#because so many odds are stacked against me

[carnalcrows]

LOST AND FOUND - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x top male reader

synopsis: A man starts noticing his belongings disappearing after every visit to his best friend’s house—until he stumbles upon the unsettling truth.

content warnings: 18+, bottom salesman, reader is fucking salesman's son, dubcon, blackmail, cheating, fingering, anal sex, implied stalking, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 1.6k

Dinner at your best friend’s house is always an experience.

Not because of the food—his dad’s a damn good cook, actually—but because of the company.

“Hyung, I’m telling you, this lady at work keeps calling me ‘oppa,’ and I don’t know how to tell her I hate it,” Jiho complains, waving his chopsticks for emphasis. “Like, I get it, I’m devastatingly handsome, but can we have boundaries?”

You snort, reaching for more rice. “You could just tell her to stop.”

“I did! And you know what she said? She said I ‘look like the type to enjoy it.’” Jiho groans, collapsing dramatically against the back of his chair. “I feel violated.”

Across the table, Jiho’s father hums, slow and thoughtful. “Perhaps you give off the impression of someone who enjoys attention,” he muses, sipping his soup.

Jiho gapes at him, offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

You chuckle, glancing at Jiho’s father. He hasn’t said much tonight, but that’s not unusual. The man is a quiet observer, the kind of person who listens more than he speaks. You’ve had dinner here plenty of times before, and the pattern is always the same—Jiho chatting away, you chiming in, and his father interjecting with the occasional dry remark.

But tonight… feels different.

Jiho’s father has been watching you. Not obviously—just little glances, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than usual. His face remains unreadable, but there’s something sharp in his eyes, something calculating.

It’s not unfriendly, exactly. Just… unsettling.

“Hyung?” Jiho nudges your arm. “You good?”

You blink, shaking off the feeling. “Yeah. Just thinking about how you probably deserve that treatment.”

Jiho makes a wounded noise. “Et tu, Brute?”

Across the table, his father chuckles. A deep, quiet sound. When you glance at him, he’s already looking away, refilling his tea like he wasn’t just assessing you like a goddamn science project.

Yeah. Something’s up with him tonight.

You just don’t know what.

And that? That should’ve been your first warning.

You should’ve gone home.

Jiho had texted that he’d be late—something about running an errand for work—but you figured it was no big deal. You’d been to his house a thousand times before, and waiting around wasn’t exactly a hardship.

But the house was too quiet without him.

It’s why you found yourself wandering, aimlessly at first, then with purpose when you noticed something odd.

A door. Slightly ajar.

You didn’t remember Jiho ever mentioning this room before. Curiosity got the better of you, and you nudged the door open fully—only to freeze in place.

Inside, the walls were lined with shelves. Not with books or storage boxes, but with you.

Your bracelets. Your books. Your toothbrush.

And—most horrifyingly—your underwear.

Stacks of them, folded neatly. Some draped over surfaces, others tucked away like a grotesque collection. And at the very center, in a glass display case like some kind of prized possession, was a used condom—your used condom.

A sickening chill crawled up your spine.

What the fuck was this?

A shadow moved behind you. Before you could react, a deep voice spoke, low and amused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to snoop?”

You turned sharply. Jiho’s father stood in the doorway, watching you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You opened your mouth—whether to demand an explanation or to throw up, you weren’t sure—but he stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a click.

Trapping you inside.

“You’ve been quite careless,” he murmured, trailing a finger along one of the shelves. “Leaving so many things behind. Did you ever wonder where they went?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. “What the fuck is this?”

Jiho’s father merely chuckled. “Just a collection. I like to keep things that interest me.”

Your stomach churned. This wasn’t just interest—this was obsession.

You tried to move past him, but he stepped in your way, his smirk widening. “Ah, ah. I wouldn’t be so hasty.”

You clenched your jaw. “Move.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice was light, conversational, but there was a razor-sharp edge beneath it. “You could run to Jiho. Tell him. But then I’d have to tell everyone something too, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath caught.

“I wonder,” he mused, tilting his head. “How would your workplace react? Your friends? Your family?”

Your hands curled into fists. You knew what he was implying. Being outed in this country—where tradition and reputation mattered—was a death sentence for your social life, your career, everything.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So, what will it be?”

Oh.

Oh hell no.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh, because there is no way this is happening. “Dude,” you blurt. “You do realize your son and I have been—”

“I’m very aware,” he interrupts smoothly, his gaze flickering down your form. “And I must say… I can see why he’s so taken with you.”

You should leave. You should run. But your legs don’t move. Because the way he’s looking at you—intense, predatory, like he’s testing something—sends a very different kind of shiver down your spine.

The air between you shifts.

He’s close now. Too close.

“You’re an interesting one,” he murmurs, reaching out—not grabbing, just hovering, his fingers barely ghosting over your arm. “Most people would be terrified right now.”

“Oh, I am,” you say, flashing a weak grin. “But I also have really bad coping mechanisms.”

His lips quirk up. “Is that so?”

Then, before you can think better of it—before you can stop yourself—you grab him by the tie and pull him in.

His smirk barely has time to widen before your lips crash together.

The kiss is messy. Heated. Too much, too fast, but neither of you seem to care. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, while yours tangle in the expensive fabric of his suit. He tastes like something rich and intoxicating, and damn it, you hate how much you like it.

Your hands move to his waist as his move up to your shoulders, slightly changing the dynamics of the situation. He groans against your mouth at the friction against his crotch, making you hard.

This is wrong, so wrong, but there doesn’t really seem to be another way out.

You tug at his work pants, bringing them down with a firm grasp while pushing him onto the bed in the corner of the room– more like a shrine.

His cock emerges, hard and leaking. Your thumbs trails at the head-- picking up the precum that builds up at the slit. He shudders; he hasn’t touched himself like this in so long.

Wanting to finish what he wants as soon as possible, you shimmy down your own pants, revealing your own erection. You find yourself feeling ashamed at the fact that your grew hard from kissing your fuck buddy best friend’s father.

Searching through his coat pocket, the older man finds a small packet of lube and tosses it at you. You catch it before it flies past you– glaring at him. 

“You're no fun,” he grins, as you rip the packet with your teeth and pour the cool liquid onto your fingers.

You take your lubed digits to his awaiting hole and press them at his entrance, before pushing in. You weren’t going to give this man the mercy of your patience.

His back arched as he let out a loud moan. If your fingers felt this good, how would your cock feel in him?

His thoughts were interrupted by you moving your fingers in and out of him sloppily, not caring if the sudden intrusion hurt (he was a masochist, so you supposed it didn’t matter anyway).

Feeling that he had been prepped enough, you slid your digits out of his hole, and replaced the emptiness with your cock.

The head caught on to the slick of the lube, pushing in slightly– before you slid all the way in. You groaned at how tight he was– even tighter than Jiho if that were possible. You chided yourself for thinking like that before you pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in.

The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head– your cock hitting the right spot with every thrust. You felt so, so good inside him, and his hole involuntarily clenched around you at the thought.

You held tightly onto his waist as you practically abused his hole, profanities leaving your mouth every now and then.

“Hah– never thought you would get of to being fucked by your son’s best friend, hm?” He could only mumble incoherently at the jab, his brain just too full with being fucked dumb.

He had been waiting so long for this to finally happen, for you to take him like this. He was aware of the relationship between you and his son, and he chose to exploit it instead of doing what a normal dad should do.

But it wasn’t like he was a normal person anyway.

At that thought, he felt himself clench around you more, fucking psychopath. You groaned, feeling his warmth, thrusting into him even further as though you were an animal in heat.

Soon, you felt yourself close to a climax, so you pressed your cock into him all the way, letting yourself come undone– painting his insides a pearly white, before whispering in his ear.

“You can throw away that condom now– you have the real thing in you anyway”, he came, almost violently, when he heard you say that– his semen staining his pristine suit.

You were going to pull out of him, when a sharp knock suddenly echoed through the house.

“Dad?”

You both freeze.

Oh. Oh, hell.

The door creaks open, and there stands Jiho —his son—staring at the two of you like he’s just walked into the world’s worst nightmare.

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“What. The. Fuck.”

You sigh, forehead dropping against the older man’s shoulder. “Welp,” you mutter. “Guess I am gonna start screaming now.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[tilliebilly]

Tipsy

Pairing: Hufflepuff! Reader x Mattheo Riddle

Synopsis: You find Mattheo passed outoutside of his common room after curfew.

CW: fluff, drunk Mattheo, mentions of partying, mentions of hooking up, alcohol, female reader.

Author's note: This is my first ever post, so please be kind!! But also, feedback is appreciated, just don't be mean please hahah!!

I startle awake, ignoring the ache of my cheek from pressing it against my potions book as I hastily look at the thin, golden watch on my arm. 10:07. I had to put away the borrowed books and return to my dorm before Mr Filch and Mrs Norris realised I was in the library after curfew. Merlin, this is what I get for studying after I only slept for two hours the night before. In my defense, my two drunk roommates kept me up all night.

After considering just going back to sleep and getting detention in the morning, I drowsily stack all the books together and leave them in the return bin. I’m pretty sure that I accidentally left my favourite quill in one of the books, but having to go through all of them again honestly sounds more tiresome than running laps around the school, so I figure I could probably borrow one from Hannah - she always has spares!

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On the way back to my dorm, the sound of loud music slightly wakes me up, and I remember the big party that the Slytherin house is hosting. Lorenzo had invited me, but he has also been very clear about what actually happens at those parties in the past and just the thought makes me shiver.

My heart drops when I notice a figure sitting down outside of their common room, and figuring it has to be Mr Filch, I attempt to do some type of ninja-spy-jump to avoid him seeing me. It was probably never that good of a plan in the first place, but the fact that I don’t stick the landing doesn’t make it any better. I slip on my way down, falling onto my back. I attempt to suppress groaning from the pain to not wake him up, but it seems like the fall was loud enough because he quickly stirs awake.

To my relief, the boy staring back at me definitely isn’t Mr Filch. Like, definitely isn’t. I’m not even sure how I managed to believe that.

“Mm… [name]?” The boy stirs, eyes squinted as he looks at me. I push myself onto my feet, caressing my sore back. My face heats up immediately as I realise who I’ve just embarrassed myself in front of, and I’m sure he can see how red I am even in the dark. I'm surprised he recognised me so quickly, but I suppose that isn't that odd considering how long we've known each other.

“Sorry, Mattheo… gosh, I didn’t mean to wake up!” I attempt to read his expression, but it’s hard to see anything with the shadows cast over him. Not many people know this, but his dad is actually he-who-must-not-be-named. Which I only know since my father is his most loyal follower. “I’m really sorry, I uh… I thought you were Mr Filch.” I explain, waving my hands around erratically as I step closer to him. If Mattheo got upset with me (and he gets upset quite easily) I could get in huge trouble with my family, so I pray to Merlin he’s too drunk to care.

He sighs but shakes his head. “S’alright… but you seriously thought I was Mr Filch? Do we look alike or what?” He chuckles now, making me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I furrow my eyebrows, realising he was sleeping... right outside his common room? Outside of his own party? “What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, sliding against the wall to sit down next to him. He reeks of alcohol, but considering my roommates, it’s nothing I’m not used to.

He groans, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Enz kicked me out… and’m not feeling too good.”

“He kicked you out? Isn’t it your party?” He clutches his stomach, and it looks like he’s about to throw up, but he inhales sharply and relaxes again. “Do you need some water? I have a bottle in my bag, wait.” I mumble, scrambling through my leather bag. Oh look, there’s my quill! I pull out a light pink tumbler, gently pushing it into his arms. He looks at it, then at me, before smirking.

“Is this just an excuse to get us to kiss?” He slurs his words slightly, but it’s still clear what he says. ”Not that I have anything against it.” My cheeks immediately go red from the way he tilts his head and nudges at my shoulder with a grin.

“Alright, you’re really drunk.” I chuckle, looking away from him. “Try to drink; it’ll get you to sober up.” He nods, opening it with a *click* and bringing it towards his lips. He gulps, and some water spills out and runs down his sharp jaw, down to his neck. After drinking what looks like the whole bottle, he places it between his legs and wipes his swollen lips with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” He mumbles, and this time it looks like he’s blushing. He’s clearly still intoxicated, though, so it isn’t odd. “I uh… I beat up some guy. I don’t even remember why. I think he looked at me weird? Anyway, Enzo didn’t want me to scare away the ladies so he told me I could go sober up out here.” He explains, leaning his head back towards the wall. My eyes are still focused on the water droplet hanging onto his jawline that he didn’t manage to wipe away.

“Oh,” I reply, finally looking away from him. It wasn’t unusual for Mattheo to get irritated and it definitely wasn’t unusual for him to get in fights, but beating someone up because they looked at you weird is a bit too much. I mean, of course, you shouldn’t beat anyone up, but you get my point! “Well, when are you going to be let back in? Do you know it’s past curfew?”

He looks down at me with a mocking grin, raising his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Well, why are you out so late then, miss goody two-shoes?”

“I fell asleep in the library,” I shrug. “Are you going to have to sleep here the whole night?” I ask carefully, my heart aching a bit from how in pain he looks.

He nods. “I think his plan was for me to get caught by Mr Filch. He’s evil, man.”

“Don’t say that, Lo’s my friend! I’m sure he just… was worried about you.” Mattheo looks at me with disbelief before shaking his head.

“Maybe,” He mumbles, pulling a hand through his tousled hair. “But I sure could use a bucket right now.” He slurs, once again clutching his stomach.

I hate myself for what I’m about to ask. All I really wanted was just to go to sleep. But I couldn’t just leave him here, right? I mean, I’ve never been drunk myself, but I’m sure having Mr Filch shout at you while having a hangover isn’t nice. “Do you uhm… do you… want to come back to my dorm?” I suggest, giving him a small smile. Plus, I guess, some part of me wouldn't mind hanging out with him again. And with 'some part', I really mean my whole heart. I really miss spending time with him.

He laughs slightly, looking at me with droopy eyes. “Are you flirting with me, miss goody two-shoes?”

This time, I can tell he notices my blushing because his eyes fixate on my cheeks with a smile. “What? No! No, no. That wasn’t what I meant, I promise! I just… you know, I was trying to be..” I trail off, fiddling with my nails. “…nice,” I look up at him, and he looks back at me, nodding slowly. He leans towards me slightly, and I notice a bruise on his right eyebrow. I also notice how his eyes dart down to my lips as he licks his. He leans in a bit more, and I back away with wide eyes. “You know, if you needed to sober up is all I meant. And I have a bucket!” I smile as he snaps back into reality.

“Oh, right. Well, could you carry me there? M’so tired.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, of course, easy peasy!” I laugh, standing up to give him a hand.

He takes it, pulling himself up. His weight makes me stumble away. “I could probably carry you. You’re so much smaller than me.” He smiles sleazily, and I cringe at his suggestion. I'm sure he's just thinking aloud, though. Plus, he isn't even really that tall.

“Maybe. Let’s just get going, okay?”

He nods, and I can’t help but laugh at how he stumbles forward, eyes focused on his feet. It looks like he’s balancing on a tightrope!

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I open my dorm door gently, knowing it usually creaks. I’m not afraid of waking up my roommates, both of them are at the party we just left, but I am afraid of Hannah hearing. She’s been having trouble sleeping lately, and her dorm is right next to ours. We aren’t really known for sneaking people into our dorms, especially Slytherin people, and she would probably give me detention just for 'tarnishing the Hufflepuff reputation. '

“Right, come on in,” I whisper, holding the door open for him. He steps in carefully, immediately sitting down on my roommate, Charlotte’s bed. “You can lie down over here, come on,” I help pull him up and guide him over to my bed. “Do you want me to get a bucket? I don’t want you throwing up on the carpet.” He nods with a groan. I quickly pick up my steel bin, pulling off the plastic bag and giving it to him.

“[Name],” He sighs, looking at me with disbelief. “This has holes in it, it would… leak.” He pushes the mesh bin back into my arms, and I put it back, grabbing the actual bucket lying under Rachel’s bed. She used it to water her biggest plants, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.

“Right, I’m so sorry! Here you go.” I sit down on the bed next to him. He immediately brings it up to his face, vomiting into it as I rub circles on his back. Rachel always says it helps her. He places it down, careful to not knock it over.

“Are you okay? Do you want some macarons?” I ask, but it’s more of a rhetorical question because before he can answer, I stand up to grab the box of macarons I had intended to give to the first years. But I could always bake more! I place the box in his lap with a tired smile. “Eating makes the alcohol go away quicker, I think.”

“Merlin, my head hurts.” He groans, opening the box.

“Yeah, well that’s what you get for drinking.” I shrug, and he rolls his eyes with a grin as he picks up one of the macarons. I look at him patiently as he chews. Smiling with anticipation for what he was going to say about them. The best thing about baking was hearing people's opinions. As long as it was praise, of course. I would cry if anyone told me my baking was bad.

He furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Did you like them?” I beam, shaking my leg.

He laughs, placing a hand on my leg to stop it from shaking. I go red from his touch, but he only grins wider at the sight. “I really liked them.” He hums, moving his hand from my leg to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

I swear to Merlin, I could die right now. He seriously looks like an angel. His messed up, curly hair is suddenly lying perfectly, and the blueish light creeping out from the top of my window is cast on him like a halo. His slightly teary eyes from the alcohol make it look like they’re shining, and I doubt anyone has ever been this handsome. His hand lingers on my cheek before he pulls away. “Thanks.” I mumble with a small smile.

“Where are your roommates anyway?” His words are being more coherent, and he’s almost not slurring at all anymore.

“They’re at the party. I doubt they’ll be back until tomorrow, they’re both terrified of Mrs Norris,” I laugh, thinking back at the time Charlotte had screamed when she saw a Maine Coon strolling around the halls when I was helping her sneak out. Turns out it was just a Ravenclaw’s lost cat. “So you can rest if you’d like. I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her bed.” I yawn as he quickly grabs for the bucket again to spew into. It’s hard to find someone attractive when they’re puking their guts out every other minute, but oddly enough, I do.

He places it down again before glancing at me. I wonder for a moment if he's waiting for me to stand up so that he could lie down with how intent his gaze is. But then he smiles, his gaze still unwavered. "You look really pretty."

"I do?" I ask carefully. He moves closer until our legs touch. He leans down until he can make eye contact without looking down. On second thought, maybe he is quite tall.

"Mhm." His eyes dart down to my lips again, but this time, my eyes do the same. He grabs at my waist, pulling me towards him even more, and I let him.

It feels like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. Like, seriously, is it supposed to beat this fast? "Thank you." I breathe, and we're silent for a moment, only leaving space for my thumping heart, which I'm sure he's close enough to hear, too.

He then swallows, biting his lip. "I want to kiss you." His voice his hoarse as his hand cups my cheek. I didn't hear him correctly; I couldn't have.

"Sorry?"

He pulls me in by my face as an answer, gently pressing his lips to mine. The hand on my waist slides to my back, pushing me even closer to him. He smiles into the kiss when I grab onto his shoulders, pushing myself farther up. He tastes like alcohol mixed with the sweetness of my macaron, and with the way he nibbles on my top lip, it feels like he wants to eat me, too. He pulls away, and it takes a moment before he opens his eyes. But the way he looks at me after, it makes me feel like the kiss traveled all the way from my lips to my stomach and sprouted into butterflies. The hand on my cheek moves down to my waist, and he pushes me towards him until I'm sitting in his lap.

I flinch when he releases his hold on me, instead using his hands to pull his shirt over his head. I quickly shift away from him to stand up. He furrows his eyebrows, but I just move away from him even more when he reaches out his arms towards me. "I... need to put on pyjamas." I manage to muster before scurrying into the loo.

I actually just kissed Mattheo Riddle. And I liked it. And I think he wanted to hook up with me. Goodness, this is a lot. Not in a million years could I have anticipated that my first kiss was going to be with Voldemort's son- or, he-who-must-not-be-named, I'm sorry, I'm nervous. I mean, of course, I've thought about it and dreamt about it a few times, but it was more of a fantasy than anything else. He did want to hook up, right? He didn't just take off his shirt because he got hot? Oh no, maybe he did. And if so, I was totally super weird for no reason.

I exhale, slipping into silk pyjamas before remembering how tired I am. All I have to do is go to bed. I don't even have to say anything to him! Or maybe that's ignoring him. Should I be mad that he assumed I wanted to sleep with him? But again, what if he didn't assume that? Our dorm does get pretty warm. And then I'd be mad for nothing. No, this is something newly-slept me will have to deal with.

I'm relieved when I exit the bathroom to find him sleeping. His shirt is still off, but he's lying on his stomach. I fall onto Charlotte's bed, not even having time to dwell before I fall asleep.

The next morning, Mattheo is gone, and in his place is a passed-out Charlotte who still has her makeup on.

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"I'm serious, Rachel. McGonagall has already removed two house points for your endeavours in the past. How many more is it going to take for you to realise this isn't okay?" Hannah whines, and I do my best to suppress my laughter at Rachel's attempt at feigning innocence.

Rachel groans, crossing her arms like a toddler. "What? This is totally unfair. I swear I didn't go to that party last night! Please, don't give me detention!"

"I'm really sorry! But I have to! If you and Charlotte keep doing this, everyone's going to think Hufflepuff's party a lot, and then McGonagall will take away all of our points, and we'll never win the house cup!"

Rachel rolls her eyes but gives in. "Fine. I'm sorry, Hannah," She mutters. Hannah nods and walks away. "I can't believe this. Like, I'm sorry for trying to have some fun! Is that against the rules?" She whispers to me.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think you deserve detention, but you don't ever think you might do it too much?" I ask, as gently as possible. Rachel has one of the shortest tempers ever, but honestly, I am a bit worried for her. It's probably been a week since I last saw her in bed in time, and she's always so tired in school.

For some reason, she doesn't argue- instead, her eyes go wide, and it looks like she's nodding to something. I furrow my eyebrows, turning around. To my surprise, it's Mattheo. He's rubbing his neck with one hand, and the other is tucked behind his back. His cheeks are red, and his tie isn't tied properly, but what I notice most is how he seems to be looking everywhere but me.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks quietly.

