#and yes my main girl needs to learn something from this

[kalpaca]

ive decided to write a novel. the trouble is, i have approximately 2 weeks until this hyper fixation wears off, which means i have 2 weeks to write a novel.

no, i do not have any kind of inspiration or ideas. yes, i’ve already started writing, 10 pages in and i still don’t know what’s gonna happen in the story. it’s FINE.

please send help?

ps. NO IT’S NOT GONNA BE DIRTY SHHH

[marlenesluv]

Lessons (LN) - Part 1

Summary: Madelyn makes her big move to Monaco, hoping to get a fresh start in her career, and her love life.

Pairing: Madelyn Fewtrell x Lando Norris

Warnings for this part: Language and mentions of losing virginity. (Not spell checked)

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Note: This series is new, so if there are errors in timeline with F1, excuse it lol! If you would like to be tagged, please comment on this post and I'll add you to the tag list for only this series!

Madelyn loved her home. 'Home' was a difficult word, though. Her brother, Max, use to be a race car driver. During this time, their family moved quite a bit in order to help Max's career.

Madelyn moved to Malaysia and Singapore, both places extremely beautiful and welcoming of her and her family. Malaysia was more like home, making her learn the culture, religion, and the people.

When she turned 15, Max retired. His mental health wasn't doing well, and he was tired. Everyone supported his decision, knowing it wasn't an easy one to make. Some "fans" and interviewers were harsh on him, but he did his best to disappear for a bit and enjoy his family and friends.

And two years ago, in 2022, Max met Pietra Pilao, his girlfriend of now two years. She loved Pietra. She was funny, sweet, and always there for you to talk and hangout with. But it made Madelyn sad, sad that she didn't have a person like Max did.

His sister envied how he could tell her anything, how often they hung out, how she was there for him, and he was there for her. Max loved Pietra, and Pietra loved Max. Anyone could see how in love they were.

Madelyn, however, seemed to be in a life long dry spell. Never had a boyfriend, only sad excuses for dates. She'd never had sex, never experienced what seemed like every other teenager had.

She needed a reset, and a major one.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"You have everything packed?" Max asked his younger sister, watching as she rolled her eyes and unplugged her phone from his charger in his car.

"Yes, dad, I have everything."

Max scoffed, annoyed with her attitude. She was impatient to get to Monaco. Of course he was happy for her, but he'd miss her.

Max adored his amazing relationship with his sister, not many siblings had a good bond. He would miss the lunches, random walks, and family dinners.

Pietra would miss her too. Quickly, the two became the best of friends. They clicked as soon as Max introduced them after five months of dating and nagging from Pietra about wanting to meet Max's "adorable younger sister." Her words.

"I'm just making sure. And you're sure that Lando confirmed that all your things arrived at his house?" Madelyn nodded, ready to hop on her flight.

And yeah, Lando....

She'd known Lando since she was little. He was Max's childhood best friend, the one person in the world, minus Pietra and Madelyn, that Max would take a bullet for.

After she had graduated from college with her Journalism degree four months ago, she decided that she needed to move.

A reset is what she had been telling everyone. But in her mind, this reset was permanent. The girl didn't want to ever move back to the UK. Not because she hated it, she just wanted something different.

And when Max had mentioned this to Lando, he quickly offered for the sister of his best friend to move in. Lando explained how he had a spare room, and that he was gone for races anyway. He wanted someone to house sit, and he trusted her.

After two weeks of non-stop planning and packing, she was here: ready to jump out of her brother's car and run to her terminal.

"Okay, Max, I need to go. I love you." Madelyn said, unbuckling and getting out as Max laughed, "I love you too. Text me when you-" He was cut off by his door slamming and the sight of his sister running through the crowd and into the airport.

"-land. Whatever, fuck me then. Enjoy Monaco you little menace." Max muttered to himself as he put the car in drive and began his drive back home.

Madelyn, on the other hand, was sprinting. She only had herself, a backpack, and her ticket and passport. All her things were already at Lando's- well... her's now, too.

After she got through security and chugged an iced coffee, her flight began to board, and the only thing on her mind was the beautiful view in Monaco, her new Journalism job, and moving in.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There she stood, staring at the door of Lando's apartment. She was nervous, but not sure why. She had seen Lando a thousand times over, always her brother's annoying best friend.

But this felt different. She hadn't seen him for four years. Once she started college, she began a new part of her life. One where she went to Yale and lived in the States with friends all whilst getting a degree.

He had to have changed, maybe a little. But in her mind, he would always be Lando Norris, the boy who would break her Barbie's- holy shit.

"Were you planning on knocking, or just staring at the door?" Lando asked, leaning on the doorframe as Madelyn's eyebrows raised.

Lando had changed, he had changed a lot. His hair grew in curlier after he buzzed it, the curls bouncing and gleaming. His skin even tanner if that was possible. Lando's muscles were now triple the size, his biceps flexed on the frame as he smirked.

"U-um, no, just thinking." Madelyn said, cringing at her short and shitty response.

"Thinking about?" He questioned, tilting his head as he watched her bit her lip and take a deep breath. "Nothing, none of your business. Can I come in?" She rushed out, releasing a shaky breath.

Lando stepped to the side, allowing her to walk through the door frame as he shut the door behind her.

Madelyn sighed, setting her backpack down as a confused look passed through her face.

"What?" Lando asked.

"Where's my stuff?"

Lando nodded, "Follow me, Mads." Mads. That name had her flashing back. Usually, she preferred to be called Madelyn, her name. But her friends and family would call her Maddy. Mads was reserved for Lando, and Lando alone.

Madelyn followed Lando to a room, both of them pausing in front of the door as he began to speak, "This is your room, I took it upon myself to put some of your things up. Everything is moveable if you hate it." He announced, then opening the bedroom door, allowing her to take it in.

The room itself was simple. The walls were a green color, with wood floors and a white ceiling. A beautiful gold chandelier hung, the bed freshly made with new sheets. She took notice to her plushies and blankets on the bed. The bookcase in her room empty, and next to it were her boxes of books.

Lando noticed her looking at the books, "Oh, I didn't want to put the books up. I know how particular you are about them." He stuck his tongue in his cheek, a little nervous for his reaction.

"Lando, I- I love this room. Thank you, you have no idea how much this means to me." Madelyn smiled at Lando, making him blush a bit.

"No problem. Why don't you get settled in, hm? Maybe get dressed because tonight, I'm going to show you how Formula 1 drivers have fun." Lando winked, leaving her room and shutting the door behind himself.

Madelyn, stood there, confused and excited. This was exactly what she needed. And who knows? Maybe she'd find a guy to take her virginity. This was Monaco, after all. The options had to be good.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

This was a short first part, I’m aware, lol. I wanted a little introductory. Please comment if you want to be tagged in future parts!

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[temis-de-leon]

Replaced MC AU/AU - V.1 - P.1

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, fem!MC and high school crush! male! NES (MC x NES)

Main Masterlist

Replaced MC AU/AU Masterlist (check the other versions and learn more about the NESs!)

Intro (gn!reader)

CW: unrequited love, rejection, insecure demons, i refuse to let MC be a doormat, lesson 16 mentioned, my interpretations of the pacts, suggestive (kinda? i dont know), MC is down bad for NES, golden retriever NES, both MC and NES are in their 20s

There were two songs during the writing of this part: Rock Lobster and Girl With One Eye; do with that information what you will

.

Diavolo liked NES. What a fine addition to the program he was! Invested in his studies, clearly interested in the new world he had been suddenly thrown to and cooperative as an advisor whenever MC was occupied with other matters. Charismatic, polite and respectful, still acting with naiveness, but quickly adapting to his surroundings.

No wonder MC used to be in love with him.

That was a surprise for everyone, although he’d be lying if he said it was a pleasant one. Solomon had laughed at the turn of events, stating how lucky MC was finding NES years later. In hell, no less! And while that made everything easier in terms of getting to know the Devildom from a familiar face, seeing MC smile with that bashfulness whenever she crossed paths with NES wasn’t something none of them were keen on. 

Sending him to Purgatory Hall despite MC’s protests was the obvious choice. The House of Lamentation was already crowded and having MC share her room was both unnecessary and unfair; at least, that’s what Lucifer said.

Both of the angels’ and Solomon’s reports were as positive as they could be. Luke thoroughly enjoyed baking with him, Simeon described his company as delightful and the sorcerer was ecstatic when he announced that NES tried every single one of his dishes, which just proved his bravery and resilience. 

Diavolo liked NES, yes, but he’d like him even more if MC liked him a little less.

.

.

“So those are pacts?”

MC stared at NES, mouth dry and words stuck in her throat. She needed to blink, but she didn’t know how to do that without looking weird. Of course NES’s eyes had to look like that under the light of the fireplace. 

“MC?”

“Yes?”

He laughed and her heart skipped a beat. There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, making her wish his soft smile was born out of the intimate bubble encasing them. If she focused enough, she could swear NES had a blush in his cheeks. If only that wasn’t due to the heat.

“The pacts, MC”

“Oh, yeah”

Could the earth swallow her if she was already in hell?

“They’re bonds I share with the brothers. Kinda like…”

She didn’t know what to say then. That she could command the brothers and they had no other choice but to obey her? He'd discover the true meaning of the pacts if he asked the right people, mainly Solomon, but it still seemed like a fact too vulnerable to share.

“It means she’s part of the family” a voice behind them intervened. “That she belongs with us”

MC jumped and turned around at lightning speed, drowning in embarrassment at the realization that she’d completely forgotten about Satan’s presence in the library. However, something in his words irked her mind. Did he want to say that? Or rather that she belonged to them?

“That’s nice, right?” 

She looked at NES, who was smiling despite the heavy silence in the air. Satan scoffed, no doubt in a mocking tone, and MC wondered with sudden ire how far she could go.

“Well, these are just two of them”

Mammon’s, covering the tip of her fingers in pure black with golden swirls; and Beel’s, dripping out of her mouth down the length of her throat.

“And where are the others? They look really cool!”

“Come closer, I’ll show you Satan’s”

Said demon snapped his book close, turning around with glaring eyes. MC ignored him and opened her mouth, letting herself enjoy NES’s presence so close to her body. There was ink in her tongue, drawing hard edges in the shape of a very elaborated arrow. NES stared at it in amazement, unconsciously grabbing MC’s chin and moving it side to side, up and down, to admire the tattoo better.

“Do you want to see the others?”

NES took his hand away, discreetly looking at Satan out of the corner of his eye.

“Would you…?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary” 

The blond glared at them and MC stared him down with a silent warning.

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make”

The tension was thick once again and MC sighed when NES looked away in awkwardness, but she couldn’t let Satan spoil what she wanted to be a nice date.

“Come with me to my room, NES, I’ll show you the rest of them”

He didn’t need any reassurance, taking his DDD and MC’s blanket with him before following her out of the room. 

The fireplace was still lit, but Satan felt unusually cold. 

.

.

“She invited him to her room?!” Asmo clutched his chest before covering his annoyance in fake saccharine words. “How daring!”

“Lucifer will be furious!” cried Levi trying not to drop his DDD in his drink, finally letting it rest on the table and keeping his trembling hands inside his pockets.

“Why didn’t you stop them?” 

Satan looked at Mammon in disbelief, sneering at his brother’s furious expression. 

“Do you really think I didn’t want to? She wasn’t exactly happy with me at the moment!”

“Well, no wonder! You cock-blocked her!” 

Levi screeched at Asmo with a horrified look in his face, tears already in his eyes and fingers fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper.

“She’s raising their intimacy levels at ultimate speed! She’s taking the shortcut! There’s no way a yucky disgusting otaku could compete with that!”

Asmo rolled his eyes, patting the sobering demon’s back.

“None of us can compete with that, Levi”

Everyone looked at Mammon in surprise, but he was staring at his fingers, completely defeated. 

“As much as it pains me to say this, Mammon is right”

“Oi! Have some respect for your older brother!”

“Shut up, you moron! I’m taking your side” speaked Asmo once again. He sighed and crossed his arms, hugging himself with sadness. “MC already made her choice. The only thing we can do is slow the process”

“Then we’ll do that”

Satan seemed determined, rejecting Mammon’s supporting touch when he leaned over his chair to grasp his arm. He got up and started to grab his things, stopping only when he heard Levi’s nervous voice.

“She’s already mad at you, Satan. Like… bosslike mad at you.”

“Do you really want to risk that?”

He refused to meet his brothers’ eyes, nor their fear, their empathy or their dejectedness. Without saying another word, he stepped out of Café Lament and set foot to the House of Lamentation.

.

.

MC loved the brothers. They’d become family, even with the death threats, the broken wall and the murder. They knew what she liked to do and eat and wear and they were more than happy to indulge in her wishes. 

But if they interrupted her time with NES one more time, so help me God, she’d give Hell a whole new meaning.

First it was Satan, sitting next to her in every class and cutting every attempt at a conversation with NES short in the name of a proper education. Then followed Belphie, who slept on the floor by her bedroom door, locking her inside and forcing her to jump out of the window, which gave everyone a heart attack. 

Lucifer mildly scolded them for that, stating himself above the poor behavior they were displaying, but still found multiple reasons for MC to be in his office for hours on end. Same as Levi, who pulled three all-nighters in a row and left her half-dead for a week. 

Mammon and Beel had been more subtle, both inviting her to movie nights, cooking sessions and shopping sprees. She only put a stop to all of the nonsense when Mammon tried to intercept her when she was on her way to a date with NES, excusing himself with a poor idiotic story about some angry witches. 

Strangely, the only one not to have a stupid scheme against her crush was Asmo. She almost expected him to be the most obvious about it, but nothing happened. He still did her nails and he helped her choose her outfits whenever she had a date with NES, albeit with a harsher critical attitude. 

He quickly became the nicest one to be around and she had no qualms in saying so.

“Oh, MC! You always know how to make me happy!”

“But it is true! I don’t know what’s wrong with the others! They’ve been acting so weird…”

Asmo stopped rummaging through her closet, turning around to look at her with an unamused expression. He looked tired.

“Honey… Surely you know. You must know”

They stayed in silence for a few seconds, both knowing that MC knew what he was talking about. All seven brothers had been interested in her to some extent, claiming ownership over her soul on more than one occasion, and this was the first time she’d rejected all those statements in such an obvious way. 

“We miss you, MC” 

Not the whole truth, but something neither of them could deny. 

“I miss you too”, she assured him. 

She could’ve left it at that, ending the raw, vulnerable talk in a positive tone. Alas, things weren’t always that easy. 

“But I like him. So, so much”

MC didn’t want to cry, but she was close. The dejection in Asmo’s eyes lasted long enough for her to almost regret knowing NES for so many years. In the end, he hid himself amongst her pile of clothes and continued looking for a good outfit.

“I’ll find time for you, I swear. For all of you”

Asmo nodded without looking at her, ending the conversation when he threw some clothes in her direction and waited for the mandatory catwalk. 

It wouldn’t be enough, but it was the best the brothers could ever get. After all, if someone deserved to be happy and in love, it was her.

.

.

.

Taglist: @stfuchaase @k1-an @megs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006

[lilghostiequinni]

Not Strawberry

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: ginger!female oc x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy

Summary: She's been in London the last few years, doing long-distance with her boyfriend in Monaco, but when she's finally able to move in with him, people are shocked to learn Lando Norris has had a long time girlfriend.

Requested: NO / yes

Max had convinced Lando to stream tonight, weeks ago, before Lando knew his girlfriend was going to be moving in, and now, he's regretting it.

Max had met Rowan more than a few times during the relationship, and while he would have allowed Lando to not join the stream, a couple of other streamers were going to be on tonight, all of which Lando had promised to be there.

So, here Lando is getting ready to stream and also not wanting to let his girlfriend go.

"But baby, I don't want to," Lando whines to his girlfriend as he pushes his head into her neck.

"You are the one that promised, and you knew I was moving in this week," Rowan points out to her boyfriend as she runs her fingers through his curls.

Lando groans as he pulls away, whining the whole time to his stream room.

"I'll make dinner as you do," Ro calls after the groaning Brit.

She hears a faint okay from the room as Lando leaves the door open just a crack so he can hear if his girlfriend needs him.

