#how are complete strangers supposed to take that gamble

[trueloveandy]

feeling inadequate about my writing tonight

[jazzythursday]

Wylan leaves in the morning.

He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.

Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.

Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.

He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.

So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.

He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.

It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.

He knows it can’t last.

Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.

He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.

He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.

Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.

Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.

Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.

So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.

And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.

They’d met in a tavern.

Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.

So far, he’d only come up with the one.

Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.

Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”

Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.

Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”

And that's how he’d met Jesper.

Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.

“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”

Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.

Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”

Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.

“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.

“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”

Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.

It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.

But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.

And it was nice.

It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.

Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.

Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.

Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.

Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.

So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.

[sophierequests]

the start of something exciting // academic exposures part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x gn!Reader

A/N: This is one of the most self-indulgent fics I have ever written and I am not sorry about it. I'm currently outlining my term paper for a linguistics seminar, and the idea came to me during that. I am so sorry if you don't care for linguistics, but I just had to include a titbit of my own topic or else I'll go mad.

This is part one of an ongoing miniseries! Find the miniseries masterlist here!

Summary: After a rather uncomfortable encounter with the Dime Lions, Jesper finds himself in the middle of the University District, looking for somewhere to hide. Thankfully, a helping hand isn't too far out of sight.

Genre: Fluff, a tad bit of Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: Talk about Jesper's mother and parental death (you and me both Jesper), bittersweet bonding times, strangers to friends to ???, emotional intimacy (briefly)

No detours. Kaz had been painfully clear about that. Clear enough for Jesper to walk right into one. 

Well, technically it wasn’t his fault - not everything at least. The open gambling table just looked too inviting and the prominent wads of kruge in his pocket basically serenaded him not to let this opportunity pass. How should he have known that all the other supposed gamblers were Dime Lions and that the whole scene had actually been one giant set-up?

What kind of misfortune led him to hightail it through the damned University District of all places passed through him completely. It was a complete instinct to run off as quickly as he could, causing him to be stuck in a maze of lecture halls, student flats and libraries.  So now, he not only had to attempt and navigate the narrow streets and crooked buildings he had barely gotten to know during his brief stay at Ketterdam University, but he also had to do his best to outrun the men following him. It didn’t help that the campus seemingly had been remodelled since then, making his escape route even more difficult than it had to be. And Pekka’s saintsforsaken goons simply didn’t want to let him go. 

Jesper ran and ran until he felt a distinct burn inside his ribcage, restricting his air supply and forcing him to slow down. By now he had thankfully put enough distance between himself and his pursuers to not have them biting at his ankles anymore. He was certain that if he had to keep up this brutal pace, he’d end up fainting and getting caught anyway. It was a foolish thing to do, but when he reached the stairs leading up to another ancient-looking institute, he hoped to be hidden enough to take a quick break. He pressed his back against the cold stone facade behind him, clutching his side to ignore the desperate need for air. He probably should have been a bit more vigilant in choosing his hiding spot, especially since the university had its own security personnel that were more than willing to apprehend any suspicious figures roaming around the premise. But from what he could see, the majority of buildings on campus were already vacated, fallen victim to the scattered attention span of overworked academics. 

That’s what he thought. 

He hadn’t even been able to take a full breath before the door next to him swung open. A pair of unexpectedly strong hands grabbed the lapels of his coat, yanking him inside the intricate institute. As much as he wanted to fight against whoever had the audacity to treat him like an abandoned sack of potatoes, he was too weak to do anything against it. Without as much as a word of introduction, his back was fiercely pushed against the hard wall right next to the door, a hand immediately being smacked over his mouth to keep him quiet. He wanted to say something, but every attempt at formulating a sentence was muffled beyond recognition by the palm forcing his lips shut.

“Shut up for a second, won’t you?” you hissed, cocking your head towards one of the windows to give you a better view of the street in front of the building.

The two of you stayed like this for a few more minutes - a terribly awkward scene for people that had never seen or spoken to each other before. When you reckoned that letting him speak wouldn’t result in another life-and-death situation for either one of you, you carefully removed your hand from his mouth, dismissively wiping it on the fabric of your pants. He almost appeared offended at that gesture. 

You took a brisk step back, granting him a bit of personal space from the previously pretty intimate position you were in. He must have looked like an absolute flustered mess for you to be this wary of him. In all honesty, he was. Your hand had been scorching hot on his skin, close to feeling like it would leave a burn scar. But for some reason, it hadn’t been all that unwelcome. Saints, in some sick and twisted way, he liked it. 

“There may be a whole lot of these bastards running around, but they aren’t ballsy enough to enter an institute building without explicit permission of the dean. Trust me, they tried it before,” you explained calmly, your voice sounding aeons gentler than it had only mere moments ago. Now that you weren’t pressing him up against a wall, you looked a lot softer in general. What he had expected to be his last mortal punishment turned out to be just another exhausted-looking university student that seemed to be equally on edge as he was. “However, I’d still suggest you stay here for a bit longer. They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, so I wouldn’t risk it presenting yourself on a silver platter for the next hour or so.” You paused briefly, biting the inside of your cheek and casting a cautious glare around the opulent foyer. “Follow me.”

This time, you held out your hand, beckoning him to take it and let you pull him away once again. Against his better judgement, he extended his own arm, abiding your bidding with a foreign sense of excitement. Kaz would have probably whacked him with his cane, had he known what exactly his sharpshooter was stumbling into right now. However, Kaz wasn’t here and the rush of adrenaline surging through him was way more interesting to pursue. 

You towed him up the winded marble staircase and through a birch-paneled spacious corridor, passing an array of wooden doors and adjacent hallways. Jesper’s body went into autopilot, not even properly registering the number of turns or stairs taken. He prayed that you’d accompany him back downstairs again when all of this was over because he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to navigate this building on his own.

A bit out of breath, you reached a set of arched double doors which you promptly unlocked, letting go of his hands to do so. You pushed them open, leading him into a comfortable, high-ceilinged room, presumably a library of some sort. Jesper really wasn’t a person to be enchanted by the prestigious academic decorum, but even he had to admit that the dark oaken shelves and the massive collection of worn and well-read tomes instilled a certain overwhelming sense of respect inside him. 

He followed you to a wine-red couch that must have been at least three shades lighter when it was still unused. You pulled out a rattling box of matches, lighting the wick inside the oil lamp smoothly before blowing it out with one swift breath. Meanwhile, he watched you with a keenness bordering on religious, not even once taking his eyes off you, even though his whole body told him to do anything but stand still. He had been so fascinated by the way you weaved through the endless hallways as if it was second nature, and now, he felt the same sensation watching your features become more defined in the warm glow of the lamp you just lit. It should have been too mundane to catch his attention this way, but somehow, it still did. He didn’t even know your name, and yet you felt eerily familiar to him, like an old friend he hadn’t seen in ages.

“Alright,” you mumbled under your breath, dragging out the last syllable impossibly long. You let yourself fall back onto the padded couch behind you, gesturing to the empty space next to you. He was hesitant at first, but judging by the fact that you hadn’t strangled him yet, agreeing to your offer couldn’t cause much more harm.

“Uhm, I…” he started, unsure of how to proceed. It wasn’t every day that ended with him being shoved inside an abandoned university building by an admittedly quite attractive stranger, so his rehearsed phrases weren’t all that useful to him. “I suppose I should thank you for saving my ass earlier, I don’t think that I would have been able to outrun them on my own.” An awkward chuckle left his lips while one of his hands instinctively shot up to rub the nape of his neck. It frustrated him that you had somehow managed to reduce his usual flirty persona to a flustered mess that stumbled over his own words. “My name’s Jesper Fahey by the way,” he added quickly, scolding himself for sputtering out his full name as if he needed to rectify something in front of a court.

You laughed in response to his stiffness, allowing your eyes to carefully scan his tense expression for the first time since hauling him inside. He was undeniably handsome; his piercing gray eyes and silky brown skin made him look so out of place in a ragged city such as Ketterdam. 

“A pleasure,” you finally spoke up, shifting in your seat to tuck one leg underneath you. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, but please just call me Y/N, formalities aren’t really my thing.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips when you said that. Simply judging from your outward appearance, he could have bet that you were another one of those stuck-up, spoiled trust-fund babies that only decided to go to university to please their parents. It was a horribly surface-level assumption, but that’s what he was used to from his own, albeit very short, experience here. It was refreshing to see that you seemed to go completely against his initial beliefs, acting more as if you’d belong to the Dregs than to a prestigious institute such as this. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you do to piss them off this much? They’ve been on campus quite a few times; prying on the female students or trying to make profit by stealing from the vulnerable ones, but they never actively chased someone.”

Jesper swallowed thickly, contemplating whether he should just tell you the truth or whether he should opt for telling you a quickly thrown-together lie. He mindlessly let his hands move to the seams of his belt, unintentionally revealing the two revolvers hanging from his hips. This mishap went unnoticed by him until he saw your eyes fixating on his sides.

Shit. You sure as hell wouldn’t be this hospitable after learning who he really was.

Instead of looking shocked by this revelation though, you shook your head in amusement, leaning back into the couch and prying your eyes away from his guns. “Let me guess, the Dregs?”

“Wait, how do you know that?”

“As I said, I guessed. And you’re way too pretty to belong to any other gang. These idiots chasing after you are more or less living proof of that.” A sudden rush of warmth spread over his cheeks, almost feverishly travelling down to his neck. He was used to being flirted with or complimented, but your remark sounded so genuine, even though you almost said it casually.

Since Jesper was still haggling with the right words to give you an appropriate answer, you took matters into your own hand. You quickly pushed the conversation in a different direction, talking about yourself a bit more whilst also asking him about himself. And as time went on, he began to ease into the situation, marvelling at how simple it had been for you to make him feel comfortable. 

He learned that you were just as old as him and currently studying to get your master's degree. Well, you were in the first semester of your master's degree, but that was still a lot further than he had gotten. You told him that you were studying linguistics, a subject he hadn’t really had any idea what it was really about before you started talking about it. He still didn't quite understand what it was, but he knew that it had something to do with languages, grammar and a lot of reading. The reason for you being inside the department this late, and also the reason why you had a key, was that you worked for the research programme of your field, which granted you access to basically the entire building whenever you needed it. And since you preferred studying alone, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that you’d be here until the night. Jesper believed that it had to be pure divine intervention, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“So, what do you intend on doing after you finished your degree?” he asked sheepishly, hoping that his tone didn’t sound too condescending. He just wasn’t sure what one might do with a piece of paper that told others about their knowledge of transitive verbs or noun phrases - whatever these things were.

“If my thesis goes well and my professors like my research, I’ll probably work on getting my doctorate.” He raised his brows almost comically. You had spent the last few years of your life studying, not even taking one semester off to do Saints know what, and that wasn’t enough? You wanted to get another degree? On one hand, he admired your dedication to your field, but on the other hand, he was slightly frightened of you.

“I don’t quite understand,” he continued, his interest growing. “What does one…do with linguistics? Like, I get that it’s a lot of reading and writing, but what is it good for?”

Thankfully, you didn’t take his genuine confusion as an offence. “Linguistics isn’t just simply talking about grammar and words. It’s also figuring out what’s behind it. It’s about finding patterns and drawing conclusions.” Your gaze wandered over his form, lingering on his cheeks for a brief moment before you resumed your explanation. “Knowing why things are the way they are can help us in recognising these patterns in the future. Without you having to tell me, I can safely assume that you grew up in Novyi Zem.” The assessment shot out of your mouth so quickly that Jesper almost choked on his own spit. But you weren’t finished. “Don’t look at me like that. Your speech is very audibly influenced by Zemeni, so that’s an easy thing to figure out. What’s a bit more difficult to figure out is where exactly you grew up. But judging by the way you talk, you probably lived on a farm of some sort. At least during the formative years of your language development. And you were probably mainly raised by a masculine parental figure, your vocabulary tells me just as much.” 

He froze, suddenly thinking that listening to Kaz wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. There was no way that you just figured all of that out by just listening to him speak. Absolutely not. And if that was the case, he was even more intimidated.

“You…you only figured that out now? By hearing me talk? That’s impossible,” he retorted, dumbfounded.

“It’s not impossible at all. It’s simply forensic linguistics. I worked through it in my bachelor’s thesis, a hefty but terribly intriguing topic,” you laughed, watching his face contort into an even more confused expression. “We don’t shape the words, they shape us. You think that you have a firm grip on what you say and what you don’t say, while in all actuality, you have no power over the words you know or don’t know. Every sentence, every word, even every syllable belonged to someone else before it belonged to you. And there are certain things, ways and methods of expressing yourself, that belong to a group of people just as definite as their vocabulary.”

Even though his head felt as if it might burst at the seams of his hairline, he was beginning to understand. Slowly, but surely. Academics really have never been his strong suit, so he didn’t expect to ever grasp the concept fully.

A heavy period of silence followed, which he had half-heartedly anticipated being uncomfortable. The anticipated tension never came, instead, you simply sat there; thinking, observing, and somehow, speaking in your own way.

“You were right,” he said suddenly, catching both of you off-guard. You raised your brows, cocking your head so little that it was barely noticeable. But he noticed. He couldn’t stop noticing.

“About what?” you asked tentatively, coaxing him to continue.

He swallowed again; once, twice. Hoping to clear the obstruction that had formed in his throat. He had the strong urge to tell you about himself, more than he already had. He wanted to tell you about his mother, the farm, himself. He wanted, but he also feared. You were basically a stranger to him; a stranger with a name. It would be weird to dump his whole dramatic backstory on you within a few hours of knowing you, wouldn’t it?

