

Simeon has some regrets about it but can't help himself but moving forward. 

Then you come to the devildom. 

Often you find yourself writing to your penpal about the, pretty crazy, events. 

Soon Simeon figures out that you are his penpal. 

He doesn't want to end your letter based friendship, but he also feels like this is his only chance to meet you and talk to you without lies. 

Simeon invites you to some tea, while his roommates are out. 

He gently tells you everything, you don't judge him at all, you are very happy to finally meet your penpal. 

   Check my Obey me! Masterlist for more content

[allzelemonz]

The Swedes X Hargreaves! Commission! NSG Reader

Ah, yes, random inspiration for a request long old! Might do a sequel with some fix it elements because no one needs to the see our boys die.

Working with the boys was always scary. There was a chance one of you was going to have to see something terrible happen to the other. When you went solo it seemed easier, like you could forget that you boys were in danger. The commission wasn’t too happy about grouping the love birds together, but with all the trouble these fugitives had caused, Carmichael wasn’t taking any chances. These fugitives did happen to be your siblings, but it’s not like this sort of thing was odd.

When you started working for the commission it was clear that anyone who messed with the timeline was in the wrong. When Fives joined years later it seemed like he understood that. But now you were getting off a bus fully ready to stop the hell that your brother had started. You didn’t expect to see Five right off the bat.

The boys took their shots, but you had to take a moment to process. Fives met your eyes for a second before he disappeared with the briefcase. You drew your gun and moved with the boys. Axel’s silent commands were clear as his brother spread out to survey. You stayed by him in front of what was formally Hazel. The two of you scanned the surroundings for anything out of order. The briefcase had been damaged, the jump wasn’t complete.

You caught sight of an abnormal amount of smoke conveniently hiding behind a car. You nudged Axel’s arm and nodded to the car. He whistled to catch Oscar and Otto’s attention. The brothers formed up again to begin assault on the car. Oscar went around to find an empty spot, Five wasn’t there. The smirk that had formed on Axel’s face, the thought of an easy job that would permit you all to go home and lounge on the couch, was gone immediately.

You could feel that familiar weight in the air that Five always left when he jumped. You scanned as much around you as you could see, but there was no sign of your brother. The boys went right in search as you tried to figure out where Five could have jumped to. Before you thought to look up Axel’s whistle caught your attention. The boys were at the corner, gazing at a milk truck.

The milk guy was not expecting to be jumped by a group of assassins. It was likely he’d never even heard of that particular job. It made taking the truck rather easy. Oscar had the idea to play dress for the next part of the mission. Otto’s first instinct was to tease his brother in the milkman uniform and Axel was holding a laugh. Being the adoring spouse you are, you simply told he looked handsome and gave him a lingering kiss that made the other two members of your relationship quiet down. You made sure to give them both a kiss on the cheek to make up for it.

Axel was quick to plan. He explained in little detail, all of you just understanding how his mind worked. The small waiting period was easily passed. As you all waited in light silence in the back of the milk truck. You had found a comfortable spot on Otto’s lap as the small giant took a nap. He had his arms loosely fixed around your waist so you wouldn’t fall. Playing with his hair seemed to make the time pass quickly. Oscar fretted with his new clothes for awhile until he couldn’t find anything wrong and joined Axel in staring at a schematic plan of the asylum you’d find Diego in.

The sun had set softly around you in the sleepy state you found Otto's comforting slumber putting you in. Axel kneeled beside you and placed a kiss on your head. His way of telling you it was time to go on mission. You gave him a nod of acknowledgement and turned to wake Otto. You shook his shoulder lightly and roused him awake. He gave you a small and sleepy kiss as he began the gradual process of fully waking up.

You stood up and moved to the front of the truck where the other boys were. Axel was getting the truck started and Oscar had started fiddling with his uniform buttons again. You ran your hand through the smaller Swede’s hair and gave him a reassuring look when he turned to face you. This mission would go fine.

Oscar went in first so as to not raise alarm. Upon the sound of his shotgun the rest of you went in. Oscar’s once pristine white uniform now had a light blood splatter that made him seem even more handsome. The smirk you caught a glimpse of was you loved to see on his face. He was proud of himself. The proud little Swede went to shut off the lights as his brothers grew their own bit of pride for their small brother.

The four of you walked down the halls in search of your own brother. Axel led the charge as he always did as brought up the rear. The sound of howling caught your attention. It was a madhouse, and it was your only clue. Axel turned down the appropriate hallway with the rest of you in tow.

Even in the dark hallway and with the uncharacteristically long hair you recognized your brother. The boys didn’t hesitate to start firing. It took you a moment to lull it over, but ultimately started firing with the boys. This mission is a do or die situation. Between your siblings and your husbands, in the moment, the choice was clear.

The chase escalated when the other inmates were released and crowded the halls. The only place they could have run was to a maintenance closet. Axel kicked open the door with no issue and the brother began to fire wildly, not missing an inch of the small room. Otto was the last to stop. He found their escape route and a sense of relief and guilt went through you. Diego wasn’t dead yet.

You followed the escape route through more convert means that involved stairs. It led to the lower levels of the asylum where you found a duo of disarmed police officers. Upon their pleads not to shoot Axel fitted them each with a bullet to the skull. The sight of an exit was in view and after making it outside you were met with failure. Just a large group of inmates dancing and running away.

The feeling of Axel failing was one that stung the air like poison. He didn’t like making mistakes. You took the gun from his hand and replaced it with a reassuring squeeze. His feeling died down slightly, but he was still very annoyed that they’d lost Diego.

Upon returning to the milk truck Axel was still on edge, Oscar was tired, and Otto was unhappy. The trio didn’t fail often. You did what you could to console them, but an uplift of spirit would have to wait until you had more space.

[jayeray-hq]

How He Shows You Affection: Kageyama Tobio

Thank you again for requesting anon!

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Thank you as usual to the amazing Tay @deathcab4daddy​ I know you’re busy so I really really appreciate it! 🥺💖

He Dotes on You

           Kageyama had always been a bit socially awkward, which had at times made it difficult for both you and others to see how very much he cared about you. It had taken you a good long while to realize that despite the stilted, often abrupt, and abrasive, words that came out of his mouth that he truly loved you. He was even doing everything in his power to show you, since he couldn’t seem to vocalize how he felt with any sort of eloquence. It was in the little things he did, every day and in every moment that showed he was thinking about you.

It was how whenever he went to the vending machines, he always came back with his milk in one hand and your favorite drink in the other. It was in the way he ensured you never ran out of your favorite treats at home, restocking them every time he went to the store and never forgetting them. It was how there was always a seat reserved for you at all his games, even the ones you couldn’t come to because he wanted to remind you that you were always welcome and that he was always thinking of you.

             The little things he did never failed to make your heart warm, each gesture stating how much he loved you loud and clear for anyone who cared to look. After all, each gesture was catered to you and to the things you loved. It surprised every single person who asked about your relationship, but after the first few mistakes where you stated your preferences to him clearly, Kageyama hadn’t ever gifted you something you didn’t like.

             Your volleyball crazy boyfriend had proved over and over that the only things he paid attention to and bothered to memorize were about the things he loved. It was why he’d struggled so much in school, and yet he never seemed to forget a single detail about you. He knew your favorite dessert, the things you craved, when your cycle was, your hobbies, and the little things you did or that he could do to brighten your day. He memorized it all, carefully and meticulously and pulled those details out when he needed them to help him prove to you how very much he cared.

             It meant when the two of you went shopping that if you happened to mention you liked or wanted something, you could almost always count on having it show up sometime in the near future. It made things a little difficult at times as your boyfriend, with all his adorable awkwardness, didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word excessive. You couldn’t help but find that part of him incredibly cute. It just meant you’d had to learn to watch your words so you wouldn’t accidentally take advantage of the way he wanted to spoil you.