In the kitchen, Rowan picks up her tablet, logs into Twitch, and turns on Lando's stream as she moves around the kitchen, getting everything she needs to make their dinner, which is Traditional Swedish Meatballs with mashed potatoes and roasted carrots and some dessert, which is Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, or Black Forest Gateaux.

Also, she had been craving her mom's homemade cinnamon rolls, which she stole the recipe for before moving to Monaco.

Lando also made the request for cheesecake as he was bragging to Max about and she was going to make it happen.

She was bored and didn't just want to stand around and wait for Lando to be done.

She was watching the stream as she made the meatballs for dinner.

"Baby, that smells so good," Lando calls out as she gets them frying in the pan.

Rowan smiles at her boyfriend as she watches the chat of his stream go crazy about learning the rumors about Lando having a girlfriend.

Lando realizes what he said and that he didn't mute his mic as he did, and Rowan chuckles at the driver but not entirely loud enough to hear her.

"Yeah, I have a girlfriend and have for the last 5 years, but she was just now able to move to Monaco because of personal reasons. I will not tell you at this moment," Lando reveals as he continues to play with his friends.

"Max, does he really have a girlfriend, or is he just playing?" One of the other gamers asked the driver's best friend.

"Yeah, he does, and she's got some great red hair," Max answers.

The other streamer stopped for a second and looked at the camera, "Is she a natural red or like box die?"

"She's naturally a ginger. She's currently cooking because that's like her favorite thing to do aside from writing her novels," Lando says, still playing the game.

Rowan stands in the kitchen and for the life of her, cannot open the jar of condensed milk.

"Lando," She starts as she knocks on the door of the 'stream' room.

Lando stands and goes to the door and sees his girlfriend with her sad face and an unopened jar of condensed milk; Lando chuckles and grabs the jar and opens it for the girl, then she kisses his cheek and walks back to the kitchen.

Lando goes back to his stream, and the comment is going crazy about why he stopped in the middle of a round to go to the door.

"My girlfriend couldn't open a jar, and I just helped her; it wasn't long. It's fine," It may seem a little snippy, but he doesn't want a big deal made out of something he does for her because he just wants to help.

Lando stays on the stream for a little while longer before Rowan knocks again and says that dinner is done, to which he nods and tells the guys he has to go

Another thing that Lando promised is that while the two go to England to get a few more of Rowan's things, while Lando does some work at McLaren.

Another thing he wanted out of not yet wanting to share his girlfriend with the world, even if he does have to do so for her books.

Lando sits in the car and rests his head on the headrest, "Do we really have to do this?"

"Yes baby, you promised Max," Rowan says to him.

Lando looks at her and takes a moment before getting out of the car and then walks over to her side and opens the car door.

Rowan got out as Max came over, and he pulled the ginger into a hug.

"Ready?" He questions when he pulls away.

"No, I don't want to share," Lando whines as he pulls Rowan to him, and she tucks herself under his arm.

Max chuckles at the answer he got from Lando, and the two follow mate to where they are shooting the video.

"This your girlfriend?" One of the Quadrant members asks when they see the three.

"I thought she was going to be strawberry or box red, not actual ginger," A different member says.

"Not strawberry. Full, natural ginger," Rowan says as they get done speaking.

Lando chuckles at his girlfriend; he can't remember how many times she's said the same line whenever people see her hair color.

A/N: I would like to point out that I don't do Twitch, so let me know if I got something wrong. So, I have a quick question for those being tagged; what other drivers would you like to be tagged in that I have. There's Carlos, Max, Oscar, & Charles. What about F1 ships?

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[ballroamblitz]

caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed. 

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically. 

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me! 

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along. 

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair. 

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings! 

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing. 

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie? 

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation. 

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath. 

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya. 

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom. 

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind. 

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N. 

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession. 

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered,  messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like? 

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do. 

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest. 

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face. 

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.  

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share. 

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things. 

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most.  Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned. 

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon. 

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach  - Ate too much pudding? 

- Yeah, probably. 

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils. 

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly. 

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly. 

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone. 

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.  

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental... 

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams 

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater. 

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James. 

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right? 

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy. 

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i? 

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that. 

James felt his face getting warm and red. 

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question? 

      - Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love. 

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought. 

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken. 

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions. 

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces. 

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder. 

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me. 

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically. 

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. -  Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms. 

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago. 

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week! 

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself? 

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge. 

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry. 

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared. 

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me? 

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could. 

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher. 

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her.. 

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather. 

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle  - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his. 

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love.  Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.

[mothiir]

penance

the black templars discover human women. Nothing nsfw, only vaguely lewd, with canon typical violence and religious themes. Possibly will follow up with a smut if the spirit moves me

alternative summary: where is this strumpet so I might detest her with my own eyes

—

—

Isaiah takes his helm off to inhale the sweet scent of battlefield smoke. The sky is ruddy with dawn, and the last of the heretic cities is nothing more than smouldering rubble, the would-be rebels against the Emperor’s Will either dead or soon to be. Those too young, or too elderly, to have served a meaningful part in the uprising may yet find redemption as Chapter serfs or servitors — after all, there is little point to justice if there is no mercy to go alongside it. 

Sweat gilds his high cheekbones, and drips down his nape. Taking a moment away from his brothers to say his private prayer of thanks to the Emperor is one of the small ways Isaiah keeps his sanity during these long campaigns. He would fight and die beside his brethren with pride — and yet if he has to hear one more of Reuben’s jokes, he may consider —

No. No, none of that, not even in the privacy of his own head: he must be grateful, always. Mindful and grateful of the Emperor’s blessings. Reuben is a blessing. A hardship, yes, but so often blessings take the form of hardships; of lessons to learn. Reuben is an excellent soldier, and an exercise in patience. 

Perhaps it is the thought of Reuben’s damned puns that drives him further than usual, or the desire to admire the sight of a battle hard-fought. Either way, Isaiah ends up a good five hundred feet from camp before he quite realises it, crunching over charred bones and burned, unrecognisable standards.

Then: a sound. Thin, high, and vaguely organic. At once, he replaces his helmet, Captain Ezra’s words echoing in his memory: boy, there is no point prancing around like the main character in a holo — the enemy does not need to see your pretty face, and nor do I.

Anyway. The noise. His scanners alert him to a life form, hidden behind a pile of corpses. Humanoid. Rabbit-hearted, and trying very hard to remain unseen. 

He upholsters his bolter, and stalks forwards: a faceless, merciless instrument of the Emperor’s wrath. 

—

The clouds hang thick and red, like they have absorbed all the blood spilt today, and the heat is oppressive. A thunderstorm is coming; you taste it in the air. Soon, the rain will extinguish the last of the flaming rubble on this planet you once called home. It will fill the empty eye sockets of those who died for the delusions of your rulers. It will wash the land clean. 

And you doubt you will see it. 

As the Templar yanked you from the rubble, your shoulder had popped from its socket with a sick, wet crack; you had only kept yourself from crying out by biting into your tongue. Now your right arm hangs useless by your side, radiating bright veins of sheer agony. You daren’t make a move to cradle it, to ease your discomfort. 

“Your world is guilty of the crime of sedition,” intones the Templar, his voice as final as a tombstone falling into place. “Your leaders rebelled against the Divinity of the Emperor, and —“

”And I should die for it,” you manage, through lips gummed together with dried saliva and ash. “Because we let it happen.”

He pauses. The subtle tilt of his helm could be curiousity; could be an invitation to continue; could be nothing at all. But you are not dead. Not yet. Something in your chest is kindled, and you remember when you were little, at a school now nothing but ash, how your teacher would complain: that girl, she always has something to say.   

“We let it happen,” you continue, not sure if you are arguing for your life or begging for martyrdom. “We saw the upper echelons turn to Ch — the accursed powers.” Thou shalt not speak the name of the beast, you remember reading somewhere, lest thou invite it in to feast. “And we did not stop them. We worked away, heads bent and faces averted, and we obeyed orders, and the rot spread and ruined our world. I — I thank you, for your cleansing fire, for your — for His mercy. For bringing the Light of the Emperor to this place.”

You cannot curtesy, not in this shape, and so you drop straight to the ground, knees smacking into hard stone. You bare your nape, awaiting judgement, awaiting the blade, your heart singing against your ribs, that desperate song, that too-late plea: oh I want to live. Emperor above, let me live. 

—

“That is a woman,” says Reuben, like he has never seen one before. 

”Yes, Reuben, that is a woman.”

“In our dormitory.”

”Yes,” Isaiah says. ”She is in our dormitory.”

As this world lacks any proper infrastructure — due to the intensive bombing campaign needed to bring it back to the Emperor’s Grace — the Astartes have retired to their battle barge, as Marshal Ezra Rothenberg plans their next movements. 

Isaiah is honoured to consider himself part of the Edessan Crusade. There are more than two thousand of his brothers dedicated to the continued extirpation of Chaos from the Edessan system: a task that was predicted to take ten solar years, and yet is proceeding far ahead of schedule — due, in no small part, to the enthusiastic participation of the new recruits Guilliman so kindly provided them. If Guilliman hoped that the Primaris Marines would take the edge off the Black Templar’s well-known zealotry, he was swiftly disappointed. Within a few days of arriving, the only way to differentiate between the new recruits and their more seasoned brothers was size. 

Isaiah shares a barren dorm with Reuben, and three other brothers. They sleep on plain metal bunks, with a rough woollen blanket and a thin pillow. Other Chapters, Isiaiah has heard, are so decadent and spoiled as to have duvets — which are sacks of feathers — and sometimes even something called a mattress? Absurd. He pities his fellow Primaris Marines, shipped out to such degeneracy. He hopes that they can cultivate an appropriate sense of duty and decorum in the older generation. How can anyone value such petty things as comfort when the Emperor’s enemies still draw breath?

You are sitting on Isaiah’s bed, the blanket around your shoulders, your eyes wide. You have not spoken since he brought you here — barely whimpered when he popped your shoulder back into place. 

“…what is her purpose here?” Reuben says. He sits on his own bunk, opposite Isaiah, his afternoon reading (a hagiography of one of the more exciting saints) sprawled forgotten on his lap. 

“Chapter serf,” says Isaiah. 

“Do we need more serfs?”

”Yes. We do. The ones we have are — uh —very devout — “

The pair grimace. The fact that the serfs spend so long in prayer is to be admired, but it doesn’t often leave them much time to perform their duties. Isaiah is sick of doing his own mending because Serf Osric and Serf Jean are once more faint from fasting and all-night vigils to the glory of the Emperor. 

“Did the Marshal allocate her to you?”

Isaiah pulls an interesting series of expressions. ”Not…exactly,” he allows, unwilling to lie, and yet not wanting to admit the truth. “But he has been…busy, of late.”

”Yes. Busy. With crusading against the Emperor’s enemies.”

”Too busy to be concerned with this sort of thing,” Isaiah says, hesitantly, dangling the bait before Reuben, waiting for him to take it. Reuben leans forwards to better observe you. Isaiah feels a strange twist of pride when you don’t cringe from his regard, but meet his dark eyes with your own, your chin tipped up, your fingers curling into the blanket. Then you suddenly seem to remember who you are, and where you are, and drop your head in supplication. 

“Yes,” Reuben says, slowly. “Far too busy to be concerned with this. Don’t want to bother him.”

Isaiah utters a fervent prayer of thanks to the Emperor, feeling only a little guilty at thanking Him for his brother’s aid in deceiving their Marshal. But it wasn’t really deception, was it? They weren’t lying to him at all — they just weren’t telling him! Completely different. 

“Exactly! It’s beneath his concern.”

”She’s beneath his concern!”

In total accord, both Templars grin at each other, before hurriedly smoothing their faces into expressions of solemn piety. 

“Yes, brother. I am glad that the Emperor has seen fit to deliver unto us a — hang on, can you sew?” Reuben says, addressing you directly. You glance up at Isaiah, then stammer:

“Y-yes my lord —“

“Excellent.”

Reuben kicks up and off his bunk, rummages in the steel box that contains all his worldly possessions, then throws a wad of fabric at you. It unfurls into a dozen pairs of socks that look very much worse for wear.

“Start with those. Then my tunic needs restitching — the Emperor’s Most Holy Iconography is starting to get a bit tattered. Then —“

”Brother Reuben, you cannot hog the new serf —“

”I am offering her the chance to redeem the sins of her forefathers and mothers with holy labour.“

“Well, yes,” Isaiah protests. “But the holy labour cannot just be confined to your menial tasks—“

”Why — do you have menial tasks that need attending to?”

”Yes!” Isaiah says, thinking of his own increasing pile of ragged undergarments. “You can mend Brother Reuben’s socks, and then you must attend to my laundry —“

”And then she can mend my tunic —“

”No, then she must pray,” Isaiah says, belatedly remembering the importance of even the most lowly baselines in adding their voices to the Emperor’s endless praises. “And attend chapel —“

”Where Marshal Ezra may behold her?” Brother Reuben says. “The serf that we do not strictly speaking have, as she has not been allocated to us?”

Ah. Yes. He had forgotten about that.

”She must pray while she works,” Isiaih amends. “And abase herself before the Emperor’s mercy.”

”Yes. But pray quietly.”

”Do you know the appropriate psalms to recite while conducting your redemptive labour?” Isaiah says. You chew your lip.

“The correct litanies while uh…mending the socks of the Emperor’s chosen may have not been included in my education,” you say. Isaiah sighs. Truly, you came from a blighted world. 

“You will learn them,” he says. “The Emperor will guide your tongue. If you fail to learn them then it is a sign that you have not received His Grace, and in that case fear not — we will deliver unto you the Emperor’s Mercy.”

“She will learn them,” Brother Reuben says, with a fervent and touching belief in humanity’s dedication to the Emperor.

 Or, perhaps, a fervent desire to have socks without holes in them. 

—

And so it goes. The Emperor sees fit to decree that the brothers that share Reuben and Isaiah’s quarters remain on the planet to build a chapter monastery there, taking advantage of the natural resources that are now free for use. No new brothers are installed in the dormitory — a great shame, of course, but it does have the benefit of ensuring that Brother Reuben and Isiaiah do not have to face awkward questions about your presence. 

Isiaiah has never been in close contact with baseline humans before, save the serfs aboard the fleet, and he knows that it is his duty to ensure that you are free of Chaos’s taint, and suitably devoted to the God Emperor. As such, he ensures that you have the appropriate reading material, and tests you to ensure that you can recite the benedictions. The first time you stumbled over an incorrect word, he had sighed deeply and sorrowfully, reaching for his bolter. Brother Reuben had dragged him to the side and explained — in hurried whispers — that humans do not have the same eidetic memory as Astartes, and the misstep was not indicative of a lapse in faith but simply a sign of your humanity. 

Fascinating. 

There are other baseline issues that surprise both brothers. They sleep perfectly well on their hard metal bed frames, and their serfs often deliberately braid thistles into their blankets in order to better scourge their flesh for the sin of being mortal. You, however, suffer greatly for the first few days. You end up with deep purple shadows beneath your eyes, and you wince when performing even the simplest of tasks. 

“I am sorry my lords,” you stammer, when Isaiah confronts you on your constant yawning. “It is just — I am cursed to be a woman, and thus I do not have the fortitude that you have, and my body is frail and weak and cannot find rest in the blessed conditions that you enjoy.”

Reuben magnanimously permits you the use of a blanket and two of the pillows left by his brothers. Isaiah thinks that pandering to your body’s frailty could well be slowing your path to redemption, but he bows to his brother’s greater knowledge. 

He is perturbed by how much you rest — as much as six hours a night, if you are permitted to sleep continuously. Once again, Reuben explains that this is normal for the baselines. Besides, if Isaiah wants devout serfs, he is more than welcome to once more entrust his care to Osric and Jean.��

Isaiah stops questioning your rest hours swiftly. He does not want to go back to the days of having to convince a flagellant to polish his pauldrons. Without the brothers seeking them out, the old serfs seem happy to spend most of their time in the chapel, or wandering the halls while caning themselves and loudly declaring the Emperor’s benevolence to all. 