“You were right about me.” The answer spilt out of his mouth before he could form a proper game plan. “My da planted jurda for a living. I mean, he still does, so I suppose speaking of him in past tense would give someone as vigilante as you the wrong idea.” You chuckled at his newfound humour regarding your occupation, folding your hands in your lap as you waited for him to continue. “I used to help him out a lot; planting, digging, occasionally stealing the liquor from his cabinet because he didn’t drink it anyway. It wasn’t fun work, but it taught me a few things, and apparently, it also taught me how to speak ranchy enough for you to read me like an open book. I bet you’d be able to do the same to my father if you’d know him, once he opens his mouth he won’t close it until you force him to.”

“I see, that’s where you get it from,” you remarked with a grin, earning a playful jab from his knee in response.

“He’s a good man; difficult, but good. I put him through more trouble than I should, but I don’t think that ever made him think differently of me.” The thought of his father spending his days and nights alone on his farm, alone and worried about the fate of his son who he believed to be safe and sound at university, made his heart feel heavy. He began fiddling with his rings, shooing away the memories of his father’s disappointed face when he told him that he lost all of his money. “ A prim and proper Kaelish gentleman to the very marrow of his bones.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, staring him down with such intensity that you might as well could just stare through him. “You’re Kaelish.” The statement sounded more like a question, underlined by the quizzical expression present on your face. “That, I wouldn’t have been able to guess.” He smiled, almost as if he had evened out the score in the unspoken quarrel you had going on. You looked at him for a while longer, mustering every scar and feature thoroughly. If you had been someone more serious like Kaz or Matthias, he would have probably found some sort of malice in the way your eyes fixated on him. But there was no ill will in your gaze, rather a sincere curiosity he couldn’t quite comprehend. Another point added to the exhaustive list of things he didn’t understand about you.

“I love him, but we haven’t talked in quite some time now. Ever since I moved to Ketterdam, we have sort of grown apart.”

“What brings someone like you to a place like Ketterdam in the first place? Becoming a gang member surely wasn’t your dream job, was it?”

“The work on the farm wasn’t for me. Da knew it and I knew it too, so he sent me off to study here. Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy to find out that I didn’t continue my studies.”

“So you chose to become a sharpshooter instead?” You nodded towards the shimmering pearl-handled revolvers that he presented openly by now. 

A fleeting memory of his mother passed through his mind; it always did whenever he thought about his guns, cherries, or his Fabrikator abilities. Bittersweet feelings washed over him, and he knew that it would be foolish to tell you about what happened to her. However, what was one more foolish choice at the end of a day during which he had constantly staggered and stumbled?

“Actually, my ma taught me how to shoot when I was a child. She could have shot flies had she wanted to. But she was too kind to even think about harming them.” Jesper plucked at the cuff of his dressing shirt, straightening it out like his mother did when he was still a child. It soothed him; helped him to keep the tears at bay whenever he remembered her. “You should probably thank her for making your assessment of me so much easier. She taught me everything I needed to know about living on the Zemeni frontier and what it means to be…me.”

“She sounds like a lovely lady then,” you gave him a comforting smile, having caught the sadness that laced his voice. 

“She truly was…,” Jesper sighed. “She died when I was seven. She had been…sick, so I guess it was for the better. Even though it doesn’t feel like it at all. My father and I rarely ever speak about her now, but I know that he thinks about her every day. And so do I.”

The unexpected feeling of a warm hand on his leg almost caused him to jump. One of your hands had moved from idly resting in your lap, to laying on his thigh, gently squeezing it as a silent way to assure him that you understood. Every muscle ending jumped into action underneath your fingers, willing to do your bidding and relax from their previous tension. 

“Death never feels like a blessing to the loved ones that are left behind. I’m sure she would have wanted to see you grow up and it’s sad that she couldn’t. I’m just as sure that she would be so proud to see who you have become now.” You slowly retreated your hand from its spot on his thigh, thinking that it might have overstayed its welcome. 

This couldn’t have been further away from the truth. He hated that he relished your affection this much; he didn’t even really know you after all. The Barrel wasn’t soft or gentle, it didn’t come to soothe him when he was upset. It didn’t give, it just took. The touch he had gotten used to was either used for pain or for pleasure, not genuine comfort. It frightened him how much this small gesture meant to him.

“I, uhm, thank you. That does mean a lot.” More than you can probably imagine.

You didn’t say anything, simply giving him a sympathetic look in order to not disturb the quiet understanding between the two of you.

Even though you really wanted him to stay, the ringing of eleven bells told you that it was time for him to leave. You had been talking for close to three hours now, and still, it didn’t feel like it was enough. There were still so many stories to tell and secrets to uncover. However, you couldn’t justify keeping him with you any longer.

When he noticed the way your gaze shot to the wooden grandfather clock in the corner of the room, he straightened his back, realising that this was the end. “I should probably get going,” he rasped, the unwillingness to leave also manifesting through his voice. “I have taken up enough of your time, and I’m sure my boss is already fuming because I didn’t come back on time.”

“Do you want me to show you the way downstairs? It can be a bit of a maze sometimes, so I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t remember all of the twists and turns we took.” 

“Please.” A toothy grin spread across his face as he stood up, offering his hand to pull you to your feet. 

The walk to the door was mainly held in silence, only broken by the occasional creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. It was comfortable, way more comfortable than any second spent alone at the Slat could be. He didn’t want to leave, but Kaz would rip off his head if he delayed his goodbye even longer.

A violent gust of air hit you after opening the door, making both of you shiver. The night was way colder than you had expected, and your flimsy sweater didn’t provide enough warmth to keep your teeth from chattering. Suddenly, you regretted leaving your coat in your flat this morning.

“Are you cold?” Jesper asked, having recovered from his initial reaction to the wind quite well by now. You gave him an overdramatic eye-roll, resisting the urge to slap him - only lightly, of course.

“I didn’t expect the weather to turn this quickly. And I certainly didn’t expect that I would be staying this late,” you retorted, sticking out your tongue at the lanky man next to you.

He laughed at your childish reply to his question, shaking his head and provoking a few of his short defined curls to fall onto his forehead. Before you could say anything else, he shrugged off his jacket, moving towards you to drape it over your shoulder.

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s fine. I’m not cold. These are quite cosy,” he said, patting the thick fabric of his vest. 

“Jesper, I have a ten-minute walk back to my flat, a little cold won’t kill me. Your walk is distinctively longer.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jesper assured, tugging the jacket closer around you to keep you from giving it back to him. “I still owe you after all. You genuinely saved my ass today, and this is the least I can do.”

“I-”

“Shush.” He held up his index finger, letting it hover only a few centimetres away from your face. “Also, this gives me a reason to come and see you again. Only if you want to see me again, of course. If not, you can just pin the jacket to the front door of the Crow Club, I’m sure that after this, I’ll have to watch the door often enough to see it.”

“I’d love to see you again. Albeit, preferably be in less drastic circumstances,” you beamed, tentatively letting your arms slip through the sleeves of his jacket. You weren’t all that cold anymore, but whether that was because of the jacket or the burning heat in your cheeks wasn’t relevant. “I’m here basically every day, so the chances of missing me are very low. Just ask for me at the reception and I’ll come down. There are quite a few places to hide away and talk. And who knows, maybe I’ll even invite you back to my place if I like you enough.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He gave you one last wink before casually strolling off towards the Slat. He turned around once more just to check whether you were still standing there. Sadly, you were already gone, probably scrambling to get home before midnight. 

His heart pounded inside his chest at the mere prospect of seeing you again. You had done something to him that he couldn’t quite explain, and it made him even more restless than he already was. He was really done for, and there was nothing that he could do to slow his descent into the void that was you.

It was well past one bell in the morning when Jesper stumbled into the Slat. He had been so lost in thought that he completely lost his way, ending up somewhere in the Zelver District. He had hoped that the rest of the Crows would be busy doing Saints know what, and that he could just swiftly stalk upstairs unnoticed. But it seemed like he had already exhausted his luck for the day.

“Jesper!” Inej’s voice rang from the living room just as he had tried to sneak past it. Pretending that he didn’t hear her would be futile, so he opted to just face whatever might await him inside.

Nina and Inej were sitting around the small table in the middle of the room, a long-forgotten plate of waffles stood abandoned on top of it. Their previously anxiety-filled faces changed into ones of relief when they saw the sharpshooter enter.

“Thank the Saints,” Nina exclaimed, putting a hand over her heart as if she just lived down a heart attack. “We thought you were kidnapped! Kaz was close to going out there himself to look for you.”

“Be glad we talked him out of that idea,” Inej grumbled. “He was fuming.”

“What took you so long?”

“Dime Lions.” He thought about telling them the truth, they were his friends after all. But if Kaz caught wind of the fact that he somehow managed to not only walk right into a trap but also waste the majority of his time pouring his heart out to a complete stranger, he wouldn’t react amicably to it. “They chased me, so I had to hide and wait it out until they gave up. But hey, I managed to finish the job, just with a little bit of delay.”

“And you also managed to lose your jacket?” 

“The word ‘losing’ is a bit relative, isn’t it?” he replied, a knowing smirk on his lips which left the girls too confused to question his antics any further.

He knew what he was talking about and that was enough.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light @pomagranteseeds @treasureofmy-heart

Jesper Fahey: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @writingmysanity @fall-writes

[fortune-maiden]

Random TGCF Thought of the Day

Extended Shi Family is on my mind again and the family politicking and scheming.

The RoEW ruins entire households so the ten years where SQX grows up peacefully should really only be peaceful from his perspective. I'm picturing the RoEW messing with the Shi family's shipments and products, encouraging the family to take out bad loans and risky business ventures (that it then sabotages), accumulate gambling debts, etc etc

(I haven't decided what I want the Shi family to specialize in in my headcanons but I was thinking either silk, jewels, or salt)

(also have been toying with them being from Xuli)

Meanwhile, how secret is SQX's situation? Who besides the Shi parents & SWD know that SQX was cursed and the little girl being raised is still actually the 2nd Shi son? Does the extended family know both of these things or just the first? Do they blame SQX or the random little girl the family took in?

(Yes. Yes they do.)

(Once the money runs out, maybe they also see this doted on young mistress as a burden)

I really want to write the missing scene where SWD has enough, grabs SQX and leaves, but have the whole thing set from SQX's perspective with her being completely in the dark about what's really happening and so it's just a scene of SWD being pissy and getting into a fight with his relatives that he's then blamed for and refuses to say what started the fight, just that they're leaving and that's that.

(And in a moment of vulnerability and stupidity this is also when SWD decides to tell SQX who she really is and her eight characters because he thinks it's important she know these things. This won't backfire on him ever.)

(It's always bothered me how what we're told about the RoEW by HC, HX & MNQ doesn't really match SQX's experience. SQX's retelling seems to suggest nothing overly horrible ever happened which... is pretty at odds with how vicious this thing is supposed to be. And was to HX and his family. The one line about their parents dying and the household & business falling apart from infighting feels like it was very understated ^^")

(And also SQX's complete lack of stranger danger and knowledge of his true identity but seemingly not why he's raised as a girl. Seriously why.)

[erabundus]

@momijiba &&. said... 📂 📂📂📂 !!!

after  awakening  from  his  coma,  scaramouche  had  to  relearn  how  to  move  independently  of  his  own  will.  he  wasn't  supposed  to  ever  leave  the  machine  again  —  and  the  manner  in  which  he  tore  himself  free  was  effectively  the  worst  possible  way  he  could  have  ever  gone  about  doing  it.  the  tubes  were  attached  to  his  vitals;  he  damaged  much  of  his  internal  mechanisms  to  such  an  extent  he  very  well  could  have  "bled"  to  "death."  (  frankly,  he's  fortunate  that  he  didn't.  )  it  wasn't  only  the  shock  of  detaching  from  the  robot  that  made  him  fall  into  a  coma;  it  was  his  body  putting  all  unnecessary  functions  on  standby  so  it  could  focus  everything  it  had  on  making  what  repairs  he  needed  to  continue  living.

when  he  regained  consciousness,  he  could  barely  move.  everything  was  numb  —  the  most  he  could  really  register  was  unpleasant waves  of pins  and  needles.  (  which  understandably  distressed  him  even  more,  as  someone  who  relies  so  heavily  on  touch.  )  eventually his capacity to feel returned. however, he  had  to  slowly  build  up  the  strength  to  do  literally  anything  —  and  even  when  he  finally  could  pilot  his  own  body,  he  needed  to  figure  out  how  to  walk,  run,  jump,  everything  all  over  again.  he  doesn't  like  to  talk  about  it  because  it's  a  massive  blow  to  his  pride,  but  he  had  to  go  through some fairly strenuous  physical  therapy  to  make  a  complete  recovery. thanks nahida.

there  was  at  least  one  occasion  wherein  a  complete  stranger  thought  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  (  flirtatiously  )  grab  ren  by  the  waist  /  hips without permission  and  his  first  instinct  was  to  punch  them  in  the  face  so  hard  they  swallowed  their  front  teeth.  at  the  time,  all  he  could  really  think  to  do  was  awkwardly  speed  walk  away  —  but  in  hindsight  he  feels  it's  amusingly  well-deserved.

and  speaking  of  ren  being  awkward ...  ren  is  very  awkward!  i  don't  know  if  i'm  able  to  properly  convey  just  how  off-putting  this  man's  vibes  are  in  any  given  social  situation.  it  probably  doesn't  come  through  as  clearly  in  threads  because  those  are  outliers  wherein  he's  forced  to  interact  with  other  people  by  design.  as  a  default,  he  just  perpetually  lurks  on  the  very  outskirts  of  any public  gathering.  (  the  "they  don't  know  [  insert  shitpost  here  ]"  meme  of  someone  standing  in  the  corner  at  a  party,  but  that's  just  ren  24/7.  )  mind,  he  isn't  necessarily  shy;  he  merely  possesses  absolutely  no  desire  whatsoever  to  interact  with  most  people.  if  you  try  to  make  eye  contact  with  him,  smile,  wave  and  so  on,  he  probably  won't  engage.  he  might  stare  at  you  a  little  —  don't  take  it  as  an  invitation  to  strike  up  a  conversation,  because  it  isn't. he's probably calling you names in his head. he's awkward, but he's not the glamorized cutesy kind of awkward. he's the weird guy who occasionally forgets to blink kind of awkward. if he wasn't small and relatively harmless looking, he would probably terrify a lot more people. scara certainly did.

he's  always  been  like  this,  too.  the  kabukimono  is  the  only  one  who  would  actively  put  forth  an  effort  to  interact  with  others  —  but  even  he  was  strange  and  unsettling  in  his  own  way.  scaramouche  and  ren  just  do  it  deliberately.

ren  is  actually  surprisingly  good  at  gambling  —  or  at  least,  what  aspects  of  it  are  skill  based.  luck  is  entirely  up  in  the  air  (  and  often  against  him,  all  things  considered  )  but  reading  other  people,  knowing  when  to  make  a  call,  weighing  probabilities  and  so  on  he  has  an  innate  proclivity  for.  he's  never  touched  genius  invokation,  but  if  you  tried  to  challenge  him  to  a  game  of  something  more  traditional  (  like  poker  )  there's  a  very  good  chance  he  will  destroy  you.