I turn around to Rachel, who's shaking her head profusely. "Uh, no. What's wrong?"

"Right then, could I... talk to you?" I nod slowly, and he grabs my arm and pulls me away from Rachel. He swallows harshly before bringing forward the arm he had tucked behind his back. He's holding my pink tumbler! I must've left it outside his common room yesterday. "I found this. It's yours, right?"

I smile brightly, taking it from him. Our fingers touch when I do, and the redness on his cheeks grows. "Yeah! Thank you, gosh, I didn't realise I had left it." I beam, placing it on the bench behind me. He has something else to say, though. And it's one hundred percent about the kiss. I hadn't told my friends yet, but it's the only thing that's been circling through my mind the whole day. How gently he had held me, how he looked in the moonlight. It honestly felt surreal, like it was all just a dream. But then I remember how awkwardly I had run away from him when he took off his shirt, and I'm reminded of how real it was.

"Look, about yesterday. I'm really sorry I... It was so stupid of me." He groans, rubbing his face with his hand. I nod, but it feels like my heart has stopped beating. Of course, he thinks it was a mistake. He was drunk, and we haven't talked to each other in like a year. It was a mistake. But then, why did it feel so right?

"It's fine." Is all I respond with. Of course, I wanted to say more. I wanted to say that I want to kiss him again and that it wasn't stupid at all and that I've had a crush on him since we were kids. Ever since the dance we shared during the pureblood ball a few years ago, where we laughed all evening. And most especially ever since that time he comforted me, crying, after my father told me what the death eaters really did.

He nods, and it looks like he's about to walk away, but he turns around again and finally looks me in the eyes. "No, it's not fine. I was a total jerk to you. I just... I'm not used to girls being that nice to me unless they want to sleep with me. I mean, I know that you don't sleep around. I was just really drunk, and I really liked kissing you, so, you know. Or, ugh, I sound like a dick." He runs a hand through his hair.

I smile. "You liked kissing me?" I raise my eyebrows teasingly, trying to get him to lighten up.

"Well, yeah. I've wanted to..." He cuts himself off and clears his throat before continuing. "Look, I don't want you to think that I think of you as just another girl to hook up with. Because I really don't. I mean, yeah, I was drunk yesterday, but... I've always thought that you are... really beautiful," He mumbles, looking down at his feet. "Even when we were kids I..." He swallows. "I really like you. But I wasn't supposed to kiss you yesterday it... It wasn't supposed to have happened like that..."

I can't believe what he just said. A part of me is telling myself that I'm making this up or that I'm misunderstanding him completely. I feel like my legs are crumbling underneath me, just from how he's looking at me. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it's running towards him, and I don't blame it. I step closer to him, just because it feels right. "How was it supposed to have happened?"

He thinks for a moment. "Up on the astronomy tower. The same time of day, but I wasn't supposed to be drunk. Or in a field during sunset. Or, honestly, anything but what actually happened." He laughs slightly.

Not only does he think I'm beautiful, but he's also thought about kissing me before? I would pinch myself but it seems like my hands are stuck in place, and the only way they can move is towards him. They land on his chest, and I push myself up on my tiptoes. "How about this, then?" I whisper before pressing my lips onto his. He freezes for a moment, but then he grabs the back of my head and presses me into him even more.

He pulls away for a moment, looking at me. "Yeah, this is better." He mumbles, kissing me again.

[msmarvelwitch]

spoilers for sunrise on the reaping

Listen, as someone who shamelessly loves fan service I was surprised Suzanne Collins gave us any breadcrumbs at all but I was more than thrilled she got it out of the way in the first few chapters. To me it sent a message that while, yes, a lot of the fan theories were cannon after all, it wasn’t what this story was going to be about. This is very much a story about finding, losing, and regaining hope even when the cards are stacked against you. This is very plainly pointed out by Plutarch being able to spin the narrative and Wyatt constantly remarking on the odds of their situation. I think the direct parallels between Katniss and Haymitch’s life also underline the fact that there was nothing more special about Katniss than the rest of the victors - she just had what they never did, which was good timing.

I think the real tragedy of this story is that the rebellion movement was beginning well before Katniss was even alive. If the timing had been right, it would have been Haymitch that was the Mockingjay twenty five years before our story even begins. However, the victors failed. Whether it was due to Beetee’s obvious emotional investment in the planning. Or perhaps it underestimating the commitment of the Capitol to improve the Arena after Wiress embarrassed them in the prior year’s games. It doesn’t matter what particular thing prevented taking the arena down, at the end of the day they failed. Badly. And each of the victors paid a price for it. These prices sidelined them for years - decades for Haymitch at the very least.

Not only did they have to live with the failure of their plan, they also had to what the Capitol grow stronger and somewhat more competent. What really struck me while reading this was the fact that even by the 50th Hunger Games, the Capitol still seems to not quite have its shit together. The train to the is noted to be a little shabby as if it’s an old subway car and the District 12 tributes even seem less than impressed by their living quarters during training. We know from Katniss and Peeta’s games that the conditions only “improve” for the tributes over the years. All of this is definitely to fatten the pigs before the slaughter, but I can’t imagine how disheartening it must have felt for the victors who could see the incompetence of the Capitol only becoming more efficient and powerful every year as more kids died. Not to mention that they had to guide those kids to their deaths under these conditions as well. No wonder they lost hope over the years and put their aspirations of freeing the Districts from the Capitol because who would know better about the human cost of this fight better than the victors? They all know that the cards are stacked against them and the odds aren’t in their favor, so they more or less fall in line.

Then comes Katniss. She instantly stirs Haymitch awake by reminding him of Louella, not to mention the fact of the emotional connection he has to her father. I think she eventually even reminds him of Maysilee by fighting back against Haymitch on the train after he immediately writes them off as two more kids doomed to die in the arena because he has seen it so many times before. Because Katniss and Peeta are no more different or special than any of the tributes that have come before them. I think the other victors no doubt were reminded of a young Haymitch once they saw Katniss in action during the games. She’s openly rebellious to the leaders before the game but instead of scoring low on their assessment as Haymitch did, she gets the top marks. She is protective of “weaker” contestants like Rue just as Haymitch tried his best to protect Louella, Ampert, and Wellie. I think it’s Rue’s death and Katniss taking the time to honor her before her body is whisked off by the Capitol and wakes everyone back up again. It’s not that Katniss is doing anything new or different than the people who came before her, she just reminded them of all the injustices they have endured for over fifty years. It’s a long list of people who not only died during the Hunger Games, but their loved ones who were killed to crush their hopes and kept them fearful. It just goes to the timing where everyone - the victors and the citizens of the Districts - have had enough and it opens up the door to hope again. Even though the Capitol is stronger than ever and the deck is stacked against them, they decide to screw the odds and fight back anyway.

Also, because of their failures, the victors are able to learn from their mistakes during the Second Quarter Quell. Nobody understands Katniss better than Haymitch and he knows that if she is informed on the rebel plans ahead of the 75th Games, their cover will be blown because she is not a natural liar or actress. As a result, she and Peeta are kept in the dark about the plot to take down the arena and I think this was critical to the success of the plot. I wish Haymitch’s epilogue gave us a bit more into the planning and scheming the victors did ahead of the games to make sure their plan didn’t completely fail again, but it’s safe to assume that Beetee, Wiress, and Mags also had their own learnings from their failed scheme that helped take down the arena and start a revolution twenty five years later.

Now I think the themes of going against the odds even when it’s hopeless are really plainly stated here but I think the similarities in Katniss and Haymitch’s stories aren’t just fan service but essential to the plot. Which I think given today’s political climate - particularly in the U.S. - is exactly the point Suzanne is trying to make. Now, I know there is a whole debate on TikTok on whether books are political…which is a a thing people truly believe these days. However, this series has always been political and I think the timing of both “A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” and “Sunrise on the Reaping” being released over ten years after this series has been completed is no accident. Similarly to Katniss not being the first person to experience the trauma of the games and being a target of Snow, everything happening today in the U.S. is not the first time or place where something like this has happened. I think this story is meant to encourage people to keep their hope even when it feels futile and naive.

[reidmotif]

Always Bet on Black

Summary: Reader realizes she has an advantage at the Bureau's Casino Night, when Spencer can't seem to take his eyes off her and her dress.

Prompt: The BAU throws a casino night charity fundraiser. Spencer is a menace. Someone has to find a way to distract him.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: drinking, gambling (i have never gambled in my life nor have i played poker or blackjack. this will be super apparent in this fic. many apologies), nipple play, oral sex (f!receiving) hickies, Reader POV, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist

“And that’s another win to the gentleman on my right!”  The dealer announces for what feels like the millionth time that night. There's a shit-eating grin on Spencer Reid’s face as he leans over the blackjack table, wrapping his arms around the hearty stack of chips in an almost in an exaggerated manner, pulling it back towards him much to everyone’s dismay. 

My dismay, especially, because while- yes, this is for charity, and what Spencer’s doing could be characterized as noble in some roundabout way, it was getting a bit repetitive. Spencer was so focused, a thousand times more than anyone else at that table, his brain working a million miles a minute to provide him with the best course of action when it came to gambling.  

And so far? It worked perfectly. While everyone else was taking their chances and betting away, praying that the odds would line up in their favor, Spencer Reid did fucking math, and suddenly the odds were his bitch.  I was beginning to understand why every casino in Las Vegas had him banned now. If he was giving the BAU Casino Night a run for their money like this, I can’t imagine the Bellagio being too pleased with having him either. 

I sighed at the thought, and it seemed Spencer picked up on it, the corners of his lips turning upwards, trying to feign a chagrin expression as he stacked his chips on top of the other. 

“Something wrong, (Y/N)?” He says, looking at me. “Are you not enjoying yourself?” 

Spencer Reid is usually nice, humble, and sweet. In all honesty, I should not be feeling this hostile and sore at the fact that he’d managed to beat me almost every single time we’d played blackjack. My embarrassment was only heightened when I thought of how I’d (stupidly) bragged beforehand that I’d never lost a game in college. 

How quickly my streak was destroyed. 

My pride was bruised, and the man in front of me knew it. 

“I’m enjoying myself just fine.” I say, trying not to grit my teeth as I say the words. 

“You look a bit hot.” He says, referring to my face that had gotten slightly red after the most recent loss I’d taken. “Would you like me to get you a drink?” He asks, his gaze turning less cocky, and more sweet and polite. 

I melt a bit. “Okay. No need to be a sore loser.” I think to myself. “This is a sweet man, and he’s offering you a drink. Yes, he’s destroying you right now and knows it, but it’s not like he’s acting like a complete dick about it.”

I nod at his words, sending a small smile his way. 

“A drink would be great actually.” I finally respond, and he gets up, pushing his chair in. 

“I’ll be right back.” He says, turning away from me, and sauntering towards the bar.

 I take a second to admire him as he walks away, the suit and tie ensemble he picked out for the night complimenting him so well. I’d never say it out loud, considering we were coworkers, but something about seeing him so dapper, so much more.. mature brought out a warm feeling in my stomach, one that made me shift in my seat as I tried to rid myself of thoughts of grabbing him by his tie, placing a hand on his perfectly sculpted jawline, pulling him against me and- no! 

He. Is. Your. Colleague. Snap out of it! 

In lieu of my wandering thoughts, I’d realized I had actually heated up quite a few degrees and in an attempt to combat the sudden body heat, I shrugged off the shawl I’d been donning for most of the night. I felt the cool air hit my exposed shoulders and chest, and relaxed a bit, starting to feel my temperature lower. Right as I did so,  Spencer returned to his seat, holding two drinks. 

I turn towards him, still seated. He’s sitting in his seat, facing towards me as well, and I instinctively reach over to grab the drink in his hand, expecting him to meet me halfway and transfer the cup to me.  But instead of the expected interaction, he seems a bit dazed, an intense expression on his face as he bored his eyes into me, studying me almost. It’s an expression that causes me to raise my eyebrows at him. 

“Spencer?” I say. “Hello?” I wave my hand a bit, trying to break him from his trance. “The drinks?” I add, and that’s what seems to break him out of his preoccupied stupor. He blinks a bit before shaking his head.

“Sorry. Sorry. I spaced out there for a moment.” He says, hastily handing me my glass and turning away completely from me, taking a sip out of his. I can notice a small tremor in his hand as he sets down the liquid on the table, and I’m a bit concerned. He was just fine a moment ago. Did someone say something whilst he was at the bar? Did he choose to ponder some life-changing information as he took his seat at the table? Was he losing it for no reason at all? 

Regardless of what it was, I didn’t have the time to contemplate it further or question him about it because the dealer was beginning to shuffle the deck of cards again. 

As the next game started, there was something fundamentally different about Spencer. He looked  almost panicked, even going as far as to loosen his tie as he played. I thought I’d maybe imagined the changes, until finally, I got a real indicator that something was off. For the first time that whole night- he lost. 

My mouth was agape as the dealer announced the house win, and as I looked between him and the table, he didn’t seem all that fazed, simply shrugging as he attempted to get up. Before he could slip away, I grabbed his arm and brought him a bit closer to me, so that I could speak to him over the sounds of the bustling party around us.

“Spencer- wait. Is something wrong?” I ask, the genuine concern in my tone apparent to anyone who might’ve walked by. 

“Yeah, no. Um. Why wouldn’t it be?” He says, his eyes everywhere except me. It was almost comical. The ceiling tiles couldn’t be that interesting. 

I grip his arm a little harder, urging him to look at me, to talk to me. “You lost! That hasn’t happened all night! Was someone- did something happen? Are you feeling okay?” I ask, my eyes trying to meet his. 

He gulps, finally looking at me. “Statistically, card counting can’t actually work every time so I was bound to lose at some point right?” He says, a little shakily, and despite his words making logical sense, the notion that something was wrong didn’t leave me. 

“You promise?” I say, looking at him as intensely as I possibly could to ensure he wouldn’t try to evade giving me an honest answer. 

He gives his signature, flat smile, nodding. “I’ll be fine. Look. I’m gonna go play some other games. Maybe rack up my luck somewhere else.” 

I lick my lips and finally let go of his arm, nodding. “Have fun.” I say, and he gives me a little wave. 

“You too.” 

For the next hour or so, I found myself dabbling at the other assortment of games offered by the Bureau that night, until yet again, my path crossed with Spencer, who seemed to be on a pretty hefty winning streak- if the stack of chips he’d accumulated wasn’t a clear sign of that already. 

I stood by the table, slightly out of his view,  a little amazed by the way his eyes followed the deck and everyone’s movements so precisely. The level of focus required to do what he was was absolutely no joke, and I couldn’t help but admire in silent awe at the exactness of the whole process. It only made him that much more attractive in that moment, if that was even possible. 

“Royal flush.” He announces, fanning his cards as everyone at the table groans. It’s only then when his gaze meets mine, watching him, and I can observe the signs of a tell-tale blush creeping up his neck. Odd.

“(Y/N)! Hello.” He says, quickly. “Still liking the party?” 

“I am, thank you.” I say, my eyebrows slightly furrowing at how oddly he’s behaving. “Mind if I join the next round?” I ask, already starting to take my seat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He says, clearing his throat and turning his entire body away from me. Spencer and I usually got along just fine. There was nothing ever particularly sour about our relationship, and I’d like to think that in the time I’d spent at the Bureau, our shared experiences had brought us closer. However, the way he was acting as of right now, like we were strangers or mere acquaintances threw me off beyond belief. 

It was official, something was off.

I leaned over a little closer, trying to get him to look at me.

“Spencer, I know I’ve already asked but is anything-“ I start, and I can see him glance over, and then almost rapidly turn his gaze away.

“No! Nothing’s wrong. Let’s play.” He rushes out, his words teetering on almost being high pitched. 

It didn’t evade me however, in that short microsecond he took to look at me, his gaze dropped partially down. I internally followed his line of sight to realize that my breasts were practically spilling from my dress. I knew that it was a bit showy, but didn’t think much of it when I’d chosen to wear it for this occasion. The event was black-tie, and so I’d fished out a number I’d haphazardly bought during an online shopping spree. It was black and sparkly, but the main caveat of the dress was the gorgeous bodice in the front, managing to give a good show of cleavage whilst pushing up my breasts and making them all that more appealing to anyone who noticed.  I began to connect the events of the night, realizing that someone clearly had noticed.

Spencer’s losing streak had coincidentally begun once I’d lost the shawl that was once covering my chest. 

An idea slowly entered my head. An experiment, if you will. As we started another game, I barely paid attention as my fingers slid over to what looked like a glass of water on Spencer’s side. 

“Spence?” I murmur, tapping his shoulder.

“Mm?” He asks, not even taking a moment to look away from his cards. 

“Mind if I take a sip from your water?” I ask, keeping my voice saccharine and innocent.

I can see the look he shoots me, his eyes slightly narrowed in surprise but he quickly looks away. “Yeah, um. Sure. Go ahead.” He responds dismissively, as if talking to me for even a second longer would result in him breaking out in hives. 

 Totally out of character. For all the closeness in the world, Spencer Reid would never have shared a glass of water. 

As I began to sip the water, I did something that could be categorized as deeply stupid, but in the name of my experiment, it was absolutely necessary. I slightly tipped the glass, allowing the cool water to run down my neck and drip onto the swell of my breasts. I made a show of getting up, touching my chest to try and rid myself of the moisture that was now coating my breasts. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’ll get you another glass of water.” I say,letting my breasts bounce a bit as I stand up,  and when he looks at me, it’s more apparent than ever that his eyes aren’t gracing mine anytime soon. Not when I was like this. 

I grinned in secret as I turned around,  quickly bringing over a replacement glass to him, leaning over so that if he were to simply turn his head even slightly to his left, he’d get a direct look at what he simply couldn’t seem to take his eyes or mind off tonight. 

“Uh. Thanks.” He stammers again, shakily drinking the water as he miserably failed at not looking. Bingo. 

When the next round of our game commenced, he lost horrifically, as expected. His mind was in an entirely different dimension, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride, knowing it was me who’d rendered him dumb. So unfocused. So unlike himself. It wasn’t until I felt a tap on my shoulder, noticing Spencer’s hand carrying out the action. 

“Walk with me.” He says, simply. His tone was so sharp and commanding, I found myself listening with no hesitation, following as we moved to a more secluded bit of the party. 

“What are you doing?” He asks in an accusatory tone, his voice a hushed whisper. 

“What do you mean?” I respond, a faux naivete in my words, which he only scoffed at. He leaned in closer, his brows furrowed. I could notice a small vein popping out from his forehead, and the sight only increased the ache I’d begun to feel in my panties since he’d directed me here. 

“You know what I mean.” He says, dangerously. “You’re flaunting yourself.” He adds, his jaw tight. “You know what it’s doing to me. You’re enjoying it.” I could tell he wanted to say so much more, the grit in his tone leading me to believe there were some much cruder words he wished to utter to me.

 Regardless, the authority in his tone only spurred me to try and resist. It was so hot watching him like this. Maybe a bit fucked up to say that, but it didn’t matter in that moment. I only wanted to test the limits. To see the new man I could bring out in Spencer Reid tonight. 

“So what if I am?” I say, biting my lip. “It’s a party, Spencer. We’re all having fun, aren’t we?” 

“No.” He responds, darkly. “I’m not having fun.” 

A proposal came to mind. One I knew that would pan out deliciously, since I’d now gotten a look into his extensive lust tonight, and just how desperate he seemed. I leaned forward to whisper to him, my lips teasing the outer shell of his ear. 

“Win another game, and I’ll show you just how much fun you could be having.”

He immediately pulls back. His eyes narrow, and I can see the weight of my words course through his mind, evaluating the odds of my statement before clicking his tongue. 

“See you in 30 minutes.” is his response, as he walks away, beckoning me to follow him to yet another Blackjack table. I grin, sitting beside him. 

My presence doesn’t seem to phase Spencer whatsoever this time around, his laser-point focus uninterrupted even as I stared shamelessly at him. It wasn't until the game seemed to be reaching its turning point, in which Spencer had to decide whether drawing or staying would bring forth a better outcome for him. I watched as he mulled over the decision for a few seconds before his eyes locked onto mine, gaze intense. 

“Draw.” He voices, not even paying mind as the dealer announced his win. 

Spencer gets up without a word, and I can see him head towards a hallway that houses a few restrooms in the building. 

“Sir- your winnings!” The dealer calls out, but I smile apologetically, starting to follow Spencer to a more secluded area of the party.

“Sorry. He’s probably a bit preoccupied. I’ll let him know!” I respond, already turning around and making my way to the same hallway Spencer had gone down, finding the bathroom and opening it. I knew Spencer would be there, but what I didn’t expect was to be pulled into his arms, greeted by Spencer’s lips insistently pressing against mine, his free hand clutching the back of my head, as his other hand went to click the lock into place. I responded with a momentary bout of shock, but quickly found myself melting into his touch, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“You like watching me lose, is that it?” He whispers harshly, in between kisses. I can feel the anger, the lust and passion, all rolling into one as his lips meet mine, over and over again, creating the sweetest of sensations that wracked my whole body. 

“Mm. Not just you losing. You losing because you’re distracted. Because of me.” I say, my tone a bit dazed and breathy from the intensity he was putting me through. 

“Can you blame me?” He murmurs, his lips now trailing down my neck, paying close mind to a particular spot on the side that left my knees weak. “You wear this dress and expect me to not take my eyes off of you?” 

His hot breath grazes over my skin and I can feel myself shiver. I’m completely overwhelmed by him. The feel of his hands caressing the small of my back and waist, his smell of his cologne wafting around me. I can only breathe unsteadily, and hold onto him, a needy whimper slipping past my lips. 

“Shh. You’re okay. I got you.” He murmurs. His tone was sweet, soothing, but his actions were anything but, as his fingers slipped around to find the zipper on my dress. 