Yes, Isaiah wants to say, we know He is very benevolent and very merciful. He also wants you to do your damn jobs. 

The first real challenge occurs ten days into your time aboard the barge. You drop to your knees before Isaiah, assuming the penitential crouch you always take on when you address either of them. The sight of you prostrate at his feet — spine a neat curve, head bowed, hands clasped — always makes Isaiah’s stomach warm and twist. He enjoys seeing you so keen to atone, so eager to please the Emperor, and to receive  His mercy. 

“My lords, I humbly beg your permission to take a moment to clean myself — I have not managed to do so since leaving my accursed planet, and I fear that I dishonour your presence by performing my duties while unwashed.”

”You have washed yourself,” Isaiah says, frowning. He’s seen you wipe your face and underarms with a wet rag, and you wash your hands every time you go to the bathroom (a sensitive experience for all concerned, given that one of them has to escort you to the nearest convenience, and the other has to stand watch to ensure no one sees you).

”Yes, but — a shower, my lords, that is what I am asking for.”

Isaiah sniffs the air thoughtfully. True, you do smell a little sourer than you did previously, but he has lived with far more odiferous people; Brother Reuben during his ‘bathing too frequently is decadent and an offence to the Emperor’ phase for one.

(That particular penitence had been ended when Marshal Ezra had thrown Reuben bodily into the icy plunge pool and announced to all that the Emperor suffered enough on His golden throne — the Templars did not need to add their stench to the tribulations He endured.)

”Humans require more maintenance than Astartes,” Reuben allows. “It cannot hurt to permit her to bathe.”

Still, they do not want to risk taking you to one of the communal showers, nor do they want to send you off to the serf quarters. Several of their brothers are already suspicious of their suddenly-improved attire, and the last thing either of them want is to face questions about your presence — or, worse still, a request to share. So Isaiah fetches a large copper tub used by the medicae for those too unwell to stand upright to bathe, and fills it with water, and Brother Reuben donates one of his scraps of yellow soap. 

“Th-thank you my lords,” you say, from your usual prostrate position; then you stand, a little unsure, eyeing them almost expectantly. The tub is set in the middle of the dormitory; Reuben is reading one of his favourite scriptures, while Isiaiah tends to his bolter. ”Uh — is it okay if I —“

You gesture at your smock. Isiaiah blinks at you. 

“Are you asking permission to bathe? I have said that you may — do not waste my time with needless questions.”

He turns back to his bolter, wiping the sacred oils onto the stock, murmuring the appropriate incantations to appease the machine spirit within. A flurry of fabric; a splash; a pained squeal. 

“This water is ice,” you yell, and Isaiah, startled, looks up. 

His hand remains looped around the bolter, polishing up and down, up and down — but he finds he cannot tear his gaze from you. The water comes up to your waist, but the rest of you is bare, your flesh goosepimpled from the cold, your arms clutching your torso. Your elbows press under your breasts, pushing them up, where they glisten under the harsh dorm lighting. As you shiver, one nipple flashes.

Brother Reuben stares as well. 

“Emperor preserve me,” he mutters, and Isaiah comes to his senses, turning his eyes aside. 

“Woman!” he says, sounding only a little strangled. “Cover yourself!”

Another splash. When Isaiah peeks up — just to check that you have ceased to offend the Emperor with your naked bosom — he is gratified to see that you are neck deep in water.

”S-sorry my lords,” you say, teeth chattering.

”You are a Chapter Serf of the Black Templars,” Isiaha says hotly, his grasp tightening on the bolter, his strokes growing surer and stronger, seeking solace in the familiar rhythm. “You must act in a way that is fitting for your station! Do not flaunt yourself so! You must conduct yourself with - with decorum, and modesty. Be demure! Mindful!”

Isaiah, a little breathless after his holy vitriol, looks to Brother Reuben for moral support. Reuben is looking fixedly at his book. 

“I saw nothing,” says the other Templar. “I am blind to that which does not beatify the Emperor Himself. The nudity of a serf has no bearing on my day’s prayer. It is as insignificant as the passage of a beetle along the floor.”

”Is that why you are reading your scripture upside down?”

Reuben does not look up, even as he turns the book the right way around. 

“Brother Isaiah, if you polish that gun any harder it is liable to blast a hole in the wall.”

”It is not loaded, Brother Reuben,” Isaiah snaps. “I am conducting my daily worship to the Machine Spirit.”

”Is that what you call it?” Reuben mutters, and Isaiah elects to ignore him. 

—

“Where did you obtain the uniform for her?” Isaiah says, the next day, his voice hushed. It is just after morning prayer-drills, and the pair are walking back to their dormitory to change, before their lunchtime prayer-drills.

”I — just from the other serf’s laundry,” says Reuben, casting a quick look around. The halls of the battle barge are more akin to that of a cathedral than a space-ship, with huge domed ceilings, and statues placed at regular intervals in well-lit alcoves. Isaiah normally takes great comfort in the stern regard of his immortalised forebears, but for some reason today he feels their gaze like a brand, like he is a neophyte and they are watching him commit some secret and terrible sin. 

“They do not fit her,” Isaiah says. Reuben frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

”I mean — “ Isaiah pauses for a moment, struggling to find the words. Emperor grant him Reuben’s lack of observational skills — truly, his brother is a sterling example of blind faith. “I mean…this morning. When she bent over to pick up the scripture. Her skirt. It — moved in a way that displayed her rump in a way that is most unbecoming to a serf.”

Reuben exhales, his jaw ticking minutely. “Oh? I did not notice. I do not make a habit of looking at the serf’s rear end.”

”I was not looking at her rear end!” Isaiah whisper-shouts. “It was…just there. Wiggling.”

”Wiggling?”

”Yes, wiggling.”

”Is our serf distracting you from your duties, Brother Isaiah?” Reuben says, in a tone of concern so genuine it feels like mockery. 

“No! I just — it would bring shame upon our crusade if our serfs are not modestly attired.”

”I quite agree. However, I would argue that our serf is very well attired. Covered up almost to the throat.”

”Almost,” Isaiah says. “When she bends over to wash her face in the morning, if you stand at the incorrect place in the dormitory, and you have the misfortune to be looking for a book on the other side of the room, and then you find yourself looking downwards at the incorrect moment so you may observe the flagstones, you will be cursed with a view straight down her sleeping smock — and you will see both her breasts, exposed quite fully! It is revolting. A blight upon the Emperor.”

”How hideous! We must of course remedy this at once.”

”At once.”

”However,” says Reuben, as they round a corner, approaching their dormitory. “In order for me to avoid benighting mine eyes with such a distasteful view, I would much appreciate it if next time the serf washes her face you were to demonstrate the precise angle that I should avoid standing at. For I only wish to see what is pure and just in the eyes of the Emperor, and in order to do so we must have a full understanding of where to avoid looking.”

Isaiah pauses for a moment. After all, is it not his duty to guide his brothers when they seek to avoid sin? “Yes,” he says. “I will ensure that I show you most where you must not stand, and where to avoid casting your eyes. And — if I may make a suggestion?”

”Of course, brother Isaiah.”

”Perhaps it is not the uniform. Perhaps it is the way the serf has learned to stand and bend. Coming as she does from such a depraved world, riddled with heresy, it is natural that she does not know the right and proper way for a servant of the Emperor to move. Perhaps we should ask her to bend over a few times for us, and thus we can best advise her on how to avoid unnecessary…wiggling.”

Reuben grins at the thought of guiding a sinner onto the path of the righteous. “Yes, brother Isaiah. I do believe we should.”

[luveline]

Hi, I��ve never sent a request before so forgive me if this sounds weird I’m still learning how to use Tumblr lol but what if Eddie and reader go to Roan’s school for parent-teacher conference and her teacher shows them something Roan wrote or made expressing how much she loves her new mom and her new little family🩷 and reader cries from how happy and loved Roan and Eddie make her feel🥹

ty for ur request, it doesn't sound weird at all! eddie and roan —you and eddie attend roan's PT conference, stepmother!reader, 1.2k

You hide from the biting winter wind in Eddie's side. “Is it supposed to be this cold?” you ask. 

“You sound surprised. It's December,” he says, though he puts his arm over your shoulders to cover as much of you as he can. “I told you to wear a coat.” 

“The coat ruins my outfit,” you say. 

“You being cold ruins the outfit.” He nods towards the step up into the school building. “You could say the outfit ruins what's underneath–” 

“What's wrong with you?”  

“An appreciation for my wife?” 

“Stop saying that, you're confusing people. Steve asked me last night if we got married in private–” 

“You're always talking to Steve,” Eddie complains, “he doesn't even call me anymore, he just wants to talk to you.” 

He'd called to ask if he was still babysitting, actually, but Eddie wouldn't know that because he and Roan had been playing monsters at the time, speaking to each other in gruff tones while they made sandwiches for dinner. 

“You have a problem.” 

Eddie can't decide whether to bicker or dote, squeezing you tightly, a promise about new problems lost to the growing ruckus of the elementary school after hours. Some parents have brought their children, but the majority stand chatting in lines to see the teachers. You and Eddie have come through the main entrance of the building rather than the side door where Roan enters, and the walk to Mrs. Lundy's room is longer than usual, though far from unpleasant. Light shines through the windows where a rainbow of creatures have been painted, leaving glowing shapes of apricot, cerulean, and lilac on your skin as you pass. 

“You're like a Christmas tree,” Eddie says. 

“I just need some tinsel.” You point at the decorations hanging from Mrs. Lundy's doorway. “Like that.” 

“You want some tinsel? I'll get you some tinsel, baby, just give me a minute. And maybe distract her.” 

You refuse to help him steal from Mrs. Lundy, and spend your time in line waiting with his hands held firmly in yours to prohibit any theft. Eddie moans about being jailed but is otherwise content. He quite likes it, actually, rearranging your fingers to stroke your knuckles. 

Mrs. Lundy is smiling, happy to see you and brag about your girl. She starts with Roan's general education, her behaviour, her grades, though this young she doesn't have grades so much as milestones. Roan is smart but no wizz kid (not that you care), she's kind (but not always good at sharing), she's loud, and rambunctious, a great artist, and she's very, very happy. 

“She talks about your wedding all the time. Every day. She tells us she's going to be the flower girl, and the best man, and that she has a beautiful dress.” Mrs. Lundy beams. “She's walking on sunshine.” The teacher's smile turns soft, almost wistful. “Well, she's Roan. You know what she's like better than I do.” 

Your cheeks ache with pride. 

“She's a good kid,” Eddie says. 

“Yes!” Mrs. Lundy reaches across the desk for a turquoise-coloured folder. “There was actually something I wanted to share with you both… You know we have creative writing assignments, and obviously we help them with making real sentences, but what she has to say is very much of her own volition.” 

Mrs. Lundy pulls a sheet of paper from the folder and puts it down in front of your hands. “The prompt was what makes you happy,” she says. 

The first sentence is simple. 

My mommy. 

A drawing of you decorates the page above the lines, so clearly you, your smile wide and pink. 

My mommy is kind and I love her. Dad sayd the wedding is speshul becase he loves her, but she will be my mom. She makes me so happy. Mommy says she loves me all of the time, and she brushus my hair. My best part of the day is when Y/N comes home and hugs me. We are so happy, and Lucky gets dinner. I love my dad too, and Uncle Wayn. 

Her spelling errors have been corrected in green pen, and her backwards letters are written forwards for her to copy. You read the entire paragraph in a blur, thinking about how long it must've taken her to get it all down, nearly an entire page in her bubbly handwriting, big letters running off of the page. 

“Needless to say,” Mrs. Lundy says, “that most children write about their families, or their pets, or their toys. But Roan was extremely focused on the word love. She's clearly going home to a loving home every night.” Mrs. Lundy smiles at Eddie. You nearly miss it, reading the paragraph again, and then a third time. 

“Can I take this?” you ask, clearing your throat, tears brewed and bobbing on your waterline, desperate to be shed. “Is that okay?” 

Eddie laughs and elbows you in the arm. “Come on, it's hardly news.” 

You wipe your eyes before you can cry in front of them both. “I'm sorry, just– can I?” 

Mrs. Lundy beams again, emphasising the well-worn smile lines at the corners of her lips and creasing beside her eyes. 

You hold it together well for a little while. Eddie talks over your wobbly silence, a hand on your shoulder, assuring Mrs. Lundy that you're all, in fact, very happy, and he's just glad that Roan is being a good student and friend to her classmates. Mrs. Lundy's kindness and Roan's love letter to you has knocked you entirely off kilter, and you're crying before you've reached the car. They're happy tears. 

“Come on,” Eddie says, taking the paper you've folded carefully from your fingers as they clench. “She's said nicer to you in person.” 

And sure she has. Roan loves hitting you with the saccharine when you're not expecting it. Drying her hair after bath time, totally distracted, she'll kiss your cheek and say, “You're so pretty.” She sprinkles I love you's wherever they'll fit like her dad does, and she shows it with little gifts and cuddles and invitations. Y/N, do you want to have a fashion show with me? Y/N, can we have ice cream in bed? Can I do your hair, please, mommy? 

“It's different. It's different,” you insist, scrambling to find the words. “She's…” You rub your eyes. Your makeup is smudging, but you can't help it. “I don't even know what to say.” 

Eddie shrugs. Lean shoulders, a loving arm behind your back, the car in sight but getting no closer, he comforts you in the middle of the parking lot while the passing headlights kiss your shoes. “You know how much she loves you, babe. This is a good thing, right? You're not upset?” 

“Not upset,” you clarify. 

“Okay, good. Is this a bad time for me to say that I am profoundly jealous right now? I used to get all the drawings and cards, I used to get Mother's day gifts. I have a mother's day card up in the attic… might have to get it out,” —he kisses your cheek— “just to cope.” 

You laugh through a sniffle. “Let's go get it,” you say. 

He presses Roan's assignment back into your hand. “You can keep that one, but don't get it out around me. I'm serious.” 

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Eighteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Tommy has an important question for Grace, Ada and Freddie get married, and someone else comes back from the dead

Warning: language

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 18: Trouble

Will it come to pass, or will I pass the test? You know what they say, yeah the wicked get no rest. You can have my heart, any place, any time.  Got so much to lose. Got so much to prove. God, don’t make me lose my mind.  — Trouble, Cage The Elephant

“Do you like races?” 

The way Tommy asked the question made your heart clench. 

You sat in the back room of the pub, peeking through a small crack in the doorway as you tried to remind yourself, It’s not real. You were trying to unsuccessfully distract yourself with the inventory as you stayed out of the way. 

But your eye caught the way Grace’s head tilted as she offered him her shy smile.

“Is it Cheltenham?” she asked sweetly. He hummed out a yes. “And you want to take me?” 

The way she emphasized the last word made you want to roll your eyes. 

You heard him clear his throat. “You’ll fit in. Prim, posh, like the rest of the rich girls who come in for these races.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at your own outfit, so dingy next to her deep red sweater and bright blonde hair, not a soft curl out of place. Get it together, you chastised yourself, completely over the self-loathing streak you’d been in lately. 

But the way Grace’s cheeks pinkened slightly at the compliment felt like twist of the knife already plunged into your psyche. 

This had been Tommy’s plan, you tried to remind yourself. The night before, after he’d come over from his altercation with Billy Kimber in the pub, he’d explained how he’d persuade the new barmaid to accompany them. 

You’d almost laughed at the way you had to remind him that he couldn’t just force someone to prostitute themselves out just because he said so. You had to remind yourself that in this period, with Tommy’s influence, he probably could. But you’d been successful in steering him away from that method. 

And while his proposal still felt very daunting, he’d decided to go the more flattering route. Still, you didn’t like the idea of leading her on. Not just because of your own feelings, but because you didn’t like putting someone in potential danger. Even if Kimber had good intentions (which you severely doubted, even though you’d never met the man), it wasn’t fun being blindsided that way. 

But Tommy had convinced you to ease her into it. Not to tell her something until there was something to tell. Again, you weren’t happy with it — but you’d come to learn how far Tommy was willing to bend on matters like these. 

You heard coins dropping on the counter, Tommy’s voice pulling back to their exchange. 