SEND 📂 FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON

[the-iyan]

At the Peak

Hi there, this is a story. It's written by the author known as T. Belfry. Tumblr has completely fucked the formatting so mind the odd indentations and messy paragraph placement. For a full reading see my Instagram @Nimnat Hope you enjoy!

I never wanted to be a PI you see. Back in my youth I’d tell you I was born to be a spaceman. But dreams change over time and boom, before you know it, you're applying for your license at the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services Division of Licensing. I suppose it’s because I was a lonely kid. Didn't much care for the other boys you see, not that they cared much for me either. So, the idea of finding people for a living just scratched that itch at the back of my psyche. That and my brief stint as an anarchist where I stalked and spied on certain members of the Floridian legislative branch who shall for now remain unnamed. Made the job more than fulfilling.

I have a very specific style, see the other dicks have it all backwards. We as people go about our days in a nonchalant slow-motion tango. Twisting and spinning into each other's collective lives before disappearing into the fog of ambiguity once more. My fellow private eyes are out here standing in the middle of the dance floor. To me being in public places means to be a public figure. If everyone is focused on you nobody is worrying about who is focusing on them. I’m no spectacle of course, just more laxed and hedonistic. A frowned upon lifestyle which I can use to my advantage.

It’d be advantageous for anyone thinking of joining my profession to have an established set of ethics and conduct. But treat these ethical guides more as a budget than a limit. Pushing yourself to the very limits when necessary. I recommend sitting down and considering these 5 ethical conundrums to get started.

You have not eaten since the day before. Walking through an empty mall on your lunch break you notice in the fountain there is $6.97 in coins, the exact price of your favorite sandwich from the local deli including tax. You also know that money is collected and donated to an Ornithological Research Scholarship. Do you take the money? Why or why not?

During a normal day’s investigation, a bystander asks you for a light as you wait for the bus. They are wearing the garb and headwear of a local cult. Which you also know to be highly abusive and controlling towards its members. One of their beliefs being that smoking is highly corrosive to the soul. And doing so means three weeks of fasting where most perish. Do you deconvert this stranger before their bus arrives? Do you actively refuse your lighter? Do you light their cigarette? Why or why not?

Your subject goes into a public bathroom. After some time, you get up and follow them into the room. But when you walk through the door you see a massive expanse in front of you. The ceiling has vanished and been replaced with a light grey cloud, the humidity is choking. Around you is a world of tiled half walls and chrome circular drains. Showers are everywhere, some in the same stall as a toilet. After exploring for half the day, you find the stall they are using. Their phone just so happens to have fallen underneath the toilet without the subject's knowledge. Do you reach for their phone? Why or why not?

Two separate clients offer you the same amount of money. But you only have time in your calendar to do one. The first client needs you to tail her soon former business partner, ideally as they gamble with company money. This would be for a week in Vegas travel and room paid for. The second client wants proof his longtime girlfriend, former soon-fiancé, is cheating. This is a bus ride away at a local mall/movie theater. The entire job would take a day tops. How do you tell the second client “no” nicely?

The target you have been paid to follow contacts you through mail. They say they know you were hired and are willing to pay you to falsify your report. Inside the envelope is a check for three times the amount that your client gave you. What do you do?

Have you gotten your answers? Because I’ll need your full attention if I am to start this story and you seem a bit distracted. I don’t want you flipping pages back and forth to read these again, okay?

Now you understand my headspace when I’m at work. These issues and paradoxical ethical traps are littered all over my profession! It brings me no great pain but boy is it a pain in my neck. I’ll give you all an example.

It was Valentine's Day. My target was a 23-year-old man. Infidelity was the accusation, and it was my job to witness it. I was not planning to do this particular one, however. See any other year and I’d be in a park dressed in a wicker hat, Hawaiian shirt, and short shorts. But I was still relatively new, and the job had subsequently broken my previous relationship. The wound was still sore after a year, so the topic of romance was touchy at best. But after a mysterious letter in the mail whose contents shall remain private, I had found my schedule open for another job.

Given the choice, always choose public transportation over private. With a car you must be focused and aware of your driving. Splitting your attention between your target and your wheel. Whereas the bus allows you the freedom to be entirely oblivious to the world around you. A privilege I was not given the liberty to utilize.

“’Scuse me sir, have a light?” He was dressed head to toe like a giant rat. I was being accosted by an absurdly large rodent holding an unlit cigarette in my face. At first, I thought I was tripping something fears, but I soon regained agency.

“It’s out of fluid.” I was lying. I don’t carry lighters.

“That’s alright” he was vaguely French from the sound of it. I didn’t like one bit about him. I had to be cautious with what I said to him.

“Do you ever think about how little we actually know ourselves?” He pulled out a lighter and lit the end of his cigarette.

“I’m sorry are you talking to me?” I turned to engage mostly to understand how he planned to smoke that through a smiling mask the size of my torso.

“Yeah like, how much of who we are has no experiential tie to the individual.”

“I don’t know man. Just waiting for my bus so-”

“Just think, the version of you that people care about, and love has absolutely nothing to do with your own ego. It is total sublimation of who you are. Becoming a haze of personality rather out of the monument to personhood you’ve constructed from what you thought was stone.”

“Okay.” I was uncertain as to why this man felt so comfortable around me. But before I could ask him, he raised the cigarette to the mouth of the mask. He took an audibly deep drag, then smoke seeped through the two big teeth. Just then the bus came.

The route was just long enough for me to go over his schedule. The client found tickets reserving movie seats at 12:30pm Feb 14th inside the subjects' jeans. He claimed to be working on this day. So here was my thinking:

I get to Target at 11, buy a new outfit and trash the one I’ve been seen in. Spend time familiarizing myself with the space. The theater is behind the complex so short walking distance.

Grab lunch at 11:30.

Buy movie ticket by 12, choose a seat sufficiently far enough away as to not be seen, but still close enough to get on camera.

Hide in dumpster to watch incoming vehicles unnoticed at 12:15.

But before I got too carried away my mousey companion poofed back into my life.

“Where do you think we are anyway? And I don’t mean where physically but where are we in here?” leaning over my shoulder his furry hand poked the temple of his rat head.

“What the fuck man? Seriously I don’t care!”

“Suit yourself I guess.” He leaned back in his chair leaving me to my peace. Until two seconds later when I had to get off the bus.

The sky was beautiful. A neon blue with paper white clouds. I find that nice days are scant in Florida, so it’s important to soak them in when they do.

Short lived was my soaking, because it was 11:15 and I was still in the clothes I wore that morning.

I ran through the open doors, shoving the empty carts strewn about the entrance. The entire store was both extremely busy and completely empty. Dense pockets of people scattered between aisles. Enclaves of young adults within thick clouds of elderly. Like lilies on a river, they all flowed with a soft current. Moving from apparel, to snacks, to contraceptives, to drinks. What I didn’t know then was that they all were coming to see the same movie as I was.

Black satin shirt, with long billowy sleeves. Blue bell-bottom jeans with brown faux leather dress boots. I couldn’t find any hats, so aviator shades had to make do. This is building an identity. Part of mt process see, I have to be at least noticed. To be seen as a person that is more distinct, and vastly different. So, if I am seen again my face may seem familiar but my personhood and demeanor will be completely foreign. Plausible deniability is the key.

Now I refuse to operate on an empty stomach. So next was lunch. I am a fan of most fruit and recommend it as a stakeout snack. Not pears of course. Pears are the spawn of Satan. For this particular mission I was going to need watermelon spears. Like pickles but sweet and soft. To drink a 2-quart carton of premade Iced Mocha Coconut Latte, and a Piña colada juice blend courtesy of Koala Lemonade. One to hydrate and one to caffeinate. But when I reached for my bladder popping ingredient I was stopped by a decrepit green hand.

Loose skin draped on bone, its nails were black and long. The arm was hairy when chunks of meat weren’t missing from underneath. At moments it wiggled and writhed from underneath with maggots and roaches. It had this horrific scent of mold and rot.

“Excuse me sonny, just didn’t see you there.” Following the arm, I was face to face with an 8-foot-tall green head. He looked like the child of Green Arrow and Guy Fawkes. His hair was almost blackish green. His pupils were black and teeth, the few he had left, matched.

“You all right bud?” I couldn’t speak. He gave me a weird look then walked away.

At 11:45 I was sitting in the men's room of the mall next to the Target; eating my watermelon and siping my drinks from the bag. The air was sour and lemony, poorly hiding crimes against the nose too horrific to fathom. The walls were a dark carpet collage of colors like the floors of old movie theaters. Lavender trim made the whole experience unenjoyable. I would go so far as to say it was the single reason for my anxiety inside that room. Let’s examine the facts I did and maybe you’ll understand.

Walls are not carpeted. It is a waste of material and quite frankly never looks good. So why of all places are they experimenting with interior design as a form of expression (in which the artist has chosen to experiment with the form of expression itself) in a bathroom?

Furthermore, the entire purpose of a bathroom is paradoxical as is! An often-public place in which you have an absolute expectation of privacy. Decorating any space like that is walking a thin line between sanitized cleanliness and warm hospitality. Did the designers of this particular bathroom simply go insane?

Which may explain the choice of carpeting as well. It was dark and murky, with greens and blues speckled between patches of purple. Such a design would camouflage stains and streaks making them harder to clean. The fabric was dense and soft, allowing it to absorb smells like a blackhole.

“That’s it!” my voice bounced from the hard checkered tile and landed in the soft carpeted wall behind Victor in the stall in front of me.

“I’m sorry?” Victor sounds like a mix between Lonny Price and Patton Oswalt.

“What’s your name stranger?” I had slipped my hand under the stall at this point, shaking it, waiting for his hand to do the same.

“I’m Victor? Can I help you?” He didn’t shake my hand, and in fact slapped it back down.

“Well Victor not really. But I think I solved the bathroom.” Victor must have been really engrossed in his task up there because my hands were able to tie his fancy leather shoes together.

“The bathroom?”

“Exactly Vic! The designers must have snapped when they built this place. It’s the only explanation.”

“What designers?”

“No no no my dear Vicar. See that was my first thought so good instinct. But if you think only of the known facts of the case and you come to a-” I had been slowly shimming up the side of his stall this entire conversation. I dropped in.

“-Stunning conclusion.” Victor yelped like a dog and fumbled to shove bags of weed inside his pockets. He had navy knee high pants and a pink polo shirt.

“Don’t tell my dad!” he dropped a wooden board and joints scattered all around our feet.

“Is that weed?” I held out my hand and he kindly put one of his little bags in my hand. I pocketed it then put my arm around him

“Yes.”

“I’m not mad about your weed Vice, but this bathroom was not a mistake. These were the very decisions that broke them. Consider the walls. What better way to subvert your artistic and functional purpose than spit in the face of the form itself? Even the floor itself is speaking to us!” I shoved Victor’s face on the floor with my own. This gave me good emphasis for my point, while allowing me to reach the joints that rolled under the stall.

“It is?” he yelped again.

“It is both part of and explaining the artist's message. At first look the tile is inherently juxtaposed with its counterpart. However, the two have switched conventional roles. As now the walls are carpeted. Yet! The very existence of this contrast is criticized in the tile itself. The black and white motif may seem to be a story of conflict, but with a deeper appreciation for the choice of medium as a mode of expression, then you see it is one of harmony. The black and the white are in fact equals. As both are needed for the checkered pattern itself”

“Who the fuck are you man!?” I had made him visibly uncomfortable by now.

“I’m a cop man” I was lying. Even as a PI, ACAB.

“Shit!” Victor was one of the cuter, but not one of the smarter men I have encountered in the bathroom.