             However, the clearest and most obvious sign of his adoration for you was when you asked him for something, he almost never said no, even if doing it for you made him a bit uncomfortable at times. If you asked him for a hug, he gave it, even if it was in public in front of his team, or even in front of reporters and fans despite the fact that public displays of affection made him uncomfortable. He would blush the whole time, and maybe be a little stiff and awkward, but if you asked, or even so much as hinted that you might need it he would do it without hesitation.

             It was another thing you were very careful never to take for granted, unwilling to make him uncomfortable or unhappy for your own selfish reasons. However, you really appreciated that he was willing to step out of his comfort zone for you, to do whatever it took to make you feel loved.

             A lot of people over the years had asked you how you could be with someone who seemed so cold. You’d always scoffed at those people, because it was very clear to you and everyone who truly knew him. Kageyama was the exact opposite of cold. Sure he struggled sometimes, but it was clear to you that he was doing his best to show you how much he truly loved you, and in the end that was all that mattered.

 He Makes Time for You

             You waited patiently up in the stands, watching as your boyfriend practiced his setting for Hoshiumi, Ushijima, and Romero below clearly working on something or another. You honestly loved watching your boyfriend practice, the look on his face was unlike anywhere else, the sheer joy and concentration in his expression clear to anyone who cared to look.

             It was very clear to you that the volleyball court was where Kageyama belonged, and where he felt most comfortable. However, these days you liked to think volleyball wasn’t the only thing that could make his face light up with joy, a feeling that was only confirmed as he glanced up after a successful toss to meet your eyes.

             It was a habit he’d formed fairly early on in your relationship, searching out your face in the crowd, almost as if seeking your approval, something in his face clearly asking ‘did you see that? Did you see what I did?’. The answer of course was always yes, because when he was playing you could hardly ever tear your eyes away from him, which was part of the reason the two of you had gotten together in the first place.

             However today wasn’t about volleyball, or enjoying watching him set for hours on end. No today was supposed to be about the two of you. It was an important date after all, Valentine’s Day, and one he’d promised to you. He clearly hadn’t forgotten, judging from the lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers that had arrived while you were at work, and as he caught your eye, he nodded to you in acknowledgment before turning to his teammates.

             You weren’t sure what exactly it was he said to them, but it had Hoshiumi letting out a surprised shout, and Ushijima raising a brow at your boyfriend. Romero, whose Japanese had improved a lot recently, simply clapped your boyfriend on the shoulder in a clearly congratulatory manner before gently pushing him off the court.

             Kageyama went, though not before meeting your eyes and gesturing that he would meet up with you in the lobby. You waved in acknowledgment, a wide affectionate smile on your face as you stood to leave, even if it would take him at least ten minutes to shower and dress.

             Your departure however was stopped by a shout from Hoshiumi. Curious, you turned to find all three of the players who’d been practicing with your boyfriend, along with the team captain Hirugami, Fukurou, all gathered below the bleachers clearly looking to speak with you.

             “How did you do it?” Hoshiumi asked you bluntly, his eyes wide with shocked awe as he stared up at you.

             “Do what?” you asked him, a little dumbfounded by the question. Hoshiumi was a bit of an odd one, and though you didn’t know him well you did know he was the kind of guy that was almost impossible to predict.

             “How did you convince Kageyama to leave practice early?” he asked, his voice getting louder and louder with each word, clearly baffled, “We can hardly ever get him to leave the building period, but somehow he’s ditching us early?”

             “Kageyama is very diligent,” Ushijima added thoughtfully, also looking a bit baffled as to why anyone would want to leave practice. The compliment was a high one though, especially from Ushijima who was honestly the epitome of diligence.

             “But I didn’t,” you told them, unable to help the fond smile that pulled at your lips as you realized that your boyfriend had clearly made special plans for the two of you, especially if he was leaving practice early, “Tobio was the one who told me what time I needed to be here. He insisted on making the plans for today.”

             Hoshiumi made a clearly disbelieving noise, but Romero who had been listening intently and quietly asking Hirugami for clarification at certain points simply nodded voicing, “Is the power of love, sí?”

             You flushed a bit at having it pointed out so bluntly, especially when Hoshiumi squawked in clear surprise and Hirugami started in on a coughing fit, clearly trying to cover his laugh. However, the beaming smile on your face no doubt gave you away.

             “Kageyama told me a couple weeks ago that he’d be leaving practice early today,” Hirugami told the group, once he’d recovered from his fit, “It surprised me and the coaches too. Apparently, he’s more of a romantic than I thought.”

             “I never thought I’d see the day Kageyama loved something as much or more than volleyball,” Hoshiumi voiced with a frown, “I’ve known that kid since high school, and never would’ve guessed he had room in his head or heart for anything more than the game. Guess you must be pretty special to him eh?”

             You didn’t get a chance to respond to the surprisingly perceptive question from the white-haired wing spiker, as your conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the man himself. He was dressed surprisingly nicely, in dark pants and a deep blue button down that no doubt had been picked for him by his older sister Miwa. He had a bit of an impatient look on his face, clearly suspicious as he glanced between you and the members of his team who’d gathered to speak to you.

             “Oy, come on, we’re going to be late,” he informed you bluntly, holding his hand out to you.

 “You look nice Tobio,” you acknowledged, immediately accepting his hand, smiling up at him, and enjoying the faint pale blush you could see across his cheeks. He was clearly a little flustered at the compliment, simply dipping his head, unable to collect himself to return the compliment just yet.

 However, he did carefully guide you out of the bleachers, ensuring you didn’t slip on the stairs because of the heels you’d worn to match your date night outfit. The soft, admiring look he gave you every time he looked at you more than enough of a return compliment, and reward for dolling yourself up for the night.

 You waved in acknowledgment as the team wished the two of you a good evening together. You stepped out hand in hand with your boyfriend ready to enjoy the evening and celebrate your love, one that he’d more than proved already, simply by taking the time off to be with you.

 He Vocalizes it to You (and only to you)

             “Tobio is something wrong?” you asked your boyfriend, deeply concerned with the way he’d been acting all evening. He’d been fidgety and restless, casting you furtive looks out of the corner of his eye that he clearly thought were subtle but were actually anything but.

             Usually when he got a bit agitated or when something was bothering him, you could get him to relax by cuddling up together on the couch and running your fingers through his hair as you watched something mindless on tv. Tonight however, even that surefire method had failed. You weren’t sure what was wrong, only that something was.

             Kageyama fidgeted for several seconds, clearly fighting with himself as you waited patiently. By this point in your relationship, you were well aware that sometimes the best thing to do with him when you wanted answers was to quietly wait him out and give him some time to get his thoughts together.

 You didn’t mind. The fact that Kageyama was able to communicate effectively with you at all was, according to some of his old high school senpai, a minor miracle. After all, verbal communication was one of the areas your boyfriend struggled with the most, and had led to quite a few misunderstandings and hurt feelings on both sides from the people he’d known over the years.

 He’d gotten much better though as he got older and a little more patient. It was something he credited Sugawara, Hinata, and Oikawa of all people with, which had always baffled you a bit. Oikawa himself had squawked rather indignantly when your boyfriend had mentioned as such in his hearing which, while hilarious, had done nothing to clear up your confusion.

 You were grateful for it nonetheless as it had certainly helped ease things in your relationship. The two of you had, had more than a few bumps along the way, especially at first, but these days you liked to think the two of you had a good system worked out and communicated rather well.

 “I love you,” your boyfriend blurted suddenly, the words pulling you from your reminiscence about the past rather abruptly and startling you a bit with their volume.

 “I love you too, Tobio,” you told him immediately, a little taken aback, but warmed nonetheless about his declaration of affection, even if the delivery hadn’t been all that smooth. He didn’t say it as often as some, and never where anyone else could overhear, too shy to do so, but when the two of you were home, he never failed to tell you and it warmed your heart every time.