“Here, for the dress. Make it red.” 

“I’ll need more than that.”

Tommy huffed out an amused breath before you heard another coin be placed on the table. “That’s three pounds.”

“And how much did you pay for the suit you’ll be wearing?” 

“Oh, I don’t pay for suits.” You heard the clinking of glass as he collected the bottle of whiskey and glasses he’d asked for when he originally entered. Then he continued, “My suits are on the house, or the house burns down.”

“So you want me to go lookin’ like a flower girl?”

“What I want makes no difference. It’s not me you’re dressing up for.”

The sound of the snug window doors closed, and you felt yourself exhale, knowing the conversation between the pair had come to an end for now. A few seconds later, you heard the pub doors open and close, then the distinct sound of the snug doors close. 

Tommy had a meeting — some men who’d reached out wanting to discuss some potential business. 

After a few minutes, now back on the inventory, you got up and opened the door to the main room to check on something. You stopped when you noticed Grace leaning against the wall of the snug, her ear pressed against the window. She didn’t notice you, her concentration focused on overhearing whatever conversation was going on in the other room. 

You were deciding whether you should stop her, or continue to observe to see what she was up to, when the sound of singing began to grow louder from inside the snug. The singing caused her to push away from the wall, but not before her eyes finally met yours. Her mouth dropped in surprise before snapping shut as she tried to busy herself, but you didn’t miss the slight panic behind her eyes of being caught. She grabbed a crate of bottles and hustled into the side room behind the bar.

“All right, boys,” Tommy boomed as he opened the doors and gestured for them to exit, “when I know who knows what about what, I’ll let you know.” 

One of the men pushed the second man still singing out the pub door, and you caught the last bit of his song. 

“—I long to see the boys of the old IRA!”

Tommy shook his head as he set the bottle on the counter. 

“Pretty bold of them to sing that with the new Inspector running around,” you commented as you moved behind the counter, grabbing the paperwork you’d originally come out for. 

He huffed out a chuckle, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. “They’re only rebels because they like the songs.” 

You rose your brow, “Will they be back?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head, blowing out smoke. “They’ll go back to the Black Swan in Sparkbrook. I have to go, but tonight,” he pointed at you as he walked backwards toward the door. 

You nodded, a slight flush across your cheek at the bluntness of his comment. Only a few men sat in the far corners of the booth, but still, it wasn’t like Tommy was trying to be discreet. 

It’d been two nights in a row now that Tommy had closed out the day in your apartment. Nothing scandalous had happened either time— he hadn’t even kissed you since you’d gone to the races. Not that you were necessarily opposed to things moving a bit further — but knowing your luck the minute the two of you did, the world would swallow up into itself to stop you. 

The sound of Grace clearing her throat as she reemerged from the side room caused you to turn around. 

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” she began, and you were surprised at her gumption to address her obvious snooping. 

Your brow creased, “Really? You’re going to pretend like you weren't eavesdropping?” 

“I was just— they were my countrymen,” she stumbled, her eyes looking down to her hands. “I got curious. I know I shouldn’t—”

“No,” you emphasized. 

You could see her throat bobble. “I’ve never seen them before. I haven’t seen many Irishmen in this pub, really. It was a Republic song they were singing, wasn’t it?” 

“I think so,” you answered, still skeptic but curious. “Tommy said they don’t normally drink here.” 

“Oh,” she said, chancing a look back at you. “Did Mr. Shelby say where they do?” 

“Tommy wasn’t exactly whispering just now, I assume you heard him say where,” you answered. Her eyes dropped quickly, her cheeks pink as she met your eyes again. Unsure what her angle here was, your curiosity piqued. “Are you interested?” 

“I have no sympathies for them,” she said sharply, almost out of instinct. Her facial expressions shifted from disgusted to shameful, and then back to a forced neutral, as she must have realized her own tone too late. 

But in the quick moment, there was pain behind her eyes that you couldn’t help but notice. You didn’t completely understand, but you knew enough to know that what was going on with the division of Ireland at the moment was delicate. Especially with the reputation the Inspector had brought with him. And based on the history you knew, it was only going to get worse.

“I didn’t mean to imply—“

“The keg is empty, I’m going to refill it,” she said instead, avoiding your gaze as she went into the inventory room. 

“Grace.”

She stepped back into the doorway, her eyes still downcast. You waited for them to meet your eyes again before you continued. 

“Just… be careful.”

Ada had disappeared. You nor Polly had heard from her since Freddie came back and proposed to her at the train station, ignoring Tommy’s request for them to flee the city. 

So when a knock on your door startled you early in the morning, you were surprised to see the girl, who flew into your flat with a handful of white fabric. 

“YN, you’ve got to help me.” 

She threw everything in her hands to the bed as you asked if everything was okay. 

Turning around, her grin answered that question for you. “I’m getting married this morning. You have to help me get ready. Please.” 

Without another thought, you jump to start helping her. Her dress was beautiful white and ivory layered fabric that resembled very much what you imagined the women’s fashion was going to become. It was loose around her stomach, her baby bump finally prominent. 

“Where are you gonna go after the ceremony?” you asked, helping her tie the back of her dress. 

She sighed, “Nowhere.” 

“But I thought Tommy—”

“Freddie won’t have it. He’s insistent we stay here for now at least,” she said, her previous bubbly mood falling.

“Well since you’re staying, are you sure you don’t Polly to be here now? I mean, it’s not every day you get married.” 

She shook her head. “She’ll just try to stop me.” 

“And you didn’t think I would?” you asked, half joking. 

“I did.” Her answer surprised you. “I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I know that you and Tommy have been seein’ more of each other.” 

“It’s all still pretty platonic,” you countered, fiddling with a piece of her jewelry. When she creased her brow at your use of phrase. You offered her a shrug. “We’ve kissed, but I just can’t tell what he wants. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea, I just… I can’t help myself.” 

She gave you an empathetic smile, sitting with you on the bed as she took the jewelry out of your hand and replaced it with her own. “I may hate my brother right now, but I do love him. And I know him. I see glimpses of the boy he was before the war when he’s with you. Polly sees it too — we have a bet going on how long it’ll take before the two of you will make it official.” 

Your mouth gaped at that, shaking your head. “I’m choosing to ignore that comment.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry, we wouldn’t dare say anything to Tommy. He’s nearly as stubborn as I am.” 

“Fine. But why then did you come here if you thought I was going to try and stop you?” 

She paused, biting her lip before fastening her shoes. “Because you didn’t tell Tommy about Freddie. He was genuinely surprised when I told him. Honestly, I’d assumed you’d told him already—”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” She offered you a smile before tilting her head. “And, I know you don’t normally like to talk about the deep things — at least, not with me — but… can I ask you, why?”

Ada hadn’t pried much into your life. It’d been one of the things you’d been more grateful for in your friendship. 

Honestly, previously you had assumed she hadn’t pried because of her immaturity. She was very much a carefree, live-in-the-moment kind of girl, keeping most emotions and conversations at the surface level. 

But the look on her face made you wonder if you hadn’t been giving the girl credit. Maybe she was all those things sometimes, but she really did surprise you on how sympathetic and slightly intuitive she could be when she wanted to. And maybe she’d always been aware of your aversions to personal prying this whole time. 

You took her hand and offered her a sincere smile. “I moved around a lot growing up. I found it difficult to make friends, even through adulthood. When I first got here, you welcomed me in when I had no one. You helped me make the most of this life I found myself in and helped me miss my old life a little less. You welcomed me into your family and you were always there to remind me of a cheerier world. I’ll always be grateful to you.” 

Ada pulled you into a hug. “I knew I made the right decision.”

You wiped away the small tear that’d rolled down your cheek as she pulled away, busing yourself with the final piece of the ensemble.

You stood up and began tying on her veil. It was so delicate and ornate, adorned with flowers around edge that matched the free spirit you’d always seen in your friend. 

You stood her up and smoothed out her veil, then turned her to face you, your eyes scanning for any final touches. When you were done, you took a step back and covered your mouth, your smile bursting. Her own smile widened at your reaction, turning to appraise herself in your mirror. 

“Oh Ada,” your heart was bursting, “you’re beautiful.” 

She blushed, her grin wide and excitement infectious. Despite the circumstances of her fiance, you really were happy for Ada. As the first person who’d accepted you in this new world, you felt very protective and loyal to Ada. 

It’d been why you kept her secret about Freddie from the rest of her family, and why you’d promised to wait and tell Polly until that afternoon, after you knew the ceremony was official. 

While anxious, the matriarch had taken the news better than you expected. Though you guessed she was anticipating them getting married, what she hadn’t was Tommy’s deal with the Inspector to get Freddie out of the city. 

Apparently, Polly’s attempt at ‘dealing with it peacefully’ hadn’t worked out the way she expected. Ada turned up at the Garrison flushed and out of breath, looking for either her brother or husband. 

“They’re gonna kill each other,” she’d nearly cried when you grabbed her arm, stabilizing her as she bent forward. 

“Ada, you need to calm down,” you tried to push the cup of water back into her hands. She breathed sharply as she rubbed her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.” 

“I don’t care,” she said through a haggard breath. “I have to find them. I have to try—“ 

You followed her outside and kept up with her until Freddie emerged from the stairway of a canal bridge. She threw herself into him, and you urged him to take her home and make her rest. You watched from the side of the road as they crossed it. 

“He’s going to ruin her life,” you heard Tommy’s deep voice behind you. 

“You can’t keep doing that to her,” you said without turning around. You felt him move beside you, both of you still looking in the couple’s direction until they turned down an alleyway. “The stress isn’t good for the baby. She nearly passed out in the pub just now worried you two were going to kill each other—“ 

“I should have.” 

“But you didn’t.”

He took a deep breath, “He loves her.” 

Your eyes shifted over to finally look at him, his eyes still staring at the empty alleyway. 

That was the first time he’d ever acknowledged their feelings for each other. You were convinced he thought Freddie was using Ada — hell, since they got back, you were tempted to start thinking that way too. It wasn’t a secret how dedicated he was to the communist party, and you knew most of the strikes around here were either spearheaded by Freddie himself, or encouraged by him. There were times you began to question what he loved more: Ada or his cause. 

But time and time again, Ada assured you that their love was real and strong enough to combat even Tommy’s fire. 

And now, it seemed, something had finally assured Tommy that Freddie wasn’t just in it for her last name. 

“What convinced you?” 

“When we were kids, Ada used to chase us around, shouting at us to slow down, to wait for her, to include her in our little games.” Tommy’s throat bobbled as you watched the reel move behind his eyes, lost in his childhood memories. “Freddie would always slow down. I never realized… or maybe I did.” 

He blinked, breaking the trance he’d been in as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette. He ran it between his lips and lit it. 

Blowing the smoke away, his eyes hardened. 

”He asked about the guns,” he said, his voice low despite the relatively secluded spot. “You haven’t told Ada—“ 

“No,” you said firmly, not letting him finish his question. 

He hummed approvingly. Another moment passed before he spoke again. “You never asked me why.” 

Your brow creased as you tried to decipher what he meant. 

“Freddie and me.” He blew out a puff of smoke. “I’ve seen you watch us, when we’ve been in the same rooms. You heard what he said in the pub the day Danny blew in. And I know Ada has told you how close we used to be. But you’ve never asked me why Freddie and I fell out.”

“You never offered,” you countered, meeting his eyes again. You crossed your arms, not sure what he was playing at with bringing this up now. When he brought the cigarette to his lips again, it was obvious he wanted you to continue. “I guess I just assumed you both returned from the war with different outlooks on the world. He doesn’t accept the powers-that-be and wants to change them.” 

He hummed, blowing out his smoke. “And me?” 

“Did you ever feel that way?” you found yourself asking, head tilted as you considered him. You hadn’t thought about it before, but it would have made sense. Freddie’s passions weren’t new, they were deep and rooted, and it would make sense for him to have been a member of the communist party either during the war or before. You were realizing now that there was a chance Tommy could have been entertaining the idea as well before he left. 

The way Tommy’s lips tightened into a hard line and he lifted his chin told you enough. But surprisingly, he offered you a short answer. “Once. Before.” 

“And now?” He didn’t answer that one. You took a deep breath as you continued. “Maybe you still don’t agree with the powers-that-be, but I don’t think it matters to you anymore. Freddie wants to change the world; you want to use it.” 

“I won’t let ‘em put us back in the mud,” he said, his voice calloused as he stared forward. He swallowed, “I need a drink.” 

Instead of walking toward the Garrison, where you knew Grace was closing up for the night, Tommy turned right, toward your apartment. 

You felt your breath let out, not realizing you’d been tensed up since Ada had blown into the Garrison. 

Catching up with Tommy, you decided to lighten the mood a little. “I’m gonna need to restock if you keep drinking all my whiskey,” you teased.  

He let out a humored breath. “Well, next time you’re at the Garrison, just grab a bottle on me.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah Harry would love that.” 

“Not up to Harry anymore what happens to the inventory.” 

Tommy let out a puff of smoke as you turned back to face him before letting him into your flat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I bought it.” 

“What?—“ your brow creased as his words sunk in. “You bought the Garrison? Can you even do that?”

“I made Harry a very fair offer,” Tommy said plainly as he made himself comfortable in your flat. It was beginning to feel less strange to have company. “He’ll stay on for as long as he wants and still manage the place.”

You felt a pang of sadness for the former owner. Harry loved that place, and always had such pride for it and its patrons. 

“But why?” You asked, starting to take your shoes off. Despite you traveling in time, there were still some little rituals that you just couldn’t shake. And taking your shoes off when you got home was one of them. 

Tommy began to pour two glasses. “Arthur needs some direction.”

“A distraction, you mean.”

He rose his brow, but nodded. “Regardless. He needs to keep his head out of the bloody bottle and on the business. Besides, weren’t you the one who said we needed to find a way to pass the influx of money coming in from the shop?”

It’s true, you had raised that question to Tommy recently after the Monaghan Boy win. Not that you knew much more about money laundering than you’d learned from watching Breaking Bad. But it’d apparently been enough to pique Tommy’s interest and take you seriously. 

Tommy was right though. What you’d been anticipating was finally coming to a head — Tommy was, for all intents and purposes, the head of the Shelby family and the Peaky Blinders. Arthur, who had been feeling the effects of his slow descent for the past couple months, was drowning his sorrows almost daily and picking a fight whenever he got the chance. You’d even begun watering down his drinks by the time he’d get to through half a bottle on nights when you were working in the pub and he was working his way to being sloshed. 

“You’ll have to help him,” Tommy spoke up after you didn’t comment. 

You breathed out a disbelieving laugh, “Like Arthur would ever listen to me.”

“You’ll have to make him,” he took a step toward you and offered you your drink. When you met his eyes, he smirked, “Like you did me.” 

You rose your brow. “You want me to nearly push him in the Cut and play a get-to-know-you drinking game with him?”

His smirk turned into a small smile, “Maybe not exactly like you did with me. But you’ll talk to him. You’ll reason with him. He’ll come to accept it.” 

“You’ve been promising he’d come to accept me for months now,” you countered. 

“And he has, you just haven’t noticed.” 

You shook your head, still not convinced and beginning to worry about how you’d get along with Arthur now that you’d be essentially working for him. 

“You two and can discuss the Garrison’s future at the next family meetin’.”

You rolled your eyes, half laughing at the comment. “The only reason Arthur invited me to the last one was to accuse me of influencing you. There’s no way he’d be cool with me coming to more—“

“He won’t have a choice.”

Your brow furrowed, “What does that mean?”

Tommy pulled your hand into his, causing you to stop pacing and stepped into you. The act surprised you, meeting his eyes again. They were soft, a small crease in the corners as he looked between your own, then to your lips. 

“You’re mine, ‘member?” his deep voice vibrated against you as he reached up and ran his thumb across your cheek, then down to your chin. You got deja vu from that first night outside of your apartment building as he reminded you of the words you’d said to him Christmas Eve in his bed. “Well I’m yours. We’re in this together, ya?”

Your heart pounded at his words. Whatever hesitations or insecurities you’d been feeling were gone as Tommy held you against him, his eyes waiting for your response. 