“I’ll need an ID VD.” I opened the stall door because I was starting to feel cramped. Plus, I wanted to give the guy his space.

“I got one in my wallet hold up” he reached for his wallet and pulled out a driver license. Clearly not a PI. I took a picture of it with my phone.

“Date of birth?” I was just fucking with him at this point.

“November 7th?”

“Was that a question?”

“No.”

“What year?”

“1997.”

“Hmm. Well, this all seems to be in order. Well Victor I’m not mad about the weed. I’ll let it slide this once, but for fucks sake man you’re 25. Find a private place to do that.”

“Hey can I have my license back?” he was slowly catching on so I had to make my escape while it was still sociably acceptable to do so.

“I will be keeping that.” I started to slowly walk backwards towards the door.

“You can’t do that?” He attempted to walk after me but stumbled because someone had tied his shoes together earlier. “Wait what’s your badge number!?”

“You’re not too bright, love ya buddy see you around!” I made  haste through the mall because it was already going to be 12:10 when I get the tickets.

The line wrapped itself around the building, wringing out half-drunk movie goers every hour or so. Two hit movies were released that day. The Rōbŏbitch Diary, and Down the Gullet. The first, a historical romance about the extremely raunchy lives of Aristocrats at the turn of the century. The second an aggressive delve into the explicit and experimental sex lives of two college best friends. Both had graphic and unsimulated sex scenes for different reasons. Both were not technically porn for very different reasons. Both pulled surprisingly different demographics.

               Those who came to see Down the Gullet can be best described as a comfortable crowd of sex positive hipsters and post ironic critics. There were frantic discussions of about the ramifications of seeing sex commodity, genuine praise for the film as a meta commentary of its form. Debates on whether the plot was supposed to contain a meta narrative criticizing the current state of for-profit learning.

               The Rōbŏbitch packs were displays of debauchery, filth, and a blatant disregard for public decency. People had tightened and cut their clothes as close as possible, I witnessed swirls of elderly all kissing and groping one another. Hair was dyed and plucked; underwear was pulled over the pants. Sometimes, going so far as to show diaper. The entire scene was unsettling to say the least.

In all fairness. You had your rogue sexual addict with a DtG shirt or a cinema loving Rōbŏbitch intellectual. These were the exceptions that proved the rule.

I was beyond late. Even if I had gotten to the theater when I attended, I’d be maybe 2 people away from the ass of the line. It was Sisyphean waiting in that line, so I plopped myself on one of the benches out front to think. I was given dirty looks from the line every time I took a swig from my carton of coffee. That was good, it means they were focusing on what I was doing and not who I was.

“I don’t think it was such a big deal honestly.” a shadow ate the sun. The coffee spilled out of my mouth when the body of an elderly woman eight miles tall descend. Her sheer black clothes were covered in a thick black cardigan and cut with a leopard print scarf the size of a highway. When she landed, the bench wailed like Giles Corey. A 60ft wave flowed through her winkled tanned skin.

“I was asked to leave 13 minutes in Ruth! All I said to her was I thought she was doing very well at her job, and you just don’t see that from people her- Hold on I’ve got to put you on hold.” I was making my way up her arm, climbing black crochet like a pirate aboard a ship’s sail.

“Can I help you young man?” She was very unhappy, but thankfully offered me her hand to stand on.

“Sorry mam, I’m supposed to be seeing my girl, but she left me for this guitarist. I don’t want to lose her, but the friendship is really eating away at my-”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh, could you spare a pen? I need to sign my note to her.” This was a lie.

“I’ll see.” She had no intention of actually giving me a pen.

She dropped me and her wallet on the bench when she started to pretend to look through her purse for a pen. I got to work. Her wallet had a snap fastener the size of a beach ball made of what I can only guess was inch thick tungsten steel. After multiple full body presses, and three mysterious bone cracks, I got the sucker open. The ticket read

THEATER

2

Admit 1 Adult:

The Rōbŏbitch Diary

A7

I couldn’t get the clasp to close before she finished humoring my pen request.

“Don’t have any.” she snatched her wallet from next to me, her ticket fluttered to the ground below. She checked her cash, which I could use as a bed sheet, counted then scoffed. So, I didn’t tell her.

Phase two of my new plan relied on the kindness of youth. I needed a way to get at least somewhat close to the front without pissing too many people off. Bribery would have to be the way.

“Sorry to interrupt but I seem to have forgotten my ticket.” I tapped Rio’s shoulder of a young-looking person three people from the ticket booth.

“Hey man I’m sorry to hear that but we were in the middle of a conversation here.” They were understandably annoyed with me.

“Pardon my abruptness, uh what’s your name?” I shook their hand. Looking in their eye I attempted to form a friendly connection with them. I did not notice their severe lack of left eye until then and they could see the shock in my face.

“Yeah, usually I have an eyepatch, but I didn’t want to deal with people like you calling me a pirate.” already off on a bad foot.

I wanted to point out that they were wearing a kilt and light pink crop top and that the eye patch would weirdly make them look less pirate like.  Or acknowledge how they resembled the child of Audrey Hepburn and Bob Dylan, and that if anything the absence of an eye does them a favor because it made them both beautiful and unique. Maybe even coming back around to explain my shock was simply that I was not expecting someone to be missing an eye and not because I found the sight necessarily shocking. But retrospect allows freedom of thought not action.

“Look I’ll give you each a pre-rolled joint in return for just letting me stand in front of you.”

“Fuck off man.” They turned to their friend who looked nervous at the sight of the rolls.

“Rio, we are running low?” their friend pointed to an almost dry vape pen.

“Fine.” Rio took the joints and let me in front.

Phase three was not entirely thought out, things were getting close because I had 10 minutes before the film was about to start and I hadn’t even gotten in the theater.

“Welcome to Globoflicks, my name is Franklin. Down the Gullet Is currently sold out for the evening how else may I help you?” Franklin was a sad man. His eyes were too weak to pull themselves out of their eyelids. His tongue and mouth barely slung out what mumbled words he spoke.

“High ya Franky, I have a slight snafu. I was wondering if, maybe someone, you for instance, can help me?” He needed a show, and I was willing to give him one.

“What can I help you with?”

“Well, I was actually already in there maybe eight minutes ago and I came out for a smoke,” I pointed to Rio and their acquaintance. “and I already threw away my ticket so if you could just let me back in that’d be great.”

“Ticket must be shown at the door, next.” he tried to wave Rio forward but I blocked his path.

“I can prove it! Here I can tell you the exact theater and seat I was at. Even where it was in relation to the screen!” I don’t know if it was the years of minimum wage or my optimistic pursuit that broke him but his eyes suddenly jolted alive and rolled themselves awake.

“Fine what movie are you seeing?” he started typing something in his little computer.

“The Rōbŏbitch Diary for 12.”

“Can I see an ID?”

“You already checked it the first time!?” this was a lie. But if I feigned frustration, it would be more realistic. Minimum wage workers expect shitty behavior. While unfortunate it does come with advantages.

“Listen sir I have highschoolers with fake ID’s and dressing like old folks to get in either of these movies. So, if I’m helping you out, I’m seeing an ID.” I flashed him Victors ID covering the picture with my thumb.

“I’m sorry Mr. Gwin but I have a Margaret V. purchasing that seat.” his little smile filled with nostalgia for my anarcho-communist days.

“I know that’s her over there,” I sheepishly pointed to the bench woman Margaret. Who was at the time yelling over the phone about not receiving a refund for not saving her ticket. Due to her immense stature and strength the entire building shuttered at her words.

“We have a sugar momma, sugar baby thing going on here. And if you could let me watch the rest of the movie while all of, that, blows over you’d be doing me a real solid.”

Franklin let me in the theater. I had to leave Victor’s ID behind as collateral though. If I didn’t come back to pay for my ticket, we agreed he could call the police and send them to the address. I know what you’re thinking and no, don’t worry. I have not gone back to that theater for various reasons.

I wish I could say it was smooth sailing from there. I had to convince the person whose reserved seat I was sitting in, that I was with the DEA tracking a weed supplier (this was before its legalization mind you). And that I was spying on Rio and their friend who just so happened to be three aisles away from me stoned off their asses. But then the target walked in.

She was smiling when I saw her. Must have just finished laughing actually. Holding on to his arm as if it was the only thing keeping her from blowing away. Her hair was brown and fuzzy, like she had fallen from great heights. The theater was darker now, but I could tell, she was wearing her favorite light pink blouse and jean bell-bottoms. As if someone ripped her right out of the 70’s. A strange cruel coincidence because she wore the same thing when my heart was broken a year ago.

I took what pictures I could to prove I had done my job. But I threw in the towel after an hour of kissing broken up intermediately by mall exploration and occasional double entendre.

I was waiting for the bus by 4pm sharp. I wasn’t quite sure why. I told myself I had enough money now to buy myself a car and just give up this entire process. At the time I was still able to seek formal training as a criminal investigator. Thinking of my possible slip into the dark world of police work I pulled out a joint. I bit the end and started patting myself for a lighter.

“’Scuse me sir, have a light?” He was dressed head to toe like a giant rat. I was being greeted by an absurdly large rodent holding a lighter. At first, I thought I was tripping something fears, but I soon regained agency.

“Still out of fluid.” I shrugged; I was lying. I don’t carry lighters.

“That’s alright” he was vaguely French from the sound of it. I didn’t understand a thing about him. He lit the end for me, and we sat quietly for the bus. I didn’t feel alone.

[rorysanderson]

Furniture and shit. Rory can’t help the twitch of his lips upward — that’s certainly one way to put what he does. When the other man talks about how he’s not good for much other than instruments, he takes it as an opportunity to paint his craft as more than just furniture. And shit. “Oh, right, what do you play?” he asks. “I also make those, by the way. Though they’re far more tedious and costly,” he admits. “But some people really like hand-carved guitars. Suppose it makes them feel a bit more, ah, unique,” he shrugs. 

Nodding, he feels a small smile gracing his lips at the mention of what Rory can only assume is his mother, and the fondness that comes with the anecdote. He can always appreciate someone who spoke about their family with the kind of fondness the other man is. “Well, to be fair, that’s mostly what wine racks end up being for, anyway,” he smiles. “Decoration, or showing off. This couple seemed to be going the showing-off route.” He’s ready to thank him again and head out, but the other asks him what got him into this, and it gives him pause. Is it really so interesting that a complete stranger wants to know, or is he just being polite?

Rory sticks to the short answer, to be safe. “Been doing it my whole life,” he shrugs. “My grandfather was a carpenter, and he taught me from a young age. Guess it was a gamble, really,” he admits. “I could’ve ended up hating it. But I didn’t, so,” he waves lamely at the back of the van. “Here we are.”

He moved around the rack, maneuvering and angling until they got the piece inside. "No problem." Dante called back smacking both his hands together as if to signal 'job well done'. It was an action his grandfather unconsciously did whenever he finished something, and his repetition brought warmth into Dante's chest. “Ah, that’s cool. You make furniture and shit then?” he asked curiously, “I’m not really good at anything that doesn’t involve an instrument but I think that’s just an excuse I like to use to not bother with much else.” Dante said, glancing down at his hands before flashing a grin at the other male .  A silent chuckle left him at the question and he promptly shook his head. “I don’t drink much, no.” he said, “My old lady used to like wine, but she wasn’t much of a drinker either. It was always just for company or to say she had some wine stored.” The first time he had asked her about it his grandmother told him since they didn’t have very much it made it easier when they had to attend dinners over at their friend’s houses. Later in life it just became a thing for her to do. Ever since he started making money, Dante ensured to keep the small rack they owned filled with her favorite bottles. “What got you into this?”

[wakatshi]

FEM BRAT READER, PUBLIC SEX, MASTURBATION, AGE GAP, UNPROTECTED SEX, DIRTY TALK, CREAMPIE, DRY HUMPING, COCKWARMING

you’re craving TOJI FUSHIGURO’S attention tonight. you wish he’d do something to you; anything. slide his big hand under your skirt and make you to orgasm on his fingers, grab your ass and squeeze it with his large hands. just once. you’re not asking for too much.

you left the casino’s restroom feeling glorious earlier, lace panties hidden in your purse, you took them off in in hopes he’d take care of your pussy quickly and spare you of his occasional edging. it’d be easier for toji to bury his dick inside you, fuck you faster in the parking lot or play with your soaking wet cunt under the card table before his poker game —with no panties on. he’d be an idiot to think you didn’t have something planned for tonight.

but you didn’t have a plan. not until you picked up the phone, splayed on the bed with your fingers in your panties, a brand new vibrator glued to your other hand, thinking of him, legs shaking, because he never calls you these days! he’s always in the back of your head— you’ve moaned his name with another’s man fingers burried in your pussy, how frustrating. he’s twice your age.. old… but you can’t enough of him. excitement took over you as soon as toji’s voice reached you “be ready in half an hour, i’m picking you up.”

he’s going to fuck you tonight.

the casino’s emptier than usual. how weird. it’s friday and almost 10 PM. you’re waiting for more people to join, the table is completely empty, but so is the rest of the gambling area, with one exception. it’s been less than ten minutes since your arrival. you’ve been here with toji before and it’s the same as ever. it’s a small place, crammed even, a few waiters annoy you with their questions, a bunch of drunk people talk over each other. as for the rest, they’re too busy wasting their money. toji casually invited you to join him for completely unknown reasons. how is he supposed to play poker when your table is empty? whatever, you don’t care. you have a goal and the emptier this casino is, the better for you and your objective.

you keep adjusting yourself in toji’s lap and it doesn’t take him too long to become aware of your game. he can feel it, every single movement, the way your pussy throbs when you’re rubbing against his crotch. you’re such a silly girl, pleasuring yourself on his thighs, dry humping them like you haven’t felt the touch of a man in weeks. are you serious? how shameless of you. you’re in public too. toji knows you won’t admit it and you’re getting on his nerves. he’ll make you finish faster.