In an instant, his mouth was finally all over my breasts, his mouth leaving a few marks on the expanse of my chest before his tongue began to sweep over my nipples, swirling around the raised bud, leaving me grappling to his shoulders, as more moans poured out from within me. 

“You like that?” He breathes against my skin, and I nod, frantically. I’d never expected to go this weak, but he was so much more skilled with his mouth than I’d ever expected.

“Please. Keep going.” I moan, and I can feel his hands on my thighs, urging me into his arms. I comply, and can feel myself be lifted to the bathroom counter, his hands squeezing the fat of my hips before dropping to his knees. His fingers looped around my underwear, and I attempted to move in a way that would aid him in their removal. As soon as they were off, he stuffed them into his pocket, and moved to lift my dress up, his face disappearing into my now spread legs. 

And suddenly he was everywhere, tongue swiping over my clit in rapid motions, flicking against me in a way that had me immediately squeezing my thighs around his face, to which Spencer responded by pushing them apart, leaving me shaking. 

“Oh god, Spencer. Oh-” I moan, over and over again, my hand gripping onto the strands of his hair. My eyes squeeze shut as I feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, my legs trembling more than ever. 

“Spencer- I’m gonna-” I groan out, my grip tightening, and I look down, watching him devour me with so much precision and focus, the same I’d seen during his playing all night. I watched as his eyes met mine, his lips sucking around my clit and in a fit of moans, I found myself releasing all over his tongue, my body shuddering as he worked me through my orgasm, moaning against my core. 

He rose from his knees and planted a long, deep kiss on my lips, and I moaned as I tasted myself on him. My hands started to go for his belt, desperate to feel this man inside me. As soon as his cock was freed from the confines of his briefs, I guided him towards my entrance, gasping as I felt him push into me, immediately filling me up. I breathed in sharply from the pleasure of the sensation, my eyes screwing shut before opening them to see his eyes staring back at me. He gave me a moment to adjust, watching my face for any sign of discomfort, but there was none, only the carnal desperation I felt for this man. I nodded to let him know I was ready,  and suddenly, like a man possessed, he began to jut his hips towards mine, causing me to whimper and dig my nails into his back. 

He moaned as he slammed into me, over and over again, while his mouth kissed at my neck, at my jaw, my lips, murmuring my praises over and over again. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groans, my hips firmly gripped by his large hands, keeping me from slipping off the counter. “And that dress. Fuck. God, I want you.” 

I nod, too overwhelmed with pleasure to even speak, rather opting to moan his name and nod furiously. 

He kept one hand on my hip, while the other trailed down to where we were joined, and began to rub fast, hard circles over my already sensitive bud, the action causing me to gasp out and open my eyes, letting him know that my second release of the night was inevitable. 

“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low and his fingers diligent on my clit. 

“Please,” I sob out, my voice breaking with just how much I needed this right now. How much I needed him. 

“Come for me.” He murmurs, and as if under a spell, I do, coming undone rapidly in his grasp, my head falling against his shoulder as he continues the movement of his hips until I feel him still, and then spill into me, his breath heavy and chest heaving. 

I pull back, my forehead meeting his as he stares at me in a bit of a trance, our breaths mingling as we both came down from what had just happened. 

“I think.. you should probably cover up.. after that.” He murmurs, grinning a bit at the wide array of marks he’d just left on my neck and chest, undeniably exposing us. 

“Right you are.” I giggle back, leaning in for another kiss.  This time sweeter, softer.

I was definitely wearing this dress again for him.

  hello!! oh my god!! it has been so long since i've posted a fic. finals are over! i am free! i promise we will be back to a more normal schedule now (can i do weekly fics? who knows. i'll try). as usual, thank you for any and all reblogs, likes and comments. it's been a long time since i've even thought about writing, so i hope this is up to everyone's standards. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins office party challenge. so, you know. look at the other fics there too! sorry for clearly not knowing anything about card games. also also, just a fun fact. i envisioned readers dress being meredith grey's prom dress from s2ep27.. hehe. okay, i've already talked enough. thank you thank you thank you for reading and supporting!!!

[stclaretarot]

PICK A CARD⭒ how will your future child make you proud?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · queen of swords, ace of cups, knight of cups, page of swords (reversed), the moon.

channelled songs · hello stranger by kai. welcome to the machine by pink floyd. brenda’s got a baby by 2pac.

my dear group one ♡ your future child will make you proud by going against everything placed against them --every expectation and naysay -- in order to go after their dreams and do what they love.

your child may be born with disabilities or may become disabled with time. they may just be disadvantaged, as in having less money and opportunities in comparison to their peers. they may also fall pregnant and become a parent at a young age.

despite this, they will never lose sight of what they want from life and will go after it guns blazing and head held high.

though, for some time, they may wallow and feel hopeless because of the barriers that exist between them and achieving what they want to achieve, they will still come out on the other side surer than ever that nothing is going to stop them. that they will be successful by any means necessary. that they will achieve what they want to achieve, even if all odds are stacked against them.

GROUP TWO

cards · nine of cups, queen of cups, eight of cups, six of wands, the magician.

channelled songs · love at first sight by the front bottoms. born hater by epik high. pricey by nct 127. 

my dear group two ♡ even as a child, your future child will be the kind of person who knows what they are worth and never accepts less than that. 

this is something that may have taken you a long time to learn -- to speak up for yourself, to not let people walk all over you or disrespect you, to enter rooms as if you belong there and not let anyone tell you otherwise. but, for your child, this will all come naturally. 

some people may call your future child a “diva” or say that they think too highly of themselves, but every time they say that you will just roll your eyes because that is exactly how you want your child to be. 

your child will respect themselves so much and have such high standards that they will not tolerate even the slightest disrespect. even as a little kid. picture this, your child is having a playdate with the neighbour’s child; your child will split the toys equally between the two of them, then the neighbour’s child will start taking from your child’s pile. instead of just letting that happen, your child will say, “these are mine and these are yours, if you want to share, you have to ask, don’t just take.”

they will be so good at setting their boundaries, which is largely thanks to you and how you raised them.

GROUP THREE

cards · ten of swords, seven of swords (reversed), three of wands, nine of swords, the hierophant.

channelled songs · el baile del perrito by wilfrido vargas. every little thing i do by soul for real. the hard way by the front bottoms.

my dear group three ♡ your future child will make you proud in that they will never take no for an answer. your child will be fearless, and will fearlessly defend themselves, even when everyone else shoots them done and calls them delusional -- or even insane.

they will be persistent, stubborn, and headstrong -- in the best way possible. in the way that will make them a good entrepreneur and successful business owner. in the way that will ensure that doors always open for them -- because, in many ways, they force these doors to open for them.

they will be someone who has a certain expectation for their life and will not accept anything less than that. if they want to be a doctor, and they keep getting rejected, they will keep working towards it and applying until they get accepted. if they want to be an attorney, and they fail the bar exam, they will do it again and again and again until they pass. if they want to be a business owner and their first business fails, that’s fine, they’ll take what they learnt and start another one.

they will never give up. not on anything, least of all not on themselves.

[intrepidacious]

just fairer than death

summary: One night, you pull a dying sailor from the depths of the sea.

pairing: james norrington x siren!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: set right after james' canon departure; slight dubcon because sirens; brief blood licking; i think this qualifies as soft dark? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: crawling out of my void with this fic that absolutely no one asked for 🫶🏼 i first wrote this in may so that's how i'm doing at the moment. @brandycranby and @scrumptious-delusion thank you for actually making me finish this story, i love you both so immensely x

masterlist | read on ao3

It was said, among your kind, that there was nothing more dangerous than a sailor; for you were destined to either love him or kill him.

That is, if he did not kill you first.

Your life had already been long, then, and you’d never even seen a human up close. You’d learned to understand how the seas would change when they had to carry a ship, how the waves would moan under its weight, and you’d taken great pains to avoid watchful eyes in the dark every single time. The odds were stacked against you, and you weren’t ready to risk your life for a notion as abstract as love.

Others, you knew, had been bolder than you. Several of your sisters liked to venture out to take a closer look at a passing vessel and its crew, and some of them had never made it back afterwards. You didn’t like to think what might have happened to them.

It was worse, though, when they did return. Blood on their gills and flesh still stuck between their sharp teeth, a mad, angry, horrified look in their eyes. See what they made me do, it seemed to say. See how they conjure violence from thin air.

Passion, you learned, was a dangerous current to get caught up in.

Night fell early that day, like the goddess herself wanted to hide what was about to happen underneath a shroud of darkness. The sea was quiet. The stars were hiding as you let yourself get carried by the waves with your face turned towards an empty sky, far enough from the cursed ship to stay out of sight. The Flying Dutchman made you shiver in your scales, no matter how many times you smelled her rotten wood from afar. There was nothing good on that ship; nothing good could ever come from it.

You never knew what strange tides carried you closer. These waters had their own sense of humour, sometimes, cruel and biting like medusa venom.

A shout cut through the night, clearly audible even from where you were floating at a distance. Normally, you would’ve taken this as your sign to leave, but for some reason, you hesitated. An icy chill went through you and stopped you from slipping away into the safety of the deep. Instead, you turned your head towards the source of the sound.

Something had plummeted into the water.

You squinted. Yes, you could see several figures, their heads just bobbing above the surface as they moved hastily away from the abominable ship.

Good, you thought. Not even humans deserved the likes of Davy Jones.

Then the wind picked up. It carried the coppery stench of blood and steel mixing with seawater, and the fine hairs covering your neck stood up in response. Every cell of your body was screaming at you to flee, and yet you were unable to move, the ocean gently pushing you closer still.

You couldn’t see anything else in this murky darkness, but a few minutes passed in tense silence before you heard a hollow, ghostly laugh followed by another splash. The sea tasted of iron, too, now; and of something else.

It was that other, undetermined thing that made you swim closer against your every instinct. You were still far enough from the Dutchman to be out of sight, the tides moving in your favour, when you saw the shape in the water.

It was drifting away from the vessel as well, but in a way much more uncoordinated than the ones you’d seen earlier, barely staying afloat for another moment before the ocean swallowed it whole.

You did not hesitate this time.

Underwater, it was much easier for your eyes to make out the shape, sinking heavily as the ship’s wake pushed it down, down towards the bottom of the ocean. A muscle strained in your tail, your gills protesting as you shot through the waters to get a proper look before it fell out of sight. You still didn’t understand why.

Goddess help you, you should’ve known.

For something as terrible as a sailor, he didn’t look all that intimidating. He only looked decidedly lifeless, his eyes closed, limbs floating loosely. Blood tinted the water around him, coming from a hole in his chest that probably wasn’t supposed to be there. Then again, what did you know about humans?

You wondered if all of them looked this beautiful.

Then, like a shockwave, you remembered that they needed air to breathe.

Before you could consciously decide on it, you had grabbed the sailor under his shoulders and dragged him back up. He was heavier than a grown reef shark, unresponsive dead weight, the ocean refusing to loosen her grip on him.

Finally, you burst through the surface again, a gasp of relief escaping you when you spotted a sandbank not that far away. The Dutchman, thankfully, was far off in the distance by now. No ghostly eye saw you taking off into the opposite direction with the lifeless sailor the ship had spat out.

You couldn’t help but glance at your charge every now and again as you struggled to keep him afloat. He had lost part of his hair to the currents, and the rest of it had another colour underneath, dark like sea weeds. You could only hope that he didn’t need the upper part.

But need it for what, exactly? This man was dead; or at least mostly so. He still smelled slightly alive, and his skin was warm against yours.

"What am I doing?" you whispered to yourself as you tightened your grasp around his shoulders.

Careful, sang the waves. Do not play with things you don’t understand.

But what a ridiculous warning that was. You knew this man was in no shape to harm you, so how could your curiosity be something terrible?

After what felt like hours, your hands touched rock and sand. With great effort, you managed to heave the sailor onto it. No matter how much you scowled at the waves, his head kept rolling back under water, until you lifted yourself up and carefully put it in your lap.

Your tail was aching with exhaustion and your uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Breathe, you thought, holding his face in your hands, breathe.

The sailor didn’t listen, but then again, he was mostly dead.

You could feel your heart racing as desperation started to rise. What had you done this for, then, if he refused to cling to life after all? It was as if something had possessed you, and now that you were halfway through the motions it dictated, you’d been once again left alone with your thoughts and the rush of the sea around you.

Something compelled you to push a strand of wet, dark hair away from his face. No; he didn’t look intimidating at all.

Love him or kill him.

You were a simple creature steered by fate as much as anyone, and right now, you were a helpless guppy between her fingers. You wondered what colour his eyes might be.

He was so heavy on you, like his weight was trying to remind you of the odd reality of this situation. You had no idea what to do, and so you kept staring at him.

Like small fish lured in by photophore, your fingers trailed inevitably downwards to that strange hole in his chest. Human blood smelled the same as yours, and it had the same colour, as far as you could tell; but it was warm.

Hesitantly, you pulled your hand back and licked it up.

An involuntary sigh left your lips.

Sweet. Maddeningly sweet. Even after just a few drops, you could see why your sisters would lose their minds over this. You could feel your mouth watering as you savoured the taste, your mind going blissfully blank.

This was like nothing you’d ever experienced.

Your heart was beating a frenzy as you heaved the sailor up in your lap and leaned over his chest, dipping your tongue against the hole. Each lick of blood intensified the gentle buzz in your head, a giddy lightness spreading through your limbs, your chest, your very core.

Just before you lost yourself entirely to this sensation, you heard a low rumbling noise. Gurgling, like stuck water. The sound faded again almost instantly.

Around you, the wind picked up, the waves rumbling menacingly, and you looked up to see the clouds darkening overhead. A storm was coming, after all.

You went to continue your meal and found that the hole had closed up.  Soft, reddened skin covered it like it had never been there in the first place. Only a small, shimmering scar remained, and you traced your fingers along it in wistful wonderment, blinking as you wiped your mouth and came to your senses again.

How strange, indeed.

Still, your appetite had been wet, now. You looked at the sailor’s face again, craving more of his sweetness. Maybe …

Slowly, you brushed your lips against his, breathing into him as you carefully nipped at his flesh. He tasted like the sea, here, salt and brine and something else entirely, something that made you press closer as you exhaled into him.

Perfect, you thought because you’d never felt anything so true, all things falling into place for the first time in your life. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine.

A sound again; this time, it reverberated in your mouth. The sea lashed at you but you ignored it, pushing into the noise as if going to smother it, and then something moved in your lap and the mostly dead sailor grunted weakly against your lips.

You flinched backwards as he sputtered before you, his entire body convulsing as he coughed up seawater and blood. Each rattled breath ended with another fit of coughs until finally, he calmed, slumping back into his previous position in your lap.

It was then, for the first time, that he opened his eyes.

They were green, green like the deep sea on a particularly fine day, green like a palm leaf on the beach at Whitecap Bay, green like shards of smooth seaglass, polished and shimmering. Even in the darkness, they were bright, and they were looking up at you in confusion.

You were confused, too. Something very odd was happening, and so you leaned in and you did the only thing your mind could think of at that moment. You pressed your lips against his once more.

Again, you were filled with that feeling of rightness as you pressed closer, as his mouth gently moved against yours as if in an unheard question before answering you in equal. Yes, yes.

You didn’t understand but this was the way things should be, how they were always meant to go, how—

Cool hands pulled your face away and an involuntary whine escaped you. The sea green eyes had darkened, softened, and they blinked at you several times before the sailor asked, "Am I dead?"

"Not anymore," you said, making to move closer again. He didn’t let you, his hand solid against your cheek.

"I don’t—I’m not sure what happened." His voice was hoarse with the salt of the ocean. His thumb kept tracing your cheekbone like he wasn’t able to comprehend you were actually here. "I thought I was dead."

"Does it matter?" you asked. Your voice was gaining a sing-songy quality entirely of its own accord, and it made his seaglass eyes glaze over a little.

He made to sit up and even though some deep, primal instinct didn’t want him to withdraw even a little, you helped steady his shaking arms until he was upright. Still, your tail was relieved at the lifted weight, giving an involuntary spasm that splashed in the water.

The sailor barely seemed to notice, even as he looked around at his surroundings. The wind howled and dark waves kept lapping at his legs as he tried to get his bearings.

It was a long time before his eyes settled on you again.

"Who are you?" he said, and there was wonder in his voice, incredulity.

Beautiful, you thought again.

You told him your name, quickly, without even thinking about it. Your kind wasn’t usually supposed to share this information; names held power, after all. But this was different. He was different.

"What about you, sailor?" you asked softly. "What do they call you?"

"I … James," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration, like he wasn’t all that sure at all. "Admiral James Norrington of the EC … the EITC. I think."

"Don’t think," you said, putting a hand on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat in there, fast enough for it to sound as if he, like some creatures, had three of them. Unlikely, of course, but what did you know?

In time, he might spare one of them for you.

For some reason, that thought didn’t shock you.

"I should …" he said, his eyes half-shut again. You wanted to kiss away that frown. You wondered if his smile was as magnificent as you imagined, hidden somewhere beneath that stern face. "There was something … someone …"

It broke your heart, the way that worry weighed on him. You needed to take care of him. Take him somewhere safe, somewhere he could rest.

"Don’t worry, James Norrington," you said gently, slowly leaning in once more; he didn’t stop you. "It’s going to be all right."

This time, when your mouths connected, he sighed, like he was letting go of whatever burden his memory was trying to remind him of. This time, his arms came around you and wrapped tightly around your shoulders so that when you slipped into the water, he clung to you, your lips still moving in perfect tandem. He tasted divine.

Yes, you thought, maybe there was a point to these stories about sailors after all.

But this one … he was good. He was yours.

And you intended to keep him.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! remember to stay hydrated and reblog the fics you read to make a writer smile today 💛

[razzle-n-dazzle]

Lucifer x F!Reader [Adam’s ExGF]

[context: she’s was an angel created in heaven, and ends up dating adam for a bit this is long after Eden. and ends up leaving him not being able to handle him anymore.]

So~

Another one of his partners is stolen by Lucifer heheh.. she married him and they have a 12 month old baby. Adam being in hell now and is trying to “rehabilitate” is forced to watch his ex partner being happy something he he did so little for her when they were together.

bonus: if Adam snatches the baby’s toy from their hands causing them to cry and everyone to shout at him and argue

. . . 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘺 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 Lucifer / AFAB! Reader

‗( content / trigger warning ) not proofread (we die like Adam), AFAB! reader, reader has a kid, technically this is an (yandere?) Adam / Reader hurt fanfic in disguise, It's Helluva/Hazbin there's going to be cursing. ‗( author's note ) I'm going to try and do Lucifer's personality justice here. I had gone back to reread some of my old Lucifer fanfic to see that I mischaracterized him in a rather noticeable way (at least for me), and that doesn't fly here. So let's hope third time is a charm <3

"To be yours was like holding a thorned rose. It was pretty, sure, yet it pierced, stabbed, and bled my hands the tighter I held on to keep it alive. . . So, I let it die."

To say a bone in his body does not loath Lucifer, would be an understatement. Actually, no, it would be the foulest lie that would have ever been uttered. There was nothing in this world that Adam despised more than Lucifer Morningstar; The fallen angel of corrupted dreams, a thief and tainter of pure hearts, the sole creator of sin and everything that is wrong within the world. Simply to put it, if Adam had a chance to fuck as many women as he could want, in all the positions he could ever hope for, or torture Lucifer without a single repercussion until he's dead on hell's floor; He'd choose the latter. After all, who wouldn't hate the guy after everything he did? Well, apparently one person didn't, and Adam couldn't understand why.

You: The love of his life. Adam didn't get it, he really didn't. How could you, one of the most perfect people in creation, end up with someone like . . . Lucifer? And how could, promptly, Lucifer have been the one to end Adam up in Hell! And how, just how, did Adam ever think he needed the help of Lucifer's daughter to quote-on-quote rehabilitate when he's the original dick and would end back in Heaven by default?! And yet, even with all those questions and odds stacking up against him, Adam still found himself sitting at Husker's bar. He still found himself watching as you sat next to Lucifer, holding a literal baby on your lap, while Charlie cooed over her new baby brother. Honestly, he was a second away from slamming his drink down on the counter or across the hotel lobby to hopefully crack Lucifer's skull open. That fucking bastard. He had no right to not only be sitting next to you right now, calling you his lover, but to knock you up with his kid! He didn't deserve you. No one deserved you but Adam and yet you dumbed him! Him! The original dick, the original first man. Pft. It's your loss anyways. He's so much better than what's his stupid fucking face and his stupid fucking kids. Pft, yeah. It's not like he cared at all! After all, he could have that stupid(ly beautiful) grin on your face ten times brighter than Lucifer could ever.