“Yeah,” you said easily, welcoming his lips to meet yours. 

His kiss was soft, a gentle tug that showed no signs of being rushed, but savored. You hummed contently into it as you felt his lips smile against yours. 

What was it about this man that made your brain go fuzzy and speech cease? Every time he brought his lips to yours, you felt like everything made sense. Like you weren’t standing in a room surrounded by puzzle pieces — but that the final piece was falling into place, even just for a moment. You laced your fingers through his hair, desperate to hold on to this feeling for as long as you could. Even if it was just a taste. 

He pulled away slightly, his forehead rest against yours as you caught your breath. “Whatever we face, whether it’s Arthur or Ada—“

“Or Kimber or Campbell,” you added with a slight mocking mirth. 

He breathed out a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. “Or whatever else might come our way — I know we can face it. Together.”

You lifted on your toes slightly to meet his lips again when a hard knock at your door caused you to jump. 

You and Tommy looked to each other confused — no one aside from Tommy or Ada ever came to your apartment. A second knock prompted Tommy to take the lead in opening the door as you grabbed for your bag with Polly’s gun inside. 

“Danny?” Tommy greeted opening the door wider for the formally dead man to come into your apartment. 

Danny Owens gave you a shy smile and wave before offering Tommy a salute. “Danny Whizz-Bang reporting, sir.”

You dropped your bag, pointing at the man and looking between him and Tommy. “You’re supposed to be dead.” 

Tommy nodded, “at ease. What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Charlie said to try here if you weren’t at your place,” he said before taking a seat. Tommy offered him the bottle of whiskey and he poured himself a drink. 

“So no one is gonna explain the very alive friend of yours sitting at my kitchen table?” you asked, still unsure what was going on. 

Tommy took a deep breath before running his hand through his hair. “It was a trick to fool the Italians. Danny’s been living in London, keeping an ear out. Apparently, there’s news he couldn’t wait on.”

“I was in a pub,” Danny began, gripping the edge of his hat in his hands. “It’s called the Mother Redcap, an Irish pub. I was talking to some old bloke about Birmingham. He said there’s been trouble. An IRA man shot. He said a lot, but the only bit I heard was that their high command think it’s the Peaky Blinders who shot him. I came up on the next boat to warn you.”

“I heard about that guy,” you said softly. “It was outside of the Black Swan. Was it one of the men you met with the other day?”

Tommy nodded.

You thought about the way Grace had eavesdropped on the men, and how she’d been so interested on where they were from. Your brain ticked that there was a connection there, but you brushed it aside on the grounds that you were just searching for something to be horribly wrong with her. While you believed she still had some kind of secret, you didn’t think she’d go as far as shooting someone. 

You looked down at your own hands, a vision of blood covering them from your own dirty deeds, and knowing that anything was possible. 

“Is it true?” Danny asked, pulling your attention back to the men in front of you. 

“No,” Tommy answered, taking a deep breath. “But lies travel faster than the truth.” He thought for a moment before gesturing toward Danny. “Get a message to them. Tell them to send someone to parley. Tell them there’s been a misunderstanding and we don’t want any trouble.”

Danny swallowed the rest of his drink before rising. He saluted Tommy again, then gave you a slight bow. “I will do my duty, sir. Ma’am.”

He left before you could ask anything more. “Tommy, what the hell—“

“Just another thing to add to the list,” he said, shaking his head as he grabbed his own glass and threw it back. “Right now, our focus is on Kimber. And tomorrow is Cheltenham. We’ve gotta be ready.”

>> next chapter: coming soon << chapter masterlist

[earphonejackx]

AN: I’m back!! I decided to make more makima fics cuz I’m crazy for soft makima :p this is a part 2 to part 1

⊂⊃ Soft! Makima x f!reader

⊂⊃ WARNING- slight manipulation, possessiveness

⊂⊃ Makima is an absolute baby when it comes down to you treating her as her lover more often, she likes to be babied by you! but somewhat likes to keep control

⊂⊃ When Makima finally starts warming up to you more she tells you more about her past. This is a completely new vulnerability she has showed you and she would like it if you’d do the same

⊂⊃ Makima has picked up a new hobby for watching movies every Friday night with you. After work she’d be right at your door ready to spend the rest of her night with you. “[name] what movie shall we watch tonight? I have so many recommendations.”

⊂⊃ Makima loves going grocery shopping with you! She loves helping you pick foods for you and her to cook. She likes having organized foods in her kitchen so it’s very interesting to see her picks of food

⊂⊃ Makima hates TV dinners. I’ve fucking said it, she refuses to eat anything that even looks close to sloppy food. When she first saw you eating a TV dinner for lunch she was upset “[name] you have very interesting picks of food for lunch, not very pleasing.” She definitely stopped letting you eat those T.T

⊂⊃ NOW obviously I like to make my girl Makima have some flaws so here we go.

⊂⊃ Makima still at times tries to control you or the people around you, unfortunately this is something you’ll have to get used to. She is a control devil, her main purpose is to control so she doesn’t really care if you like it or not that’s just how she’ll always be. You’ve learned to accept it overtime but obviously you occasionally need to have talks with her about it

⊂⊃ Makima doesn’t get social ques sometimes so she’ll be a little off put to some people or even you at times but that’s just how she is

⊂⊃ Makima has a very hard time expressing her feelings outloud so at times it feels like she doesn’t even love you

⊂⊃ This lady has definitely tried treating you like a dog once☠️ but she sometimes does it to fuck around with you or toy with you. It does calm down overtime tho

⊂⊃ Please expect Makima to go days without texting you sometimes, sometimes she’ll forget she even has a phone and leaves you worried sick!

(You) Maki are you okay I wanted to check up on you? | Today 6:40

(Maki) yes. | Today 12:00

Next day—

(You) good morning makima! Hru?? | Today 8:30

(You) Maki you wanna go to the store with me today?? | Today 4:00

(You) Maki wanna do movie night?? I have your favorite movie~~ :3 | Today 7:01

3 days later —-

(Maki) ah sorry [name] I just forgot I had a phone. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. | Today 5:00

(You) seen…

(Maki) [Name?] | Today 5:07

(You) BLOCKED

⊂⊃ After you blocked Makima she tried to make it up with you with a movie night. She tried apologizing (which she’s very bad at.) and she said sorry once. maybe you could forgive her?

⊂⊃ Makima definitely starts to get possessive with you overtime. She wants you. She needs you. So please let her have you. You definitely have to stop her sometimes but it’s fun seeing her get greedy for something that’s hers “What? What do you mean possessive? Me what? No.” She still denies it.

⊂⊃ There are times where Makima wants to prove that she isn’t just some control freak. She wants you to trust her and love her. She wants you

⊂⊃ Makima definitely likes to keep you away from her work life. But if you work with her I’d be no secret if she immediately switched your division or lowered you down to safer missions with easy pay

[nyx-is-missing]

Could u write one for clarisse where she's impressed with femR bc of how good she is at fighting and all and clarisse finds her incredibly attractive bc no one has challenged her the way R does?

And like a bit of pining until the two confess

Thank you!!

Breathtaking or taken

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader

Summary: when Clarisse finds a opponent worth of her, she is breathtaken.

Warnings: none really, just fluff, not a descriptive fight scene on sight cause mama dont know how to write that, so just fluff fluff, and mutual pining fluff

(Do i need to say its not proofread? No? Thank you)

Here is one of the main benefits of being a daughter of Athena, you'll know.

DIfferent from other gods, Athena will let your parent know it is her who they are talking to.

And if letting them know beforehand isnt enough, she will let them know when the baby is brought to them, and if your parent is smart enough to live up to her choice, you'll have time to learn a thing or two before being thrown into this world.

If your parent cares enough about you, you'll have time.

And sure as hell my mom cared.

Always the intelectual woman, historian, researcher, writter, my mom knew many things about ancient greece, she knew all the stories by heart, and she, of all people, knew what she needed to do, to preserve her only daughter, her sacred gift.

She teached me all i needed to learn without compromising myself, stories, languages, art...and fight.

Little girls my age were doing dance classes, were trying to be good enough for drama club, were playing tea party with their dolls or making a mess with their mom's make up.

Well...i.. i was doing martial arts, i was fencing, i had my face in a book every free time i got.

I always asked her about it, why was she so strict about never missing a fight leasson, her answer always made sense, there and now.

"The world is cruel, especially for little girls, someday i might not be all the time with you, someday, you'll fight your own battles, you need to be ready"

Every word, every single word is true.

And that is how i ended up here, in a arena of camp half blood, sparring with Clarisse, and winnig, by two points, yes, but winning.

It is clear nobody expected that from me, neither did she actually, i can see in her eyes.

Understandable, they expect Athena kids to be calm, find a solution, not fight her way out.

Honestly their looks dont bother me, i dont even think much of it, but Clarisse's looks, they got something more to them, like a kid who finally got the dog she really wanted.

"Aaand break time Clarrise, we'll continue this tomorrow, id like to enjoy the rest of my afternoon thank you"

I dropped the sword down and started to undo my armor while walking close to the exit.

"Wait wait wait, now? Already? C'mon i didnt even had time to figure out how do you do that... all of that"

She stood next to me, still holding her sword and honestly.. she was beautiful, yes she was sweaty now and yes she was mean to everyone but.. now...right now, she was beautiful, shining, in her element really, flushed cheeks and a smile she only had when with a sword in hand.

"I practice, ever since i was a kid, everyday, well expect in weekends but yeah, almost everyday... how do you do all that? You are good...-want some water?"

I offered her my bottle also motioning for her to walk with me, both wich she gladly accepted.

"I practice too...and i never said this to anyone but, you are good, great even, and look breathtaking"

We stop walking, we stop all actually.

"I look what, Clarisse?"

"Breathtaken- you look out of breath, do you want the water back?"

Ah.

Weeks later i found myself in the same scenario, sparring with Clarisse again, actually that is all i do when it comes to training, be with Clarisse

"C'mon curls, thats the best you've got? No need to go easy on me"

"Im not going easy, i already told you, you caught me distracted thats all- GIRL WIll YOU SUSH?"

She tried to block you with her sword, thankfully for her, a succeded attempt.

"How could i? You're so fun to mess with, gets all red n all"

"Oh you want to talk about getting red?"

In a moment i was on the floor, Clarisse on top of me, and i couldnt speak, all i could do was stare into her big brown eyes, who looked right into my soul.

"Cant speak anymore huh? Oh if you could see the red im seeing-"

Now this my ladies and gentlemen, this is what i call a shot of faith.

I raised my head a little and just..i kissed her, it was quick but I did it, and her face went blank.

"Now you are breathtaken Curls, how about that?"

"And you are still breathtaking"

Still?

Oh

Oh.

"You...like me Clarisse?"

"You didnt knew?"

Oh.

"....no..?"

"Would you walk away if i kissed you this time?"

"....no."

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Still Waters run deep

Summary: Logan learns that his girlfriend actually is the master of planning petty revenge. Let's listen to the tales she can share.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of one toxic and mean ex, but other than that this is 100 % unhinged fluff

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________________

Date the shy girl, they said. Date her, she is an easy one. She will love you forever.

That Logan will open his hotel door to see several car door windows on the table was nothing that anyone had told him before chatting up the quiet girl in his math class in ninth grade.

But here he is, staring at three windows of different shapes. “Babeeee? Are you here?” Logan continues to keep his eyes on them, thinking they will disappear as soon as he looks away.

Currently he can’t find a single rational explanation of why those are in his hotel right now. Did someone break in and place windows on his table? And not steal something else?

Did his girlfriend sleep walk and buy windows?

There is not an explanation that he can come up with that fits the current situation.

“Babe? Why do we have car windows that are definitely not the ones for our rental in our hotel room?” The door to the bathroom finally opens and (Y/N) appears back into the main lounge. “Oh hi, Honey! You need to help me with something!”

Logan spots excitement and a hint of mischief on her face while she walks with a pep in her step towards the table. “You see, these windows are from Magnussen’s, James` and Lewis’ private cars. I also got glass staining colors, glue and a canvas. I thought we could smash up the glass to destroy the evidence and then make a mosaic kind of craft out of them! A cute little date night to finish off this awful weekend.”

He blinks at her a couple of times while listening to her explanation. “Baby, please tell me you did not steal car windows from people who wronged me.” His voice is soaked with a begging undertone.

“Oh yes, I did. I mean after James stealing your car, Kevin crashing you out and Lewis impeding on you without getting a penalty, I thought about how you can inconvenience someone, whose problem is not money.” (Y/N) continues to smile, elated by the devilry she managed.

But Logan shakes his head. “And you thought vandalizing their cars is the best way? How do you even know how to steal a car window? I don’t know how you would manage to do that without getting caught.” Exasperated, he sits down on the couch.

“Well, my dad taught me in high school how to do it. You know, for revenge reasons. I’m not the type to meet someone head on when they wronged me and my dad knew that. So he showed me how to steal car windows, knowing I’m not the confrontational type.” The smile on her face is contradictory to the crime she admits committing.

The American puts his head between his hands, understanding the weight of the situation. “We need to get rid of the windows. Did someone see you? How were you able to slink away with windows in your back?” But (Y/N) shakes her head. “Nobody saw me. I can’t tell you how I got away with it, in case you wrong me. I mean, I have other cards up my sleeve, but I can’t tell you those either. Just know, no one can connect you nor me to the theft. So now to the actual important question: Do you have a motive idea for the mosaic? Because I thought we could do a bouquet of flowers.” 

After that race weekend the couple leaves their hotel room with their usual luggage and an extra canvas wrapped up in bubble wrap.

Logan starts to wonder: what other kind of unhinged things has his girlfriend committed?

“Oh, you know how my ex-boyfriend was an asshole?” That is actually no news to Logan. From the beginning of their relationship (Y/N) has been pretty open about how she was treated by her previous partner. She felt like she had to explain to him why receiving his love in the way he gives it was strange to her in the beginning.

They dated during the time Logan and (Y/N) started talking. Back then, it wasn’t obvious to her what kind of person that boy was. Logan on the other hand was ready to ride at dawn for her the first chance he could get.

Her ex-boyfriend didn’t have many kind words in his vocabulary, especially for his partner. Logan caught this early on, making sure she knew her worth, even before she broke up with him.

He also wasn’t appreciative of (Y/N) and her gestures, the small and simple gifts indicating her love for him. Her doing small acts of service, showcasing she would inconvenience herself for him. These things were taken for granted. But not by Logan. He, to this day, makes sure to show her how much he loves and appreciates her thinking about him.

“So do tell. How did you get back at him?” Logan asks on the plane back to London. (Y/N) hinted earlier that she also took revenge on him.

“Mh, I don’t feel like repeating this one, so I will tell you. But keep this close to your chest, because it was genius.” Like usually during one of their secret trades, Logan holds his pinky finger out. (Y/N) links hers with his and whispers “If you break the promise, I will hack it off.” The American does not doubt that for one second.

The woman leans back into her seat, fiddling a bit more with the crocheting she brought onto the plane. How she gets the hooks, scissors and needles through TSA every time without a hiccup is another mystery to Logan.

“So, after I broke up with him I got a 500 pack of keychains off the internet. You know, those bright plastic ones, where you can write your name and number down, in case you lose your keys? Some friends and I used a whole afternoon to write his details on them and tag them with a ‘call this number if found’. I also ordered an ungodly amount of generic keys and we put them on the keychains. Next step was just to divide the keys between us and leave them everywhere. In supermarkets, public toilets, parks all over different cities. Just, everywhere where someone could find them. I heard from mutual friends that he still got phone calls regarding lost keys years later. Knowing he has been inconvenient this whole time every now and then, that gives me massive satisfaction.” (Y/N) smiles into the yarn, reminiscing in the feel of getting back at someone over and over again by doing something so simple.

Logan throws his head back, laughing. “I mean, he definitely deserved that. But this is also so so evil. I can’t believe that you’re the same girl that makes me order for the both of us anywhere we go. Do you have any other stories like that?”