“you’re so fucking needy tonight, sweetheart.”

“why’d you even think that?” that’s not going to work. try harder next time.

“don’t play dumb. you know what you’re doing. ‘want me to fuck your little pussy, huh? ‘want me to cum inside of you so you can stop being such a brat?”

“mmmm.. if you insist.. i guess?”

toji scoffs. of course you said that.

you change your position with your back slightly arched, skirt still covering his crotch; gotta let him work on his pants somehow. you let your elbows rest on the table, there’s a deck of cards you find and shuffle with impatience. you don’t even care about this stupid game. why’s it taking this long?

“i’ll make you finish fast, okay? they’ll start showing up in a few minutes. unless.. you wanna to be seen like this by a bunch a strangers.”

you’re making it too easy for him tonight. a skirt and no panties? how classic of you. your cunt is soaking wet too and only from dry humping his thighs. they’re big and comfortable, so perfect for riding. you silly girl. you’ve coated his fingers in your juice— is he the only one who makes you this wet? he’s feeling a sudden wave of faint jealousy taking over him. you’re not even a couple and he doesn’t care.

toji unzips his pants and quickly pulls his fat veiny girth out, he rubs the tip a few times before letting it sink in your warm pussy. balls deep too, they hit your ass nicely every time he stretches your core. big hands guide your body slowly and suddenly, his arms hug your waist. you can’t move too much. nor fast. he does it instead, with discrete movements toji pumps into you, slow but hard thrusts and you fear he’s gonna split you in half with his girthy cock. your pussy makes him lose his mind, toji knew what he was getting into when he dialed you. he wasn’t lying, you feel so good when he doesn’t wear a condom, he can cum freely inside of you, that lewd cunt of yours is gonna be the end of him.

with your eyes on the cards, you pretend you’re not being dicked by a man twice your age in a casino. you’ve been warned, more people will join you in a few minutes. you can’t even moan, they’ll hear you. heavy breaths hit your back, he struggles too. and you bet someone has already noticed what you’re doing, still, you can’t risk it. but that’s the fun of it, right?

“please let me finish.. i wanna finish, toji!” you almost whisper your words, you beg him. he’s in a good mood today, he’ll let you have it.

he spills his thick, warm cum inside of you, just like he told you, he fills you up with his seed to the brim instead of pulling out. your climax hits right after he’s done, you’re gripping that shitty card table, you wish you could moan, properly let out the orgasm that’s been building up. but instead you keep your mouth shut. a few unnoticeable sounds escape your mouth, there’s no way someone heard that, right?

toji pulls out eventually, seconds prior to all these people joining you. but you…. you’re not done. you take the matter in your own hands, literally, grab his dick, moving just enough to let it sink in your pussy again, your skirt still covering his pants. the entire game. will toji be able to focus? that’s none of your business. you will be able to focus? no.

“is she joining, sir?”

“no. she’s not. but she’s staying with me.”

your revenge.

why? because he didn’t call you!

tagging — @yujishima @izu-fi @dabipawz @straw-baby @sukidxrling @weyheyavengers @pinkfilmcamera @annie-franny @z3phyr108 @svgarslut @keiphoria @ssak-i @getosun @lovrcide @sabyss @reinertiddiejuice

btw idk shit abt poker <3 i literally don’t know how it works and i can’t be bothered to learn it 😋 idc anyway +++ this is my first time writing for toji just saying

[persephones-wren]

hii love, love your fics so I just had to request again! Could request a Kaz andd reader where he says something mean to her without meaning it but shes really sad an stattes crying to jesper and he gets angry and tells Kaz to apologise? Angst with a happy ending,please!! Thanks a ton darling💗💗

Forgiveness (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

thank you for requesting again! school has been kicking my ass, so sorry for how long writing this took, but I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: mentions of catcalling, (small) injury, idk?

Genre: angst to fluff

Word Count: 1910

To say you’ve had a shitty day would’ve been an understatement.

Heading to the White Rose to see Nina, you’d been catcalled multiple times. Maybe you were being dramatic, but the comments felt more scathing than usual, and it had gotten under your skin quicker than you thought it would. You didn’t want to use Kaz’s reputation to scare them off, but it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d still be viewed as a possession, just one that didn’t belong to them.

You had snapped at the last stranger who’d given their perverse ideals of you, and that altercation had left you a lovely slash on your arm from defending yourself. You had temporarily wrapped it up on a scarf, but you knew you would probably have to wrap it with gauze on it when you returned.

When you had asked the clerk where Nina was, he said that he’d seen her leave, but she said nothing to him. Which meant the entire journey here was a waste, and that you’d have to head home without her guaranteed cooperation with the plan your boyfriend was creating.

“Kaz, she’s not there. Clerk said she went out, but he didn’t get where. It was a waste of a trip,” you sigh, throwing down your cloak on a random chair.

Kaz sighs, lowering his head as he writes out another part of the plan. “Really, Y/N? You couldn’t go out and look for her? She told us a couple days ago that she was going to start taking trips to the market at this time. You could’ve found her there.”

“I’m sorry?” you scoff quietly, but try to adjust your tone at the icy stare he gives you. You could’ve said that nicer, sure. “I didn’t think to look for her there because I didn’t know that, Kaz. Are you sure she told us that?”

“Yes, she did. Were you not paying attention?”

“I don’t think I was there,” you refute. “I would’ve remembered if she told me.”

“I don’t have time to talk to people who can’t do their jobs,” he mutters. “Just get out and waste time for now. Let me finish what I’m working on and we’ll find her together later.”

“The hell you mean I can’t do my job?” you protest. “I did what you asked. I went to go look for her, and she wasn’t there. I thought your instructions were not to stray from my path, because you wanted me home quickly and safely.”

“If you had any shred of common sense, then you’d know that I’d only say that because I’m supposed to care about you. I’d take information over your safety.”

You still. What?

He’s supposed to care about you? Does that imply he doesn’t? He would take information over your safety.

Does he want to break up?

Stop being dramatic. Kaz doesn’t play implication games with something like that. He’d tell you outright.

But he wouldn’t care for you if he got what he wanted.

“I-um, oh,” you take a shuddery breath. Your chest feels tight and your eyes are going to water. Kaz hates dealing with over-emotional people. He needs people who can keep their cool, people who can think their way out of things. You need to get out of here before he looks up at you. You’re useless, you’re an idiot, no wonder he said you couldn’t do your job properly.

Too late. He looks up at you, frowning at your silence, but you quickly turn away, still trying to hide your face.

You laugh, and even you can tell that it’s not genuine, just an attempt at trying to hide your wavering voice. “I’m fine, Kaz. Uh- yeah, yeah! We’ll go out later and-” your throat catches as you swallow harshly. “We’ll go out and look for Nina later. See you then.” You quickly brush your tears out of the way, opening the door and stepping out.

Your steps echo down the hall, and you try and find your way to your room through the tears that now stream down your face.

I’d take information over your safety.

You still don’t know if he means it. He’s angry, but- Kaz was usually extremely candid when he was upset.

He might’ve meant every word.

You don’t notice Jes in front of you, and as you pass him, he catches your arm.

You wince, his fingers land right on the slash, and he hastily lets go, looking at you with concern. Everyone was usually about as emotional as a rock in the Barrel. What made you cry like that?

“Y/N, you okay? What happened? Why did you flinch from me? Did I do something wrong?”

His face resembles a kicked puppy, and your heart constricts with slight guilt.

“No, no- it’s not your fault, Jes- your fingers landed right on a slash I got, that’s all.”

He looks at his hands, covered in slight blood. You tug at your soaked-through scarf and look at it, and it looks even worse than when you first got it. Your grimace. So much for getting him to worry less about you. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Your words are frantic and stuttered, but you hope he gets the point.

“How did that happen? I thought with Kaz’s reputation, you would be untouchable. Why isn’t he taking care of you?”

You smile sadly. The mention of Kaz tightens your chest again.  “Guy scrapped with me for a little while after catcalling me. I didn’t want to use Kaz to defend myself- me, with him? He’d be even more of a target. And Kaz is a bit upset with me right now. He doesn’t know what happened.”

“Why the hell would he be upset?”

“I didn’t get the information he wanted,” your voice is small and weak. “And he said he’d rather have the information more than my safety.”

“Which is why you’re crying.” Jes’s face has a look of understanding.

“Yes,” you affirm quietly. “Today’s just been a bad day. I’ll be alright, though, really. I know Kaz doesn’t like dealing with weak people, so I thought I wouldn’t bother-”

“You’re not weak.” His voice gains a complete new edge, and his face is determined. You suddenly get a bad feeling. What’s Jes going to suggest you do? “We’re going to go confront him. Right now.”

“Jes, I look like I’ve been crying. I’d at least like to compose myself a bit.”

“No.” He makes sure he’s grabbing your other arm, before leading you back to Kaz’s office. “He needs to know how much he’s fucked up. He’s smart, but really,” Jesper sighs, “He’s an idiot. And you deserve better than that.”

Your heart warms at his words, but you’re still nervous as he leads you down the hall, and you’re definitely panicking when he opens the door without knocking.

Kaz looks up, and a brief look of surprise is in his eyes as he looks at Jesper. Why didn’t Jesper knock? And why would Jes need him, especially at midday? Wouldn’t he be out gambling?

Kaz prepares himself to hear something stupid. He doesn’t notice you standing behind him, and his attention drifts back down to his plan.

“What do you need?”

“Apologize.”

“For?”

“For being a bloody idiot and hurting your girlfriend.”

Hurting you? He looks back up to him, and this time, you’re standing next to Jesper.

“I didn’t-” Kaz starts, but your appearance makes him go silent.

Your expression is blank, but tear streaks clearly stain your face, and you clearly look like you don’t want to be confronting him. Jesper had put you up to this.

Were you too afraid of him to do it yourself?

What did he do for you to look like that?

“You didn’t do anything?” Jesper’s voice is incredulous. “She went to the White Rose to try and find Nina, and then you come home and treat her like she’s useless because she doesn’t get what you want. She’s your girlfriend, not a goon. Have some respect for her, yeah? She followed exactly what you said, to try and get home quickly and safely, and even then, she still gets hurt. Did you even notice the bleeding gash?”

“Jes,” you whisper, “it’s fine, really-”

He doesn’t listen, and grabs at your wrist to lift your arm, pulling down the scarf and revealing the bloody cut. Kaz blinks, concern and guilt briefly flashing on his face before he smooths back his expression.

How didn’t he notice? How did that happen?

“Y’know how she got that? Men were harassing her, and she fought one of them because she didn’t want to use your name as her shield. She was trying to prevent painting an even bigger target on your back. And then you go as far,” Jes laughs angrily, “as to say that she’s not worth more than information for your fucking plan? And through all of that, she leaves you alone because she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience to you. Your girlfriend thinks her emotions are burdening you. Get your fucking head out of your ass. Either you apologize to her, or she’s breaking up with you.”

You and Kaz are both left standing still, both watching as Jesper stalks back toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.

The sound echoes through the silent room.

You don’t know what to say. Part of you feels vindicated, Jesper did the hard part for you, but part of you feels guilty- Jesper also made it a lot bigger than it could’ve been.

You let the guilt win out.

“I’m sorry, Jes’s wording was a bit harsh, I’ll take my leave, it’s really not that big-”

“Stay,” Kaz interrupts. “Please.”

You sit down on the chair next to his, and he turns to you, pulling out gauze and alcohol wipes.

“I can do it myself,” you say hurriedly. “I know-”

“You’re not a burden to me.” He avoids your gaze, he doesn’t want to see your reaction, in case he really would lose you after this. “Let me help you.”

“Okay.”

You hiss through your teeth as he cleans the gash, a small “sorry” escaping him as he continues. There’s still a silence hanging between both of you. He wraps it carefully, looking up at you when he’s done.

“Not too tight?”

“No,” you answer quietly. “Thank you, Kaz.”

There’s another silence between you.

“I care about you,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t trade your safety for anything.”

You know it’s his way of saying sorry.

“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all.”

“It’s not,” he argues. “If you ever need to defend yourself, use my name if it’ll get them to stop. I don’t care if it paints whatever sized target on my back.” You open your mouth to interject, but he continues. “I’m already a wanted criminal in Ketterdam. However much you increase the target by doesn’t matter, so long as you come home alright.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I will.”

“I love you, darling.”

Your eyes widen at his words. He doesn’t say it often, he knows that you already know that.

Jesper must’ve really shaken him.

“I love you too,” you reply softly. “Thank you.”

It’s his turn to look surprised. “For?”

“For caring,” you respond. “For being you. For loving me.”

A faint smile etches on his lips. “I always will.”

[blackberry-gingham]

Jealousy, Jealousy | Wolverine x Fem!Reader

<… Prev | Chpt 5

After a crazy night of misfortune, you and Logan just start to bond in the morning

tag list: @samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @mickeyperkins @the-goon-tm @tolovaj (Wolverine tag list open to additions or reductions, whichever you prefer lol)

tags: slow burn, still on my bullshit with dad bod stuff, except THIS TIME we have a confident big guy, well “big” in as much as wolverine can be described as such, emotional hurt/comfort

You don't say much more that night. Logan falls asleep for good pretty quick and meanwhile, you find a place to get comfortable there in the living room.