Adam's days were absolutely miserable anytime You and Lucifer came over to the Hotel, as there was little chances of avoiding either of you. Sure, maybe Adam could hide in his room and pretend like he never say either of you on your visit days. Sure, maybe he could go out on the town and possibly meet someone that was ten times better than you. And, sure, maybe he could just do one of the million annoying tasks Charlie had for the residents. Yet, there was still no avoiding either of you. Not for Adam. Because avoiding you would show Lucifer that he won. That he managed not only to take Lilith, yet Even, and now You away from Adam and let it affect him. Adam was not ever giving Lucifer that satisfaction, and he wasn't going to let you have the satisfaction of knowing that he still . . . loves you. Not that you would be paying attention, anyways. You haven't even spared him a glance, other than courteous waves of hellos when Adam was near some of the other residents. So, if you had moved on, so had Adam! And, frankly, much to Adam's dismay, you had. The fall from Heaven hadn't been a pretty one, not at all. The Seraphim had stripped you of your wings, casted you down based on a senseless accusation that could have "threatened the whole order of the Heavens". It was unjust, and it had stung you heavily during the first few months, but you slowly learnt to cope. Finding someone who could share your same pains helped, immensely. Lucifer had been that person for you. The person who, despite everything you had gone through, seemed to always understand where you were coming from; And, likewise, you were that person for Lucifer. You had made Lucifer believe he could fall in love again, and Lucifer had made you believe you could dream again. That you could create without judgement. And, after years of courting, to two years of being fiancés, to the wedding and now a year and a half of being married you two had a beautiful baby boy. And, much like Charlie, he was the little joy of your shared lives. "Ceyx!" Charlie would laugh as her baby brother tugged on her hair. It was a little painful, yet Charlie didn't mind too much. Not when he looked so adorable with his chubby little cheeks and those big round eyes. "Sorry! Sorry, I should have warned you he started his hair pulling phase," You would pull away from Lucifer, who sat besides you, to gently try and coax Ceyx to let go of Charlie's chair. Though, Ceyx apparently only saw this as a fun little game as he let out a spit of babbles and laughs while you were gently attempting to pry his little hands off. "He had only been interested in Lucifer's hair until now." Charlie would wave you off gently, laughing softly, "No, no, it's alright!" As she had to crane her neck slightly so Ceyx's playful tugs didn't feel like he was trying to rip out her hair. A scowl spread on Adam's face, with furrowed eyebrows and hate-filled eyes, as he watched you five from the top of the stairs. This was the second time You had came over in the last week and he got sicker by the passing visit. And this time was no different, his stomach churn with abhorrence, as he watched Lucifer swoop from next to you to in front of your baby, giving him some tickles on his belly. Adam watched as Ceyx would babble happily seeing his father's face before exploding into a fit of giggles and laughter once Lucifer began to tickle him. He nearly vomited seeing the little baby faces Lucifer was making. Yet, his heart broke seeing the way that your eyes twinkled at Lucifer, staring at him so fondly and lovingly. A look you had reserved for Adam. A look, he knew but continuously denied the truth of, he would never get again from you.

It's not like he cared anyways! . . . Not one bit. Not even as he watched as Lucifer would scoop up Ceyx, whose eyes carried the same shade and light as yours, and spin him around. Entertaining the baby while Vaggie assisted Charlie with fixing her hair, while Charlie watched her dad fond over the newest addition to the Morningstar family. Adam didn't even care when you stood up, gently placed a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, and pecked his cheek. It didn't boil his blood. And, of course, it's not like he needed answered from you. No way. And it was not the reason why Adam stalked your figure from above when you went to the bar to order drinks, after asking your family if they needed anything. And it was 100% not the reason why Adam went to the bar while Husk was mixing your drinks and sit down right next to you. He just needed to catch your eye on final time. To prove to himself that he still held some bit of your heart, that he still had some sort of chance against him, against Lucifer. And, yet, he found no such light in your eyes. You had simply glanced over to him, checking who had sat down next to you. Sure, you didn't give him a vindictive or disgusted look, like most of his exs would have, you didn't really react either. A simply, courteous, greeting before your drinks were finish. You, Adam's eyes, took the first chance to leave the conversation. And it stabbed right through his heart. But it's not like he cared! . . . Right? No! He didn't. He couldn't possibly! I mean, there were so many women fishing after his dick that you, oh wonderful you, didn't even matter to him. Once he got back up to Heaven, he'll find another bitch to replace you like- Snap!- that! He was Adam, after all.

You had been trying to keep things civil between You and Adam during every trip to the Hotel, really. Sure, you had been seriously dating but that didn't mean you had to have tension with the man! Even if he had been a douchebag during your entire relationship, you just didn't need that sort of stress, not with the new baby. But, Heaven's dammit, had he crossed the line today! Charlie had bought a little play pen for Ceyx to play in recently, having set it up and everything for your next visit to the Hotel. It sat a in front of the couch that Charlie, Lucifer, Vaggie, and you usually sat at and wasn't particularly in anyone's way. Charlie had wanted to show you both some of the new-new renovations made to the hotel and you had all thought that Ceyx would be alright with Vaggie in his play pen. You didn't miss the way Lucifer's eyes glanced back towards Ceyx, though, as you three walked up the main staircase. His eyebrows furrowed and his steps slowly stopped, so noticeable in fact that Charlie and you were sure he was about to race down the stairs and snatch Ceyx from his playpen and bring him with you. And you knew he didn't not trust Vaggie, he was just cautious. "He'll be fine, Luci," Your soft, whispered, voice was coaxing Lucifer away from Ceyx. It would only be a moment, you had said, as your hands rested gently on his. The gesture would draw his arm up as you took a step, and then a second, and by the third he reluctantly began to follow you up. Heavens, you wished you listened to his worried father instincts earlier. As mid-tour Vaggie's voice peirced through the whole hotel, "What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!" Which was enough for a signal for Lucifer to dart right back around and sprint down the hallway. Leaving Charlie and you in a dust of confusion for a moment, before you shared a worried look at each other and darted off after him.

The lobby of the hotel was in complete disarray when you caught up to Lucifer, to which he was already on the main floor. His heels clacked on the floor as he skidded to a stop between Vaggie, who held Ceyx, and Adam. Lucifer's breath was labored, yet he still raised his chin as his eyes pierced daggers at Adam. In that moment, in the intensity of his look, you truly understood why Lucifer was dubbed the King of Hell; Even with his wings unfurled and stretched out. Ceyx's cries died down for a moment upon seeing his father, though they only stirred back up feeling the tension, as thick as butter, in the room. "Woah, woah! Hey, what happened?!" Charlie exclaimed as she rushed down the stairs, trying to play mediator before someone decided to jump the other. You soon followed after her, stopping by Charlie's side with a hand rested on her shoulder. Vaggie huffed, standing on the couch with one leg on the cushion and the other on the back of the couch, "Your new guest" —she spat with vigor— "decided it would be a brilliant idea to mess with Ceyx and snatch his toy away while he was playing with it!" And, oh boy, if you didn't smell the smoke from the fire that burnt between Lucifer's horns before, you sure did now. It boiled, flared, and smoked out black with Lucifer's outrage. "How FUCKING dare you!" hissed Lucifer as his fingers flexed, the knuckles in his fingers cracking. "You think you can come into MY DAUGHTER'S Hotel—" "Lucifer," you tried to quell the situation, but knew it would be a futile attempt. "—and put your GRUBBY FUCKING HANDS on MY CHILD!—" Charlie attempted next, stretching out the 'a' in a cautious manner as she gently took a step forward, "Dad!" To only scramble the step back as Lucifer growled. "—and think YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH IT YOU BASTARD!" and you would subconsciously shield Charlie's eyes with a hand as Lucifer reeled back and punched Adam across the lobby. Flinching as he crashed right next to the bar, leaving a nasty dent in the wall, you whispered a small sorry to Charlie for the damage. Vaggie didn't seem too bothered by the whole event though, as she cautiously stepped down from the couch with Ceyx once Adam was away. There was a jolt back when Lucifer snapped his head around, glaring over at Vaggie once he reregistered that his son was balling his eyes out; And you were a bit afraid Lucifer might punch Vaggie too, yet the haunting glow of red slowly subsided when soft pale yellow eyes grew upon seeing Ceyx. And Adam, as he pushed the debris of the wall off him with a groan, sat up to the scene of Lucifer gently picking up Ceyx from Vaggie's hands. The way his eyes shrunk just a little, while his pupils inflated, with a scrunched and worried eyebrow made Adam sick of looking at his stupid face. Especially when he cuddled and coddled the child, who would have been just fine if everyone didn't make a big deal out of everything. "Fucking snowflakes," Adam would grumble under his breath. His glare pierced the wall nearby before a shadow in front of him covered his light and caught his attention. He was sure it was just someone else there to berate him for something that wasn't even a big deal. And he was about to flip them off, to tell them to go fuck off, until he realized who it was. . . You stood in front of Adam, slamming your foot into his his chest with a snarl on her otherwise beautiful (in Adam's opinion) face, "What the hell was that?!" "What was what?!" Choked Adam as he met your eyes again. You gave him your undivided attention, and sure while it was filled with venom and hate, it was still attention. And, for some reason, he couldn't help but fold under it a little. Dammit! He wouldn't do this for anyone else, so why were you so different?!

"On don't play fucking dumb with me, Adam! You know exactly why you did and I want answers from you." You spat at him, venom leaking from your tone like a snake coiling around his body to squeeze him. And for once Adam was at a loss for words. At least, words that would make the situation better, as all that filled his mind was you. You and how you looked over him. How you were so close Adam could reach his hands out and grab your waist, pulling you down onto his lap. The smell of your perfume, it was different than he remembered yet it suited you. You eyes . . . still that same shade he always loved and- "Fuck, Babe," he would groan, not off put by the way your face drew back with suprise and then scrunched with pure, unfiltered disgust. "You're so fucking hot like thi—" Adam didn't get to finish his statement before a hard— SMACK!— echoed in the lobby, swiftly hushing the voiced that came from around Ceyx. They had been cooing at him, comforting him, though sharply turned to watched as you huffed your way back over to the group and away from Adam; Who was slightly flushed on the floor, a crude snicker stretched on his lips, which did almost nothing to mask the pain that filled his eyes.

Adam had always loathed Lucifer. Yet, after that day it became more deep rooted. Lucifer had taken everyone from him, he started two families that were meant to be his, and he did it without a single drop or tear of remorse. You were meant to be Adam's, Adam was meant to be yours. This isn't how it was supposed to go! And yet. . . when you returned to Lucifer, you whispered to you a concerned question, a small smile returned to your face as you rested his query to bed. And Adam would never forget the way you leaned against Lucifer, gently reaching out for your child, more at content and at peace next to him than you had ever been with Adam. That's when it all truly sunk in for Adam. . . and oddly, it made his desire for you burn more.

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[imaginesig]

"It's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete / When I wore a younger man's clothes"

Poe Dameron x Solo-Organa!Reader

Based on this idea

One simple exchange makes Han realize that his child's relationship is not as bad as he makes it. Set before and during Star Wars: The Force Awakens but does not follow the plot 100% correct

Music themed master list

Complete masterlist pinned on my profile

The resistance was a force to be reckoned with. Despite the odds stacked against them, their Princess turned General forced them to have the upper hand. As amazing as Leia is, she would be the first to admit her family and many members of the resistance deserve credit for how far their cause has come. The first of which is her child, Y/n Solo-Organa.

~~~

“Another happy landing,” I exclaimed entering the base. R2-D2 let out many sassy beeps and buzzes in response, "I do not "fly like a Skywalker", I'm very careful and responsible." Dawn Breaker, my ship, was a little battered but with the state of my missions that always seemed to be the case. Artoo emitted a series low whistles at the smoky ship, I rolled my eyes and walked away from the droid. Fellow mechanics and pilots called out welcome to me as I set off to debrief with General Organa, my mother. I’ve always loved the base, the sounds of droids beeping all around, the clanking of mechanics working on ships, the hopeful chatter of a rebel force, and the smell of fuel mixed with the jungles of D'Qar. I walked down the familiar halls, hardly looking up from my mission report tablet a friendly protocol droid handed me; it wasn’t until I stepped into the meeting room I looked up. First, I met my mother’s warm, proud eyes, then I sent friendly nods to the members of staff who help her organize the rebellion, and finally my gaze landed on a man with dark curly hair, tanned skin, and the tiniest bit of facial hair.

“Have a seat Y/n so we may begin out debrief before the fighting is over” my mom jokes.

I roll my eyes and take a seat, “yes General Organa.” The meeting begins in a blur of statistics, coordinates, and future plans. As much as I hate the nuance of a mission debrief, the future planning always makes me excited.

~

“Y/n stay a little please” my mother says. I make a playful groan and fall back into my seat.

“Someone tell Jordan I may not be out in time for the bar” I call over my shoulder while my mother rolls her eyes. I take notice it’s not just me and her, but the new guy from earlier.

“How was the mission? Are you alright?” There she is, not General Organa but my mom.

“I’m fine, minor bumps and bruises from combat flying but nothing I won’t survive.”

“Very good, you know I worry. Anyway this is Poe Dameron, the resistances newest pilot and commander,” oh so that’s who he is.

“I’ve heard the name: one of the best pilots in the galaxy?” I smirk over at him. The guy looked confident and a little cocky.

"Some would argue the best," he replies smoothly.

"Mmh, well some day that about me. I guess time will tell who the title belongs to," I muse.

Overlooking our exchange, my mother just smirks, clearly amused before she clears her throat, "Poe I asked you to sit in on this debrief because I wanted you to meet Lieutenant Y/n Solo-Organa, our top pilot and my child. Y/n, Poe will be in command of his own squad soon enough but I want him to join yours for the next couple of missions, to get a feel for things. You two are quite similar, I see a friendship in your futures."

I ponder her words and look over at Poe; he sends me a kind smile and I see a flash of mischief in his eyes. 'I see a friendship' I guess I do too mom, "Well Poe, I don't take things slow. I hope you can keep up."

He smiles brightly, "Try and lose me Luetentiant."

~

"Maker! You scared me!"

I laughed and walked away from where I was propped up on Dawn Breaker. I would never admit it to anyone but I was in the control room watching every detail of Poe's mission waiting until he got back. My mom was right, we did become friends, "well I didn't mean too sweetheart. I just knew your squad made it back from a successful mission and I wanted to be the first to say good job." BB8 rolled out from behind Black One, Poe's X-Wing, quickly and sent me a joyful greeting, "well hello to you as well. You did amazing BB8, truly the mission would've been a failure without you."

Poe rolled his eyes playfully, "thank you Y/n. I'm giving you a fight for the best pilot award."

"Mmh, sure you are flyboy," I chuckled. He was so cute when he was cocky, not that I should be thinking like that. We're in the middle of a war for Maker's sake! But, those thoughts of refusal washed away when I felt his arm sling around my shoulders. I slide mine around his waist so we can walk arm in arm to his first mission debrief, following behind an excited BB8. I only pulled away when the door was in sight to say, "Poe, you did amazing. I've never been impressed with anyone's flying skills and ability to think on their feet except my parents. Congrats on being the first outsider, General Organa is gonna love you."

Poe stares for a minute at me, I can tell he's processing the comment and what the future holds for him; I focus on his eyes, they're dark and swimming with brown details. The bright hallway light makes them pop, but I can't help but wish to see them in the sun. I give him a quick peck on the cheek and bit a good bye and good luck with his debrief before I take off down the hall, duty calls after all!

~

"Shit!"

"Poe? Talk to me Poe!" This was supposed to be a small, quiet recon mission. A mole informed the Resistance that they had information and were waiting on a nearby planet; turns out the First Order got here first. Currently, Poe and I are battling it out with a small squad.

"I'm losing my left wing," he replies, urgency laced in his voice.

"That's still flyable," I take a minute to think. There are 4 tie fighters left, Poe has wing damage, and my engine is overheating. Odds? We're screwed. I breathe in and call to the force. I like to believe my grandfather reaches out to me and suddenly he does as an absurd and stupid idea pops into my head. A tie fighter swoops into my eyesight and I shoot him down, "ok Poe remember at the bar the other day?"

"Y/n..."

"No I have a point, do you remember the bar the other day?"

"Yes!"

"We were joking about formation 'DS.'"

"Y/n you aren't serious," he's skeptical, I hear it. But I also hear intrigue. Before I can respond, desperate beeping emits from both R2-D2 and BB8; those two are a chatty and lethal combination when put together.

"Poe, the only other option I've got is get shot out of the air."

"Formation 'DS' it is." Neither droid like his reply. Anakin if you're there, please don't let us fail, don't let Poe get hurt.

"1,2,3, go!" The move was simple for us two but required a great deal of knowledge of the other. Poe and I took sharp turns away from one another, two tie fighters followed Poe's X-Wing while the other stayed on my tail. We quickly turned right back towards one another; Poe stayed straight and I slotted my small starship right between Black One's top wings. In the bar it worked perfectly, but in reality? Our right wings were to close and collided, causing our damage to worsen. On the bright side, two of the tie fighters crashed into one another attempting to chase us.

"2 down one to go!" Poe called, ignoring the metallic crunch of our ships. My path took me out the other side of Black One and facing the tie fighter, I shot the last round I had with great success, "whoooooo!! Formation 'DS' actually worked!"

"Whoop whoop!" I cheered before turning back to the issue at hand, "Poe we need to make an emergency landing before these starfighters give out on us."

"Yes ma'am!" He called before his X-Wing ducked to the surface of Naboo. I ignored the furious blush on my face and R2's low whistle as I follow him.

Once we make our hard, not so pretty landing in rural Naboo, I instruct Poe to help set up camp while I work on getting a signal.

"Ah there's Poe," my mother exclaims from the hologram, "I was beginning to question your honesty about his survival."

"General Organa," he nods towards her and smiles at me.

"While I have both of you," she begins, "we won't be able to get a rescue ship out until tomorrow. First Order attention is too high on Naboo right now due to the mole and your battle. We have no reason to believe you guys are in any danger, so make do for tonight and we'll work on getting someone out there as early as possible."

The droids began to complain, a series of quick and overlapping beeps emit. I groan before interrupting, "for Maker's sake, you drama queens will survive the night. We can strap you both back into the ships so you don't get damaged on the ground."

"Thank you General," Poe says, "Y/n I'm gonna go check our ships to see what we can use to make tonight work."

I smile and send him off. The minute Poe disappeared into the rich greenery of Naboo my mother speaks up, "I remember that smile."

"Excuse me?"

"That smile. I used to give it to a scruffy smuggler from Corellia. Although I will say he came with much more annoyance."

"Mom, don't start," I groan.

"I'm just saying, it's nice to reminisce on that fresh love feeling."

"I-"

"Don't deny me Y/n. I am your mother and I know when my own child is happy, is in love. We are in the middle of necessary and tough battles, but don't let that keep you from happiness. I know you can still focus on the task at hand."

"You're insane, I think dad's absence has finally driven you to madness." Mom rolled her eyes but decided this was not a fight to have. We bid our goodnight and I set off to find Poe. After walking a few paces, I stumbled across a beautiful lake. I could tell it stretched miles, the setting sun reflected off of the surface.

Suddenly a rattle behind me cause me to whip around and pull out my blaster, "Easy, its just me."

"Maker, Poe you scared me!"

"It was not my intention, scouts honor," he smiled and made a cross over his heart. I finally looked at him, really looked at him; there was dirt and ship gunk all over his face, sweat pressed his curls down, and some blood trickled down from his eyebrow. He was a mess, but a beauftul one, "enjoying the view?

"Just assessing the damages," I fire back, "your a mess."

"You're no better princess."

"First off my mother was the princess, not me. Second, I'd suggest washing off before it gets too dark and the droids flip out." Poe looks at me confused, until I begin to remove my shirt. He whips his head around the other way and I can see a slight blush, "Poe come on you can't stay like that. Who knows what kind of infection all that dirt could cause."

"I hate when you're right," he says with a smile. Soon enough both Poe and I are stripped down to our underwear and doing our best to scrub the battle reminisce off of our skin. I look up from the stubborn oil on my arm to see Poe already looking. He floated closer until I could see every detail of his eyes again. This time, they glowed in the sunlight; they looked like treasure chests I wanted to take for my own and cherish forever. His curls were defined from the lake water and they dripped slightly onto his face. I slowly reached up and rubbed off some dried blood he missed. My eyes trailed back to his and he smiled.

"You're beautiful," I whisper.

"So are you," he whispers back before leaning in. That kiss made time stop. When I felt his chapped lips on mine I felt like there was no war, my father wasn't missing, and we weren't stranded in Naboo wilderness. Maker, I hate when my mother is right. We pulled apart for air and rested our foreheads against each other.

"Poe, this is an awful time and we risk our lives everyday but I want this."

"Me too, princess."

~

The hallway seemed to swirl ever so slightly under the stormtrooper helmet I wore; this wasn't exactly ideal but I couldn't think of another way to freely roam the First Order ship. Poe was sent to Jakku to retrieve a map to Luke Skywalker and was captured. Leia appointed me to save him.

While walking down the prison corridor, I heard frantic whispers coming from an open cell. Peaking around the corner I saw an exposed storm trooper talking to Poe! Carefully walking up, I put the barrel of my stolen blaster up to the back of the storm troopers head, "I'll be taking him with me and it'll be in your best interest to stay quiet and let me." The two look confused, because of my very un-trooper like attitude. The stormtrooper notices me and I can see him figure me out; before I can think about blasting him, I'm pulled into the cell and the door slides shut.

"Don't shoot," he starts, "I'm helping him escape."

I take the helmet off and Poe's eyes light up, "Y/n!" I rushed towards him and hugged him.

"Poe! I was worried I'd be too late," he looked awful. It was apparent he'd been tortured; bruises and deep cuts littered his face and body, his clothes were dirty and torn.

"I'm alright princess," he smiled, "we'll need your help getting out."

"Do you have a ship of your own?" The stormtrooper asks.

"Yes, its hidden in the lowest bay."

"If we take a tie fighter, can you help shoot?"

"I can pilot and I have an Artoo unit who's a good shot."

The hanger was madness, blaster shots flew everywhere and the rebel tie fighter was still connected to the main ship, unable to fly away. We had no communication between the two ships, but I had faith in Poe and I. I swooped down in Dawn Rider and instructed Artoo to shoot the cable, which he did first try. From there we all shot out of the hanger, but not without company. The boys focused on shooting the ship's main cannons while Artoo used my ships shooting system to target enemy tie fighters. We were down to one and just as I was set to go in, the fighter hit the boys' ship and they went crashing back down to Jakku. "No!" I scream and shoot the fighter out of the air. Swiftly I make my way down to the wreckage.

On the planet's surface, I ran to towards the mess. I saw Poe's injured body crawling from the fighter's reminds, "Y/n."

"Poe, we need to go."

"But BB8," he rasps, "he has the map."

"No, we'll send someone else. BB8 is a smart droid, he'll be fine. Poe, you are far to hurt and the First Order's presence is far too hot." It took much convincing, but Poe let himself be loaded up into Dawn Rider and be taken back to D'Qar.

~

"You missed your debrief," I jumped at the voice of my mother. She was not who I was expecting to be standing in the hall when I excited the medical wing; visiting Poe during his recovery has been a daily occurrence for me.

"My squad was there to cover it," I shrug. This was a regular mission, not something secret or complicated. My mother grabbed my arm and walked me outside of the base. It was a lovely day and it felt good to feel fresh air.

"I know you're not a child anymore, but I miss the days when you would tell them things," I try to speak but she cuts me off, "now its all Resistance talk and battle plans. I know I haven't been the best mother and I'm sorry. Tell me something now, let me be present as more than a General."

I look at the clouds in the sky and take a deep breath, "this war was the only thing that mattered to me for so long. It felt good to get in Dawn Rider and fight for our cause, I knew what it felt like to survive. But getting to know Poe, now I know what it feels like to be alive. I don't just look forward to the next Resistance win, but now I get excited for all the in between; mealtime, workouts, data meetings, everything that involves Poe."

Mom pondered what I meant for a moment and eventually led us to a stop. She smiled down at me and cradled my face in her hands, "don't lose him."

"I won't mama."

"I mean it, you're stubborn and reckless like your father. Don't scare him away."

"If he kept you, I think my chances are pretty alright." We laughed, and for the first time in a long time, we walked together as mother and child.

~

The battle on Takodana brought my father back and many other wonderful joys. Falling into friendship with Finn and Rey was the easiest adjustment to make, harder was adjusting to my father being back.

"You know he hates me," Poe says, out of breath. It's early in the morning and we set out for a run trying to process recent developments away from the base.

"He does not," I defend but Poe sends me a knowing look. Well at least I think he doesn't. Since returning to mom and I, dad has been catching up on Resistance events and personal matters. Him and mom still have lots of forgiveness to give, so most of his focus lands on me. Upon figuring out of my relationship, dad has been insufferable; in true Han Solo fashion he won't actually say anything but his feelings have been made apparent. From small, degrading comments to shoulder checks in the hallway dad has not left Poe alone, "Poe you can't take him seriously. Han Solo is not a warm kind of guy and plus mom loves you! What could mean more than that?"

"You're right," he walks closer and brings me in by my hips. We meet in the middle for a small peck.

"I always am," I kiss him. It's sweet, but most importantly reassuring. Our moment only ends when I hear a beeping from my pocket. I groan playfully and pull out my communicator and see a hologram from my dad.

"Kid get back here its urgent." Me and Poe look at each other in horror as my father's figure disappears.

"We need to act now and act fast before the First Order can strike. Everyone go!" Commands my mother. Thanks to Finn, we have an inside view of the First Order's main weapon and a plan to destroy it.

In all the chaos, Poe and I run towards are ships and begin to prepare for battle; as stressed as we are there is a sense of calm to be found near one another. Artoo beeps at me and my attention is drawn over to my parents, they embrace and I smile. A warmth floods my chest knowing my family is begging to fall back into place. They look over at me and I call them over.

"Please be safe dad," I beg brining him into a hug.

"I was gonna ask the same of you kiddo," he replies, ruffling my hair.

"Black Squadron prepare for take off, (title) Y/n on your signal well following Dawn Squadron out," Poe calls. I nod and turn back in time to see dad roll his eyes.

"Dad," I tisk, "please give him a fair shot. I think you'll really like him."

"I highly doubt that," I roll my eyes and turn back towards my ship ready to take off. With one last smile at my parents I begin to climb the latter to the cockpit.

"Y/n, I love you!" Peo calls from his own. I can see the uncertainty in his eyes, but the hope in his voice. Large battles are always a two edged sword.

"I know," I respond before lowering the ship's lid and beginning the announcements for takeoff.