She thinks about it, letting his question rummage in her head for a moment. There was one time where (Y/N) hid throughout their high school mini plastic babies in the most random places. She also once put yogurt into the mayonnaise glass, because her brother ate her snacks and made himself a mayo sandwich every day for lunch at school. Since then, her snacks remained untouched. Then there is-

“Oh, you know how I complained about your snoring and you didn’t believe me that it was that bad?” Logan nods cautiously, not sure where this will be leading to. “Well, I recorded your snores and put them on Spotify, so other people can suffer with me. Track ‘Logan snoring for 3 hours straight until he coughed himself awake’ has 150.000 streams right now.”

His laugh is quickly quietened. “You did what?!” (Y/N) pulls out her phone and shows him the evidence on her spotify. “I told you I would do it. Do you believe me at least now about your snoring? Because I got about 150.000 testimonials.” Logan scrolls through the page she showed him, finding several of his snoring recorded and uploaded.

“You know what, I will schedule an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible”, he agrees after listening to one for a few minutes.

Their flight back is used by trading more funny stories about all the ways she got her revenge in petty ways.

“What do you want for dinner?” (Y/N) asks him later in the evening since she just came back from getting groceries. “I don’t know”, Logan murmurs, eyes stuck on some data on his laptop. The woman nods to herself and vanishes into the kitchen. Noting the time, Logan decides to follow her to help in a couple of minutes.

Unfortunately for him, (Y/N) already beat him to it as she brings him a bowl with a fork. “Here you go, Darling, have a good dinner”, she gives him the dish with a kiss to his cheek. Surprised that she didn’t take even ten minutes to whip something up, the American looks into the bowl excited for one of her amazing dishes. He wonders about the lack of having a dish herself, but maybe they share this one.

Much to his disappointment, there is no food. Instead, he is met by a couple strings of paper with “idk” written on them. He looks up to his girlfriend. “You know, this really serves me right and you played this good.” He smiles at her, seeing the satisfied grin on her face. He gets up, takes his wallet and keys and ushers her to the front door. “Let’s go out to eat. I will also order for you too, don’t worry about that.”

Logan will never be able to get over her bright smile when he reassures her about the process of ordering. In these moments, he just wants to squeeze her cheeks and never let go of her. Maybe dating the quiet and unhinged girl is not half that bad.

Still, if he learned one thing since chatting up the quiet girl in his math class, it’s that still waters run deep. Oh, and they plan the pettiest revenge.

[moonydustx]

Am I really late with all the requests? Yes. Would I have peace until I wrote Law's angst with his daughter that I mentioned here? HELL NO

---

The diagnosis

Law x F!Reader (but the main focus is Law with your daughter, Rosi)

warnings: angst, a lot of angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mentions of Dressrosa's arc, F!Reader and the crew are in Zou. Rosi is around seven years old, a child still learning to deal with feelings. Some things may be non-canon.

a/n: I've had this idea saved and drafted since I posted pt.01 of Law x F!Pregnant!Reader and as I had a few minutes left today, I decided to take them out of the draft.

requests here | rules and guides | masterlist

Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

Perhaps not even the heavens knew how long he had waited for this moment. How much he feared that this moment would never come.

The path guided by the vivre card seemed further from what he imagined, tireless steps in a direction in which he was guided. But Law knew what that racing heart in him meant, the sweat on his hands, the anxiety on his body. He had managed to return to his family.

Law barely had time to prepare himself before he saw Bepo run towards him, his body immediately bent to support the weight of the huge bear on top of him. He couldn't deny it, he was happy to see the crew again and they were an essential part of the family.

The small makeshift house in Zou was more than enough for you and Rosi, in addition to the crewmates who sometimes stayed there to provide some help or company. However, this time you could hear a commotion outside, something atypical for the time of day. Still wearing a kitchen apron, preparing lunch for the two of you - three in this case, Ikkaku was distracting Rosi outside and would definitely be invited to join you, you tried to reach the knife you had used earlier. The tool stopped being necessary as soon as you saw the person you most looked forward to seeing enter right behind Bepo.

"Law?" your voice barely came out, barely kept up with the speed of your thoughts or your body throwing itself against his. "I was so worried!" at that moment, your voice was already breaking with the tears held in for so long.

"I'm sorry for not giving you any news." he began, pressing your body tight against his and filling every bit of skin he could find with kisses. "I missed you so much."

"Hey, where's the little one?" Bepo asked, looking around. You let go of your husband just enough to answer him.

"She and Ikkaku had left, but they should be arriving soon." Turning your attention to Law, you took his hand and guided him to the table. "I know you must be tired, but I need to know everything that happened."

Even though he was tired, Law knew he owed you that. Crewmates had given a little preview of your situation as soon as they saw you arrive. "And you just took a good ton off your wife's shoulders." The phrase still danced in his mind as he recounted his solo adventure in a more superficial way.

It didn't take long for the story to be interrupted again, but this time, with a little comfort for Law. Rosi's laugh reached his ears even before the girl appeared in his field of vision. However, something felt off.

"Daddy?" The laughter seemed to disappear as soon as she found her father's figure sitting at the table.

"My little princess!" Law got up excitedly to go towards her and saw her retreat and go behind Ikkaku and then run away to go back to the yard.

"Rosi!" Your tone of voice, despite not getting any louder, became firmer and all it took was an exchange of glances with Ikkaku for her to help you and go after the girl.

You could feel the gazes of the other companions burning in your direction and even Law analyzing you in a way that you knew he had doubts, but that would be for later.

"So… Luffy helped you?" Penguin tried to return to the topic and you could notice your husband continuing the conversation.

A much less interested tone of voice than before accompanied the small glances he took towards the door, waiting for his little one to return.

At lunch time, Ikkaku managed to bring the girl back and together, they had lunch. You and Law were still able to exchange topics between you, but you could both notice that the girl only exchanged words with Ikkaku and just moved the food from one side to the other.

"Dear?" your sweet voice tried to call her and you could see her eyes shining towards you, identical to Law's. "What happened? You barely ate."

"From what I remember, it's your favorite dish, isn't it?" Law added, having noticed the same thing.

The girl just looked at him and then at the plate. A small, barely audible "yes" left her lips, before she could push the plate away and leave the three of you adults behind at the table. The sigh coming from you was audible at the same time as you put your hands to your face and clearly frustrated, you went after your little girl.

"Captain?" Ikkaku caught his attention, who seemed still inert in the scene he had just witnessed, with a small murmur from him, she knew she could continue. "I know you have your worries and I bet you arrived tired, but…" she indicated where you were sitting at the table. "It wasn't just Rosi who didn't touch the food."

"What have I missed in this time away?" he asked immediately, seeing his crewmate get up and touch his shoulder, gently.

"It's been a difficult time captain. Your girls will soon be completely happy again."

Law had this dizzying thought in his head throughout the afternoon. Knowing that you were busy with Rosi and that his doubts would likely remain in the air, he sought out the second group of people he might know.

"I need help." Law arrived at the small circle, warning the other three that they were starting to walk in an unknown direction. "Can you help me?"

"We're going to have a drink, but speak up, captain." Shachi encouraged, throwing his arm over Law's shoulder.

"Have you lost the knack of seducing your own wife?" Penguin tried to do the same and ended up being pushed away just like the other one.

"Nothing like that. I want to know what happened to the two of them while I was away. What has been happening to my wife and daughter." Almost tangibly, Law felt the air become heavy and his colleagues' expressions became more serious. "I knew something had happened."

"You should ask your wife." Shachi insisted.

"No." Bepo interrupted. "We know she won't tell everything and that she and Rosi have been at it for a while."

"What happened?" Law said more rudely, he was no longer anything more than a bundle of worries.

"In the first few days, Rosi suffered a lot, I think it was a lot of different things all at once. But there was the small incident with the vivre card." the bear began, receiving the captain's full attention. "We know that at some point you were on the verge of death and well, they noticed."

"What do you mean they noticed?"

"Do you think a wife wouldn't look at the vivre card of her husband who went on a practically suicidal mission?" Penguin pointed out as if it were obvious. "We were all together and trying to calm her down. Rosi wasn't home, so we didn't worry too much.

"Fuck." Law murmured, suspicious of the direction that story could take. He remembered giving her the paper as a way of reassuring the girl. The plan had apparently gone wrong.

"So, they both saw you kind of die and come back into their hands. Ikkaku was with Rosi and took her back home…" Bepo seemed hesitant to continue, but Law's incisive look didn't allow it. "She was desperate, as any child would be, I think."

"After that, Rosi became like this, more quiet in her own way. It's been a bit of work to eat, to socialize, she seems to be keeping everything to herself." Shachi took on a serious tone that Law wasn't used to seeing.

Shit, shit and a thousand times shit.

"Captain!" Law felt Bepo pull him back. "I know you must be worried, but it's good to cool your head before talking to them."

"I just want to show them that I'm okay." he insisted, but gave up. Leaning against the nearest tree and taking a deep breath, trying to get your head straight. "I'm a terrible father."

"I do not think so." again, Shachi's rare serious tone appeared. "If it was, they wouldn't have missed you so much."

Night fell and Law hesitated a bit before entering the house again. He was the one who had caused the strange atmosphere, he was the one who was making his girls barely eat. How to live with that?

As soon as he entered, he could see you collecting some dishes, alone in the kitchen. Taking slow steps and being careful not to scare you, he wrapped his hands around your waist, letting his face sink into your neck.

"I know I have some things to retract." he murmured against your skin, placing a light kiss. "I know I owe a lot to you and our girl and I know I gave you both a real scare."

"Babe…"

"I'm sorry." he asked and found your eyes flooding, just the mention seemed to hurt you again. "Forgive me"

"I understand well how vivre cards work, but I won't deny the scare." you chose to leave most of the drama out, turning to him and watching Law dry the few tears that were running down your face.

"Our babygirl doesn't understand, does she?"

"Our babygirl doesn't understand." you agreed. "I talked to her today, she says she feels kind of sick when she's around you. I said luckily her dad is a great doctor. You should go talk to her." you insisted and saw him nod, but remain still, just taking in what to expect. "Honey, she's fine. She's just trying to deal with everything that happened. She loves you unconditionally."

"I-I'll go there."

It was like when he found out about your pregnancy or like when he held little Rosi in his arms for the first time. The nervousness, the insecurity of seeing little Rosi again.

He leaned against the doorstep and for a few seconds, he saw her distracted with some drawings on paper. From afar he could recognize Bepo, you and the others amidst the scribbles.

"Hey!" he tried to attract attention in a pleasant way, seeing the girl startle and look in his direction. "It's okay. Can I stay here for a little while?"

"Yes Dad." she replied in a low tone again.

Dodging some toys on the floor, he walked over to the bed, sitting down and looking around. It wasn't as crowded a room as hers at Polar Tang, but it felt cozy. Next to her pillow rested the small plush he had given as a gift, which was next to her hat - identical to his - and a photo of the two of them, taken in a park that Rosi made Law go to absolutely every attraction.

"Your drawings are cool." he tried to start a conversation and saw her nod. "Your mommy told me you haven't been feeling well."

"Yeah, I feel weird." she limited herself to punctuating, not knowing how to put into words what she felt.

"Come here so I can take a look." Law asked and stretched out his hand to her.

Rosi approached and letting his medical instincts guide, Law analyzed the girl from top to bottom, eyes, throat, everything within reach of his eyes. However, he could notice that the girl avoided looking directly at him.

"Let me see… Is this right too?" He squeezed her sides, tickling her. For a brief moment, Rosi allowed herself to laugh, but then pushed Law's arms away. "My love, tell me what you're feeling."

"I don't know." she murmured, her eyes looking away from him again.

Gently he took her small chin between his fingers and turned her towards him.

"You know you can trust me, don't you?" he asked and saw her nod, her bottom lip trembling slightly. "Explain to me in your own way, what you're feeling."

"Here, it feels like there's something here and it's burning, like it's stuck." she pointed to her throat and then to where her little heart was. "And here, sometimes it feels like someone is squeezing really hard."

"Squeezing hard?" he touched gently, feeling the girl's accelerated heartbeat.

It was a complex diagnosis and if Law didn't know what had happened - and how much love his relationship with his daughter carried, it would have been impossible to discover. But, he had a brief hunch.

"I think I know what it could be." he said, with a small smile on his lips. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." she nodded along.

Law held her small hands and brought them to his face, just like he did with his hands. As soon as she did, he could see her lip tremble even more. Poor little girl. What had he done to leave her without information?

"You can feel my face, can't you?" he asked and she nodded. "And you can feel me too, can't you?"

Law lightly squeezed one of her cheeks, trying in vain to get a laugh from the girl. He didn't know if he could handle the girl's tears.

"Now I want you to take a deep breath, like this…" he breathed in and saw her do the same. Soon after, he exhaled and saw her repeat the gesture too. "Can you keep doing that while daddy talks to you?"

Again the girl nodded, now her eyes seemed focused on every movement Law made. Trying to reassure her, Law let her take a deep breath before starting.

"I know I scared you and that you saw my vivre card disappear, I know you thought I was gone." Just those words were able to bring a few sobs out of the girl and Law would be lying if he said that his own eyes weren't burning. "I know that a lot has changed and that I wasn't here to help you. I wanted to apologize for that. Forgive me, my little princess?"

Rosi, who was already just sobs and tears, allowed herself to cry again after a while. Law didn't hesitate to hold the little girl in a hug, his eyes that used to burn now shed tears without hesitation.

"I - I thought y-you weren't... y-you weren't c-coming back." the girl said through sobs, each one breaking Law's heart.

"You and your mother are the most important things I have in my entire life. I would never leave you." he explained, seeing that it only made her cry even more. "I promise never do that again."

"Do you really promise?"

"With all my life." The girl's crying still seemed inconsolable and Law wondered for a brief moment how much hurt she had held, how many nights she had gone to sleep thinking that her own father would never return. "It's okay my love, I'm here. Daddy promises to never leave you."

In the distance, you could hear the crying and small words of reassurance exchanged between the two. Little by little, your little family was getting back on track.

As soon as the crying stopped, Law could see the girl's eyes get heavy and it didn't take long for her to fall asleep. One of her arms tied to his as if to prevent him from disappearing from her sight. Her diagnosis was almost as simple as the one he had given himself: she just missed him, the same as he missed his little girl.

[c0smiclatt3]

SATORU GOJO: where the heart lies.- part 1

don't want money, just someone who wants my company.

the weapon of jujutsu to be used until his final breath. the political pawn born to restore her family glory, already spent and her purpose fulfilled but a now empty life left to fill. when two souls raised in solitude find their duties entwined, might they finally learn what it means to want something for themselves?

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: arranged marriage, clan leader!gojo, gojo never went to jjt and continued to be raised into the gojo clan head, slow burn, 16+

It was an open and shut arrangement.

Once upon a time your family was one of the closest advisors to the higher-ups of Jujutsu society. Then your predecessors drank and gambled away their riches leaving them with dirt and a sad excuse for an estate out on the countryside, far away from the very families they used to advise. As wives and concubines deserted the disgraced family for more affluent husbands over the generations leaving no heirs, your direct family line stepped into the head seat - the last fringes of a dying dynasty. Your father could only hope that you were a boy - and one with great power.

Your first sin was being born a girl.

Your earliest memories were of his scorn, of the grotesque way his features twisted when he sneered down at you, a girl who constantly wondered why her father seemed so angry with her. The only love you felt came from the arms of your mother, who reassured you that you had done nothing wrong.

Your second sin was manifesting tremendous power. Power that would no longer belong to your family after you were wed. And other Jujutsu families were quick to take note, sending assassin after assassin for your life, or spy after spy to weasel their way into your family's good graces. With so little left, they had neither the resources nor the manpower to protect your gift, and you quickly turned into dead weight. Tremendous dead weight.

Recognizing the need to safeguard your power - not to mention it's potential strategic importance - the higher-ups presented your family with an offer they could not refuse: to wed you to the head of the most powerful clan in Jujutsu society.

It would be a cage nonetheless, but one with shining golden bars. You knew the responsibility was too great to turn it down.

And so it was that you arrived at the Gojo clan estate donned in the best (and only) kimono you had: your bridal kimono - a pure white.