This place isn't much bigger than the one you left behind, but you can't say you feel comfortable to go hunting around the rooms for a bed to steal. However... The floor isn't a very welcoming alternative. Bastard could've at least offered you somewhere first.

No matter, you suppose.

You slink out to grab a pillow and blanket of your own and... Maybe some entertainment in case you can't sleep. With what little you have, you make a comfortable arrangement on the floor and lay down the case of just one of your many instruments safely along the wall.

Once you're settled, you stare at the ceiling for a long while.

Thoughts and questions come over you. So many questions... You think they must all be running together, like a great tidal wave or one, massive chain of explosives. They fight for your attention, meaning not a single one achieves victory. Your job, your ex house, where you're going...

More drained than anything else, your eyelids drag themselves closed. So much has happened in such a short amount of time... Now here you are, falling asleep in the house of a complete stranger. An asshole one, at that.

If the exhaustion wasn't leaving you so numb, then perhaps you could dedicate some energy to leaving. Leaving here. Leaving town. Hell, maybe even leaving for back home.

God.... What a mess.

Even with Logan's persistent snoring, nothing stops you from going under. Nothing... Aside from the faint glow of morning. You swear, all you did was blink, but the stiffness in your back thanks to the hardwood floor tells you otherwise.

Your little patient is exactly where you left him, sound asleep on the couch with seemingly no intentions of getting up. To be honest, you don't feel much like getting up either. A quick sleep like that leaves you feeling hardly any better than the night before.

And yet... There's plenty to do, just as there always is. The least you can do is sit up.

Stretch. Stretch. Pop.

There, at least your back feels a bit better.

Soft sunlight streams in, returning an ever so slight warmth to your skin. Your head feels overwhelmingly full, and entirely empty all at once. The thoughts from last night return to you once more. What are you going to do?

Where do you go from here?

All the same helpless, hopeless thoughts from before... And yet no rejuvenation from sleep to help see you through them. It's been a long time since you've felt like this... Not since you fought tooth and nail just to pack up your life and make it out here.

What a fool you were. Look where all that got you... All that struggle. All the stress. All that money.

Wasted.

Wasted so that you could have your good name ruined with your landlord.

Wasted so that you could take a gamble and lose, putting your dream on the sideline to serve piss poor beer all night, every night in a dingy little dive.

Wasted so that you, at the lowest of lows, would wind up crashing on the floor in the house of the very man who ruined things for you.

And you don't even have the energy to care. He's right there you know. There's nothing stopping you from doing whatever it would take to get your anger out. To let him know what you think of him. How you feel.

You go so far as to stretch out a hand. He's so... close. You lean over furhter, further, further... Your hand knows not what it'll do but then-

Then. You lose your nerve.

With a sigh, you lightly drop it harmlessly onto his head. Your fingers crinkle at contact, met with such an unusual texture... The strands are not quite soft, as you might expect. Rather, they're quite thick and bristly to the touch, like the fur of a feral animal.

Strange indeed, although... You suppose that would explain how a man like this can manage a hairstyle quite like that each day. All without the use of gel or product, too. It's natural for him.

Interesting... The very corner of your mouth quirks up, and oh so carefully, you run your palm along his scalp. It's a bit softer after you've petted it down a few times. More like a little dog's now, although that thought could be more attributed to little wriggle he does in response to your touch.

Must be the tiredness, but... You almost get it in your head to see what other shapes you can form the strands into.

You go so far as to twist one, deep brown strand around and a round your finger. It leaves behind a perfect little curl. Amused, you think perhaps one more, only... There's that exhaustion, hitting you again.

Like all the negative thoughts you were previously thinking came crashing down on your head. Like all the pain and anxiety of the last few days collectivly came to knock the wind out of you.

Like... Your brain simply decided to just stop enjoying things.

Why bother. You remove yourself from his vicinity and inch back over to your spot on the floor. After all, it's not like any of that will make you less tired.

So for now, you watch the sunrise. The little golden beams as they flit through the glass. Everything is silent. Everything still.

All it takes is the dull, crash behind you to get you just a little started. You whip your head around to investigate.

Sounds like someone dropped a rock.

Logan groans tiredly, face mashed into the floor while at least one leg remains stuck atop the couch cushions.

Can't be good for his concussion, but... You'll deal with it later. For now, you turn back to your empty head and the hypnotic light.

Logan rolls onto his back, forcing the rest of his body to join him on the ground. He rubs his forehead and props himself up. Once, then several more times he blinks. The ambient light seems... Normal, now.

He slowly sits up, wrenching his eyes shut reactively as the morning sunlight hits him. It's warm and bright... But not as painful as he was expecting.

His beady eyes squint open, almost too narrow to catch sight of the lone figure seated just a few feet away. Almost.

He jumps, immediately assuming danger. His heartbeat pounds so loud, he can feel it. His eyes shoot open. And, if he were only a little less careful... He nearly would've unsheathed his claws too.

It's not too often anyone gets the drop on ole Wolverine... But he's gotta admit, he's almost impressed that you've managed to do it twice.

Logan rubs his forehead tiredly, "You're still here?", he asks gruffly.

At any other time, you might snap back.

But not this morning. Not after the time you've had. All that you've been through... The twists and turns and sucker punches life has caught you with...

You're tired of fighting.

You glance at him just a moment, from the corner of your eye and nothing more.

As you turn back to watch the sunrise, Logan notices. He notices that you don't say anything. That you hardly even give him the time of day. Maybe that's not a big deal on the surface. After all, you've done it before.

But then... This time is different.

This time lacks the... Well, spirit of before.

"Sorry, I uh didn't mean it like that", he drags himself across the floor, still tired and a little dizzy from his recovery and just waking up, "Was just surprised is all"

With a sigh, he drops down to the ground beside you. His arms are crossed beneath his forehead, holding it up just enough to keep his face from touching the ground.

You don't believe that. But you don't care enough to reply either.

The two of you sit in silence for a long while. Logan finds he's feeling better by the minute. You however, feel very much the same.

He peeks up at you quickly. Once. Twice. Then a little longer the third time.

No reaction.

If anything, you seem closer to going back to sleep now than ever before.

Logan stretches his arms all the way out in front of him and gives a long groan. His hips arch up just a touch, and for a moment, you think he looks very much like a big dog. The moment is short lived however, as he flops over to his side just after.

The front of his body faces you. His head does too, propped up against the heel of his palm with an air of enticement. He stares at you in silence. Quiet. Watching. And all far more awkwardly then he's used to.

He's been around women plenty of times. Near, around, inside... But this experience now has him starting to find the beginnings of a question for which he has no answer.

How the hell are you supposed to be with them?

This silence. This lack of engagement or interaction. What does he do? What does he say? He hasn't been this close, this alone, with a woman that he wasn't actively trying to bed in...

Well. He doesn't even know.

His eyes dart from left to right and back to you again, "So, do you wanna-"

He cuts himself off. A new smell has tinged the air. He crinkles his nose and knits his eyebrows, trying to be sure it is what he thinks.

A slow, glistening stream glides down your cheek. Your eyes are fixed ahead, looking forward and somewhere far, far from here.

It is.

In an instant, he scrambles to sit up, "Oh come on, don't... Do that"

You close your eyes to block him out. The tears only come quietly and a little quicker this way.

Any type of better mood he was working on is shot. He looks at you and an intense urge to get away washes over him. This isn't his problem. Hell, he doesn't even know what to do. Why should he stay for this?

Besides, makes him feel like shit...

Then... A new thought hits him.

Maybe that's because it should.

You wouldn't be anywhere near this situation right now if it weren't for him. It's clear you don't have or know anyone around here. A stranger in a strange land, just trying to make a new life for yourself.

That sounds like someone he knows...

Is this what he is now?

Crazy? Angry? Paranoid? And now running around making pretty girls cry. He huffs a sigh and hauls himself up.

You don't turn to look, but you do watch him go. It hurts a little, although you know it shouldn't. He doesn't owe you anything. He doesn't even know who you are. But still... You wouldn't mind seeing him take a little responsibility.

Hardly a minute later, a light, hollow thunk clatters beside you. Logan sits back down with you. He scratches the back of his wild hair and nudges the tissues closer to you, "Here, I uh... Brought you these"

You look from him to the offering and back again, "Thanks...". Cautiously, you take one while he holds the box in place.

"Sure"

"And... Thanks. For last night", you clear your nose and swipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, "I appreciate the help"

"Sure. Couldn't let em hurt ya", he pauses, then gives a short huff of laughter, "Wouldn't want you to think everyone here is an asshole... Maybe just-", suddenly the laughter dies from his voice, "me"

Any reaction you would've given to that is cut off by the sudden crack and hiss of his beer. He shakes his head and anxiously takes a sip.

You check the time, "Already? It's not even 10"

"It's for the taste", he takes another sip, then sighs deeply, "I can't get drunk anyway"

You make a face, but he answers your question before you can pose it, "It's the healing... thing... Or so I'm told"

"Ah", you nod with understanding and go back to collecting yourself.

"And, look... I'm uh... I'm sorry, alright? For.... Well, for everything I guess", he ends the confident statement with a surprisingly shy finish. You almost don't feel the need to push back. It's clear to you that he sees "sorry" alone could never truly cover everything he's done, so...

"Forget about it", you sniff and straighten up, "It's over now"

Logan looks at you silently, but turns away and nods, although he can't say he believes you mean that. It's quite the answer he was looking for, but... It's admittedly far better then the one he deserves.

"Want some?", he offers you the beer can.

"No, thanks", you sniff one more time, just to make sure you're all clear, "Could go for some food though"'

Just at the mention, Logan grows a visibly more excited, "Oh, that I have!", he gets up, then pauses mid motion, "Uh, do you... like toast?"

No need to play coy, you already know that's about all he has, "That's fine"

Hell, you even manage a smile.

[potter-imagines]

Best-friends to Lovers (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: can we get like... a lil fred weasley, you guys are good friends and you don’t usually go back for the holidays, and Fred invites you back to the Burrow to spend the break there and y’all like totally fall for each other 🥺

Warning: None (I switched it up just a tiny bit to where they’ve already developed some feelings but they finally admit them sooo hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 4.5k

It was a flurry and cold winter night, the kind of night when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. You despised the freezing temperature, but Fred was far too convincing and a midnight walk with him was something you couldn’t find the words to turn down.

For the first time in the five years you had spent at Hogwarts, and the five years you had been best friends, you had finally accepted the twins offer on spending Christmas at the Burrow with their family. It was a turn of events in your typical holiday plans which were mostly spent alone at the castle. Your first two years at school you had traveled home for Christmas. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t exactly a ‘jolly’ time either. Family time came few and far between. The sparse time you did spend around your family had grown… awkward. Being the only witch in your family didn’t help much either. As the years dragged on, you felt like a stranger in your own home. Your parents spent their entire year with your younger brother, so he had undoubtedly grown to be the favorite and the prized child. They still loved you of course, it just felt forced to engage with them at times.

So it came as a pleasant surprise when you walked into the Weasley’s home and were engulfed in a warmth you had never known. Molly Weasley was the first to greet you, popping out from the staircase with a shimmering grin. Before you could register what was happening, she pulled you into a bone crunching grip rambling on about how good it was to meet you. Arthur hugged you as well and teased about how much the twins would talk about you, especially Fred. Fred would turn bashful but he didn’t deny it.

Ginny showed you around the house, beating Fred and George to the chance. Molly set up a mattress on the floor next to the youngest Weasley’s bed, something Ginny was over the moon thrilled about. She had been longing for a sleepover with you for years now. Ever since her first term, she followed you around like a little puppy. So your first night at the home, Ginny coerced you into a slumber party immediately.

The twins, mainly Fred, weren’t too happy at this. They were the ones who invited you yet their little sister was stealing all your time. Fred was bitter when you hurried off from dinner to go join Ginny upstairs, not even bidding him a farewell.

George insisted his twin was being dramatic- they had an entire month for Merlin's sake! The feelings his brother developed for you, their best friend, was clear as crystals to George. They both shared a crush on you for the first year at Hogwarts but George’s feelings quickly shifted to a friendship, sister love. Fred on the other hand, well his crush only evolved further. George noticed it the second Fred started combing his hair before dinner and always placing himself the closest towards you. It was a topic they danced around for quite some time. He teased his twin for years until the idea came to him that Fred still felt this way towards you even after years. George had devoted his previous two summers to breaking Fred into admission. All he wanted was to hear his twin confirm his suspicions. Not that he needed that really, other people were beginning to notice as well.

One of them being your temporary roommate. Ginny was a top notch observer. During her second year, she started to catch on to the elephant that followed you and Fred into every room.

That first night, Ginny shed light on her theory by offhandedly making a rather large claim late that first night. While the two of you were chatting softly in the dark, the young girl declared out of the blue,

“I think my brother is in love with you.”

In an instant, your whole body froze over like water on a lake. You were thankful for the dark, it kept Ginny from seeing your wide eyed stare of shock.

“What?”

It was now you could see her small frame adjusting in her bed. Even with the lack of light, you saw her sitting up on her bed, propping her weight on one elbow. It could be assumed she had a devilish smile as she probed on.

“Fred… pretty sure he’s in love with you.”

“Why, what makes you think that, Ginny?”