~~~

"Y/n, I love you!"

"I know!"

Han Solo stared wide eyed at Leia who sent him a knowing look. In a simple exchange the old man was brought back. A simple exchange of words catapulted Han years back:

It was cold and dark in the room and Han couldn’t see anything with the smoke rising up around him. Leia’s face glowed in the low light, and she looked as beautiful as ever despite the worry etched into her features. Han pressed forward to meet her soft, warm lips; this may be the last time he ever sees her again. Han Solo was a fighter, a smuggler, not a lover. Despite this, the women in front of him made his heart beat and head go light.

The moment was suddenly ruined by a pair of storm troopers pulling him away and towards the carbonite chamber. Leia is held back by Chewie as she calls, “I love you!”

Han refuses to let Vader see what he’s taking from him, the joy he finds in the women in front of him. Han knows this is the final way he can protect her, don’t let Vader know she’s his weakness. Han stands tall, and stays stone cold as he replies, “I know.”

Han felt Leia’s hand touch his arm, “they’re your child.”

“I’ve missed you,” and with that Han leaned in to capture Leia in a kiss. The kiss said it all, it flowed with apology and forgiveness; Han would never leave again.

I'm debating expanding on this more, maybe a series? Let me know what y'all think!!

Taglist:

@passionkillerphil

[kaszuma]

Bad Habits | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 6 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: Soshiro wanted to set things right by you, so he planned a date that would've gone perfectly. Had a Kaiju not appeared in front of you.

warnings: Mentions of Blood, heavy detail on Injury and Pain. Breathlessness and lots of claustrophobia related to crowds, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Slight Kn8 Manga Spoilers

wc: 6,552

–

note: Please inform me if I missed any warnings, It has descriptive injuries so I don't want to trigger anyone who's willing to read this.

Part 7 will be a direct continuation of this. So that's why I dubbed it as a Hurt/No Comfort fic for now. The comfort will come in another part because things have been going too smoothly in the relationship. And I don't want that. Anyways, look forward to the next part. I will be adding a tags list. So if you want to be tagged. Please tell me.

Also, thank you for a hundred followers 🫶

–

Today was the day Soshiro had decided to finally make it up to you.

After weeks of moving between bases. Handling Number 10’s strange quirks in its new prototype suit. It had been an understatement to say that he had kept himself rather busy in the wake of his occupation. His attention often divided between the lousy paperwork stacked against him, as well as his individual training.

One that he had always upheld to keep his body sturdy and his reflexes sharp. Not once acting careless in his response to a Kaiju attack. Especially now where he was equipped with a powerful and sentient combat suit, bloodthirsty for war. Willing to pick a fight with anything remotely breathing in his direction.

By all means, Soshiro could not afford to slack off. And if there was a miniscule chance that he did, he'd be minced alive for sure.

Just when his hard work had started to pay off too.

Now that he had been recognized as a numbers wielder no less. He'd be one of the few melee specialists that Japan could rely on in the case of an emergency. The proof of his existence. That he wasn't just a reject of the Hoshina Family's line of descendants.

That he was more than capable to wield a blade that could slay Kaijus that came after him. And he had succeeded. He had fulfilled his place in the hierarchy. His place solidified beside Captain Ashiro who was an even stronger ally than he was.

But despite his successes. Despite the satisfaction he got from climbing to the top with only the swing of his blade.

That had not been enough for him.

It had not been enough to prove his existence to the world.

And although that had been a major goal of his. To surpass people's expectations of his limits. His boon to keep fighting. To keep swinging his sword despite the odds stacked against him, had also been the downfall of many past relationships that could not blossom because it had gotten in its way.

And you had been the first to stay.

The first to understand his sentiments.The first to clear a path for him when everyone else had all but given up.

And yet here he was. Being a stellar lover and prioritizing everything else above you.

It had been weeks. Practically an entire month since he's spent some quality time with you. Sharing the occasional kiss in the hallways where you'd start your day off. Or acknowledging each other briefly when he had been stuck in the confines of the training rooms.

Beating the lessons right into rookies' bodies when you'd pass by. Or better yet, the daily coffee you had somehow managed to squeeze in despite your equally tight schedule. His favorite blend had always been waiting for him. Ready at his office on the days he burned the very wicks of the midnight oil.

And what had he done in return?

Nothing.

Not since that incident with Kaiju no. 10 at least. That of which he worked so hard to erase any evidence left in its wake. The fake report had at least been a piece of cake to do. And they had to do over the entire prototype testing just to make sure Number 10 was usable in its current state.

And unfortunately for him, it proved to be a much more difficult task to complete. Day by day he had not once made progress in raising the Suit’s combat power. Leaving Kaiju no 10 to mock his defenses and other battle related tactics whenever it could. But that had been the least of his worries.

In all honesty, he had been feeling guilty since that day.

Although he'd be remiss to say he didn't enjoy the feeling. Soshiro had not been in the right sound of mind when he found himself getting closer to you. Drunken by your scent, he had practically seen images flash by his mind. Courtesy by the Kaiju that had seen through his desires. And one thing led straight to the next. He found himself in a troublesome situation that he had been afraid to know the consequences of.

He had desired her. Yes. That much was clear. But he wanted the relationship to evolve slowly. At your pace. One that made you most comfortable.

But he had breached that space. The inch you had given him had turned into a mile. And he was lucky he still held some sort of restraint before he did something stupid and regretted his past actions.

And somehow, you still forgave him.

You enjoyed yourself even. Welcoming him with open arms for the next time around when they had managed to squeeze in the time between work. Open to the idea of a more sensual intimacy. In the privacy of someplace else. And Soshiro had wanted that too.

He wanted to correct his haste. To properly love you right.

But not everything had been picture perfect in the way he had planned. His bad habits showed in the ways he'd prioritize everything but you. And just when he built up his courage–Built up the resolve to face you. To do right by you.

Of course, things just had to get in his way.

Things always got in his way before he could properly apologize and make it up to you. Or atleast, that was the excuse he'd find himself feeling guilty of.

And that is where he found himself outside the premises of the Tachikawa base. Strangely out of uniform and in his civvies that he had managed to find beneath the sweatpants in his closet. Dappered in a simple black turtleneck and a white overcoat. Befitting of the cooler weather Japan had been facing in recent times.

He had been waiting for you to show up with a picnic basket in hand. A few paperback novels that he thinks you might enjoy. Added with a few sweets that he hoped would lighten up your day perhaps.

The plan had been simple.

He’d already done the nerve-wracking part. Stopping you midway as you finished giving him the stack of blueprints for the Combat Suit you had worked on upgrading. His hand reached to touch the soft skin of your knuckles. An action that made you look back at him in turn.

“Is something wrong?” You had asked curiously. The softness in your voice remained. One that made Soshiro want to melt into a puddle.

He smiled. Somehow the words got stuck on his tongue. And he had to remind himself that you were his lover. Who of course would agree to a date. Should he suggest it, Right?

He gulps. Suddenly feeling a little irritated at the way his stomach had dropped and a plethora of nervous butterflies had resurfaced.

Normally he'd have no problem taking out hordes of Yoju that came his way. Boasting the highest individual kill count for slaying midsized Kaiju of his generation. Yet somehow, his reason had gona askew. And he found this situation a little more terrifying than he anticipated.

“Hey, I was thinking..”

“Uh oh- That's not a good sign.” Your comment makes him smile. His eyes rolling to give your shoulder a playful squeeze.

“-That you and I need to have a talk.”

“About what?” You had replied with a tilt on your head.

“I got a few paperbacks in the mail yesterday. I was hoping we could grab a bite to eat while we read through ‘em?” He smiled. His usual grin did not falter in the way he spoke to you. Though you could tell that he had an inkling of nervousness by the way he reached up to scratch the side of his cheek.

“Oh. And here I thought I was in trouble.” You chuckle. “So you're finally inviting me out on a date, Vice Captain?”

He had moved to stand much closer to you. Hand already at the shape of your hip, habitually writing his name on the waistband of uniform. “Is that a no I hear from ya’”

“Now when did I say that?” And it makes you smile knowing he had been trying despite the busy schedule he had.

You had long since understood his place in the hierarchy. Soshiro may have not realized it, but he was far too important of a person in the Defense Force to have been kept away from duty.

His life alone had been the cost of a thousand who'd live due to his sacrifices. And whether or not his insecurities had blocked his view of his own self-worth. You were able to see it clearly.

So despite the difficulties. Despite the yearning you felt for his proximity You did the usual and prioritized his work. Letting him handle things when command had already put so much weight into his daily responsibilities. Not that he seemed affected by it, no doubt already used to the pressure of a hectic battlefield. Much less a hectic work environment.

But of course, you wouldn't reject an offer out on a date with your lover. Not when he so sweetly asked.

And if he had the occasional free time to invite you out. Who were you to say no to his offer?

“Soshiro!” You had called out. Appearing just beside him who stood nearest the entrance of the underground metro station. And he smiled turning towards you with his usual cheeky and cat-like grin.

“You shoulda’ texted me. I would've picked you up by the train stations.” He had moved his free hand to pinch your cheeks. And it makes you chuckle. Revealing yourself completely to him.

Where his eyes had raked over the surface of the cute outfit you decided to purchase the day before. Hand already twirling a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. Admiring your very soul. Your entirety in front of him.

“And miss your startled face? Fat chance I'd miss that opportunity.” You laughed.

Soshiro had rolled his eyes in turn. His heart pounding as his free hand immediately intertwined with yours.

“If it makes ya’ happy Sweetheart.” He didn't waste this opportunity to gently pull you close. Kissing your temple which had been nearest his lips. “You look pretty.”

His compliments had made you brighten. Your face visibly beamed when his eyes drank your figure. “Damn straight. I wasn't about to let you one up me in the looks department.”

“Alright, alright.” He found himself chuckling. “Let's get moving before the desserts I bought ya’ go bad.”

You had half a mind to drag your feet while he took you out of the metro line. Acting stubborn just to stall and ruffle his feathers for a bit. As payback for neglecting you all those days ago.

But you had decided against it, the crowded train station was far too busy in the early hours of the afternoon. And you would not risk losing each other and wasting the rare day Soshiro had all planned out for the both of you to do.

“Lead the way.” You had smiled, giddy at the mere thought of a time well spent together. And Soshiro had shared that very sentiment. Already leading you away from the busy horde where lines of people had been waiting for the next train stop.

Upon your words, he had gently walked forward. Leading you by the hand.

His grip on you was firm and you can see the way his back had engulfed and weaved through the crowd much more easily than you ever had. Broad in his strides as he tried not to go too fast. Matching your pace since he knew you weren't as built in stamina as he was.

You had admired the little details of his nape. The one mole peaking through the skin of his turtleneck, where his hair had shown every detail of his jugular. One that you had marveled at when he wasn't looking.

Just as you were about to offer your help. Reaching for the sling of the basket on his free hand.

A shiver ran down your spine. The hand that had tried to reach for the basket had paused in heavy response.

And you had suddenly flinched as a loud gust of wind had blown past you. Making the indoor lights of the metro begin to pop and flicker abnormally. An eerie buzz emitting from each light source as if the electricity had all short circuited, simultaneously.

The temperature underground had strangely heightened. Unusual for the cool metro station during this time of day.

And the crowd that had busied themselves passing each other by, had all but stopped. With people's stares directed behind the both of you in a frozen and frightened state. You look around, almost confused. And Soshiro had gripped his hand harder against yours. As if he already knew the exact dread that overcame him.

The exact thing that had been staring right back at them.

And somehow you had that inkling too.

But denial had only been your first problem. And the rest of your body seemed to know the truth. Your very palms began sweating like bullets, and you had hesitantly looked behind you. To prove to yourself that it had not been what you think it was.

But Soshiro who had somehow read your mind. Had moved much quicker than you had.

Pulling you behind him, already pushing you to the exit when people had started panicking. Screams had been the accompaniment of hasty footsteps. With people of all different ages, running in the same direction. Away from the stairs leading down the metro line.

A mere glimpse is all it took for the hair on your skin to rise. And the face of a humanoid Kaiju had looked in your direction. Its skin peeled like oranges, unlike the gritty leathery texture that surrounded its cheeks. And although it had a terrifying grin on its face. It remained calm. Observant. It seemed ecstatic in the way it reveled in the attention it had gotten. Whilst Soshiro had pulled you from your trance.

“Run. Get going!”

Soshiro had strangely screamed. Already pushing you to evacuate, weary that the Kaiju could attack you at any given moment should it wish to. But the Kaiju had a strange way of showing its excitement. Gurgling at every noise it heard. And Soshiro's yell had all been reduced to a mere whisper against your ear. The sound of a panicked crowd was all too encompassing for you to actually make out his words.

Soshiro had kept a firm grip on your shoulders. Still trailing close behind you with his gaze fixated on the Humanoid Kaiju.

Its legs had hovered mere inches above the ground. Crinkled like an old vegetable that was left out in the freezer for too long. It had double the arms, one that resembled old branches with no leaves. And although it looked sickly and frail, he was sure the damn thing was capable of major damage given the right opportunity.

But instead of grabbing onto the nearest person like Soshiro had anticipated. It surveyed the area. Weary of its nearest surroundings.

It's molars and gums chattering against each other. Echoing throughout the underground halls of the metro station. It looked as if it was occupied with something. A far off look in its beady eyes. As if it were communicating with someone.

Perhaps it had something to do with Number 9? Shit.

If that's the case, Soshiro needed to get you out of here as soon as possible.

“I can't get through. They're all pushing..” You had gasped. Feeling yourself stumble back when another person pulled at your shoulder and leaped forward. Using you as leverage to get to the exit.

Soshiro, who had seen this, was quick to catch you before you could fall. Your back against his chest in a protective stance.

He couldn't move. Not yet at least.

More than anything he'd like to handle that thing as quickly as possible. But to leave you nearby in such close proximity too? There's no way in hell he was going to let that happen. So all he could do was fixate his eyes on that Kaiju.

This thing was clearly sentient. Soshiro had seen the way it lingered to read one of the signs nearest the exit. But I didn't seem interested in conversing, let alone leave if he had asked. And he wasn't about to take his chances.

He needed to get rid of that thing now.

“Hoshina here.” He had fished out the white earpiece that he hid on his overcoat's back pocket. Pressing the small item down to his ear to contact operations.

“There's a Daikaiju sighting in the Tachikawa-Kita Station. Requesting permission to use Number 10 to neutralize it.” He spoke seriously. Unlike the usual light hearted conversations you'd have with him. And it makes you stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

It had been weeks since you had worked on Number 10. It was still far too early to be used as a plausible weapon out in the field. And yet here he was, indirectly telling you that he had worn it out in public.

“You what?” You had gasped out. Eyes blown wide whilst his hand remained on the small of your back.

Much to your dismay, Soshiro had not answered you.

Simply moving you closer to the wall, to let other people get through. His hand still pressed against the intercoms whilst he waited for a reply from Operations.

Soshiro had been focused on shielding you for the most part. The crowd was pushing, but it seems they had still been making progress in evacuating the area. Save for a few rumbles that had happened when the Kaiju had suddenly implanted its branch-like fingers onto one of the pillars. Cracking the surface of the solid cement that held the pillar in place. And you couldn't help but worry at the close proximity you both had been.

Right in range of where the Kaiju was looking at.

“Permission granted.” Okonogi’s faint voice could be heard. Likely already booting up Number 10's system underneath Soshiro’s civvies. The bioweapon would slowly regain energy which kept it from its usual conscious state.

“Do you, or Do you not have Number 10 on?” You had asked incredulously. Prying his arms off of you to peel off his shirt. And his larger hand stops you before you could see the peak of red in the place of where his skin should be.

“As a precaution m'dear.” His reply was immediate.

And he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. Ushering you forward along with the thinning crowd. The stairway had all been emptied now. Save for a few runaways that had tripped or were pushed earlier.

“Higher ups wanted me to get used to it. Releasing this thing’s combat power, I mean.” His voice had been an octave lower. His smile, although present, had not been enough to reassure you. And you had a feeling he was trying not to have you panic on him.

“That is stupid. Command shouldn't have let you wear it. Number 10 is still unstable. What if you go berserk and lose control?” You sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“You did try to argue with command right?”

…

“Right?”

Soshiro did not answer you. Already pacing to drag you out of here before things could escalate.

Meanwhile, you had all but looked at him once over. Now it made sense why he chose to wear an overcoat when the weather had only been a little chilly this afternoon. It had surprised you that he was able to hide its tail from emerging from his legs. But then again, he probably had his blades tucked away in that too.

“Soshiro..”

“Listen, I'll explain things later. Take this and get to the nearest shelter. I ain’t havin Number 10 going berserk. I'll be fine. Just let me handle the Kaiju first, okay-” His sentence was cut short by your scream.

A broken chunk of the large pillar had been thrown towards you. And it had startled you enough to drop the basket he handed you. Soshiro had been quick in his motion to shield you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulder to let his back hit the brunt of the pillar.

But before it could hit and crush the two of you to bits. The faint sound of number 10 chuckled inSoshiro's suit. And its weaponized tail lashed out to strike the pillar back. Destroying it before it could scratch you both from its debris.

The sharp end had all but ripped Soshiros overcoat to shreds. And he was quick to remove the unnecessary fabric on top of his combat suit. Revealing the distinct eye hollowed out in the middle of his chest.

“Lucky this bonehead woke up on time.” Soshiro had chuckled darkly. And it was followed by its immediate reply. Tail haphazardly swinging around from behind him.

“Stop with your meaningless trifles and get to fighting swordsman! My patience is thinning.” It sounded almost like a child. Though its voice had been a deep and rambunctious chatter like usual.

“You heard the darn thing.” He sighs, pushing you forward before another attack could come in.

And you shook your head, placing your firm hands against the suit of his chest. Just beside Number 10's glowing eye. Your gaze fixated on his usual smile, one that you had grown accustomed to hearing cheery laughs from. “Are you serious? This thing isn't ready for an actual fight.”

“Do not mock us Woman. By the time you have escaped our opponent would have been ripped to shreds by me.” It screamed.

Making you roll your eyes in turn. And Soshiro had all but chuckled. Already letting you get a head start as you stepped out of the underground Metro line. “Just go. I promise you I'll be jus’ fine.”

“I’ll come find you later.” He had spoken. Already turning his heel to grab the swords he had hidden on his back.

You knew this was his job. The unavoidable was bound to happen. And as much it pained you to leave him alone with a Daikaiju with only a misaligned prototype of a suit as an ally. There was bound to be trouble afoot. But what can you do other than run?

You weren't a fighter like he was.

Your use was only in the presence of a laboratory, as a technician. Paving the way to enhance his equipment. To heighten his chances of survival, even if it was a measly one percent of it.

That had been better than none after all.