 “You- you know I love you,” he continued hesitantly, peering up at you from where he’d been resting on your lap, his deep blue eyes clearly troubled as he asked, “right?”

 “Of course,” you answered, more than a bit baffled about what had brought this on all of a sudden, “And, you know I love you back, right?”

 “I know,” he murmured his voice quiet, but filled with affection as he peered up at you, his face full or adoration even if the worry hadn’t completely left his eyes.

 “I just wanted to make sure you knew,” he told you earnestly, his ears burning red, clearly embarrassed but determined to keep going despite that, “Because everyone says it isn’t obvious, and I just thought, maybe it might not be obvious to you.”

 “Everyone says?” you repeated a little baffled, before remembering the article that you and one of your friends had been laughing at over lunch earlier in the day. It was one of those stupid gossip rags that made up random news articles about celebrities. This particular one had proclaimed that it was clear your boyfriend wasn’t in love with you, because he was never affectionate or loving toward you when the two of you were in public.

 It had even gone on to proclaim this was because he was in love with another woman, and included a grainy picture of him hugging her as clear ‘evidence’. You’d nearly laughed yourself to tears seeing the photo as it was clear how incredibly uncomfortable he’d been, stiff as a board in the embrace. Even funnier was that you’d recognized the ‘other woman’ in the photo as his sister Miwa.

 You hadn’t given it a second thought other than to ask your boyfriend if the PR team of the Adlers was going to do anything about it. He’d immediately responded with an affirmative, and you’d seen the magazine had been forced to print a retraction and an apology just an hour or two later. You’d honestly forgotten about the incident completely, but apparently your boyfriend hadn’t.

 “Tobio, you know I don’t care about what anyone else says about our relationship right?” you told him gently, “As long as you know I love you, and I know you love me that’s all that matters. As long as you keep talking to me, keep telling me you love me that’s all I could ever need to know how you feel.”

 Kageyama still looked a bit concerned, the furrow that appeared whenever he was thinking hard about something still evident between his brows. You meant the words though, really and truly. You knew how hard they were for him to say, both because he struggled with communication in general and because he was shy about expressing his feelings. Which was why it meant the world to you that he went out of his way to say them to you. You didn’t need him to proclaim them to the world, him just saying them to you was more than enough.

 “I love you,” you told him earnestly, peering down at him, gently smoothing the crease in his brow until his face relaxed, into the soft look he reserved for you.

 “I love you too,” he told you sincerely, sitting up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips.

 “Then that’s all you have to say,” you assured him, nuzzling your face into his affectionately, relishing in his presence, and basking both in his love and the words he saved for you and you alone.

[murdertrialimagines]

Oh god, I gotta hurry uh...Red String AU for SDR2 characters of your choice where their soulmate is a Reserve Course Student?

Hey there! Of course! Hope you like the characters I chose (I picked like five, you’re bound to like at least one, right?), I just picked some of my favorites. Also I wasn’t sure if this is before they were accepted into Hope’s Peak as part of the reserve course or if they go to a different school so I switched it up a bit throughout as to not get too repetitive. Enjoy!

Ibuki Mioda

You knew you had a soulmate, the red string attached to your pinky made that clear.

You believed in fate, so you left it in the hands of destiny to bring you two together.

Ibuki, on the other hand, was hell-bent on finding you.

One particular Tuesday, you were in class when you noticed the string on your finger felt... looser?

This struck you as odd but you continued listening to the teacher until the end of the day.

You then stepped outside of your ordinary high school to see a not-so-ordinary girl in a Hope’s Peak Academy uniform, waving excitedly at you.

Oh my god. She was your soulmate??! But she was so... cool! And not ordinary!

She ran to you and started making loud, excited conversation that moved at a very fast pace, clearly not caring that you were just an ordinary high school student.

Kazuichi Soda

You moved through the halls on your first day at a new school, careful not to bump into anyone.

You were, after all, in the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy! You didn’t want to bump into any of the amazingly talented individuals in the prestigious school.

You were part of the reserve course. You admired Hope’s Peak and wanted to be talented like it’s diverse student body, but you just didn’t have an ultimate talent. You had hobbies and interests, sure, but you weren’t the very best at anything.

As you went about your first day, most people seemed very welcoming, no one really caring that you weren’t an ultimate like the rest of them.

The school day was finished and you were making your way outside when you noticed the string on your finger getting looser and looser.

You looked around and spotted a pink haired boy under a tree looking down at his pinky and then back up at you.

You made your way to him with a smile which he returned. You stopped in front of him and took in his features.

He smiled at you. “The name’s Kazuichi Soda. I’m the ultimate mechanic. Nice to meet ya!”

Gundham Tanaka

Gundham is... a bit of an oddball. In the best way! But he never really fit in and usually stuck out like a sore thumb.

This was to be expected, being the Supreme Overlord of Ice and all.

When he met you, he was ecstatic! He didn’t care that you weren’t like the rest of them. In fact, he kinda liked that you were different, and he thought it was poetic that being ordinary made you different.

Of course, he introduced himself in his own Gundham way (which you adored), but he couldn’t hide his blushing face, even if he buried it in his scarf.

He wouldn’t tell you this, but when he felt the tug on his pinky lessen, he felt his heart leap and his stomach do flips. He couldn’t wait to meet you!

You had been in class when you noticed the slack in the string, so when you were on break you rushed to find him before you had to be in class again.

Your heart was racing. You were nervous! You wanted to meet him, but how would he react knowing you were just a reserve course student?

Of course, he didn’t care at all and he quickly extinguished your worries.

Hajime Hinata

You stared up at the school in front of you, too nervous to go in, until you felt the familiar tug on your pinky go away.

You looked to your left and saw a boy your age with brown hair and a tie. He seemed nervous, too, and apparently he was too anxious to notice that his soulmate was standing right next to him.

You tapped his shoulder and introduced yourself, explaining that you were his soulmate.

Only then was he aware of the situation. He blushed and introduced himself.

“I-I’m Hajime Hinata. I don’t have an ultimate talent.” “Neither do I! I’m from the reserve course!”

Being a reserve course student himself, Hajime was elated when he found out you were the same as him.

Of course, he would have loved you no matter what, but he felt better knowing that you can relate to each other and he found comfort in your similarities.

Chiaki Nanami

You had always had hobbies and activities you enjoyed, but you didn’t have any sort of talent that you could say was your thing. You weren’t the best at anything, and you didn’t care about that.

You went to a normal high school with normal school days like this one had been. However, this day wouldn’t be normal for long.

After school on this particular day, you decided to head to the arcade. This wasn’t usual but it also wasn’t unusual, in that you were just a high school kid and you did fun things sometimes but you liked to switch it up.

When you got close enough to see the arcade, you felt something unusual. You looked down at the red string on your pinky and noticed that it was strangely... loose?

You knew what this meant, so you stared at your finger for a moment before coming to your senses and booking it to the arcade.

You reached the doors and pulled them open, eyes following the string to a girl with light pink hair playing a game to the right. As you made your way to her, you called out to her and a big “GAME OVER” flashed on the screen.

She turned to you with a sleepy smile, and you introduced yourself, explaining how you were coming to the arcade and you noticed the string was loose so you used it to find her. She smiled at you and introduced herself as Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer.

You explained that you didn’t have an ultimate talent but you were okay with that. She seemed to like that positive attitude and the conversation continued on.

And the rest is history!

I hope you enjoyed this, thank you for requesting! This was fun to write! I love AUs and soulmates!