“Quite a laundry list of things, actually. First, he never shuts up about you. Second, he’s always trying to be around you. Third, he’s always staring at you… bit creepy. Fourth, he’s told our nanna about you! Lastly, and most obvious, I heard him telling George right before school started.”

Laying back down, you fixed your eyes on the ceiling taking in her words. Does your best friend really share the same feelings for you? It was too good to be true, it couldn’t be true, you thought. This kinda stuff only happened in the movies and your life definitely was not a film gracing the silver screen. The butterflies went rampant in your stomach, fluttering about wildly. For a moment, you had forgotten Ginny was there, or that you were in her room, until she spoke again.

“So, what do you think of him?” She asked innocently. Tugging the fluffy blue blanket closer to your chest you replied,

“Pardon?”

Ginny wasted no time and reached over to flicker the light switch on her bedside lamp. A bright light broke through the pitch black darkness of the bedroom. You groaned at the act but Ginny spoke over your sounds of protest.

“Are you in love with Fred?”

Running your hand over your face, you let out a sigh. It was getting too late to be thinking about such heavy topics. You had a great friendship with Ginny, you really did, but if you couldn’t even deal with these emotions on your own, you really didn’t want to throw your thoughts on her.

Turning over on the mattress, you rolled your eyes.

“Ginny, I’m not even dating Fred.”

“But you want to.” She confirmed stubbornly.

“I mean… I-I don’t know, Ginny. Can we talk about something else, please?” You wanted to hide under a blanket and avoid the question for all of eternity. She had caught you off guard and although the feelings you felt towards Fred were strong, it wasn’t something you felt ready to face yet. It wasn’t easy being in love with your best friend- there was so much risk, so much to lose if things went south. You settled on keeping Fred as a friend rather than gamble the option of rejection and a change in your relationship forever.

Ginny perked her brow, opened her mouth as if ready to rebuttal, then deciding against it. The corner of her tip twitched to a smirk as she replied,

“Hmm, okay.”

The topic was dropped for the rest of the night as Ginny went to bed shortly after, but it wasn’t completely over. From then on, you began noticing the constant little redhead attached to your coattails. You noticed each time Fred shooed his sister off and demanded she find something better to do. He was edging closer and closer to his point of eruption. This break was supposed to be time for him to spend alone with you and finally confess his feelings. Not Ginny being your shadow and George tagging along for every outing.

Now on your walk almost a week later, your mind hadn’t stopped wandering to that conversation. Ginny hadn’t brought it up again, at least not vocally. During breakfast the next morning after your talk while you're placed between Fred and George joking around with them, she’ll send you knowing looks, giggling to herself. Harry started to pick up on this as well and you noticed Ginny whispering to him afterwards. It didn’t help that Fred would take any opportunity he could to make you laugh and be in your presence.

Last night you found yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and Fred. A steaming mug of hot cocoa was clutched in everyone’s hand. After about an hour of talking softly and sharing stories, Ginny, Ron and Harry decided to call it a night and trudged up the stairs together. You waved to them as they disappeared up the wooden steps, the sound off their feet turning quieter with every second.

As the three of you sat closely, it felt like you were back at Hogwarts in the common room. George was gushing about a Muggle film you had shown him earlier in the day and Fred was silently listening in, a small smile kissing his lips. You were sat at Fred’s side, your backs against the couch and his arm thrown casually around your shoulder. George was laid on the smaller couch across from the two of you, rambling on to himself. As his talking continued, Fred slowly worked to move your body closer to his and nearly in his lap. He did it so naturally you almost failed to notice. The loud, booming tone of George simmer out within minutes. His voice seemed to sooth him into a slumber as his harsh snores suddenly cut through the air, having talked himself to sleep. This caused the both of you to start laughing. Fred’s arm gripped you tighter as his body shook with chuckles. The sensation sent an odd shiver down your spine. It felt… nice, really really nice to be in his arms.

Fred wondered if now was the time. It was the first chance he had gotten alone with you for almost a week, so there was a good probability he wouldn’t get another for a while. He needed to make a move, something at least! Fred hated not having the bravery like the Gryffindor he was to fess up and spit out the words to describe how he felt about you. Closing his eyes, Fred took a deep breath then peeked his gaze open once more. The nerves had calmed and for the first time, he felt ready and he knew he had to act on it. But as he looked down at you, all the confidence had vanished with one glance. His throat dried as your eyes met and a faint precipitation budded in his palms. All the words he had been rehearsing for a year now simply slipped out the back door.

You took note of the ghost white paleness that took over and immediately sat up, removing yourself from his arms to ask,

“You alright, Freddie?” The concern dripped from your words as you examined the face of your best friend. His eyes were lowered, glued to the flickering flames of the crackling fire.

“Of course, love. I’m sorry, was just thinking.”

“Aw, Freddie, we talked about this. You know thinking is no good for you- you’re brain can’t handle it, darling!” Fred’s heart leaped at the adorning pet name. Only recently had you started calling him more loving names, and it drove him absolutely mad. No girl could ever get his heart racing with just one word like you could. He loved hearing such names coming from your mouth, and directed to him. There was only one name he would die to call you and that was his.

“Can I take you for a walk, love?” The request came abruptly, completely out of the blue. Your eyes widen at his question. Any other time you’d say yes without a second thought. Although, it was late and the land was not a territory you were familiar with like Hogwarts.

Your eyes fell on the window behind the couch. Large white snowflakes swirled from the sky and coated the grounds. The heavy black winter jacket you packed was hung up neatly by the door, not having been touched for at least a day.

Turning your attention back to Fred, you realized his eyes were already trained on your face. At your glance, a hopefully smile reached his cheeks.

“It’s nearly midnight I… actually, why not? Sure. But if we run into any wolves, I’m sacrificing you to them, Weasley.” He laughed at your response and quickly jumped up. You set your hands to your side, readying yourself to stand when suddenly, Fred’s large hands attached to your sides and lifted you up to your feet. You stumbled trying to gain balance but once again, Fred was right there to help you.

Unexpectedly, his left hand extended out and intertwined his fingers in yours. Just as you had predicted, his touch was warm, addicting in a way. It set off a pool of security and protection. Instead of fearing what may lie in the open land outside his house, you trusted Fred.

The tall boy walked you towards the door and pulled your long coat from the hook then threw it around your body. You slipped your arms into the fuzzy material as he yanked his heavy jacket on. Watching the never ending snowfall outside, you worked your hands into the black mittens you had stored in the coat pockets. You hoped it wasn’t as bone chilling outside as it looked.

“Here, I think you might need this, love. You can use my scarf too if you’d like. Don’t want you freezing to death, that’d be hard to explain to George and the rest of our friends.” Fred placed an extra winter hat of his on top of your head. Heat slapped your cheeks at his movements. Fred was commonly sweet towards you but lately, he had been extra sweet. Small gestures here and there were adding up and raising a bit of questions in your mind.

You knocked Fred jokingly on the shoulder and remarked,

“Reckon they’ll send you to Azkaban for that one. I’m a saint, everyone loves me, Fred.” You teased him playfully before accepting his offer with a thank you. Instead of handing you the maroon and gold striped scarf, Fred leaned forward and wrapped it snug around your neck. Once finished, his fingertip tapped against the tip of your nose, grinning to himself.

“You’re not wrong about that. We should get going though. The killer trolls will rise from the ground soon!”

“Knock it off!” You scolded him in a hushed tone, careful not to wake his sleeping family as you chased out of the house after him. Running down the steps, you saw Fred waiting near the car for you. There was an open path behind the car, a makeshift road but the kids used it for a walking guide.

He motioned you over waving exaggeratedly.

“C’mon, darling! You’re taking forever.” Fred moaned on dramatically as he waited for you to catch up to him.  

“It’s freezing out here, be patient.” You waddled over to his side and stood close to his frame, egar for warmth. Fred took in your shaking body and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you towards his side.

Snowflakes landed on your eyelashes, conflicting your view. Despite the coldness of the winter air, the landscape was beautiful. There were miles and miles of open plains on all ends of the Burrow. In a way, they were isolated, but the atmosphere was live with activity. It was impossible to be bored when the Weasley siblings were around. There was so much to do, in an exploring sense. You had never felt so free, so open before. It was refreshing to spend time at Weasley's home. As the two of you walked together in the crunchy snow, Fred pointed to a large field, a makeshift pitch if you had to guess.

“Charlie and Bill taught George and I how to play Quidditch over there the summer after our first year. Percy hated playing with us! We’d all gang up on him- even if he was on our team- and try to knock him off his broom. I don’t think he’s played with us since! You would’ve died of laughter seeing how angry he got.” You watched as Fred’s features scrunched in laughed at the memory. His contagious chuckles infected you as you laughed along. It was a recollection you could imagine perfectly, even if you weren’t there. Percy was an easy target but he had done it to himself so there wasn’t much room for blame.

Shrugging your shoulders you said,

“I would say poor Percy but he turned me in for being out past curfew so, I’m proud of you, Fred.”

“Sounds like him, just try being related to him. He runs to our parents for everything! Every. Little. Thing. It’s infuriating.” Your cheeks began to sting from smiling so much, but when you were around Fred, it was a given. He had an affect on you that no one else seemed to earn. Even when you were on the brim of tears, Fred always found a way to bring a grin to your face.

But still, you thought about Ginny’s words and the change in Fred throughout your years as friends. Nights were lost tossing and turning over the thought of that prankster redhead who had occupied all your notions.

Lifting your hand up slightly, you grabbed for Fred’s gloved hand. He gladly accepted your gesture and squeezed on your hand as you continued to walk further from the home. Fred’s attention soon dropped as his consciousness drifted once again. Pursing your lips you drew him out.

“Freddie, what’s on your mind? You’ve been different since we got here. I mean, it’s not a bad different. It’s just… something is different with you and you’re my best friend so I wanna know.”

Fred’s eyes snapped up at your concerning voice and the startled expression met yours. This was definitely not a common act for Fred. Your mind raced at the possibility of what it could be but luckily, Fred didn’t make you wait long for an answer.

His pace slowed, but his feet still dragged in the powdered flakes holding your hand. You wanted to hear him speak so bad although you respected the time he needed and waited in silence as you continued to walk. It didn’t take long for Fred to shatter the thin air,

“Can I ask you a serious question? Like one that could change everything.”

“You can ask me anything, Fred. You know this. It won’t change a thing.” You replied seriously. Fred could hear the truthfulness in your words and it calmed him, only a little though. The looming fear, and reality, of rejection was becoming all too real. Even worse than rejection, Fred had a feeling if he didn’t take his chance now, he might never have the opportunity again.

“Do you see me only as a best friend?” The nervousness in his voice broke the peace of the air. Your feet halted at the cavalier inquest. Fred had asked quite the offhand questions before but this, this was new. Mentally attempting to connect the pieces, you tilted your head in confusion.

“Freddie…” The mummer was faint, almost failing to register from your lips. The Burrow was still in near distance and the moonlight provided enough light to search Fred’s face. You weren’t sure what to make of the inquiry exactly, but your heart race excelled in anticipation.

Fred Weasley shifted in the crystalline snow. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets and his legs bounced in his stance. You knew him well enough to see the contemplation written across his features.

“Y/n I really really like you. I promise this isn’t a joke or some prank. If you don’t feel the same I can find a way to accept it but I don’t wanna lose you in my life. I just can’t hold it in anymore. It’s been five years of tortue now and… I just needed to get it out, love. I think I might be falling in love with you- if I haven’t already.” As Fred poured his heart out openly, the dripping snowfall ceased all together. It was magically in a sense. The loud slush was now quiet, almost like drizzling rain. His gingerbread eyes were studied upon you, waiting for any sort of reaction to surface. You just gazed up at him scavenging for the perfect words to spill your emotions.

“You’ve liked me for five years?” You asked, stunned. That was impossible. All this time you had spent crushing on Fred and admiring him, stuck in the friendzone, you could’ve just talked to him and been honest. Fred’s eyes darted back to his house then to you anxiously.

“Yeah. I’ve just been too scared to tell you. I don’t want it to ruin our friendship, that’s the last thing I could take.”

Your heart dropped at his words. It was funny in a way, he had the same fears as you. In the same way, you felt guilty for putting him through the same torture you had been going through the last few years as well.

With a surge of confidence, you snapped your head up to Fred and quickly remarked,

“Will it ruin our friendship if I think I’m in love with you too?”

The stillness in the air was unreadable at first. Your gazes trained intently on each other. The uplift gleamed in Fred when he took in your words. All his fears went away like the swish of a wand.

Half out of adrenaline, the other half out of want for years of desire, Fred took one step forward and closed the small gap of space between the two of you by pressing his lips tightly against yours. His hands rested on your face, and the small of your back to keep you steady. This you were thankful for this as his quick actions took you by shock nearly knocking you off your feet.

Your left hand drew up to his hair, finding a tight grip in his shoulder length locks, something you’d been dreaming about doing. The kiss intensified as you indulged in the lock and pressed closer to Fred. Your mouths moved together as if snogging was naturally with you two.

Your lungs demanded air after a few minutes and you slowly pulled away from Fred’s lips and leaned away to regain your composure. You could hear Fred panting at your side, also processing what just took place. Your hands never left each other’s and he suddenly squeezed yours to earn your attention. A genuine look crosses Fred’s face as he whispered into the cold air,

“Can I ask you to be my girlfriend now or do you want me to woo you over on a date first?” His sweet words nearly melted your heart. As easy as you were to please when it came to Fred, this heartwarming exchange felt like the perfect night to declare as a first outing.

“I think I’ll count this as our first date, it was quite romantic.”