So with a heavy heart. You nod. Glancing at his form for a second longer before you began running. Taking careful steps to the opposite direction where you knew the nearest shelter would be at. There was never a shortage of Defense Force Officers there. Maybe they'd be willing to let a few assist Soshiro before things could go awry.

Captain Ashiro had always made quick work of any Kaiju that appeared. The third had always been quick to respond to action. Not once arriving late when the Tokyo district needed them the most.

Soshiro would just have to hold out before then.

Deal with Number 10's strange habits and hopefully manage to unleash the suit's combat power which had proven to be a tricky feat for a while now. And if he were lucky, maybe he wouldn't need backup at all.

The optimistic side of you wished to see him make quick work of the Kaiju. Have him return to you, maybe with a couple or bruises to sport but nothing serious.

He'd smile at you. Holding peace signs with his fingertips out as a form of comfort. To tell you that he had been fine and the Kaiju had easily accepted defeat, ending the story in a clean neutralization.

You'd even be willing to hear Number 10's inflated boasting in the background. Telling you that they had sliced it to ribbons before you even had the chance to reach the shelter.

At least that's what you hoped to imagine.

Just as soon as you arrived at the familiar street. You passed by the multitude of shopping districts in the area. And you see the familiar crowd of people being ushered into the sturdy underground bunker of the shelter. Far away from the premises of the Metro Line where Soshiro’s battle had taken place.

You had immediately stepped up. Trying to fall in line with the rest of the crowded spaces that led up to the entrances of the bunker.

But somehow the temperature rose once more. And you feel the familiar rumble in your chest as a gust of wind had blown behind you. Your hair going in all sorts of directions before your eyes settled on the familiar looking Kaiju floating in the very back of the crowd. Nearing you inch by inch.

What was it doing here?

Everyone who had equally felt the same tension had been paralyzed from fear. Its beady gaze had been burning holes unto the crowd. And its neck cracked as it tried to tilt its head to the side.

This had been enough to get rid of the stupor on everyone's expressions. And another wave of panic ensued. Leaving you and a few others to be pushed around in the wake of everyone's panic.

“Report. Kaiju has been spotted here in Shelter 1121. Requesting permission to engage.”

You had heard one of the Defense Force Officers yell. The few that had been present were already aiming their firearms at the chattering Kaiju. It's head convulsing as it floated ever so closer towards the crowd. Its branch-like fingertips grazed the road. Eerily dragging its long limbs down the cement. Its pace is slow and tantalizing as if to tease your inevitable demise.

You had groaned.

Feeling yourself be pushed down to the ground. Palms hitting the coarse texture of the cement roads. Knees scraping the rough surface as you stopped yourself from falling face flat onto the floor. Luckily the crowd had been mindful enough not to trample you. With most of the citizens already crowding the entrance as Soldiers had blocked the Kaiju's path from going any further.

But you saw the way it moved.

In a blink of an eye the Kaiju had made quick work of the Officers. Sweeping them off like insects thrown to the side. Their bodies hitting the nearest surface available in the area. And you had tried to back away. The itching pain that had surrounded your knees was like putting salt on an open wound. Still fresh from the poor landing you had from earlier.

But there was no time to focus on that. Its beady gaze already staring at you and his next target had been made clear.

Just as you had tried to get up, you saw the way a car had been thrown right above your head. And you had been a hair away from being hit by the force of its pitch. Landing on a few people who had crowded up against the entrance of the base.

Likely crushing a few people in the process.

Shit.

The dizzy unease you felt had all but dazed your mind's eye. And somehow through the fire and the panicked screams. A force had thrown you off the ground.

And suddenly your body had slumped against the nearest wall. Your back landing on the very glass of a fashion boutique. Your weight had shattered its surface upon impact when you were thrown against it.

A shockwave on the ground had likely thrown you a few feet back. And you whimpered. Feeling the shards of glass puncture your shoulder and arms. A few cutting your legs that had shamelessly bleeded against the floor.

You could feel a much larger injury on the small of your back. But as it stands, you couldn't really focus on a specific area. Not when it had hurt all over.

It had hurt to stand up. Let alone to crawl away.

You were not in the safety of the base. And Soshiro had not been here beside you. Even if it hurts like hell. You knew that you had to move. You had to get away and find some help before the situation got worse.

But somehow, it had only gotten much more difficult to breathe. Your eyes which had blurred from the blood flow on your head had suddenly cleared a little bit. Just enough for you to inspect your surroundings. And you noticed it had gotten significantly darker upon your landing. Everything, even within the confines of the boutique, had been covered in a thin layer of smoke that you could've sworn wasn't here before

The scent had been weird. Both earthy and a little rusty for your liking. But it had a distinct bitter smell, like something had gone rotten in the area.

And suddenly your throat lurched. Coughing at the sheer difficulty your lungs had inhaled. Like suddenly oxygen had all but ran out and you were left with a gas that had been invading your system entirely.

Your hand had shakily reached up your throat. Trying not to panic as the breaths you made had gotten shorter and shorter.

Was this poison?

Did the Kaiju have anything to do with this?

Where was Soshiro? Was he dead?

Only panicked thoughts plagued your mind. Not entirely aware that the pain had made you almost delirious as you try not to cry from all the overwhelming sensations you felt.

Your only thought had been to gather your bearings and find Soshiro. Damned the injuries that weighed your body. Damned the poison gas that made you want to throw up your lungs.

All you needed was Soshiro.

Yet somehow, you find yourself back on the ground. With your cheek pressed up against the shattered glass. Eyes slowly fluttering to a close from the sheer exhaustion alone. And your body, had never accepted sleep more than this moment had.

–

Who knows how long you've been laying there. A few gunshots sounded out from the distance before it ultimately quieted down. A roar rumbled to the far east of where you had rested. But the sounds had gone silent a few minutes after.

And here you were, dizzy from a concussion. Bleeding from your arms and legs. And your breaths barely audible from the amount of toxic gas you had inhaled.

You didn't know whether or not your lungs were barely functioning anymore. But with the slow rise and labored falls of your chest, you were sure you had still been okay. Though it's a miracle you were still half awake.

You could still make the odd gasps and silent plea for help. So you couldn't sleep. Not yet at least. Not when help could so easily arrive and your chances of actually surviving would lower.

The smoke had not cleared up from where you had laid. And for a moment, you see the shadow of a figure step hastily through the broken boutique. Staring down at you with gritted teeth.

“Found you..”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly the blinding numbness had been replaced with a fresh bout of soreness and burning pains. And Soshiro, who had stood above your half-conscious body, had stumbled a bit.

Not used to the way your body stood so still. Arched upward from the shard of glass punctured nearest the back of your waist. His breath was stolen away, as he could only imagine how the pain must’ve felt when you were thrown off balance to crash a building no less.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, c'mere.” Soshiro's familiar voice was much clearer now that he had stepped much closer to you.

The clang of his blades had dropped beside you as his hands were already fumbling to remove the straps of his respiratory mask. Rushing to place it atop your mouth and nose. Hoping it would help you breathe properly.

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic.”

Soshiro screamed. Glancing behind him for a moment before his focus had been fixated on you. His other hand gingerly lifting your head from the ground to assess the injuries you sustained.

And his eyes. The wine color of his eyes…

You could've sworn it had darkened. Brimmed with the fear of losing you. A cacophony of unshed tears that would usually be closed and cat-like in its features.

“..Soshiro?” You croaked out. Voice a little raspy from whatever gas that Kaiju had decked out. And your lover immediately pulled you closer. Rocking your body to keep you awake.

His first instinct was to secure the straps of the respiratory mask on your face. Letting you take a few filtered breaths before you try to speak once more. Though he hushed you right after, in the case you’d drain the little energy you had left in you.

And from the deadweight he felt. He somehow feared the worst.

“Hey, hey, Shhhh. You're okay.” He spoke with a shaky voice. As if he were assuring himself more than he did you. “I'm here now. We're gonna fix ya’ up brand new. I promise.”

His words had been loud. Desperate even. But for some reason, it went in and out of your ears. Not entirely sure if he had been screaming at somebody else, or he had been talking to you in particular. His reassurances got softer and softer from the minute your ears began to ring.

The sound of his voice, which you would normally find comfort in. Had your head spinning around. Making you wince in turn.

You had wanted to reach out. To pull him close and check for his own injuries. But your arms and shoulders would twitch in pain anytime you had tried to move a muscle. The poison in your system had made it all the more heavier for your body to move. Chained to the ground as if restrained by your own powerlessness of the situation.

“You're done?” You had managed to groan out. Wondering if the Kaiju had been neutralized.

And his immediate response was to nod in your direction. Pulling you much closer so that his leg would be able to support your weight on the ground. Away from the edged shards of glass that had scattered about.

“I'm okay baby. Yer’ the one that needs the help here..” He lets out a dry chuckle. Not entirely convinced that his jokes were actually landing. His panic was more evident in his tone than it had usually been, and for some reason. That hurt more than the physical wounds you endured.

“I know.” You hissed. “Hurts all over..if you couldn't tell..”

“Shit. Medics are on their way. I'm gonna lift you up okay? You'll be fine. Just gonna meet em’ halfway..” He had started. With Soshiro gently hooking his arms underneath the knees of your legs. And just as soon as you were an inch off of the ground. You winced.

Your teeth gritted together as you tried not to cry from the pain you felt when your body had raised from the ground. His hands, although they had been careful, were far too firm against the cuts on your body.

And the pain on your back, where the glass shard had punctured your organs, had a burning sensation you wished would go away.

Soshiro who had seen the way you panicked. Stopped in his actions. Putting you back down on the ground where his leg had cushioned your bleeding head.

“I know, I know jus’ bear with me, alright? Keep your pretty eyes open.” The string of curses never left Soshiro's lips. And his hand which had gently held the cheek where the respiratory mask met the skin of your pale face. Hoping that your breaths would get steadier. The mask recording all the slow inhales you'd take.

In and out. Labored but at least it was still there.

“Breathe..jus’ breathe for me, okay?”

Your eyes had tried to blink rapidly to remove the fatigue you had felt. But somehow, you were fighting a losing battle. And you couldn't help but give into the darkness. The fatigue would feel much nicer since you didn't have to worry about the pain. And with your lover here. It was okay to relax now. No longer did you need to have your guard up to combat the fight or flight situation.

And Soshiro found himself panicking even more at the way your eyes grew distant. Screaming at his intercoms for a medic on-field. Likely already on their way to the location he had sent to Operations moments prior. Okonogi in particular was trying to reassure the Vice Captain, but to no avail.

Not when his focus had all but fixated on your wellbeing. Eyes already closed as you drifted to an unconscious state.

His hand had reached down to your cheek. Already running circles against the bags of your eyes. Running across the dried tears that brimmed your eyes. Denying that this moment had a possibility to be your last.

And without hesitation, he started lifting you up again. This time not a peep from your mouth.

He was gonna fucking take you to the neareat hospital himself if he had to.

Like hell he was going to let you die. Right?

Right?

“Shit. This ain’t funny. Wake–Wake up!”

He hears Okonogi speak on the other side. Something about how a few officers had already turned the corner nearest their location. And he found himself running to their direction, your head leaning against his shoulder leaving small blood stains on Number 10's plated armor.

Help was close. But Soshiro's mind wasn't eased by that fact. Not at all relieved.

Not when your head had still been bleeding and a shard of glass as large as his hand had been punctured just below the small of your back.

And as he ran, he had wondered what he could've done to avoid this.

Should he not have asked you to go out today?

No.

You had been far too eager for this moment. It had been his fault for neglecting you. For not prioritizing the wave of affections you gave him in turn.

He had promised himself that he was gonna cherish you. Dedicate entire days just for you.

And yet here he was. With his plans, ruined beyond repair. And he finds himself going back to the root of his bad habits.

His work, his ambition to be seen as someone capable. Someone who existed in the hands of the world who did not see his strength and dedication. It had held him by the collar, forcing him to face elsewhere. Trapped him from doing right by you.

And now?

His bad habits had now suffered the consequences of his actions. No longer did he have the chance to do everything once over.

And his apologies had fallen to deaf ears. Hoping for the chance you'd get to hear him again.

He had a bad habit of doing you wrong. And now, he hopes you'd be awake so he can set things right.

[toddtakefive]

Realistically I know it’s because he didn’t have a choice, but now that I’m in college getting my degree (and constantly on the verge of death because of it) it’s really starting to sink in that Neil was a straight A student, and how much more tragic that makes the way everything turned out.

Quite literally he was as perfect as he could have been for them. Obedient, charismatic, intelligent, committed. He had straight As. He had straight As. As in As in every class. As in passing everything. As in not falling behind in any regard. As in keeping up with an insane amount of course work every day, on top of three school mandated clubs, a secret society that usually met in the middle of the night, and a secret play with rehearsals that were held off campus.

It makes his father saying he thinks he was taking ‘too many extra cirriculars’ at the beginning of the film feel like an even bigger slap in the face, because it’s incredibly obvious that Neil could have balanced all of it with ease. Considering how their spat goes when Neil expresses discontent with the decision to be taken out of the annual, I can’t even give him the benefit of the doubt by saying he just didn’t want to chance it. Neil liked it, that much is obvious, but Thomas saw no long-term benefit to him being involved, so it had to go. Anything not directly contributing to his plan for Neil couldn’t stay, no matter if it brought Neil joy.

All paired with the grace Neil still gives his father in between his frustration with him, and the fact that Neil isn’t afforded the same. Neil is always backing down, always rationalizing, always falling back in line, and Thomas is always pushing and disregarding and coercing until he gets his desired result—Neil’s resolve breaking. Their relationship is such a constant show of domination, and that fact is always passively in my head, but every time I think about it too long my chest starts to hurt.

And the thing that really gets me is the kindness Neil still shows to others despite it all—the fact that he inherited his father’s quickness to anger, and his stubbornness, and his tunnel vision, but not his cruelty. Neil is so spirited, and gentle, and open-minded. He goes through life desperate to be listened to and desperate for control and still remembers to be good instead of spiteful. And he has his moments, because he’s human and a teenager on top of it, but he never loses himself to it. He’s never rude, he never belittles others for struggling, he never lets his standing as one of ‘Welton’s finest’, as Nolan said, get to his head. Even with all the odds stacked against him, he stayed good.

He was a supportive friend. He was an amazing actor. He was an understanding son. He was a sensitive person.

He was a straight A student.

It’s literally sickening.

[harrywavycurly]

I would love to see our lonely couple moving in together in the house they picked out together 🥺

Hiiii lovey!! Thinking of them moving in together makes me all soft, as if they aren’t fully getting married 😂 but sure I’ll give you a little something that shows them on moving day!💖

-find all things Lonely here✨

A/N: You have a question for Harry while he is just wondering if you read anything other than romance novels, enjoy✨

Harry has officially lost count of how many boxes have been brought into the house that have “books: romance” written on them in your pretty handwriting, he brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as he wonders if that’s the only type of book you own because at the moment he can’t recall if he’s ever seen you with any other type of book in your hand. He gives one of the movers a smile as they carry in a box that has your handwriting on it but before he can read what it says to help direct the man on where to place it he sees you standing at the top of the stairs, taking all his attention as you place a hand on the railing while your other one comes up to rest on your forehead as you look around at the piles of boxes scattered throughout the living room where Harry is currently standing. He knows moving isn’t an easy process under normal circumstances and the two of you are far from moving in together under normal circumstances seeing as the two of you were just friends not even three months ago, not to mention the added stress of your wedding that’s still in the planning stages, he knows it’s a lot to deal with.

“Sir? Where does this go?” Harry is forced to look away from you and towards the man holding the box with your writing on it. He takes a look at what you’ve written on it and he wants to laugh when he sees it’s yet another box full of books.

“That can join the others right over there in the corner.” He points to the stack of boxes tucked away in the farthest corner of the living room where you’d already decided your library was going to be since there was already built in bookshelves on that wall. “Thank you.” He adds as the man heads over to place the box with the others.

“Harry?” Your voice is soft but there’s also a small hint of worry laced within it as you lean over the railing, Harry just smiles as he looks up at you to see you motioning for him to come upstairs. “Can I steal you for a moment please?” Before you can even finish your sentence Harry is making his way to the stairs, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders pulling you into his chest just a few moments later.

“What’s wrong my darling?” You feel his chin rest on the top of your head as your cheek rests against the soft fabric of his worn out Rolling Stones shirt. Harry runs his hands up and down your back as your arms snake their way around his middle. “And please don’t try and tell me nothing because I’ll have you know I’m a bit of an expert when it comes to you so I know something is bothering you.” You want to roll your eyes at him and call him ridiculous but you can’t, because he’s right there is something bothering you but you feel silly bringing it up to him.

“I just need to ask you something.” You mumble into his chest and you can tell by the way he gives you a little squeeze that he heard you.

“What is it love?” He asks as he pulls away from you just enough so he can look down at you, he feels the corners of his mouth drop to a slight frown when you refuse to look up at him opting to keep your cheek flush against his chest instead. “You can ask me anything you know that right? I’ve asked you to marry me twice now so there’s no need to feel silly or weird about whatever it is you want to ask.” You hate how well he knows you but at the same time you find comfort in his words because over the years the two of you have found yourselves in strange situations resulting in asking each other odd questions so the one you want to ask him now actually seems normal.

“Well there’s four bedrooms in this house-”

“Our house.” You lift your head off his chest so you can look up at him after he interrupts you. “You meant to say there’s four bedrooms in our house.” He has a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you and sees it click in your mind why he felt the need to correct you in as gentle of a way possible, with his hands still running soothingly up and down your back as your arms stay wrapped around his middle. You just give him a small nod because he’s right, it’s not just some random house anymore it’s the house you and Harry picked to move into together.

It took two weeks and looking at ten houses all in different parts of Malibu and the surrounding areas before Harry knew the two of you had found the perfect house. He knew it the moment he saw your eyes light up when you walked in the front door and saw the spacious living room, the way you practically dragged him up the stairs to look at the bedrooms and how you just laughed along with him when he teased you about how big they were compared to the ones in your old place but the moment that really made him realize this was the house for the two of you was when you were stood in the kitchen with a hand on your hip and a dreamy look in your eyes as you looked at him and listed off all the things you could cook and bake in it as well as mentioning hosting holiday parties. It didn’t take long after the first initial walk through for the two of you to decide to put an offer in and luckily it was accepted and a few weeks later here you are with all the papers signed and the keys to the front door hanging on your keychain that’s attached to your purse that’s currently sitting on the kitchen counter downstairs.

“Our house has four bedrooms.” You repeat with the correct word making Harry smile as you turn your head and look towards the end of the hall where a set of double doors lead to the master bedroom. “I was just wondering where you wanted me to put my stuff?” You can’t look at him as you ask the question because you know the look he’s going to give you but before you can even think of retreating back to hiding your face in his chest you feel his index finger and thumb under your chin gently turning your head so you’re looking at him.

“Your stuff? Do you mean things like your ridiculous amount of sweatshirts and that collection of t shirts that you swear you didn’t steal from me? Because if those are the types of things you’re wondering where to put I can happily help you pick a closet.” Harry knows that’s not what you meant by stuff, he knows exactly what you’re really asking him but he can’t pass up a moment to make you roll your eyes at him because he just loves the look you get when you’re slightly annoyed with him. “I do think there’s a few to pick from but I think the one in the master bedroom would probably be the best place to start wouldn’t you agree?” He adds as he looks down at you with a quirked brow as his hand moves from under your chin to gently cupping the side of your face.

“Are we sharing a bed?” You feel your cheeks get warm as you blurt the question out and Harry just smiles at you because this is what he knew you wanted to ask the moment he saw your eyes travel down the hall to the bedroom door.

“Do you want to share a bed? I don’t want to make you feel weird or uncomfortable.”

“I mean we’ve shared a bed before?”

“Yeah we’ve shared hotel beds and we’ve spent the night in your bed and there’s been a few times in my bed.”

“And it wasn’t weird right?”

“No!” Harry clears his throat when he realizes how quickly and loudly he answers your question making you laugh as you lean into his palm that’s still cupping the side of your face. “No it wasn’t weird love. I think this is just going to be different that’s all but a good different.” His voice is quieter and more soothing this time as he answers your question for the second time.

“A good different?” You raise an eyebrow at his answer and he just nods as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead as he drops his hand from the side of your face.

“Yes because we will be sharing a bed as more than friends so it will be different but in the best way possible.” He begins to explain as his hand lands on your hip giving it a playful squeeze. “I’ll actually be looking forward to you touching me with your icicle feet because you hate the feeling of socks in bed and I won’t have to worry about keeping my hands to myself when I want to just reach for you in the middle of the night to pull you closer to me.” You smile at the thought of him wanting to reach for you in his sleep and you feel yourself relaxing as he places a kiss to the top of your head. “Most importantly the first person I’ll get to see when I wake up is the one person I just so happen to be madly in love with and also the person I somehow convinced to marry me so yes sweetheart I’d very much like to share a bed with you if you’re okay with it.” You just look up at him with a grin on your face and nod as you reach up on your tiptoes to place a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re madly in love with me huh?” Harry just shrugs as you pull away from him making you laugh.

“Was it too much? Do you prefer hopelessly in love with? Or maybe over the moon in love-”

“Excuse me? Sorry but where do you want the boxes that say H S Clothes?” You quickly unwrap yourself from Harry at the sound of one of the mover’s voices coming from downstairs. Harry turns around and looks at the bottom of the stairs and sees a dolly stacked with boxes right next to the mover and Harry just smiles and points behind him.

“All clothing boxes can go in our bedroom.” You don’t miss the little glance Harry shoots your way when he says our bedroom, making you feel your face get warm as you look down at your feet. “Last door at the end of the hallway.” He adds making the nice man at the bottom of the stairs just nod as he walks away to let the other movers know all boxes marked clothes can be taken up stairs.