Mod Kirigiri

[sassycassie-s-writing]

My Favorite Smile

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one has a couple ✨swear words✨ in it lol. I don’t usually write them out, but sometimes you just gotta say what you mean)

Original Idea: X (Obsessed with this channel right now)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,182 words... it’s a longer one again. I casually wrote this in, like, two hours. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

Holding his coffee and croissant, Jason looked around the crowded café for a place to sit. Every table was occupied by at least one person, and the rules of personal space in public said the couches were full, with one person sitting on either end.

His eyes fell on a table with a single occupant.

His heart stuttered to a stop. Wait… is that her? Damn, she looks good this time. He scoffed at himself. Who am I kidding? She looks good every time. Should I talk to her? Should I tell her? She didn’t believe me last time… and I don’t know if I can stand another lifetime without her… but last life we didn’t meet till I was almost fifty. I really wasn’t expecting to find her this early.

He straightened up and strode over to her table. “Excuse me, is it alright if I sit here? The café’s pretty crowded and the other tables are full.”

She looked up and Jason’s brain stopped working as she met his eyes. She was just as incredible as she always was. Thousands upon thousands of years, and he still never got over how beautiful she was. “Sure, go ahead,” she said with a smile before going back to her phone.

—

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the man said, sitting down.

I glanced back up and gave him my name in return.

He smiled. He had a handsome smile. Just looking at him… something tugged in the back of my mind. “That’s a pretty name,” he said.

My ears warmed and I looked away. “Thanks,” I muttered. I looked back at him. “Sorry if this sounds… weird—but have we met before?” I cringed but smiled. If we had…oh it’d be so embarrassing if I’d forgotten him. And a man as handsome as him—how could I have forgotten?

But a look of delight crossed his face, before being replaced by one of neutrality. “Not in this lifetime,” he replied.

“Kind of an odd way to word it,” I remarked before I could overthink whether that sounded really rude or not.

Jason’s ears turned red. “Well… yeah I guess so. Sorry.” He looked down at his coffee cup and croissant and chose to take a sip of his drink. After swallowing, he looked back up at me. “This is probably gonna sound really creepy, but please just hear me out for a few minutes. Do you believe in soulmates?”

I reached up and scratched an itch just behind my ear. “I mean… kind of? I think maybe they exist for some people, and other people could be matched equally well with multiple potential partners,” I said.

His shoulders slouched with a sigh of what might have been relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. He met my eyes. “Because… we’re soulmates. You and I. Sometimes—very rarely—two people are so destined to be together, that they’re reborn over and over to stay together throughout thousands of years’ worth of lifetimes. Sometimes we both remember, sometimes only one of us does. I don’t think there’s ever been a lifetime where neither of us remember. Besides the first, I guess. Back when we didn’t know we’d be reborn. We never look the same twice—different bodies, different backgrounds. But we always have the same soul.”

A reasonable person would have thought he was making up a really long, bad pickup line. But I stared at him with rapt attention. Like some missing puzzle piece I’d been looking for my entire life fell into place. It just sounded… right.

“How do we find each other, if we look different every time?”

He took a deep breath. “Well… when one or both of us remember, we can… kind of sense it? Kind of see it? Like, right now, I see you, but I also see every face of yours that I’ve seen across every lifetime.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes we don’t. Find each other, I mean. The distance between where we’re born or the timing of our rebirths keep us apart. But there’s only been… three of those, if I remember right.” He laughed. “So glad you believed me this time. It would have sucked if you got a restraining order—because those are a thing now—and I had to spend this life without you.”

I leaned forward, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Tell me more,” I said.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Um… I don’t know. The beginning? Our first life?”

He nodded. “Ancient Greece,” he said. “Like, really early in Ancient Greece’s history. The gods blessed us. Bound our souls for eternity. Your hair is actually the same color now as it was back then. Kind of a… nostalgic favorite of mine. You’re absolutely stunning every time I see you, but I have some favorites. You do too.”

I snickered. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Well… I always think you’re adorable with dimples or freckles. Green eyes are a favorite of mine too. And your current hair color is my favorite. There were also a few times where you were a little taller than me. Those were nice. You’re most comfortable to hug that way. But, without fail, every single lifetime I see your smile and I think, ‘That one. That one’s my new favorite.’” He chuckled. “As for you, you’ve told me that you like me best with brown eyes—even though you don’t like brown eyes normally. Um… you also like it when my hair is curly.” He gestured to his black hair, slightly curled, with two white curls arcing down the center of his forehead. “You told me… seven lifetimes ago? That you like me best with piercings and tattoos, but when I brought it up last lifetime you said even when I have them I still look like, and I quote, a ‘giant nerd.’”

We both laughed. Jason sighed and shook his head.

“Then again, you said that was your favorite during our pirate lifetime. And I can also say hot damn you looked good with tattoos and a big hat.”

I gasped out a laugh. “We were pirates?”

He laughed too. “Yeah. Well, you were. To start with, anyway. You and your crew were visiting my town and you, absolutely drunk, stumbled into my house. I was a carpenter that time. Thank the gods we both remembered that lifetime or I probably would have shot you. You spent half the night drunkenly blathering about how much you hated my hair when it was long the way it was and that you’d cut it off if I didn’t. The next morning, when you’d sobered up, you apologized. And I’d said it was fine. And… you asked me to come with you. I’ve spent dozens of lifetimes endlessly in love with you. So, like the lovesick fool I am and was, I said yes.

“It… was not a long lifetime. Pirates rarely made it to old age. We were both killed when a Royal Navy ship attacked us. I went down first. You told me in our next lifetime that you single-handedly killed half of that crew’s sailors in revenge even though you knew you’d see me again—because you’d been having so much fun that life and they ruined it. Eventually their captain killed you himself.” He took a bite of his croissant.

It was certainly a lot to take in. But everything he said was so vivid… I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination coming up with the images or… memories that had merely been locked away somewhere deep inside. The sea. The deck of a ship. An octopus tattoo on my left forearm, tentacles reaching to the back of my hand, a similar one on his tanned, scarred neck. Curly auburn hair, a scruffy beard. Brown leather coat and blood under his nails. Pierced ear and eyebrow. A tattoo of a mermaid with a face and wild hair that I knew must have been mine on his right thigh as we found alone time together in my cabin—a pile of leather clothes in a heap on the floor, topped by a big hat with a big feather.

I met his eyes again. “Tell me about another one.”

He smiled. “Well… there was another time I was a soldier. You remembered. I didn’t. I passed through your town on my way to report for duty, and the weather got bad. Your family owned a tavern that doubled as an inn. So, that was where I stayed. You didn’t tell me. I fell in love with you anyway. You would tell me stories and sing for me and make me food in private. When the weather improved, I went off to war and, miraculously, I survived. Even though I spent most of my time that fight thinking about you. I came back to your inn and asked you to marry me. You said yes. We were married soon after. I had to leave a lot. Fighting battles I didn’t care about. Eventually, I came home injured and dying. You held my hand and promised you’d see me soon. I thought you meant heaven or just said it to comfort me. You never told me we were endlessly-reborn soulmates.

“When I was about fifteen my next lifetime, all my memories came back. We both remembered that time, actually. When we ran into each other again we got into such a big argument about you not telling me. Literally picked up right where we left off. Two twenty-year-olds bickering like the old married couple we were. The life after I don’t remember is always a bit of a wild ride as all my memories come back. I imagine it’s similar for you. It’ll be similar for you.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his fingers. Our hands fit together perfectly. I wondered why I’d told him I liked him best with brown eyes when his blue eyes were absolutely gorgeous. “So… what now?” I asked.

He made a face. “Beginnings are always hard when one of us doesn’t remember. Because I have thousands of years of love for you, and you don’t even know me.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I’d like to take you out on a date, if you’ll let me.”

“Does it count as a first date?”

He smiled. It was a sad smile. “It can. It does for this life.”

“Have we… ever had children? Together?”