You knew little about Jujutsu politics - you were thrown into that world after your first abduction attempt. Rifling through what scarce information your family bookshelves had on Jujutsu clans, their powers and ranks, you knew this much: that the Gojo family was revered and feared, and the current clan head beheld that terrifying power that made it so.

Looking up at the main hall of the estate, even the buildings themselves radiated regality, majesty, might. Stepping out from the transport car you almost wanted to fall to your knees right there in the building's shadow. Coming from your life in a humble courtyard in the countryside you had never seen something quite so terrifying in it's presence, your palms squeezing open and shut as your sandals scuffed the cobblestone as you walked, as gracefully as you could, up the steps.

When you stepped inside you saw nothing, the main hall dim. Then, like a dragon inspecting it's next meal, two piercing blue eyes from the shadows. He didn't even have to introduce himself. You already knew.

Keep your head down and he may show you mercy, your mother said before you left home. So you knelt. You knelt and prayed to the gods that you would be spared this man's wrath. That you'd shut up and take whatever was thrown at you - so long as your family got the money. So long as they would be kept safe.

He stepped forward. You kept your head down.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Satoru Gojo was raised untouchable.

Yes, the only real tenderness he likely had ever known to date was the warmth of his mother's arms the day he was born, the gentle way in which she swaddled him in his blanket before he was promptly whisked away from her care.

From the moment he Six Eyes gazed upon him, he was sentenced to solitude. He was the chosen one, the honoured one, the strongest, the ultimate trump card of Jujutsu society. He held the power of the universe itself in his hands, bending matter to his will. He was creation, he was destruction; he was birth and he was death. With a power like that he was strung up like a puppet on high, a Gods-eye view of the world itself, but that power wound around him like a noose, and the higher he seemed to rise, the tighter it seemed to wind around his neck until he choked. And choked. And choked.

And so he ran. He ran when he could, disappearing as a child into the city to watch. Simply watch. So those eyes that made men tremble since he could remember could finally look upon the world with gentleness, watch the people pass.

All this to say is he never knew kindness - not the politeness that was just a mask for fear, at least - never knew friendship, never knew love.

And yet here he was, thrown a woman and expected to love her like a husband.

She knelt before him, head low, hair spilling down her shoulders and back. He looked down at her like he looked at everyone he knew: a sort of disinterest, like a lion pawing at it's dying meal. Satoru knew little about love, yes, but he knew enough to know: wives do not bow to their husbands out of love.

And it was a sight that left him with a sour taste in his mouth, watching the entourage backlit by the sunset behind her. Shadowy figures and the bride, wrapped in her bridal kimono, bowed before him like a ritualistic offering to appease a god. This was far from a wedding. It was a sacrifice.

Maybe he didn't have to love her. He knew that was something you couldn't force anyway. But at the very least he wished that someone wouldn't look at him in horror, like the harbinger of death.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Get up," he says finally. "Don't degrade yourself like that."

His voice is neither stern nor gentle, but somewhere in between. His words read as a command, but he lets out a short exhale as he says it. Neither a huff nor a sigh. Fearing you'd done something wrong you lift your head to meet his eyes, finding no answers in his expression-

And that face. If his eyes had struck you first his face delivered the second blow. The only men you ever knew were your father and your uncles, for any women who bore sons deserted the clan. Their faces were twisted and baked with age, hard creases pressed into their foreheads and cheeks from years of scowls and sneers.

Gojo's face was like a winter morning breeze, the deceptively gentle whisper that followed the blizzard that reminded you that anything that came before him hadn't made it out alive. It was beautiful and it was terrifying.

"I'm sure this kind of entourage must be new for you," he says, noting the people behind you. After your first abductions you certainly were protected, but not to this degree. And the men of your family felt a woman must care for herself lest she become complacent, so they didn't have anyone waiting on you.

"I will admit it's different, yes," you say, your head tilted down ever so slightly in a gentle bow, as if still afraid to be so bold as to stand up straight in his presence.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" Again, not a statement, not a question. Somewhere in between.

"... A little-"

His head turns to one of the servants behind you. "You heard her. Leave."

And so they were gone.

He paces to a window. Your body felt rigid as he walked away, unsure if you were meant to follow. Your instincts told you not to. But you were his wife - weren't you? Is a wife not meant to follow her husband-

"I imagine we're past introductions," he leans against an open window and turns his head away from you to overlook the estate grounds. "We both know why we're here."

"... We're married, yes," you feel a little stupid. You don't think you've said anything yet that isn't obvious and you feel like a dithering idiot.

His face is half lit by the golden sun, the dying sunlight that begins to creep it's way across the floorboards and illuminate you like a spotlight. Would you live in this spotlight forever, under the deferent whispers of those guards, guarded at all times, living with a target on your back? You suddenly wish you could have let yourself run through the countryside one last time. The air in here felt suffocating. His presence felt suffocating.

"I don't want to lie to you," he drums his fingers pensively on the windowsill. "I cannot promise you love. I'm not sure what kinds of stories you hear about marriage and true love, but this isn't going to be one of them."

It was your turn to speak. "I never expected love from this union." He lifts his head, mildly intrigued. His left eyebrow quirks, encouraging you to continue. "I was wed to you out of necessity, convenience, and strategy. It's me the higher ups arranged this for: for their purposes, for my family's benefit, and for my protection. I cannot imagine there is much I bring to the table for you. And so I want no pity for being in a loveless union, nor do I expect or even wish for you to try. I know what I signed up for."

"Tell me then," he strides back towards you. "what will this arrangement look like, since you've decided to spare me the trouble of forcing affection where there is none?"

"I will stay out of your way," you speak slowly. He stands still before you but the way he looks at you almost makes it feel as if he's encircling you. "I will be no more intrusive to your life than one of your servants, if you so wish. You can call upon me for your... Amusement," the word tastes like bile in your mouth, but you force it past your lips anyway, "if you so wish. So long as I am protected, the higher-ups placated, and my family safe, I can be nothing but a passing whisper if that's what you want."

"Really?" he almost seems to chuckle now, voice tinged with amusement. He leans in closer, as if studying your face, drinking in your features. "I didn't expect a young woman like you to be so... Nonchalant about the prospect of a loveless union."

"I've restored the reputation of my dying family line by bringing them back into the good graces of the most powerful in Jujutsu society." As you speak the words you begin to wonder if this is what you will be telling yourself for the rest of your lonely nights under this roof. "I am already satisfied."

"Noble," he says, crossing his arms, and you are suddenly aware of just how much he seems to tower over you. His eyes flicker with interest. "But I ask you this: since you've already served your purpose, what more is there to do with yourself?"

You blink. A thousand words sit on your tongue like pearls taking shape that you can't quite string into a sentence because when you thought about it you were done. All that was effectively left was to live the rest of your days just like this - to live for the sake of living. And that prospect terrified you. This whole encounter you moved mechanically, according to orders. According to expectations. But here he threw you a curveball - what did you want?

You hadn't expected a question like that and you couldn't quite understand why he would ask you such a thing, nor why when you fumbled for an answer he seemed to hum, a low, reverberating sound. He tilted his head, and for a brief moment you wonder if you noticed his lips curl into a cryptic smile.

"Interesting."

He turns and walks down the hall until he disappears, not beckoning for you to follow. As he walks his footsteps seem to punctuate sentences that you couldn't bring yourself to speak. Questions you didn't yet have any answers to.

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: based on the c.ai bot i published the other day! this is part 1 in a series and so if you want to be tagged for future parts just let me know in the tags or comments and/or drop your @ in my ask + the name of this fic so i know this is the one you want tags for :) i hope you liked it though~

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 4 (Formerly Be Quiet)

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

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Series summary: As the only human teacher at the mutant school, you're nervous. When you meet Logan, you have a past he doesn't know, and you know nothing of his. Circumstances say he needs to stay away from you, but one day he can't help himself and forces you down, getting you pregnant. Through the past and present, we learn how you and Logan's relationship grew, and we learn the consequences of what he's done.

Chapter summary: Past. Logan tries to help break you out. Present. Remy offers Logan his words

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

2.2 words

AN: Not a super eventful chapter, but I feel sometimes it's nice to have a breather, lot us get to know our characters, digest it all, you know?

Past

“I dunno, Logan…” You are nervous entering the mall, walking close to Logan. People give you a wide birth when you’re with him, and you have no idea why. You’ve noticed it at the school too. Sometimes people go out of their way to avoid you and Logan in halls, and it baffles you. Logan is the sweetest, nicest man you know, except for Remy of course. That’s why you were even here in the mall, walking past a Victoria's secret store that made you blush. Logan complimented a dress you wore, and proceeded to say you have a lot of nice dresses, you tell him that all you have are dresses. After giving a whole bit about your family and husband believing pants were for men only, Logan insisted on taking you to the mall and buying you your first pair.

Yes, you left the church, yes you disassociated from IBLP, but letting go of everything was not as simple as people thought it was. You still believed in God, and you didn’t think your husband had the right to do what he did to you, but what about the in between? Still, Logan wanted to spend time with you. You were okay with that.

“C’mon. It’s just a pair of jeans.” He guides you into a JC Penny. “Do you know your size?” You shake your head. “That’s fine. Jeans can be a shit show anyway. Different stores just kinda make up their own shit.”

“No? I got jeans plenty for my brothers, it’s pretty standard.” But you hear Logan chuckle.

“For men, yeah, women no. Different story. Here.” He hands you a pair. “Start here.”

You hated it. Stalling, you talk to him where he stands outside the room. “How do you know so much about women's clothing?” You can hear him laugh again.

“I’ve been around a time or two, baby doll.”

You were sure he had. 200 years, he’d problem been stuck with on more than one shopping trip. But you had a problem. Logan had given you skinny jeans, and it was… bad.

“You good in there? Too small?”

That wasn’t the problem. The jeans fit the way they were intended too, hugging every bit of your skin and showing off the shape. This was too much. The voice of your mother rang in your ear, you were being vein, showing off your body, inviting men to-

“Can I try something else?” You’re voice cracked at the end before you could stop it.

He was suddenly right at the door. “You alright there Dolly?”

A steadying breath. He was doing something nice for you, be a big girl about it. Your dad doesn’t get to control you anymore. 

“Can I maybe try something… baggier? It’s just….”

“It’s a lot just starting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it.”

After a minute, he’s handing you jeans under the door. These ones were better, but the fact it wasn’t a skirt… it felt wrong. It felt bad.

“Yeah, these are better.”

“Can I see?”

You supposed you had to. Logan drove you out here, was buying the jeans, had been so kind to you lately… you owed him, didn’t you?

Slowly, you open the door. Logan had a little smile on his face, eyes looking down at your legs and you wanted to throw up. You didn’t want to be perceived like this. It’s crazy, you know he knows you have legs, so what’s the big deal? Logan certainly doesn’t care, most people don’t care… why do you?

“You look- hey, what’s going on?”

Only then do you realize the tears burning in your eyes.

“Shit,” You quickly try to get it together, to not make a scene, to be better and just be fucking normal, but then he reaches for you, and you can’t help give into him

*

He wasn’t sure if hugging you was a good idea. He knew you were stiff with touch, even Remy had commented to him you are avoidant, and you spent most of your free time with him, although Remy insists it’s just as friends. Still, you looked so… upset. He couldn’t bare it, he couldn’t stand the thought of such sweet girl being so sad. 

Hugging you, he asks about it. “Is it the jeans?” He feels you nod against his chest. “It was too soon, wasn’t it?”

You nod again. 

Of course, he should have known. Logan wasn’t a fucking idiot. He’d lived in the world long before women regularly wore pants, he’d been alive and watching the news when things like these fringe religious groups rose up even if he didn’t pay much attention. Still, you left. You left your husband, which is an brave choice to make when you were raised the way you were. Did you believe these things still? Had he pushed you too far?

If you were still married, and hadn’t gotten divorced… did you even want one? Marriage after a divorce to many religions was adultery… There was so much about you he didn’t know, so many questions he wasn’t sure he was going to get the answer too… he thought he was content with this just being your friend, but now that he held you in his arms….

Logan knew it wasn’t the right time. He knew you were upset. He’d control himself, he could… But then you pulled away, looking up at him with those big wet eyes and he was cooked. You looked so needy, so sad, so vulnerable… he wanted to protect you, to destroy everyone that made such a precious thing so anxious that putting on jeans made her cry. He’d get his vengeance.

But first, he needed you.

When he kissed you, there was a moment where it was okay, where the memories of pasts pains faded around the LED lights and electricity thrummed through the metal inside his body because you leaned into him, you kissed him, back. You kissed him and everything was right and good and beautiful and the world smelled like strawberry shampoo.

And then you stumbled away. And then you looked scared. And then you shut the dressing room door, locking him out.

And it took 20 minutes to coax you out again, not a single word was spoken on the ride home.

After

“You need to go to the doctor, Dolly.”

But you tried to ignore him, You were running late to teach, and you weren’t letting Logan get in the way more than he had. You were still telling yourself you could get an abortion, that Remy would probably take you. He’d ask questions but when you say you don’t wanna talk about it, he’d let it go. 

Logan, on the other hand, was following you like a lost puppy. It was becoming insufferable and terrifying all at once. Logan had the power, that if he wanted to rape you again he could take you anywhere, any time. He could end your pregnancy and knock you up all over again, he could end your life in seconds. But that’s not why you couldn’t look him in the eye.

You hated him, but you hated that you missed him.

You missed the way he’d eat lunch with you, the way he’d been helping you disentangle your beliefs. After the mall incident, he’d taken it slower. There were many long nights when both of you were too torn up over your nightmares that you just sat up and talked, talked, talked. Logan had seen a lot of religious movements come and go and shift, and although he was not religious himself he had done as he’d always done. Obsesserved. 

Logan made for a good person to work through things. He didn’t tell you what to believe; he had no skin in that game. Instead, he occasionally gave perspective, but mostly it was questions.

‘Do you feel good when you do that?’

‘Do you think he said that because he believed it, or because he wanted to control you.’

‘Was your mom just as brainwashed? Was she the problem?’

All this helped you move through things more and more. He made you fall in love, quickly at first that day you met him, and then slowly all over again as you got to know him.

And then he destroyed all the trusted you’ve built up.

You hated that you still wished you could talk like you used to. You hated that you got wet. You hated that you missed him walking you to your room. You hated that while he touched you, you were close to coming and you wanted it. You hated that you missed the smell of his cigar and leather and bike fumes. 

You hated that, after he was done betraying you, in the disgust you felt and sickness that wracked your body all you wanted was to be held, so you let him. You rested your head on his chest. You pushed your body back into his. You let him whisper the words in your ear as you cried from his own actions.

Comforting you and breaking your all at once.

“I know how you feel about doctors-”

You whirl around to face him outside your classroom door. It was decorated in a rainbow main from linking lines o paper together, the background of construction paper panting a picture of green fields. It’d taken you and Remy and Logan a few hours on a Saturday to get it done.  “You don’t know a thing, Logan!” You whisper shout, trying to look calm for the remaining students scrambling to class. 

His voice was irritatingly calm. “I do, Dolly, I know why you don’t like hospitals and don’t trust doctors-”

“But you don’t!” A little louder, and someone looks at you. You lower your voice, glaring at him. “You can’t possibly understand. Just because I told you, doesn’t mean you get it. It wasn’t you that got beat, it wasn’t you that lost the one thing you wanted more than anything, and it wasn’t you that was betrayed by everyone who is supposed to love or protect you, Logan. You can never understand what happened and you can never understand what you did to me. So please, pl-e-ase-” Your voice breaks hard, and you’re forced to hunch over as you clutch at your heart in pain. “Just leave me alone!”

When all he did was blink at you, sad eyes and mouth slightly open, you took your opportunity and joined your class, attempting to brush off the pain as you apologize for being late.

*

“I don’t know how you managed to fuck this up, but it can be unfucked.” Remy’s accent echoed in the halls as the last door shuts. 

Logan rolled his eyes. “You following her?”

“No more than you, cher.”