“I’m not sure all your clothes are going to fit in our closet.” You tease as Harry grabs your hand and heads towards the master bedroom. He just playfully rolls his eyes and ignores your comment as he opens the door and lets go of your hand so you can enter the bedroom first. Harry takes a moment and leans against the doorframe as he watches you stand in the middle of the empty room, he feels a grin spread across his face as he watches you place your hands on your hips as your eyes go a little wide while you slowly spin around allowing yourself to get a full 360 view of the room.

“I’m standing in our bedroom.” The tone of your voice is a mixture of shock but also excitement as you stare at Harry. “Like this is our bedroom that’s at the end of the hall on the second floor of our house.” You feel like you want to pinch yourself as Harry pushes himself off the doorframe so he can walk over to you and place his hands on your waist.

“I quite like the sound of that.” You smile as he rests his forehead against yours while your arms loosely wrap around his neck. “Our closet.” He mumbles as he places a kiss to your cheek. “Our bedroom.” You fight back a giggle as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Our house.” You feel his breath on your neck right before his lips place a kiss just below your ear before he pulls away just enough so he can look at you before he leans in for a sweet kiss that leaves you smiling when he pulls away.

“I love you.” Harry smiles as you play with the hair at the back of his neck before pulling him down for another quick kiss.

“I love you too sweetheart.” You giggle as his hands gently give your waist a little squeeze. You have to stop yourself from frowning when you feel him let go of your waist making you drop your arms from around his neck so he can open both doors allowing the movers more room to bring in boxes and furniture, a new bed included because both of you agreed this new chapter the two of you are beginning deserved a new bedroom set but you secretly just didn’t want to sleep on a mattress Harry had slept with other people on but he didn’t need to know that even though he probably already did. “Oh by the way have you always had a thing for romance novels love?” He asks as he turns to see you looking out the window that looks out towards the pool in the backyard.

“Yes because there’s just so many different types and I enjoy an easy read in between my more heavy stuff.” You answer as you watch some movers place your patio furniture outside near the pool making you smile as you see the orange and pink striped cushion, the same cushion you were sitting on when Harry told you he wanted to be your husband.

“Baby there’s like ten boxes down there with romance novels in them how have you accumulated so many?”

“Oh well most of them I haven’t read yet and then I always like to keep my favorites around for when I need a pick me up so it just adds up.”

“You only read one at a time though so why do you get so many to read when your shelf is already full?”

“Harry you have twenty pairs of sunglasses but only wear two of them but I don’t say anything when you buy more for your collection do I?”

“That’s fashion love you can’t compare fashion and books they aren’t the same thing.”

“They both take up a lot of our space.”

“That’s-well okay yes I guess that’s true they do both take up space.”

“Mhm they do therefore making me?”

“A smut slut? Or do you just like the general title of book nerd?” Harry has to bite back the laugh that wants to escape him as the words leave his mouth because he knows what you want him to admit but he’s never been one to give in so easily.

“Just say it Harry.” You turn around and cross your arms over your chest as you look at your fiancé who is also standing with his arms over his chest and a smirk on his face as he stares at you. “I promise you won’t die if you say the words.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. Why would I tell you to do something that’ll kill you before we are officially married?”

“Oh so once we’re married and everything is signed then it’s fine if I die?”

“Harry just say the damn words.” Harry laughs as he takes a few steps towards you while you remain by the window with a playful glare in your eyes as you look at him.

“Okay here we go.” He takes a deep breath and dramatically lets it out through his nose as he reaches out for your hands. “You’re right.” You laugh as he looks around after the words leave his lips as if he is checking to make sure nothing is going to happen to him.

“Can you say that again but slower and maybe-”

“Not happening.”

“But you’re madly in love with me remember? Doesn’t that get me something?”

“It gets you a house with a bookshelf that will fit all your little romance novels.” You just smile as he leans down to give your lips a quick peck pulling away just in time as a mover walks into the bedroom with two boxes in his arms.

[abby-s-phillips]

Checkmate

Medic!Reader x Sasha/Connie/Jean Trio (ft. Levi)

Summary: Reader is a medic for the Scouts and best friends with Jean, Connie, and Sasha. Jean and Connie get a superiority complex, and reader puts them in their place. Levi observes the whole thing and stands up for reader.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 685

"Must be nice, getting to stay inside all day," Jean teases as you finish wrapping a bandage around his arm.

"Damn, maybe I chose the wrong profession," Connie jokes, sitting on one of the nearby cots and swinging his feet while he waits for you to finish. Meanwhile, Sasha is preoccupied with stacking rolls of tape into a small tower.

You laugh along with them, but your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. You loved your friends. You really did. But lately, you had started to pick up a vibe.

It wasn't like they didn't appreciate you. You know that they did. Hell, you had patched each of them up more times than you could count. But they were all soldiers, and you were a medic. And you couldn't help but notice how their comments implied soldiers > medics.

And part of you understood. Setting broken bones and stitching up wounds wasn't as flashy as combat skills. But that didn't mean your job was less important. You were still a Scout. And infection could kill just as easily as a Titan.

Later that night, the group of you are lounging around the barracks. Jean and Connie are arguing over something stupid, and Sasha is chomping on a stolen potato, clearly just there for the vibes.

"I'm bored," Connie suddenly declares, then he rummages underneath a table and pulls out a chess set.

Perfect, you think to yourself, trying not to smirk. Typically, you would throw a few games when you were playing against your friends. After all, you wanted everyone to have fun, and you knew that Jean and Connie had a tendency to be sore losers. But tonight? You weren't going to hold back.

First up? You vs. Connie.

You decide to pull out one of your favorite tricks: the Scholar's mate.

"Checkmate," you say, your face betraying nothing. He goes to move a piece, and then realizes that he was, in fact, checkmated in four moves.

"What the hell?!" he blinks.

Jean shoves him out of the way, an arrogant smirk on his face, "Stand back. Let me show you how the real experts do it."

You decide to toy with him a bit. You let him take a piece or two. But in total, he only makes it 15 moves. His eyes widen, and he looks up at you.

"Connie was distracting me!" Jean says defensively.

"Maybe she's just better than you guys," Sasha hums, taking another bite of her potato while leaning over the arm of the couch.

And so it begins. Round after round, you obliterate Connie and Jean. It doesn't matter whether you play as black or white, and you even take one of your pieces off the board to make the odds more even. But the boys don't stand a chance. By your sixth win, they finally give up.

"You're cheating!" Connie accuses, picking up the board and looking underneath it, as though that could somehow explain away his losses.

Meanwhile, Jean is sulking with his arms crossed, grumbling something about dumb luck. Unbeknownst to any of you, that's when Levi walks in.

"Seriously?" Levi deadpans, causing you all to startle slightly, "You are accusing her of cheating?"

Jean opens his mouth, "She's never won this many times before--"

Levi raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, "Because she was obviously letting you win."

Sasha is attempting to stifle her laughter as the boys turn to you for confirmation, their faces screaming betrayal. You give a small shrug.

"Tch," Levi scoffs, "She's the only one at this table with more than two brain cells."

He turns on his heel, exiting the room and grumbling something that sounds awfully like pathetic.

You try to suppress the smile pulling at your lips. Sasha has taken it upon herself to line up the chess pieces based on height, and Jean is still pouting in the corner. Connie mumbles something about making you play chess blindfolded next time. You're not sure if the boys will ever stop being insufferable. But you hope that they at least respect you a little bit more after tonight.

[sevs-corner]

Here i am giggling and kicking my feet over the idea of navy! reader being so at odds with the Tf 141 squad being army. (let's just imagine that they're either back to being cadets or they're visiting officers or part of an older class.)

You, a newly enrolled student at the Navy Academy, quickly got the attention of the four while they were stationed at the nearby army base (quite literally in the same area-- considered as close neighbors to the academy who are quite often at each others throats) for having already oustanding records as just a plebe.

And they wanted to recruit you to their lil' party troupe over at the army. (More like kidnapped 'cause they could use you more effectively at the army compared to the muppets and hooligans they ended up training and getting into their squadrons.)

But as they try coercing you at first, you firmly deny them- despite them holding authority over you and can get transferred with the amount of strings they can pull to make it happen, but they don't.

Because they want to see you do it willingly.

You, on the other hand, simply take it as another challenge to "BEAT ARMY" at every opportune moment. To see them crushed beneath the feet of someone who had trained for this very moment in your life-- and you're not just going to let that one chance go in place for canoodling with a bunch of silly army soldiers.

And seeing the fire of contest in your eyes made them accept your challenge, that-- until the day of your graduation-- whoever has the most points by that time, you would either stay in the Navy or work for them and their squad in the army.

Oh, just imagine the amount of unnecessary squabbles that would get you in trouble for by sneaking over to their academy and dorm room (and vice versa) to settle disputes in either card games, gun ranges, push-up counts, and many more-- basically making a competition out of everything.

You canonically have an on-going scoreboard that you update quite frequently like its a spreadsheet. Detailing everything from status reports of how, "MacTavish was so off his game today that he was a millimeter off from beating me at the sniper range" to "Beat the old man at his own game of mental 4D chess."

Even though you're at even odds against each other on land, on water on the other hand-- its quite a staggering difference.

With the record holding 20-4, you'd think they'd try for different events but no-- they're determined, undeterred at the thought of beating you at your own game.

Until Soap gets caught in a sail, gets hauled up, and is hanging by the sails-- and they swear off those competitions for a while.

Though when it comes to the fitness ones, somehow you always come short of winning with a close score of 30-28, with you up by two for the recent ones at the obstacle course at the Navy Academy. You had homecourt advantage but that never mattered between you five-- what mattered, was that Gaz tripped up at the last moment and fell to his demise on a rope because of the lack of grip from the mud crawling section of the course.

Even then, you were only seconds off from winning-- and of course you had to let them know by bring out your friends from the band, to stroll and march as you exited in style, leaving them more amused than disappointed really.

Who's to say that they don't mess with you as your- technically higher ranking- superiors?

They'll definitely call you out more when it comes to Navy-Army joint training sessions, or handle some of classes in combat or weapons handling.

They are definitely abusing their powers by pulling you out of your classes just to drag you into their silly competitions, which makes your workload stack and you even more determined to slam them to the ground in the gym, with the goal to grapple and flip the opponent first.

They don't feel bad at all, not when they can tease and play with their favorite underclassmen. They honestly just can't wait for you to be in the field with them, and with all this chemistry-- they already had plans for creating the perfect spot for you in their team.

You slotted into their dynamics so well that most of your classmates and other superiors wonder too on why don't the Tf 141 just adopt you already?

Well, because you're insistent in your goal-- and they respect that, though by doing so in challenges to see if you really, truly are committed to it. Elsewise, they would just pick you up and take care of you themselves.

All these hijinks and somehow, you forgot the true purpose behind them--

And TF 141 never forgets to fill in their end of a bargain. So watch out and make sure those scores tally in your favor~

Masterlist for my other works here ! Inspos that I just happened to watch on my feed here! From Sam Eckholm's YT on: -What's Inside the US Naval Academy -What's Inside the Air Force Academy

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER SIX | TSOFAS.

pairing: azriel x reader.

word count: 4, 714.

author's note: we are officially in the autumn court now. the vanserras have intrigued me for a such a long time and getting to write about them is so fun because I have so much creative freedom to portray and explore their complicated family dynamics. all in all, the song inspo says it best: take what you want, take what you can, take what you please, don't give a damn, ask for forgiveness never permission; it's in the blood and this is tradition. hope you all enjoy x

♫ tradition - halsey. nav. series. moodboard.

The shadowsinger brooded in silence as the golden carriage brought him closer and closer to his doom. 

Azriel was convinced that the Mother was playing a cruel joke on him. The punchline of which involved pretending to be betrothed to her, of all people. He had gone into this mission knowing that the odds were stacked against him as it were, but adding this ridiculous farce on top of everything else was enough to tip the shadowsinger over the edge. 

Forget stealing the scepter. Convincing an entire court that he was engaged to a female who was hellbent on making him her sworn enemy would be the most challenging mission the spymaster had ever faced. Regardless, he was determined to approach the task like he would any other — with a clear head and a foolproof plan. 

“I need you to tell me everything there is to know about the bride rite,” Azriel said. He hunched over, his dark wings barely fitting within the confines of the ridiculous ornate carriage he was currently crammed in. 

“How do you expect me to sum up the most complex and deeply patriarchal practice of the Autumn Court before we reach the Forest House?” 

Azriel bristled with annoyance. “Quickly and without complaint,” he said in a clipped tone. “Unless you want Beron to throw us out of his borders before we can even lay eyes on the scepter.”

The assassin scowled at him in return, but seemed to put aside whatever sarcastic remark she was dying to voice to summarize the bride rite. In essence, the tradition revolved around four events. A tea and luncheon hosted by the bride’s family, a tourney in honor of the engagement complete with joust and melee, a hunt that is meant to exhibit the groom’s ability to provide, and finally a betrothal ceremony held in the temple. The passage through the eternal flame, the assassin explained with a scoff, was a formal acknowledgement that the groom had deemed the bride worthy of marrying. 

The shadowsinger listened intently, ignoring the tension in the assassin’s shoulders and the obvious fury simmering in her gaze. Azriel couldn’t be sure who she was most irate with at the moment. Eris, for springing this news on them. Rhys, for not informing them of the arrangement in the first place. Or Azriel himself, who had nothing to do with this disastrous turn of events yet still managed to bear the brunt of her wrath. 

“We need a plan,” Azriel said when the assassin concluded. 

“Did you hear any of what I just said?” she asked incredulously. “The rite is the oldest tradition of the Autumn Court and for whatever deranged reason, the nobles and common folk hold it in the highest regard, which means there is no room for error. They scrutinize every couple with brutal efficiency and swoop in like vultures at the first sign of suspicion. Real couples are put through the wringer and many do not make it to the altar before the end of the rite,” she sighed in resignation. “Face it, shadowsinger. This entire thing is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Not if we come up with a compelling story.”

The assassin gave the shadowsinger a wide berth. “You’re not honestly suggesting that we go through with this?”

Azriel pursed his lips. “I have never backed out of a mission and I don’t plan on doing so today.”

“This is Beron we’re talking about. Stealing the scepter is one thing, but pulling this off would take nothing short of a miracle. Do you not think the High Lord will find it odd that we can barely tolerate each other’s presence?” 

Azriel shrugged. “I’m a spymaster, you’re an assassin. We’re both experts in lying and deception. Surely we can pretend to be betrothed for a few weeks.”

The assassin crossed her arms, seemingly mulling the idea over. Azriel was well aware that he was grasping at straws, but it wasn’t like either one of you had much of a choice. You needed to gain access to the scepter and this was the only way Beron would continue to permit your presence in his borders. Not to mention, the bride rite bound the High Lord to abide by the law of hospitality, which meant that Beron couldn’t inflict any harm upon either one of you for the duration of your stay. 

It was a cunning and calculated plan and it reeked of the High Lord’s plotting. Rhys had to have known how angry the assassin would be with him. The lengths his brother had gone through to ensure her safety sobered the shadowsinger. Promise me, Az, his brother had pleaded. Promise me that you’ll keep her safe. 

“I’m going to kill Rhys,” she muttered under your breath. 

“I’m sure Rhys had his reasons for keeping this from us.” As annoyed as Azriel might be, he knew Rhysand had good intentions. He just wished his brother filled him in on the plan beforehand. “Regardless, we’re here now and we need to find a way to get through it for the sake of retrieving the scepter.”

She sighed. “Right. What’s our great love story, then?”

“It’s best to keep it simple,” Azriel said, ever the pragmatist. “If we stick close to the truth, there’s a less likely chance that we’ll be caught in a lie.”

Azriel tapped his fingers against his knee, plots and schemes flashing through his mind. His shadows curled through his ear, whispering useful information. The memory of his first encounter with the assassin snagged his attention and he began to construct a plan with its foundation. 

“We met at the House of Wind when you were visiting for Winter Solstice.”

“When I knocked you on your ass,” she added with a satisfied smile. 

The shadowsinger fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You caught me off guard.” The smirk on the assassin’s lips agitated him all the more. “Despite the rather violent interaction, a spark formed between us.”

“So what?” she asked skeptically. “Beron is supposed to believe that I charmed my way into your leathers all those years ago and you only now decided to make an honest female out of me? It doesn’t sound very convincing.”

Azriel frowned. “If you would let me finish, then I’d gladly get to the point,” he responded testily. The corner of the assassin’s mouth twitched in amusement as she gestured for him to continue. “I didn’t pursue a romantic relationship because of the possible fallout it would cause with Rhys. You’re like a sister to him and he tends to be overprotective. But then Feyre freed us from Amarantha’s curse and when you returned home, I decided that I didn’t care any more. I pursued you, consequences be damned.” 

The shadowsinger watched as she digested the information. Truth be told, it wasn’t a love story that would rival those novels that Nesta loved to read, but given the circumstances, it was the best Azriel could do. The two of them had enough history together that could potentially overshadow the sudden decision of the betrothal. No one outside of the Inner Circle knew of their rivalry, except Eris apparently.

Azriel tucked that information away for later. He’d have to deal with it eventually. 

The assassin tapped her slender fingers against her chin, “You’re forgetting one crucial ingredient in any romance,” she said with a piercing gaze. Azriel raised a brow. He was fairly sure he’d covered the bases. “Chemistry. Devotion. Affection,” she listed rather sardonically. 

“That’s more than one,” the shadowsinger couldn’t help but quip. 

“Congratulations, you’re capable of basic arithmetic,” she shot back with derision. “The point is, people will expect passion from a betrothed couple and not the someone pissed in my soup expression that you so kindly bestow me with every chance you get.” 

The shadowsinger crossed his arms. “I am capable of treating you with civility.”

“Very convincing,” the assassin said with a snort. “It’s going to take more than civility to persuade the court. There’s a certain type of closeness one expects from those romantically involved. If we’re to go through with this farce, we have to commit. We’ll have to appear to be intimate.”

Azriel’s eyes widened in alarm, which made her roll her eyes in exasperation. 

“Don’t get your wings in a twist, shadowsinger. I’m not suggesting we have sex in front of the whole court. We just need to act as though we’ve at least seen each other naked, which might I add, your pervy little glimpse in my flat the other day should give you plenty of material to work with.” 

At the mention of the incident, Azriel found his imagination drifting to those giant wings tattooed on her back. He could’ve sworn that they had moved, fluttering against her skin like real Illyrian wings, but she had slammed the door in his face before he could further investigate. Azriel was curious about the magic. That was the only reason why he had stared. At least that’s what he told himself. 

The shadowsinger brushed the thought away. “Don’t flatter yourself, princess. I was merely admiring the tattoo.” His gaze met the assassin’s as he slid on a smirk that he knew would annoy her. “Besides, I don’t get a female naked unless I intend on finishing the job.”

As petulant as it was, satisfaction coursed through him as the assassin flushed and avoided his gaze. His smile spread even further when she cleared her throat, ignoring the comment altogether. 

“Just try to appear as though being in the same vicinity doesn’t physically sicken you.”

It was Azriel’s turn to snort. “Easier said than done,” he muttered under his breath. If looks could kill, he’d currently be six feet under. “I’ll manage. One more thing. If we’re to parade around like some grotesque circus act, you’ll need this.”

The shadowsinger fished around in his pocket before producing an enormous sapphire ring with a silver band. It was only logical for the court to expect a ring and seeing as this was the only one he kept on his person at all times, Azriel presented it with as much nonchalance as he could muster. 

How’s that for committing to the bit? he thought drily. 

“Where in the Cauldron did you get that from and why are you just carrying it around?”

The ring had a rather complicated history. None of which Azriel was particularly keen on explaining to the assassin. In all honesty, she was the last female he ever thought he’d be presenting it to. Not that anyone else had come close. 

He merely waved a hand in dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. For now, it’ll accomplish what it needs to.”

Azriel hesitated for a beat, his scarred fingers twitching at his side. There was a flash of recognition in the assassin’s eyes as she silently held out her left hand. He schooled his features into neutrality as he slipped the ring on. Curiosity danced in her gaze as she examined the enormous sapphire stone surrounded by a crown of sparkling diamonds. The ring fit perfectly on her finger. 

A pregnant pause buoyed between them before Azriel quickly withdrew his hand. The assassin’s skin was smooth and silky underneath his calloused palm, but if she was bothered by his scars, she showed no indication. The shadowsinger wasn’t sure if that unnerved or comforted him. 

“Remember, we’re madly in love.” Azriel said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

“With this rock on my finger, I might even be inclined to be pleasant to you.”

The shadowsinger held back a grin. “You’ll have to do more than that, princess. I believe the words you used were chemistry, intimacy, and passion.”

The assassin rolled her eyes. “Like you said, easier said than done. Fortunately for you, I like a challenge.”

“I’d hardly call this fake betrothal a challenge. Weren’t you courted by a vampyr once?”

The mention of her past paramour piqued the assassin’s interest. Azriel wasn’t sure why he’d brought it up. Perhaps because it felt like another mismatched piece of the puzzle of her past. He remembered Serena bringing it up once, urging the assassin to invite the vampyr to Rita’s, but she dismissed the suggestion as though the idea of the male meeting her friends was absolutely absurd. She was notoriously guarded in regards to her personal life, even back then. 

Love is a luxury most cannot afford, the assassin had said. Azriel wondered if he was about to uncover the reason for her cynicism during this homecoming.

“I forgot all about Nikolai,” she said, wrenching him out of his thoughts. “He wasn’t all that challenging though. At least he knew not to argue with me.” A pointed look his way. “In any case, I don’t see how my dalliance with the vampyr is relevant, unless you plan on feasting on my flesh.”

Payback for his earlier comment. She really never let anyone have the last word. “You’re incredibly crude, you know that?” 

The assassin shrugged irreverently. “You brought it up. Besides, do you really think it’s a wise idea to dig up each other’s romantic histories?” Delight danced in her eyes as Azriel shot her a glare that would have withered the lush forest around them. “Let’s evaluate, shall we? We have a plausible story. A gorgeous ring. It’s time to establish some rules, as all fake relationships are wont to have.” 

Azriel raised a brow. “You say that as though fake relationships are a norm.”