Jason regarded me thoughtfully. “We have,” he said. “But our bloodlines never last long. Usually we’re lucky to get great-grandchildren. We’re blessed to be together forever, but our families die off quickly. You speculated once that it’s the blessing’s attempt to make sure we’re not reborn into our own bloodline.”

“So we have no living descendants.”

“No. It’d be a little weird if we did. Like ‘Hey, kiddo, you’re our great-great-great-grandson! I know we’re younger than you but trust us!’” Jason laughed.

I could get drunk on that laugh. “I’d… I’d like to go on that date.”

He looked elated—and relieved. “Me too. I’d like to get to know you again.” He glanced around the crowded café. “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere quiet and I can tell you more stories about our lives? You’ve always been the far superior storyteller, but I learned from the best.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here. I want to hear everything.”

He helped me to my feet. I gathered my jacket, cup, and phone. “Great. I can’t wait to tell you about the time I was a magician.”

I giggled. “My place or yours?”

“Mine. I have a memento from our most recent past life that I tracked down. I’d like you to have it.”

“What is it?”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Just held my hand as we left the café. Gotham’s overcast autumn sky was chilly. “I… I want it to be a surprise but I’m also too excited to tell you.” He bit his lower lip, staring at me. “Gah. Fine. It’s your wedding ring. I found it at an antique shop not far from where our oldest niece lived. We didn’t have any kids, last life. We didn’t meet till I was forty-nine and you were forty-three. We both decided it was too late for kids. But I had a few nieces and nephews. Our oldest niece was in charge of our estate. We died in the eighties. But I found your ring. You can use it again, eventually, if you want. Or we can get you a new one.” His face reddened. “I don’t mean to presume. But I don’t know if I can live without you this lifetime after having you for such a short time last life.”

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s try that first date first. I feel this pull toward you I can’t explain, but we’ll build up to the soulmate thing. Okay?” I smiled at him.

—

Jason couldn’t help but stare at her. Those eyes, that stunning face. This one, he thought. This smile is my favorite.

[gotnofucks]

Congruence

Written for @holylulusworld 10k follows challenge!

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader, Loki x Reader

Trope: Love Triangle

Summary: Stephen and Loki want you. You are confused. Wong is an angsty person.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: None? Strong language, I think. Fluff and bad English (not my first language)

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this so please bear with me. Also, I’m a sucker for happy endings so…yeah.

MASTERLIST

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

Wong was losing his fucking mind. He was one more broken vase away from cursing in Vedic Sanskrit and spent every hour cursing Thor for sending his miscreant brother to live at the New York Sanctum. He could have gone to Hong Kong, or maybe London where he would have fit right in with that English accent. But no! He had to send him here in New York with Wong and Stephen and you.

You had been living at the sanctum for only two months when Thor literally dropped Loki here. Wong and Stephen had been sitting in the living room when the ceiling cracked open and someone fell from the sky with a resounding THUD. Loki had looked up from the floor with utter contempt in his face at his brother who landed solidly on his feet.

“Hey there, doctor!” Thor bellowed, patting Stephen roughly on the shoulder and gave Wong a bear hug.

The sorcerers had stared at the two Asgardians with absolute shock on their faces until Wong exploded.

“Can you please for fucks sake use the door like a normal person!? Every time you are here you break something! The ceiling for god’s sake! Do you have any idea how much time and effort it takes to repair that?”

Thor looked at the ceiling with no remorse while his brother dusted himself off.

“Can’t you just, you know, reverse time with the stone and fix it?” Thor asked, taking a seat without being offered one.

“What are you doing here? And why, if I may ask, is your brother here?” Stephen asked rolling his eyes. Thor made the occasional stop at the Sanctum from time to time just for the fun of it. Banner bet him 10 bucks it has a lot to do with Wong being recently single, Stephen disagrees and says its because their kitchen is always stocked with Pop Tarts.

“Ah, you can keep my brother” Thor said nonchalantly, stretching his legs out and being comfy in his chair.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are, trying to treat me like an object?” Loki spat.

Before Thor could retort, Stephen banged his hand on the table. “I have no plans to keep your brother, Odinson. Pray, take him and leave. And while you’re at it, put some money on the table for the ceiling. We may have magic, but we don’t use it to put splintered wood back together.”

“You must keep him doctor, for the good of the nine realms.” Thor said, raising his hands slightly in resignation.

“Have you started another war already?” Wong asked curiously, eyeing the God of Mischief who looked about ready to stab his brother.

“He hasn’t, yet. But I’m leaving Midgard for some time and Valkyrie doesn’t want him around. They will end up killing each other by the end of the week. He’s got magic, you can make use of him here. Hell, make him fix that ceiling.” Thor said.

Loki was seething at having been treated like a naughty child while the adults talked around him. They hadn’t let him utter a word in his defense and he doubted it would matter if they did hear him out. Whatever, he didn’t want to stay with Valkyrie either. Before Thor dragged him here, he’d switched all her alcohol with fruit juice. She would be spitting fire for days and he was safer here. And so, it was decided that Loki would stay at the sanctum until Thor returned. What he would do here remains to be seen. Stephen wasn’t pleased with the situation, but he’d rather Loki stay here than cause some other world ending event that would drag him and other Avengers out to clean up his mess later.

You were in the library when this weird turn of events was happening, so you hadn’t had the chance to meet Loki yet. You were a new recruit at the sanctum, chosen personally by Wong who felt they needed more than just two sorcerers to protect this place. Until then you were under training with both of them and were still getting your feel of this space. You had so far met no one other than your two mentors so you were rightfully surprised to stumble on man wearing green cape and eating your cereal in the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously while he did the same, chewing slowly.

“Y/n meet Loki. He’ll be staying with us for some time”, Wong said as ways of introduction. Wong adored you since he saw you in Kamartaj and had you brought here as soon as your preliminary training there was over. You were still very young, only in your 20s, so you brought with yourself a light and life that had previously been lacking in this sacred place. Ever since you came here, the sanctum had flower vases in almost every room and soft music could be heard at odd times. You didn’t take long to adjust to your life in New York and often forced both Stephen and Wong to eat something other than take out. You laughed and smiled and brought with yourself a woman’s touch to this dreary place. Wong wasn’t the only one affected. Stephen, who had initially been very against the idea of another sorcerer in the sanctum warmed up to you quick enough. So warm in fact that Wong could almost call it affection.

“Hi Loki, does your cape float too?” You asked and sat across him, pouring some cereal and milk into your bowl. Loki stopped eating and bent his head a little to the side, curious.

“It doesn’t.” He said at last.

“That sucks, I love flying cloaks. Stephen’s cloak – I call it Levi – loves to take me on rides. If your cape were a sentient too, maybe they could have been friends. Everyone should have friends, even clothes.”

Loki was looking at you with a small, amused smile.

“I can enchant it for a few hours; however, it won’t remain animated forever.” Loki said. He didn’t like talking to strangers, but you were so sweet, so unafraid of him that it pleased him. You had no awkwardness when you spoke, and no note of hatred in your voice, something that didn’t happen often in his conversations with people.

Your eyes brightened and you launched into a discussion about animation enchantments, something that the masters at Kamartaj had steered clear off. They were very adamant about how to use magic, and walking furniture was somewhere they drew the line. Loki’s magic was very different to yours and it fascinated you. This was how Stephen found you, deep in conversation with an amused Loki who looked at you softly. He scowled.

“What’s happening here?”, he asked, coming to stand behind you.

“Did you know it’s possible to morph your body in someone else’s completely? Solid illusions!”, you prattled on.

“Of course, I know, I just don’t use it.” Stephen said and took the seat beside you.

“You never said! You’ll teach me?” Your eyes were bright as you asked this, and it was with great restraint Stephen shook his head and said no. He found it difficult denying you anything and if he ever admitted it to himself, he would say he’s fond of you. Very fond.