Ignoring him, Logan begins walking. As much as he wanted to follow you into the classroom, make a scene, beg for forgiveness or force your mouth to his or whatever the fuck it took for you to realize you and him were meant for each other, that it was inevitable, he wouldn’t. You loved your job, you loved those snot nosed kids, and he wouldn’t do that to you. What he needed to do was find a way for you to go to a hospital. Logan understood the pain there, how badly you’d been failed the last time you were there, but he couldn’t let that affect the baby growing inside you. You wanted this child and so did he, and if something went wrong again you’d never forgive yourself

Unfortunetly for Logan, Remy was following him.

“Got a crush on me or something?”

Ever gleeful, Remy quips back, “Not particularly, but I’d be an idiot to say no if you are offering.”

“I’m not.”

“Logan.” His voice is more series this time. “Logan!”

He turns around, impatient face at his… what is Remy? Not a friend, but not not a friend? “Just say what you wanna say, cajun, for sucks sake.”

Remy’s face softened. “She loves you, Logan. I might be biased because I’ve been pushing her to you since day one, but she does. I’m not gonna ask what this is about… but she’s sweet. She’s forgiving. She believes in eternal salvation and forgiveness and the God of second chances, and all the sweeter sides of the shit she grew up in. She’ll forgive you too, just keep trying. Little things like flowers, her favorite foods, things that show you know her, they go a long way.”

There was a pause of silence as Logan took in Remy’s words. He should be more concerned that Remy was this aware. He told charles he’d stay away from you… and yet, here he was. Still, it was Remy, your best friend. If anyone knew anything, it was him, and clearly he didn’t know everything.

“Why do you care?”

“You make each other happy, cher.” He said honestly. “And I like seeing both of you happy. Right now, she isn’t happy. I want to fix that.”

Logan could fix that. He could make you happy. He could make you happier than you ever thought… he just needed a second chance.

As you can see, I decided to change the name!!!! I thought Our Gentle Sins fit way better, a call to the hozier song take me to church which heads the playlist!

As always, if you have songs you think match the vibes, lmk and ill add to the playlist!!

Thank you for allll your support!!!! You are all v wonderful

Please stay safe if you are in the hurricanes path, and remember as you watch the destruction, project 2025 wants to cut aid funding. Consider making a donation to aid groups, and remember that during the next US election.

Let me know your thoughts on the story below!!!

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[sombredancer]

Asian dramas and Love tropes

There are my favorite characters and their love stories as a list. Enemies to lovers

Drama: Her Royal Highness/长公主在上 Characters: Gu Xuanqing x Li Yunzhen Screentime: Main A boy is sent to be a servant in the unruly princess`s palace in order to find some dirt about her and to help his master to overthrown her, but something goes wrong... The HE is attached.

Drama: The Legends/招摇 Characters: Li Chenlan x Lu Zhaoyao Screentime: Main A leader of a demonic sect died trying to get demonic sword. Her soul returns to the world full of wish to get revenge on the current leader of her sect, who, as she thinks, killed her in the past. Found the way to be close to him, she learns that he wasn't the reason of her death and, moreover, desperately in love with her for many-many years. This is an adaptation of the novel "Ostentatious Zhaoyao", which I love more than a drama, but it's a good story in both variants. The HE is attached (although it`s a little bit obscure in the drama).

Drama: Till the End of the Moon/ 长月烬明 Characters: Tantai Jin x Li Susu Screentime: Main A boy who is destined to become a Demon God and to destroy the World tries to fight his doom. In a process, he falls in love with a transmigrator, who was sent 500 years back in the past to prevent his transformation into a Demon God. The irony is,making him falling in love is the only way to kill him for good... It`s an adaptation of the novel "Black Moonlight Holds the BE Script", which I like way-way-way more than the drama, not the least because the drama has BE and the novel has HE. I just watched it as a visually beautiful fanfic to the novel.

Drama: Love Between Fairy and Devil /苍兰诀 Characters: Dongfang Qingcang x Xiao Lanhua Screentime: Main My favorite drama of all times! Trying to save her love, a girl accidently falls into a secret prison for immortal criminals, revives the most fearsome demon of all times and heals his ability to feel. Later, forced to spend his time together with the girl from the enemy camp, the demon finds out that he actually likes her... The HE is attached. I wrote A LOT about them and made recap of the whole drama from the point of their relationship development in these posts: one, two, three, four, five and six.

Drama: My Journey to You /云之羽 Characters: Gong Shangjue x Shangguan Qian Screentime: Secondary In order to destroy the martial artist's clan, a female assassin was sent in there. While she is trying to seduce one of clan's young masters, he tries to expose her lies, but, eventually, falls in love with her. Unrequited. Maybe. This story has an open ending. My analysis of their relationship is here.

Drama: Butterflied lover /风月变 Characters: Ling Changjin x Bao Zhu Screentime: Secondary A wicked nobleman marries a princess because of her miraculous blood: it`s able to bring his zombie sister back to life. The princess allows him to treat her bad because she has been in love with him for a long time and believes he is a good person. Bit by bit he starts believe in it himself and begins to cherish his wife more... The ending is obscure (in a traditional Chinese way).

Drama: The Blue Whisper /与君初相识 Characters: Li Shu x Xue Sanyue Screentime: Minor A cat demon prince infiltrates the valley of demon hunters in order to set free the great demoness, but falls in love with one of demon hunters. Mutually. The ending is traditionally Chinese - they met again in another life. Т_Т

Drama: Immortal Samsara / 沉香如屑 Characters: Xuan Ye x Ran Qing Screentime: Minor An Asura king infiltrates the Heavenly Realm in order to steal the artifact that can help him conquering the world. The keeper of this artefact is a brave and honest goddess and he can't help but fall in love with her. After, he needs to choose: to be with his lover or to rule the world. He wants all at once, but there is no way to get it all. No HE for this pair. Pride and Prejudice

Drama: Lighter and Princess / 点燃我 Characters: Li Xun x Zhu Yun Screentime: Main A girl from a rich family with an anxious type of attachment falls in love with her classmate from a poor family with an avoidant type of attachment and tries to win his heart. It`s a problematic ship in a full meaning of these words and I like it this way. Yummy! The HE is attached.

Drama: Derailment /脱轨 Characters: Qi Lian x Jiang Xiaoyuan Screentime: Main A boy accidently meets his school sweetheart after many years of radio silence and understands that something is wrong with her. It turns out that her body is occupied by a transmigrator from a parallel world. At first he hates transmigrator for replacing his lover, but bit by bit he learns, that a transmigrator has not only the same appearance but the same habits and way of thinking, and falls in love with this new personality again... The story ends with HE but not in a way that you may think it would.

Drama: The Love by Hypnotic /明月照我心 Characters: Li Qian x Li Mingyue Screentime: Main In order to build relationship between two countries an emperor arranges marriage for his son. His fiancée is from a barbaric tribe: she is good at horse riding and archery, but knows nothing about palace etiquette and ladies stuff. It`s a light and sweet story about finding a path to each other's heart. The HE is attached.

Drama: The Long Ballad /长歌行 Characters: Hao Du x Li Leyan Screentime: Secondary A tsundere of a low background with a poker face does his ruthless job in a court, that's why a young princess thinks he is an awful man and is scared of him. But in reality he is a loyal servant and son and, moreover, secretly in love with the princess, who can't stand him... The HE is attached.

Drama: Miss the Dragon /遇龙 Characters: Xue Qianxun x Qingqing Screentime: Secondary A very naïve bird demon girl accidently meets a tsundere god of netherworld and turns his well ordered life into havoc. He starts liking it, though. The HE is attached. Forbidden love

Drama: A Frozen Flower /쌍화점 Characters: Hong Rim x No Guk Screentime: Main A gay king needs a heir, so he forces his lover to conceive a child with a queen. In a process, a boy, who was groomed as a king's lover from his childhood, finds out that he likes women much more than men. A traditional Korean tragedy. Very beautiful and full of feelings, though. (No GIFs because they all would be erotic ones).

Drama: 100 Days My Prince /백일의 낭군님 Characters: Moo-yeon x Kim So-hye Screentime: Secondary An assassin who is working for a wicked court official is secretly in love with a wife of a crown prince, who happens to be a daughter of the killer of his parents. Forbidden love doubles! But it's mutual, unfortunately for him. It's a very beautiful and full of desperation and feelings story. No HE, we die like Koreans. More detailed story of their relationship is available here, here and here.

Drama: The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity/晴雅集 Characters: He Shouye x Zhang Ping Screentime: Secondary A woman, who is destined to restrain the undying evil within her body for eternity in solitude, falls in love with Yin-Yang master. Her love is mutual, but her lover can't be with her forever, so he leaves with her his guardian demon to brighten her loneliness. Protecting her for ever starts being the only goal of demon's life... A tragedy, but a beautiful one.

Drama: The Legends/招摇 Characters: Gu Hanguang x Shen Qianjin Screentime: Minor "The Legends" once more! The main doctor of a demonic sect is in love with a leader of a righteous sect. A girl is not allowed to love anyone, otherwise she will suffer from the poison, so he anonymously sends her packages of medicinal herbs. She is curious about anonymous sender, too. But nothing can be kept in secret forever... Unfortunately, no HE for these two. In the novel he is safe and sound, but he has no love plotline at all. So is a price of love Т_Т.

I will talk about my other favorite characters and tropes in the next post.

[exhaslo]

hi I love your work <3

Is it okay to write a miguel o’hara x reader and the reader has a personality similar to regina george and he brat tames her + an age gap <3!

I can try! I haven't seen Mean Girls in a hot minute, but I'm sure I remember her personality. Totally going to have some fun with this~

Also, so sorry for how late this is!!! Trying to catch up with the sea of requests now!!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), teasing, orgasm denial, dirty talk

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Miguel let out a scowl as he watched the new recruits go through a new training session both Peter and Lyla had begged him for. Something about helping the new Spiders learn how to do certain things and yada yada. Miguel only agreed just to shut Peter up and to have Lyla stop shoving the program in his face every five minutes.

However, Miguel was quick to learn that he should have turned this offer down.

The main reason for this grim thought was you. Miguel had been watching you since the training began. You were one of the brand new Spider women who joined and were a rookie. It had only been a month since you took on the role of 'Spider Queen'.

A name so suiting for you. It wasn't long until you took control of the training session and had everyone nearly serving you. For someone only five years younger than him (23), you were the textbook definition of a brat.

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"Oh my gosh! You did such a good job with that backflip!" You gasped, cheering on a fellow Spider.

"Thanks! This was my first time," The Peter said with a laugh. You just smiled and waved until he left,

"Ugh, the form was so off. Hopefully he keeps practicing." You groaned lowly.

"May I remind you that this training is for newbies? Including you?" Miguel said with a harsh tone.

Your eyes sparkled as you turned towards Miguel. The leader of the Spider Society, the head honcho, the man you were hoping to try and win over. It was no lie that when you first laid eyes on him you knew that you wanted him to be yours. Who cares if he was little older than you?

"Sorry, can't help it. I was a cheerleader so my flexibility is higher than most." You cooed, rubbing your arm against his. Miguel scoffed,

"Enough to dodge a bunch of Goblin bombs?"

"...Yes...?" You questioned, unsure of what the hell a Goblin was. Miguel just smirked,

"We'll see about that."

Your jaw nearly dropped as you watched him walk away. That man was so hot. You were already wet in your suit. Letting out a small huff, you knew that you had to make him yours somehow. You just needed to keep winning him over.

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Miguel was about to lose his patience with you. It had been only two months since you joined and while yes, you were doing better than the other rookies, you were still a headache. It felt like you made it your life purpose to give Miguel more sexual frustration.

The man wanted to put you in your place so bad.

Every time you had something smart to say, Miguel had to hold himself back from disciplining you. Instead, he would say something equally snarky to get you to stop, but that was never enough. You kept getting bolder with your antics.

It started with your suit being too tight. Or a casual rip here and there. Then you kept offering to help Miguel, your arm slipping and you falling on him every now and then. It was torturing him and Miguel was unsure if he could hold himself back the next time you do something like that.

What's worse? Miguel enjoyed your brattiness. He had already thought of so many ways to fuck you into submission. He imagined how'd you look with his cock inside that smart mouth of yours. Or your slutty moans and begs for him to fuck you.

Miguel was just waiting for you to slip.

Waiting for you to finally learn you lesson.

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It was going to be just another average day for you. You had given yourself a pre-masturbation session to get you in the groove to bother Miguel. You were hot and ready to hear that man groan in frustration.

Entering his office with a skip, you smiled devilishly as you saw Miguel brooding up in his platform. With a snap of your wrist, you swung up to where he was. The second you landed, you heard that wonderful groan that sent a waterfall to your panties.

"Awe, missed me that much?" You cooed. Miguel glared towards you, his red orbs more prominate than before,

"(Y/N), I have a very small amount of patience right now." He hissed. You huffed childishly and sat on his desk, your legs slightly spread,

"But I need the attention~!"

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Miguel shivered as he caught whiff of your arousal. Oh no, he could not control himself. You needed to learn when to leave him alone, and Miguel was finally going to show you.

Webbing your hands to his desk, Miguel grabbed you by the hair and grazed his fangs against your neck,

"¿Por qué no puedes escuchar por una vez? (Why can't you fucking listen for once?)" He groaned lowly, licking up to your lips, "I'm going to teach you some manners."

"I'm such a good leaner," You said with a smirk.

Miguel just snorted before crashing his lips into yours. Hopefully you were a fast learner too, but Miguel was going to make sure to torment you. His hands already against your clothed cunt, rubbing circles around your clit as he kissed you,

"You like being a fucking brat, do you?" Miguel hissed as he watched you twitch and squirm, "No one's ever stopped to show you how to behave."

"Why don't we release my hands and I can be a really good girl for you?" You hummed. Miguel chuckled as he pushed you down against his desk,

"It wouldn't be a lesson if you helped," He used his talons to rip a straight line down your suit to your cunt, "My, what a sight. Already twitching for me?"

"What can I say? You're a good teacher."

Miguel just smirked as he spread your legs out for him. Your juices still flowing so nicely. You had already given yourself some pleasure before hand, but that was not enough. Glancing up at you, Miguel smirked as he licked and sucked against your clit.

"Hah~ W-Wait-" You gasped, body twitching as you felt slightly sensitive after abusing your clit yourself.

"Be a good girl and shh," Miguel hummed.

His tongue swirled and sucked against your clit. Your body squirming and trying to move against your face. Your moans were getting louder as you started to whimper his name. Your pussy started to clench as you arched your back. Right as you were about to cum, Miguel stopped and pulled away.

"N-No...I-I was...almost there..." You cried, trying to rub your legs for friction. Miguel kept them apart, watching you struggle,

"You haven't been behaving lately. Why should I give you that release?" Miguel asked. You panted heavily, feeling your high slowly disappear,

"I-I'm sorry! Please, Miguel! I'll be good!" You begged.

Miguel thought for a moment and returned to your dripping pussy. He licked against your clit, enjoying your desperate moans. Moving his tongue down towards your hole, Miguel resisted a smirk as he cried out his name. Once you were about to reach your high again, he stopped and moved away.

"Miguel! Please!"

"Will you promise to behave? If you don't I'll have to keep teaching you these lessons?"

"Yes! Yes! Please, Miguel! Yes!" You cried.

Miguel chuckled, watching you struggle after being denied of your orgasm twice. He finally decided to give you what you want and returned to eating you out. Despite your bratty behavior, you tasted so sweet.

Feeling you grind against his face, Miguel swirled his tongue inside your hole as you finally cam against his face. Licking up your juices and his face, Miguel moved away from your cunt. He wiped his face and watched you catch your breathe.

"Good girl. I'll give you a new suit, but if you come back and behave, I'll give you something even sweeter." Miguel hummed as he freed your hands.

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You laid against his desk, breathing heavily and feeling fucked out. Who would have thought Miguel was so talented with his mouth. If only he didn't torture you. Honestly, now you weren't sure if you should still be a brat, or behave to finally fuck him.

Slowly sitting up, you watched as Miguel returned to work by getting you a suit. A slight smirk formed against your lips as you made your way over to him, your hands reaching his buldge,

"I think you need some attention too~"

"Now, this isn't behaving, is it?"

"Guess I need another lesson?"

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I hope you enjoyed!! Again, so sorry that this was late!!!