His companion sighed in exasperation. “It’s a very common trope,” she explained as though Azriel was the ridiculous one. “Haven’t you ever read a romance novel?” 

The blank look he gave her was enough to answer. “Point taken. Anyways, all effective fake relationships abide by a set of rules, which begs the question. How comfortable are you with public displays of affection?” He winced, earning him a long suffering sigh. “A promising start. My people are known to be passionate. Hot blooded. They will likely suspect something is amiss if you flinch every time I come near you.”

“I know how to act affectionately,” Azriel said with a sharper edge to his voice than he intended. He took a deep breath, tried again. “I will play the part of head over heels, lovestruck idiot.” His mouth quirked. “Perhaps living in the same house as Cassian and Nesta will finally pay off. Either way, I’ll behave accordingly.”

“We won’t be sullying any dinner tables in the near future, but you seem to grasp the gist of it.” The double entendre did not escape his notice. “Though I imagine you’ve had ample opportunity to practice during this past lonely winter.”

“Not nearly as lonely as you think, princess.”

“Your hand doesn’t count, shadowsinger.”

“Then neither does straddling that lordling,” he said with a knowing glance. The assassin balked at the statement, narrowing her eyes. As unwise as it may be, Azriel enjoyed baiting her more than he should. “I’ve known you long enough to notice the pattern, Thorne. You never take lovers during an active mission. It’s been months since Rhys sent you to the Western Isles. Perhaps that’s why you’ve been a bit cagey lately.”

To his absolute amusement, the assassin’s face flushed with heat. “Now who’s being crude?”

“Deflecting only confirms my suspicions.”

Not to be outdone, she crossed her arms and huffed with indignation. “Who and when I fuck is none of your business.” 

The grin on Azriel’s face grew wider. “Is that any way to talk to your future husband?

“Sleep with one eye open, shadowsinger.”

“With a fiance like you? I’d keep a dagger in bed, princess.” 

The assassin retorted with a vulgar gesture just as the carriage shuddered to a stop. From the small window, the looming shape of the Forest House filled the landscape. Azriel thought he saw a trace of apprehension mar her expression. 

“Just follow my lead and this godsawful plan may just work.”

The shadowsinger nodded emphatically. “Lead the way, my lady.”

In the twisted maze of the Forest House, you felt lost. 

As the carriage rolled up to the behemoth structure looming above the jewel toned trees and rushing waterfall, Azriel stared in awe. There was a time when your younger self mirrored the shadowsinger’s astonishment, full of curiosity and excitement as you first walked through the house upon your first visit, but those days were long gone. 

In the present, the high beams and curved archways jutting out from the steep hillside drew sinister shadows beneath your feet, illuminated by the torches lining the granite walls. The Forest House felt cold, empty. Devoid of the warmth that once colored your childhood. It was strange to think that the place you once called home now greeted you like a stranger. You didn’t take it personally. You never belonged here in the first place. 

You didn’t belong anywhere. 

Up ahead, Eris led the way through the portcullis. You walked in silence as the sentries marched into the fox’s den. Curious glances landed briefly at the sight of you and Azriel strolling side by side. The pairing definitely turned heads — the exiled priestess and the shadowsinger. Villains in their sight. You certainly looked the part in a scarlet corset dress that matched the fiery tone of your hair which trailed behind your back like ringlets of flame, covered by the cloak of the onyx hood that obscured your face. 

In similar fashion, Azriel was clad head to toe in his Illyrian armor, the dark leathers accentuating his muscled form and embodying the threatening aura of one of the most feared warriors in Prythian. Those powerful wings of his flared slightly at the attention of the court dwellers, whose eyes widened in fear and shrunk back to let you pass. 

At the center of the Forest House, the great hall glittered in all its opulence. The ceiling was enclosed by a glass dome that scattered shades of gold, ruby, and topaz across the polished surface of the mahogany floor. A scarlet carpet embroidered with golden leaves paved the way to the High Lord’s seat of power. Perched on the rosewood throne, the High Lord surveyed you with hateful eyes as you strode up to the dais. A golden wreath of leaves rested on his temple like a crown while his cold stare greeted you like a ghost from the past. 

Eris stooped low, crossing his arm over his chest as a sign of respect. Beron gestured for his eldest son to rise. Your cousin took his place behind his father’s throne while the court herald ushered you forward. 

“My lord, I present to you Lady Y/N Thorne and her betrothed, Azriel the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.”

As if on cue, you curtsied before the male. To your surprise, Azriel didn’t miss a beat and bowed gracefully as though he had been drilled with the same court etiquette lessons as you had when you were a child. 

“My prodigal niece comes to return,” Beron greeted with a predatory smile. “I never thought I’d see the day that you’d haunt these walls again, Y/N.”

Beside him, three red haired males sneered with mild amusement. Your treacherous cousins. Avoiding their gazes, your focus turned upon their patriarch. 

Beron Vanserra appeared as he always did — vain, cruel, and proud. His brown hair and rugged beard were peppered with a few white streaks, the only sign that he was well over five centuries old. You immediately noted the missing presence of your aunt, but didn’t dare inquire of her whereabouts. Perhaps the Mother granted you the small mercy of sparing you the pain of a public reunion.

“My lord, it is a pleasure to be welcomed into your court.” 

The whispers that swept through the room made your palms itch for your blades. Courtiers and servants alike gaped at your presence as though the Cauldron itself spit you out at their feet. You could feel their stares directed at the bloodstone that hung around your neck rather than your temple. A reminder of your unfinished training. 

A hush fell over the crowd as Beron raised his hand. “A court that you seem eager to return to, it seems. When Eris told me of your intent to visit, I was surprised to say the least. It’s been nearly three centuries since your absence.” 

Three hundred and twenty seven, to be precise. But who was counting? 

You plastered on a saccharine smile. “We were long overdue for a family reunion,” you cooed sweetly, leveling an icy stare at your kin. “I’m sure we have plenty to catch up on.” 

The three males had the good sense to appear wary. Though they were unaware of the true extent of your power, your cousins knew enough to avoid getting on your bad side. The presence of Azriel beside you seemed to reinforce the threat you posed to this court should they give you reason to unleash your magic.

“Starting with your betrothal,” Beron said as he inclined his chin towards the shadowsinger. “An interesting match, given the stark difference in your stations.” 

The snide comment made you bristle. You and Azriel may not get along, but the thinly veiled jab at his lack of noble parentage rubbed you the wrong way. Never mind that his cruel father was an Illyrian lord in his own right. In Beron’s eyes, illegitimate offspring were beneath the nobility he hailed from. Especially if the child wasn’t publicly acknowledged, just as you weren’t. 

The rage you kept hidden away coursed through your veins, causing you to ball your hands into closed fists. Keeping a neutral expression was proving harder than you expected. Luckily, you were spared from having to respond as the male beside you spoke. 

“I consider myself lucky to have caught my lady’s attention and even more so to be able to accompany her to the court she once called home.” 

Azriel’s hand slipped to the middle of your back. A casual show of intimacy as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The anger clawing within you dissipated as Beron carefully surveyed you. The High Lord appeared to be assessing his next words carefully. 

“Welcome to the Autumn Court,” he proclaimed with little warmth. “The law of hospitality binds me to be a gracious host, so long as the two of you remain gracious guests.”

Make one false move and you’re free game, the High Lord’s unspoken threat seemed to challenge.

The shadowsinger gave him a curt nod, meeting his gaze with the promise of violence. The two males stared at one another. Your uncle sizes up the Illyrian warrior, whose cold exterior gave nothing away. Blue siphons thrummed menacingly through Azriel’s armor and only then did Beron relent, remembering exactly what the seven stones contained. The well of power that surged through them. 

“Very well then. Eris will escort you to your lodgings so you may have time to settle in. A carriage will be sent to bring you back to the House so you and your betrothed may join the rest of the court for the afternoon luncheon.”

Beron didn’t wait for a reply before rising from his throne and waving a hand in dismissal. The courtiers lingered, shooting curious glances your way before scurrying off to attend to whatever miserable business they had in the Forest House. 

“Well, that went about as well as I thought.” Eris exclaimed with a grin. 

His brothers peered over his shoulder, their scornful gazes burning holes through your skin. The middle one and the most cruel out of Beron’s sons, sneered in disgust, but stopped short at the reprimanding glare of his eldest brother. With a single foreboding glance, the three males retreated into the main hall. At least your cousin seemed to be in control of his siblings. 

“Let’s take the long way, shall we?” He announced, nodding towards the opposite corridor. 

You could feel your body freezing up at the thought of walking through these horrid halls once again, but you forced yourself to take one step after the other. Azriel discretely glanced at you, hazel eyes flickering with some unknown emotion. 

The walk through your former home dredged up a mixture of good and bad memories. Eris led you to the uppermost level where the atrium enclosing the indoor garden revealed a stunning view of the cloudless sky. Sunlight streamed in through the stained glass, coloring the marble fountain with the brilliance of polished jewels. This place had once been your safehaven and many days were spent lounging by that same fountain with Eris and Lucien, all three of you hiding from your governess and her overzealousness. Back when you were still allowed to sit in on your cousin’s lessons.

Two figures sat side by side under the shade of the enormous oak tree now, straightening when they sensed your presence. Alyanna’s daughters, Fallon and Astor, greeted your approaching party with low curtsies. The fair haired twins were dressed in fine clothing and appeared healthy, but the pallid coloring and blue tint under their eyes told you enough. Being away from home was eating away at them. 

“Lady Thorne, please forgive us for our absence during your arrival,” Fallon said. The taller one of the twins inclined her head with an apologetic expression.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you replied with a warm smile, kissing each of them on the cheek in customary greeting. “I’m only sorry that I didn’t visit sooner. Look at you two, I’m sure the males of this court are eating right out of your hands.” 

The twins blushed, their bright cerulean eyes twinkling with delight. “Everyone has been very accommodating, especially Lord Eris.” 

“Now, now, I thought we had an understanding,” Eris drawled smoothly. “I was under the impression that we’ve moved past the presumptuous titles, have we not?” 

Fallon flushed. You forgot how easily Eris wielded his charm. It was as sharp and dangerous as any sword. “We have, Eris.” 

You raised a brow at your cousin, but refrained from commenting. The younger of the sisters fawned over the sapphire stone adorning your ring finger. The jewel reflected the sunlight streaming through the marble pillars, nearly blinding you with its brilliance.

Astor glanced shyly at Azriel. “Congratulations on your betrothal.” 

The Illyrian warrior curtsied gracefully and you could have sworn that the priestesses sighed in appreciation. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

Fallon suppressed a giggle, but straightened at the sight of a High Fae female beckoning them over. You didn’t miss the way Astor’s smile faltered. 

“My sister and I must return to our lessons, but we hope to see you again.” 

The twins enveloped you into a hug while Fallon not so discreetly whispered, “Handsome and well-mannered. You did well, Y/N.” 

The grin that tugged at Azriel’s lips told you that he heard every word. After bidding the twins goodbye, you turned your attention towards Eris.

“Who was that?” 

“Ismilda. One hell of a female. She makes our old governess seem like a saint in comparison, but she is under my employ. As long as the twins are with her, no one will deign to trouble them.” 

You frowned. “See to it that Ismilda provides them chrysanthemum tea in the evening. The twins don’t appear to be sleeping well.” 

Eris nodded, his gaze flickering to the corridor beyond as though he was assessing why he’d missed a sign that you so clearly picked up on from a single interaction. 

“I meant what I said before,” your cousin added. “No harm will come to them in this court.” 

A surge of emotions coursed through you. Anger coated your tongue, leaving a bile taste in your mouth, but disappointment weighed even heavier than the simmering rage. The words Eris casually tossed around sounded too familiar for comfort.

“Do not make promises you can’t keep, Eris.” 

The red haired male opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he had the chance to speak. “I remember the way back to the carriage.” 

With the curt dismissal, you left Eris standing in the atrium. Hot on your heels, Azriel remained silent while he followed you through the lower levels of the Forest House. 

For once, the shadowsinger was smart enough to stay silent.

₊˚⊹♡ thank you for reading. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated. feel free to drop an ask too — i’d love to yap & chat with you all.

taglist: @fuckingsimp4azriel @onebadassunicorn-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @marina468 @ly--canthrope

[harveysweakness]

If it’s possible could you possibly write something where reader and Harvey have been secretly married to each other for a few years the law firm doesn’t know since reader practices under her maiden name, anyway the firm finds out and tells them that they don’t need to hide anything. (Maybe they thought the firm would fire them or something?) idk up to you!

Thank you for taking my request!

A/N: Italics are in the past! I absolutely love this request! Thank you so much for requesting, I had a blast writing it! Let me know your thoughts!

"Mrs. Specter," your husband whispered into your ear, pressing his lips briefly to your temple. "I will see you in thirty minutes."

"Mr. Specter," you replied, leaning into his touch, "My driver is faster than yours, so I will see you in twenty."

He chuckled, the feeling of it rumbling through his chest against your back. "I like those odds."

He left, the fluttery feeling in your chest once again taking you back to the first time you met Harvey.

"And this is our newest senior partner, Y/F/N Y/L/N," Jessica introduced Harvey to you. "Y/N, this is Harvey Specter."

"You can call me Harvey," the man replied, holding his hand out to you.

"You can call me Ms. L/N," you smiled, shaking his hand. Jessica smiled.

"And that is why I hired her."

Harvey smirked, but his eyes didn't leave your face. And though you kept his gaze, the fluttering in your chest made you want to run.

-------

By the time you'd made it to the building, Harvey had already been there thirty minutes. He caught up to you quietly in the hallway.

"What happened to twenty minutes?" he asked, trying and failing to conceal the smirk on his face as the two of you walked briskly towards your office.

"Traffic," you simply shrugged.

"I think it was actually that you still hadn't done your hair when I left."

"Shut up," you muttered, both of your eyes falling to the approaching junior partner.

"Mike," you greeted warmly, "how's that case for Robinson coming along?"

"I've got my first year associate working on it, so good."

"See, now you know why I treated you the way I did all those years," Harvey responded.

"You made me work three times the amount of hours I'm having mine work," Mike retorted.

"What are you going to do, labor laws have changed," Harvey shrugged, glancing at you.

"Don't look at me, I was always nice to my first years."

"It's true, she was the nicest," the newest junior partner agreed.

"Thank you, Mike. I will see you and Mr. Specter later at the meeting."

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's Harvey," your husband called after you.

-----

You weren't quite sure when you'd started letting him call you by your first name, but it probably had to do with the all-nighters you'd started pulling together when the firm was being sued for fraud.

"I can't find anything," you sighed, frustrated. You held your head in your hands, rubbing your temples from the exhaustion headache.

"Me either," Harvey replied, throwing down his recent stack of papers on his desk.

"What are we going to do, Harvey?" you asked softly, scared for the firm.

"I don't know, Ms. Y/L/N."

"You can call me Y/F/N, Harvey. I think we've known each other long enough."

"Does this mean we're becoming friends?" he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh too.

"Something like that."

-----

"They know," you announced, shutting the door to Harvey's office behind you.

"What do you mean they know? It's been five years, they don't know."

"They know," you repeated.

"They don't know."

"Harvey," you deadpanned.

"Sweetheart."

"Harvey, you ought to listen to your wife," you said, crossing your arms across your chest and jutting your hip out. His eyes followed the curve of your body, focusing on your hip.

"You're right, I should."

"Not the time. I heard Jessica telling the other partners, junior and senior, that she needed to hold a meeting with everyone because of something going on with two partners. Everyone was there but us."

"Because we're busy and the best in the firm," he shrugged.

"Harvey."

"Sweetheart."

"Jessica then said, and I quote 'best-kept secret relationship the firm has ever seen."

"Okay, so she knows," your husband nodded. You hummed in agreement.

"So what? She's not going to fire us," he noted.

"So why is this a partner meeting?" you questioned.

"That I don't know, but I'll find out."

You nodded, turning on your heels to get back to your office, not missing Harvey's famous call for Donna to tell him what was going on.

-----

Not even an hour later Jessica knocked on your door.

"Y/N, can I borrow you for a last minute partner meeting?"

"Of course," you replied, hoping your nerves weren't showing through your voice.

"It will only take a few moments. We just need to pick up Harvey on the way."

Stopping at Harvey's office, you waited while Jessica repeated the same words to him before leading you towards the conference room. The two of you shared a look, feeling a bit on edge. While you were more the one to feel your nerves, Harvey typically put himself more on the offensive when danger seemed possible.

"Why now, at this hour on a Tuesday?" he asked the managing partner.

"It seemed like the right time," Jessica replied simply.

"Well it doesn't feel right to me," Harvey retorted. "I had plans this afternoon."

"I'm sure you did. Y/N, didn't you also have to cancel plans? Didn't you ask for this afternoon off about a month ago?"

If you weren't sweating before, you certainly were now. Even your husband looked a tad nervous. Neither of you had time to dwell any further as you took your seats.

"There seems to be a congratulations in order," Jessica began. "One that was due five years ago."

You paled, staring straight at her. You didn't dare sneak a look at Harvey.

"It's impressive, really, keeping a secret such as this for so long. It's not a simple task to hide a marriage."

There were murmurs and whispers heard around the room. Harvey's hand briefly found your knee below the table and gave it a quick squeeze.

"Would the couple like to reveal themselves? Or should I?" Jessica asked.

"Y/N and I have an announcement," the man next to you spoke up.

There were several surprised gasps around the room, causing your cheeks to burn.

"You're married!?" Mike exclaimed, seemingly unable to help himself.

"Have been for five years, three months, and four days," your husband responded smoothly. Mike looked like he might stop breathing.

"And they have been the happiest days of my life," Harvey continued. "And I regret nothing."

"Can I ask why?" Jessica questioned softly, her eyes on you.

"We never wanted to put the firm in danger, in a different light," you answered. "If people knew- clients, other firms- we didn't want to risk changing the reputation of the firm."

Jessica gave an almost apologetic smile, knowing what you said had truth.

"Cats out of the bag now. I guess screw the firms reputation," Louis muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Louis-" Harvey began.

"The firm will be just fine," Jessica interrupted. "And I did mean congratulations really were in order." Her secretary seemed to hear everything, for several bottles of champagne were brought in with glasses for everyone.

"To Harvey and Y/N, may you have a lifetime of continued happiness together."

You looked at Harvey, clinking your champagne glasses together with smiles on your faces.

"Screw it," you heard him mutter, before quickly pressing his lips to yours.

[duchezss]

I recently finished reading all the Lockwood & Co books, and my god they were good, but it got me thinking. If the show continued, like it deserved too, would Holly and Kipps have gotten a signature color the same way the trio did? If so what would they be? Well I was looking at twitter and I saw that most people agree that Holly's color would be yellow, and Kipps' would be white, and I'll be honest I disagree so badly I'm about to write an essay. It's funny because I distinctly remember finishing the books and thinking, "ah watch everyone put their colors as yellow and white cause it's easy". LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. Y'all just don't get color theory OR the characters the way I do so listen up.

Holly is many things. She's positive, and compassionate, and kind, but she is so much more than that. She's not just a "yellow", yes maybe she is the sunshine of the group, but honestly? Not really, and that's ok. She's fierce and sometimes she has a short temper, she pretends to let everything slide off her shoulder, when really she's just keeping it inside. That's why her and Lucy are constantly budding heads in the beginning of their friendship, they are so similar. I think her color should be red. She's constantly described as wearing it, and I think it really fits her. Red represents passion, energy, confidence, and excitement to name a few. Holly is always described as having a presence, and her energy and enthusiasm comes off her in waves. Red is usually described as the color of love, and I still think that fits. She has such love for the entire crew, and it's so clear she would go to the ends of the earth for them. I also think this would blend in with the others very well. Despite it not actually being blue's real opposite, blue and red are often seen as polar opposites, which really fits for Lucy and Holly's dynamic. It also works because red and orange are both warm colors and George and Holly have always gotten along. They are similar in their methodical and sometimes odd ways of life. I also think it's fun cause Skully's color is green, and green are red are direct color wheel opposites. I'm pretty sure he hates her the most, but Kipps is also competing hard for that title. And lastly black is kinda the color in between, now more on that in a second.

I see what twitter was going for, Lucy and George are blue and orange, direct color wheel opposites, because they are quite literally direct opposites. So it makes sense for Kipps to be white since he's the direct opposite of Lockwood? LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER AGAIN. Tell me y'all didn't understand their dynamic without telling me. Lockwood and Kipps didn't get along cause they were so different, they butted heads so hard because of how similar they are. It's exactly what happened with Lucy and Holly. Plus white represents a lot of things that are definitely not Kipps. My proposed color for him is purple, I know that's a little odd, but walk with me. Although it's never explicitly stated, one can assume that Kipps was an absolute prodigy when he had his talents. I only bring this up, because purple often represents royalty and luxury, and he practically became a fallen king when he lost the only thing he was ever good at it. But purple is much more than that, it also represents bravery, uniqueness. ambition, and justice. I think Kipps' original color is grey, and not just because of the uniform. Grey represents seriousness, sadness, and boredom. That's how Kipps was before, but when he remeets the crew during book 3 and 4, we begin to see the shift. The group helps him gain his ambition back, and with all of their love and support we even begin to see how brave he really is. He has a unique way of going through life, and even when all the odds are stacked against them, he still seeks justice. Purple fits with the general color scheme as well. It's very close to black, which represents how similar him and Lockwood are, and it's also a cooler color like blue. Kipps and Lucy certainly got along the easiest out of the crew.

Overall it just makes sense. George and Holly are the warmer colors, Lucy and Kipps the cooler, and Lockwood as the mediator between them. I feel like red might be a little hard to incorporate without being overpowering, and I know that purple isn't a super masculine color, but hell if those costume designer made full orange outfits look good they can literally do anything. Anyways I know this isn't that important, but ugh I love color theory so much, and I love how much thought the costume designers put in the first time. I feel like having Holly and Kipps color being yellow and white is just a cheap easy shot, and doesn't take into account the characters and their growth enough. I rest my case.