Your face fell at his denial.

“You won’t teach me? Why?”

“Some magic is too advanced for you right now. We’ll build it up and maybe someday I’ll teach you, although I’m not fond of it. Some magic is just…silly.”

Loki was looking at your exchange with a small smirk and as you lowered your face in dejection, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and looked straight at you.

“I can teach you.” He said and watched your eyebrows raise before a small smile formed on them. You looked happy until you remembered your mentor sitting beside you and looked at him with a forlorn expression. Stephen’s hands clenched and he resisted the urge to mash Loki’s face in his cereal.

“Like hell you would! I’m her instructor and the only thing you’re doing is staying out of trouble.” Stephen said, one hand leaning over the back of your chair, a gesture not lost on Loki.

“Didn’t Thor say I could be of help here? Well, this is it. I could help teach Y/n and we can compare notes on our magic. Wouldn’t you like that, Y/n?” Loki asked you in a sweet voice and you nodded eagerly, eyes pleading with Stephen to agree. You looked so earnest, so willing to learn, that Stephen couldn’t find it in himself to say no. He wanted to, he wanted to shout that he will teach you all you needed to know and more, that he is someone you can rely on. But he simply said yes.

Throughout this whole conversation, Wong, who was busy cooking hadn’t said a thing but if the stiffness in his shoulders was to go by, he was not a happy man. He knew some shit was about to go down, and lord did he not want to be a part of it.

From that day, what happened in the Sanctum was something Wong could only call an over glorified dick-measuring contest between Stephen and Loki. They did all but whip their tools out and boink each other on the head with it.  

It started from little things like teaching you something new and praising you about it. You loved to have your work being acknowledged and would blush a deep red at being praised. Loki had fumed for hours watching you and Stephen work and you giggling with a red face as Stephen told you what a good job you had done. In retaliation, Loki started teaching you enchantments and when you got them right, he would pat your hand and tell you that you were a good girl. That blush, and the glare he received from Stephen was a treat.

It didn’t stop with academics. The men started vying for your attention in the kitchen, each trying their hardest to win you over with more and more complicated dishes. Wong put his foot down when Loki made a Nutella sandwich that was a foot high and dripped with toasted marshmallows that took hours to scrub off. Stephen had laughed outrageously when Wong scolded Loki, telling him to clean up his mess and if he ever did something like this again, he’ll be using his toothbrush to clean the sanctum. Stephen stopped laughing however when Wong turned to him with a spatula in his hand. “And you! You’re banned from cooking too. I can’t go shopping every day to get you ingredients because you want to make Y/n pastries and pies and stupid Turkish delights three times a day. Out of my kitchen! Now!”

The antics continued, more often than naught resulting in skirmishes between the two men which in turn resulted in a lot of broken vases, furniture, and in some rare events, bones. They fought over who you spent more time with, smiled wider at, and laughed harder at. It drove Wong crazy, an unfortunate bystander to the playground tricks of two boys fighting over a toy. But you were more than a toy, that he could tell.

You weren’t oblivious to what was happening. You were young, not naïve and so you spent your days very amused. You didn’t mind this attention, far from it in fact. Two very handsome and powerful men, for reasons best known to them, were trying their best to impress you. It made you giddy and feel wanted, but also confused because while you weren’t in love with either of them, you didn’t think you’d be able to choose one when the time came for it. Surely, they can’t keep doing this forever and will one day give you the ultimatum to make a choice. You dreaded that day because with each passing day, with each sweet gesture and praise, with each hug lasting a little longer and each eye contact being a little hotter, you were reminded that with choosing one you would lose the other. That didn’t seem like the happy ending you wanted.

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Loki was at his wit’s end and knee deep in books and ancient relics. He had scrounged every storeroom and tome trying to find what he wanted to no avail. His hair was disheveled from running his hands through it too many times and he wished you would braid it like you’d done a couple nights ago. What had begun simply as an amusing prank to show up Stephen Strange ended up being a true gamble in the game of love. He didn’t really expect to start liking you like this. Sure, you were different, and he acknowledged that fact within minutes of meeting you. But he didn’t know that he would seriously start considering his intentions towards you. At most he had hoped he would find a friend in you, but he didn’t just want to be a friend anymore. He wanted you with your tinkling laugh and ability to cast spells far above your level. He wanted to see you defend him against Thor and to tell you stories of Asgard as you took a walk through New Asgard by his side. He wanted you so bad and he’d be damned if that red cloak wearing second rate wizard took you from him.

“What in the world are you doing?” Wong asked as he entered Loki’s room to find it strewn with books and odd ornaments. Loki was sitting on the floor looking quite frustrated, and well, a little pathetic.

“I can’t find it. I’ve searched almost every book and every relic you have here. I can’t find it!” Loki moaned. Wong didn’t know what he was looking for, but he felt a small spark of pity for the god.

“What are you looking for?”

“Aladdin’s lamp”

There was a pregnant pause in the room.

“Excuse me?”

“Aladdin’s lamp. Y/n was talking about how Strange’s cloak – Levi as she calls it – would have loved having the flying carpet as his friend. And I asked her about this carpet, and she told me it belonged to the Genie who came out of Aladdin’s lamp when rubbed. I want that lamp so I can ask this Genie fellow to loan me his carpet”

It was a tough battle between laughing and patting the god on his head like a small child. Wong fought the impulse to do either and sat down on a chair after depositing the books on it on the table. “You won’t find it here”, he told Loki whose head shot up at this.

“Why not? Is it at some other sanctum? London?”

“It’s…nowhere.”, Wong said and raised a hand to stop Loki from interrupting. “Aladdin is a fictional story, so is the lamp and the genie and the carpet. Y/n loves reading about them and watching the movie adaptations. She likes to see how morals have interpreted magic.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open and for a moment he looked about ready to cry for having wasted so many hours searching for something that didn’t exist. Then, he miraculously started laughing.

“Norns! This woman drives me up a wall! She mentions one thing and I just want to do that for her. I’m not even mad at her or myself, just disappointed that I’ll have to search for something else to get her now. What the hell happened to me?”

Wong looked at a man who was very nearly, if not already in love with you. He didn’t like Loki very much, but he didn’t want this man to go through a heart break either. He would have to talk to you, soon.

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Stephen fancied himself a step ahead of Loki because he had known you a little bit longer, but if he was being honest, there wasn’t much to go by. His insecurities had a lot to do with that, for he believed you would prefer Loki, a handsome man over a scarred man like him. But you had never mentioned anything about his slightly trembling hands. You had taken to his life without a hitch and so seamlessly blended into a routine with him, Stephen felt like you had always been a part of his life. He couldn’t remember when you’d started helping him tie his robes, or necktie when the occasion called for it. He couldn’t remember when he’d started eating home cooked meals instead of takeout at the deli Wong preferred. One day he was living without you, and the other you had taken over every aspect of his life and made it ten times as beautiful. He didn’t know if he could go back to living life as he did before you, and he’d be damned if some green-bean god tried to take you away from him.

“I am going to regret asking this but what are you trying to do?”, Wong asked Stephen who was standing in the middle of his meditation room holding his cloak. Well, holding might not be the correct term. Dancing…with his cloak.

“I am teaching Levi how to waltz”, Stephen said and continued to guide the piece of fabric through the leg movements. Wong watched this with morbid fascination before sputtering incredulously.

“Why?”

“Y/n loves to waltz and as I don’t always have enough time to indulge her, I’m teaching my cloak how to do it so it can keep her company. You’ll do that won’t you, Levi?”

To Wong’s utter astonishment the cloak seemed to nod and was almost elegant in his movements. For a good few minutes Wong watched this scene before sighing. Smitten, both of them. Absolutely wrapped around your finger and most definitely on their way to fall in love. Stephen was his best friend and he looked so happy since you got here, it warmed Wong’s heart to finally see Stephen smile and be genuinely happy.

He really really needed to talk to you and ask you whom you planned to be with, if any of them at all. This is exactly the sort of drama Wong hated and he was sure no matter what you said, someone was going to get their heart broken.

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You were going to do it. You were going to do it today and tell them your decision because you couldn’t take it anymore. The hostility between Loki and Stephen was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t spend a minute in one’s company before being interrupted by the other. In the end, you just left them both, hence losing the joy of both their presence. And poor Wong. You could see him trying to summon courage for what you knew was going to be a very uncomfortable talk. The past few months Loki had lived here had been the best and worst months of your life. But now that things were starting to affect not just your friendship but also your academics (because both your instructors ended up attacking each other and spent two days in the sick bay), you needed to make a choice. So, you did what you did best and got to baking.

“It smells like Valhalla here, Y/n”, Loki said as he watched you work.

“Why won’t you let us see what you’re making?” Stephen asked, trying to look around you but you glared at him and he sat down again.

“Will you both for god’s sake ask the important question? Why the hell are we wearing these outfits?” Wong grumbled.

You looked at the three men seated around the table in Harry Potter robes, each holding a handmade wand and pointy hat you’d forced them to wear. They had protested and whined (I’m not a witch for Norn’s sake!) but had given in easier than you thought. You really did have them wrapped around your little finger.

“Could you wait for like two minutes? This needs to be perfect!” You chirped and got back to your tray.

“I’m too old to be doing cosplay”, Wong said with a huff.

“Shut up”

It took you another ten minutes to perfect your stuff, a tray lined with identical muffins with Hogwarts logo and the sorting hat on top. Picking it up you sat it down on the table before the three men and then sat down yourself.

“These are the sorting muffins but with a twist”, you declared. Loki looked on with interest. He’d watched and read all the Harry Potter books and movies at your behest.

“I hate this, and I hate twists. The last time I saw a twist was when this one-”, Wong pointed at Stephen “-annoyed a cosmic being into accepting defeat. I still get nightmares about that”

“Oh, don’t be so dull Wong. These are compatibility muffins. We don’t need sorting, we’re already sorted. You are obviously a Ravenclaw because you’re the librarian, Stephen is of course Gryffindor because Levi is red, similarly Loki is Slytherin because that cape is definitely a Slytherin green. And I am a Hufflepuff because I am the best.” Your speech did not have the jubilant response you expected, and you crossed your arm with a deep disappointed sigh. Stereotypical as your sorting had been you expected something more than blank faces.

“So, what are these muffins for?”, Stephen asked.

“We all take one and see what color filling we find. The person whose house we get, that’s the person we’re most compatible with.” Now you had your expected response. Both Loki and Stephen sat at attention eyeing the muffins critically, trying their hardest to guess which one had the yellow icing in the middle. Beside them Wong groaned and facepalmed. Of all the ways for you to choose a partner, trust you to play a game of luck involving a children’s fantasy book. He was regretting putting that talk off now.

“So, if I get blue…” Loki trailed off

“Yeah, you and Wong can go make out in the corner” You answered. “But of course, Wong must get green too you know, or you’d have to find another Ravenclaw. Consent is important after all”

It was the dumbest shit you had ever come up with. You knew it, everyone else knew it. But if this was how it was supposed to go so be it. Everyone ignored Wong’s complain of ruining a good desert and set out to choose their most perfect muffin. They were all identical to the last crumb, and it took an annoyingly large amount of time for both your suitors to choose their pieces. After they had deliberated and finally chosen their muffins, you casually selected one and motioned for Wong to do the same.

Finally, with muffins in all your hands and eyes full of anticipation and trepidation, you all took a bite.

Stephen’s face broke out in a grin as he showed off his bitten muffin with a yellow center. That smile however turned into a frown as Loki showed a yellow centered muffin too. Wong, feeling utterly stupid showed his red centered muffin and then all eyes turned to you. With a straight face you turned your muffin and-

“Motherfucker!”, Wong cried and with his head in his hands began laughing and crying simultaneously. Loki and Stephen looked stunned, staring open mouthed at the two-colored center of your muffin. Red and green.

“What?” They both said.

“I can’t choose. I just can’t. That’s not who I am.” You said and looked them both straight in the eye, hoping they’ll see reason in what you’re saying. “How do you choose between two people who love so much? You can’t quantify that feeling, you can never tell if its greater for someone or not. Call me a coward or a bitch, I don’t care. This is the truth. I love you Stephen. I love all your music references and stupid movies you make me watch. And I love you Loki, with that English accent and your horrible cooking. I love you both and I am here if you’ll have me. This is what I can offer you, because I sure as hell can’t break either of yours heart.”

You didn’t know what was going to happen. You hadn’t exactly meant to drop the L-word, but well, it was true. You couldn’t break their hearts, so you put the ball in their court and allowed them to break yours instead. It was much better than going through with the pain of choosing one of them, especially when your heart beats simultaneously for two. You braced yourself for rejection, because sharing a person you love is never easy. But if you have to share it with a person you hate, well, its almost impossible.

Loki and Stephen looked at you and then at each other. They seemed to be having some sort of wordless conversation and the longer they remained silent, the more you felt like you’d made a mistake and lost them both. Finally, they nodded at each other and then looked at you.

“I hate this second-rate wizard”

“I hate you too, green puny god”

“But we love you more.”

You blinked once and then again. It took a minute to register what they said but then you were flying and the next second you were in their arms, one man at your front while the other at your back. Sobs whacked your small body as the tension of past few months left you in your lovers’ embrace and you could finally breath easy. You pulled away and looked up with a tear stained face at Loki and Stephen, a watery smile that they reciprocated.

“So, we can finally have sex now after months of violent foreplay”, you remarked making them both laugh and pull you in their arms again. This was it. This was your safe space, your heaven.

Wong was forgotten as the three embraced and he was as baffled as he had ever been. Only you could have pulled off something so crazy. He was so glad he almost joined the group hug himself. No more broken furniture, no more shouting and no more messy kitchens. Life could go back to normal. As soon as he said that thunder rumbled outside and the ceiling cracked, depositing Thor in front of them wearing his armor and red cape.

“What’s happening here?” He boomed, looking around as if he hasn’t just vandalized their home again.

“You’re such a Gryffindor!” You cried, still delirious with joy and hugged Thor who had till now never met you. “I need to shave my whole body!” And saying this you ran away leaving the men staring at your back.

“Who’s that? And what’s a Gryffindor?” Thor asked, sitting at the kitchen table, and stretching his legs. He spotted the muffins and picked one up, taking a huge chunk out. It was blue from within. Both Loki and Stephen turned to look at a red-faced Wong who was cursing in Sanskrit.

“Looks like Banner was right. I owe him 10 bucks”, Stephen laughed.

[yolkyeomie]

Improv Game | Yang Jeongin

summary — maybe following the script of what’s ahead isn’t for you and a little bit of improv is all you need to make it better

word count — 1.9k words

pairing — gender neutral!reader x jeongin (ft. x hyunjin)

genre — high school au, transmigration(?) au, fluff, cliff hanger

disclaimer — this is VERY loosely based off of series like Extraordinary You and the awfully popular reincarnation webtoons i’ve seen like… everywhere. I JUST NEEDED SUMN TO WRITE OKAY?

You strained a smile at the boy in front of you, rhythmically tapping your fingers on the desk in hopes that he’d pick up your annoyed undertone. Though to no avail did he notice. He simply took it as your way of attentively listening to him speak and that’s all he would ever take it as, he was rather oblivious after all. You couldn’t exactly blame him for this unfortunate trait of his but you couldn’t stand it either.

“Oh, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking…,” the boy began, leaning back in his chair as he held onto the desk for support. His eyes wandered from the front of the classroom then to the classroom window where the cherry blossoms were on full display to finally your eyes.

You didn’t mean to make direct eye contact with him but he caught your gaze a lot quicker than you could look away. With a deep sigh you stretched your arms out before turning your genuine attention to him, “What’s up, Hyunjin? Go ahead and spit it out.”

He cleared his throat for the moment, his eyes darting away from your connected gazes before mumbling something out of his mouth. The boy glanced at you to see if you had heard him and when you showed no signs of understanding, he cleaned his throat again. “I said if you’re not busy any time like… I don’t know— tomorrow? If you wanted to hang out? Like go to the park or an arcade or—“

“—like a date?” You questioned, raising a brow in suspicion.

Hyunjin immediately started to crumble, his face flushing a beetroot red and his ears practically steaming from your words. “No, no! Not a date! I would like… never ask you on a date! Unless you want it to be a date…? I mean if you don’t think it’s a date then it’s not a date—!” The boy continued to ramble, nearly forgetting about your existence as he tried to cover himself.

You were in a very… odd situation to say the least. One day you had woken in a room that wasn’t yours, in a house that wasn’t yours, with friends you didn’t know, going to a school you never went to. Only one could imagine the amount of disarray you were in as you tried to traverse the day struggling to get from one place to another when you didn’t have a clue of what was exactly going on.

You thought, maybe if you just get through this day, everything will go back to normal when you wake up again? As if this was all some sort of… dream your mind had created in your slumber.

But alas, that was definitely not the case. You woke up the next day in the nearly same situation you were in before. And the same in the next day, and the day after that. Soon days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. You were still living throughout each day as if you had never really woken up in the unfamiliar at all.

The kicker? You had quickly caught onto the fact that you were within a book, maybe even a comic who knows, and were walking around as the main protagonist. Well, quickly isn’t the right word per say. A week went by as if everything was normal until you interacted with a teacher who had asked for you after school.

The conversation was as normal as any conversation with an adult would go until you looked above their head and saw words in bold quotation marks detailing words that hadn’t been spoken yet. Without thinking, you read them out loud and the teacher responded exactly to what you had read out. You didn’t think anything of it at first until the routine you had adapted yourself to suddenly changed to fit the words you had read to him.

The world was shaping around the detailed actions and words the story was instructing you to take. Sometimes it would be something simple like helping your teachers with their work and other times if quite literally instructing you to get hit with a soccer ball in the face. You didn’t want to follow through when things like the latter were given to you, but they would just happen whether you liked it or not.

Oh and your main love interest? It was Hyunjin. You’d think having someone fated to fall in love with you and vice versa would be interesting and exciting to you, but you weren’t feeling it all.

Don’t get it wrong, Hyunjin is a very nice kid. He’s tall and handsome with a sweet personality, but he just… wasn’t your type? So trying to get your “character” to fall in love with him was hard. Especially when whatever author that was scripting your interactions together made them happen extremely frequently and in rather annoying ways.

Not a day goes by where you can get some peace and quiet. Whenever you thought you’d be free, Hyunjin would always pop up to greet you or keep you company or even pull you to the next step of your growing relationship when you really didn’t want to.

It seemed like the date-that’s-not-really-a-date-but-it-totally-is was the next step into pushing you two closer to each other. It had to be, given the fact that the next sentence that was supposed to come out of your mouth had appeared over his stressed out figure.

You concealed a deep sigh as you placed your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. The boy immediately stopped in his tracks, turning to face you with wide and curious eyes. You flashed him your best smile possible, “Yes, let’s make it a date.”

The boy nearly popped a vein, blinking rapidly and his cheeks growing warmer and warmer at your answer. “You… Do you really mean it? Like… this wouldn’t be just two friends hanging out— this will be a whole date?”

“Do you even know what the definition of a date is? Of course it’s a whole date!” You recited, watching Hyunjin’s eyes begin to glow and his smile stretching from ear to ear.

A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he jumped up from his seat, struggling to contact his excitement. “Okay then! It’s… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date!” He exclaimed, catching the attention of nearly the entire class. Luckily it was a free period so you didn’t have to worry about interrupting the class instruction but it was still embarrassing. You practically sunk in your seat and covered your face to the best of your ability as Hyunjin hopped about the room in glee. “Jeongin, Jeongin! You’ll never guess what happened to me!”

Your head immediately shot up upon hearing the name uttered from the boy’s lips, your eyes glued straight onto Hyunjin’s back. The boy was jumping up and down in the door and his back was blocking the view of whoever was in front of him, but you didn’t exactly mind. You simply waited for him to stop moving before finally spotting the familiar dimpled boy in front him, his pretty smile and excited eyes on the main love interest.

Jeongin, the main love interest’s best friend and the device used to move the plot forward, that’s exactly who he was. Minus the fact that you liked Jeongin a lot more than you liked Hyunjin.

Your body so desperately wanted to move on it’s own, your eyes following the boy’s every move as he expressed his delight for the boy’s accomplishments.

The mischievous glint in his eyes every time was mesmerizing, the pretty tone of voice he had was exhilarating, and his unique features almost made him too good to be true. Not to mention how genuinely funny he was without even trying, he was much more your speed than the gullible and kind Hyunjin that you were paired with.

Unfortunately, the story you were placed in would never let Jeongin think of you more than a friend. He just wasn’t scripted that way. While Hyunjin may love you unconditionally because that was his purpose, you didn’t find it as appealing as perhaps a reader or any other normal main protagonist would be.

Plus, you had no idea how exactly you’d be able to break free from the plotline of you and Hyunjin getting together nor did you know what would happen if you did. You had always followed the path that was in front of you without question, the possibility of getting to the end of the story and escaping the book you were in had been the only thing you were reaching for.

But if you strayed from that somehow and got with Jeongin against the author’s wishes, what exactly would that entail for you? Would you still be forced together with Hyunjin? Or would the author somehow eradicate Jeongin’s existence altogether?

Big bold quotes appeared over Jeongin and Hyunjin’s heads, your next scripted words to continue the plot blasted right in your face like flashing headlights. You read them silently to yourself for a moment, glancing from Hyunjin to Jeongin with a skeptical frown on your face.

I can’t wait for tomorrow, Hyunjin!

What a simple phrase to repeat, a normal response in the situation you were in. You and Hyunjin were fated to be with each other, destined to fall in love no matter what odds were against the two of you. But… you just weren’t feeling it honestly. Who would have guessed that the obstacles that stood in between you and Hyunjin becoming a couple was yourself, the main protagonist, after all?

With a deep breath, you stood up from your seat and flagged down Hyunjin and Jeongin to get their attention. Jeongin was the first to notice, catching your moving figure in the corner of his eye and hitting the boy’s shoulder to get his attention. Hyunjin turned around shortly after, his hair whipping in the wind and landing perfectly on his shoulders thanks to his typical love interest privileges.

He smiled at you, his wide and grand smile that should have made any person fall out in adoration. You raised your hand to wave at the boys as you spoke, “Hi… Jeongin.”

Hyunjin’s infatuated gaze fell into one of confusion, his face twisting as he looked back at the friend you had called out to.

Jeongin looked just as confused as Hyunjin, unsure of whether or not he could respond to you. Though it was a little too late to not answer now, you had already made eye contact with each other. Not responding would be seen as rude to his friend’s future partner after all. “Hi, Y/N” He replied, his words seemingly unscripted from what the original author had intended. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to say a word to you in this scene but that didn’t matter now.

You had taken the first step into straying off the path that was laid out for you since you woke up in this book’s storyline, and now you were going to run for it. Run as fast as you can to change the story to what you wanted, a story where you can have Jeongin all for yourself, and not what the author had intended for you.

After all, you're not the protagonist that the author had intended to write. You are you’re own person with your own wants and desires, you were going to get what you wanted whether the author liked it or not.