Fred rolled his eyes with a smirk. It made him happy that you weren’t demanding or the snotty type. He loved that the small things made you glow with happiness. Even with this, he was still mentally planning a date to take you on before break ended. Although you still had yet to answer his big question.

“So does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You had to swallow back a laugh as you realized you never officially answered Fred. Despite your kiss, he still looked worried you’d turn him away. Shaking your head with a smile you replied,

“Yes, I won’t make you beg anymore.”

Fred wasted no time snatching you by the waste and giving you a small twirl around the snow. A yelp sounded from your lips and you hoped it wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone sleeping at the Burrow. Fred chuckled at your protests and placed you down delicately. Placing his hands on either side of your face, the joyful Gryffindor snogged you lightly, but his passion still seeped through.

“Merlin’s beard, can’t believe it took my stupid arse five years to ask you out. I could’ve been kissing you years ago!”

“Guess we were both missing out. Feel dim for thinking I was going to ruin everything between us if I told you how I felt. But I’m so happy, Freddie.”

“Here, darling,” His gloved hand jerk back to the house, “We oughta head back, now. Mum will kill me if she finds out we were out this late! She thinks you’re an angel so you’ll be fine but I’ll be six feet under by dawn. I can’t wait for morning, though. I can finally brag to everyone that you’re mine, love.” His lips pressed against yours again, desperate to relive the spark and it did not disappoint. Kissing Fred felt natural, like you melted into the embrace. Your lips molded in sync, matching up like magnets. His tongue drew a line across your bottom lips as he kissed you deeper.

Coming back to earth you detached from Fred with a light ‘smack’ noise. Neither of you could wipe the childlike grins off your faces. His plump cheeks turned crimson in the night. Unable to shake off the excitement of the night’s events, you leaned into Fred’s body, giving him a tight hug. He returned the embrace instantly and left a long kiss to the top of your head.

Leaning away, you planted one last kiss to Fred’s cheek then held his hand as you two walked towards his home. The light at the top of the Burrow, assumingly Fred and George's room was turned on. Brightness shone from the window and you pointed up at the sight. The house was only feet away and you started to wonder what George would think of the news.

It could be assumed he wouldn’t be shocked. George spent the last year making comments to you here and there, prying in on you and Fred. Ginny of course wouldn’t be too blown away either, but what about Ron and Harry?

Fred already knew what their reactions would be. He knew without a doubt all of your friends would be thrilled, but no one would be too taken aback by your new relationship. It seemed the only two students who were oblivious to your shared feelings, were Fred and yourself.

“You think they’ll be surprised to hear we’re dating?” You wondered out loud. Fred swung your hand in a back and forth motion as you approached the front porch of the house. Your question obtained a chuckle from Fred as he shook his head,

“Not one bit, love.”

[bluejayblueskies]

How about an AU where Jon and Gerry have been dating since Uni and have managed to keep it secret from everyone (including Elias and Gerttrude) by complete accident?

send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons about it! requests closed!

by accident you say? 👀

1. jon and gerry meet somewhere completely ridiculous (yet also completely mundane) where the chance of them running into one another was like.... one in a million. like, maybe jon's class got out early and so he decided to walk a little further from campus to try a new coffee shop that he's never tried before and never will again because he realizes he really hates the drinks and that it's not worth the walk, and gerry is in the area looking into something leitner-related and he looks down at his phone a bit too long and runs smack into jon when he's walking away from the coffee shop with a lukewarm travel cup of hot chocolate because they were out of tea (what kind of coffee shop is out of tea? jon thinks with a scowl).

the hot chocolate spills all over gerry and jon's like 'oh god sorry, do you- do you want me to do something?' and gerry's about to brush past him when he sees the person he was looking for and shit, they're looking this way so without thinking he just... grabs jon and pulls him into the nearest shop. which happens to be selling something weird, idk, little ceramic figurines. and gerry does Not know what to say because like, he can't tell this stranger that he's hiding from maybe-a-fear-avatar! so he's like 'uh. you can make it up to me by.... helping me pick out a figurine? for, er. my mother. yes.'

so they're just walking through this shop, gerry's shirt still wet with hot chocolate, jon Very confused and also Very late for class but somehow nervous to just leave, so they look at figurines together. gerry keeps looking back out the window and nope, maybe-an-avatar is still there, and now they're sitting on the bench and it doesn't look like they're planning on moving anytime soon and gerry really doesn't want to take the chance and gamble that the maybe-avatar won't recognize him or realize what he's looking for. so gerry keeps shooting down every recommendation jon gives him with some progressively-more bullshit reasons--'oh, my mum already has that one' 'that one's too expensive, i can't afford it' 'that's too small' 'i don't like the way that one's looking at me' 'my mom's allergic to dogs, actually'--until jon's finally like 'okay what is going on and can i leave now?'.

and the maybe-avatar is still out there and gerry's certain now that they're watching him and he's suddenly very aware that he's spent a long period of time with this guy whose name he actually didn't quite catch and that it definitely looks like they're working together and ah, fuck, if i let him leave and he gets targeted because of me i'd feel horrible. so gerry sighs and thinks fuck it and is like 'listen i'm gonna level with you. i'm here looking for a book and there is somebody watching me right now and i know how that sounds but it's really not as shady as you think and also really not my fault but it is my fault that you're here too so. yeah. sorry i don't know if it's safe for you to leave.'

and all jon can think to say is 'a book?'.

and gerry's like 'don't worry about that bit, you really wouldn't understand' and jon gets all bristly and says primly, 'well, i'm a lit major and i work at the university library maybe i could help' and gerry can't help but laugh and say, 'really hope there's not a leitner in your uni library, mate'. and then jon gets this wide-eyed expression on his face like he's just seen a ghost and says 'what did you just say?' and before gerry can deflect again jon says, more intensely, but also hesitantly, 'is... is it called a guest for mr. spider?'.

and gerry's like 'um. no, it's not' and jon deflates a bit but now gerry's curious and he's like 'why?' and jon tries to deflect like 'oh clearly i misunderstood' but gerry's not budging and he's like 'no, no--have you read a leitner? gold bookplate, super fucked-up consequences?' and jon just goes pale which is really all the confirmation gerry needs. gerry feels the need to clarify that he hates them too--that he burns them whenever he gets the chance.

weakly, jon says, 'there... there's more than one?'. and then, a bit stronger: 'you- you're looking for another one? here? and you're going to burn it?'

gerry: yes, that's the plan. why--?

jon, without hesitation: i want to help

and maybe gerry is hesitant at first but, well. it seems like jon is already fully in this, so he reluctantly agrees, and they hunt down the leitner together and gerry lets jon burn it and then they're friends (and it really doesn't take long at all for that to transition into partners).

2. gertrude and elias missing that they're dating is a comedy of errors, including a lot of rather dramatic near misses including, but not limited to:

- jon always leaves a room just before one of them enters

- gerry always talks ambiguously about the person helping him hunt down leitners; elias always assumes he means gertrude, gertrude always assumes he means his mother. this is exploited to a comedic level

- getrude thinks 'going on a date' is code for gerry having a new lead on jurgen leitner and leaving to go chase it down

- when jon joins the institute as a researcher and runs into gerry in the building for the first time, he greets him neutrally in a mutually-agreed display of professionalism while working. gertrude and elias both remark at the fact that 'it's so nice that jon/gerry has a friend'

- gertrude, opening the door to the break room and bustling around inside, looking over at gerry where he's standing in front of the counter, jon sat atop it with his legs bracketing gerry's hips (they have very clearly just been kissing): oh hello gerard. jonathan. talking about leitners again?

jon, a bit embarrassed, slipping into Ultra Professionalism to compensate: i was just discussing with mr. keay the details of case number 0031211 regarding ms. cortena's experience with the talking vase--

gertrude, not at all interested, already knows that it's fake: right, right, carry on then

*after she's gotten her tea and left*

gerry, holding in laughter: 'mr. keay'?

jon, blushing: shut up gerry

3. gerry, casually, not actually aware that getrude doesn't know that he and jon are dating: yeah so then i had to leave my date early to go chase down this leitner and jon was not pleased

gertrude, after a hum of acknowledgement: how unfortunate. i'm not sure how jonathan's opinion on the matter is relevant, however. was he disappointed that you didn't ask him to track down the leitner with you?

gerry, Confused™️: he was.... at the date?

gertrude: at the date? whatever for?

gerry, now staring openly: because i was on a date with him? because we're dating? wait, did you not know that?

gertrude, not willing to admit that she missed that for nearly three years: of course i knew that, gerard. don't be foolish.

gerry, now even more confused: but--

gertrude, without missing a beat: i trust the leitner hunt went well, then?

gerry, after a long pause: um. yes?

gertrude, nodding: good.

4. there's an institute party and everyone's allowed to bring a plus-one

elias, noticing that jon's alone at the party: ah hello, jonathan. no plus one for you today?

jon: no, gerry couldn't make it, unfortunately. family business.

elias, somehow Oblivious, and also very Old Fashioned and way too familiar with his employees: quite. though typically, plus ones are of the romantic capacity. it's nice that you would consider gerard an acceptable substitute though, i suppose

jon, Bi confusion and suddenly unsure if his boss is homophobic: um. it.... it would have been in a romantic capacity?

elias, still Not Getting It: ah, i see. perhaps for the best, then--office parties don't make for pleasant first dates, in my experience

jon, unsure of how much of his personal life he wants to share with elias but not really wanting to pretend like he's not been dating gerry for going on three years now: um. it- it wouldn't be our first date. or- or really a date at all, just an- an event, i really don't think gerry would call this a date

elias, Getting it a little bit: ah. unfortunate, then. congratulations, i suppose, are in order. was it a recent engagement?

jon, ??????, biting the bullet: we've been together for three years, elias

5. jon, handing gerry a wrapped package on their fourth anniversary after they started dating: this is, um. this is for you

gerry, opening it and holding up the little ceramic figure of a dog: jon. is this--?

jon, in a rush: it's from that shop. where we, uh. where we met.

gerry, overcome with such love he really can't stand it, throwing all of his proposal plans out the window and digging the little square velvet box out of his pocket: jon can i ask you a question--

(jon is so surprised he just starts crying. it's only the fifth time gerry's ever seen him cry and he's so worried he said something wrong at first but then jon manages to say yes around his tears and jon wraps his arms around gerry tightly and buries his face in gerry's shoulder and whispers i love you and gerry hugs him tightly in return and says i love you, too, jon. i love you too.)

[ceilingfan5]

Wedding/ sick for weird au mixes

Kravitz thinks of himself as a relatively sensible guy. Somehow, despite this, he always seems to end up in bizarre situations, and this time, he might have really taken the cake.

Not literally. Wedding cakes are so fucking expensive. Did you know this? So expensive. Even breathing is expensive when it comes to weddings. Kravitz is never getting married. If he ever feels the urge, he’s going to take a cold shower and then calculate, by hand, how many burritos he can get for the cost of a wedding while he’s still dripping wet and naked. This is a foolproof plan.

Kravitz likes plans. He likes knowing what’s going on at any given time and what the appropriate reaction is to any given situation and he likes knowing the right way to handle things, which, he’s been criticized in the past, by several different boyfriends, is like trying to get a good grade on every social interaction at all times, like he’s going to be given a report card at the end of a fucking conversation. This is normal to want and possible to achieve. Kravitz is doing great. And all of those guys saved him a lot of money on not having a wedding, so, really, he should thank them for fundamentally misunderstanding him on a level bordering on cruel.

He’s sensible. He likes plans. He wants to know the right answers. And yet? And fucking yet?? He finds himself doing shit like this, holding back the long hair of a complete stranger in the bathroom the night after the bachelorette parties. They aren’t even from the same side of the wedding party--Kravitz is firmly in Sloane’s camp, the best man, in fact, and he’s never met Taako before this week.

“So, you’re Hurley’s friend, right?” He tries to keep his voice soothing, and he pats Taako’s back a little. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he also doesn’t want Taako to be as miserable as humanly possible, which he’s certainly trying to achieve with a fervent vigor most people retain for gambling, or extreme sports. He wishes he had a little pocket guide book for weird situations like this. Turn to page 34 to comfort a stranger. Turn to page 62 for dealing with someone who is attempting to vomit everything they’ve eaten since age five.

“Yeah,” Taako moans. He leans his head, presumably pounding like a DJ scoring a hammer festival, gently against the toilet paper dispenser. “Sorry to drag you into this. You can- mmnnh. You can go. If I die, I die.”

“I think Hurley would be upset if you died,” Kravitz says gently. “You’re under contract until you wear that suit tomorrow. Maybe after that you can schedule a date with Death.”

“Hope it’s not a dinner date.” Taako snickers at his own joke, and then hiccups and covers his mouth. “Fuck!”

“Listen, not that it’s any of my business,” imagine him rapidly flipping pages in his guidebook, looking for the appropriate conversation cue. Interventions in 60 seconds. No? Maybe 25 conversation starters that aren’t about toilets? “But when we ran into each other at the casino last night, you seemed a little...” Flirtatious. Angry. Incredibly wasted. “Distracted. Is something on your mind? Besides the wedding, I guess?”

“Damn, you-” Taako hiccups again, and shifts his legs, groaning. “You weren’t kidding, that isn’t any of your business.”

Ah! Fuck! He’s losing points! What a terrible misstep! How will his grade ever recover!

“I’m so sorry-” he backpedals. “I just-”

“No, I get it.” Taako sighs. “Shit. Um. You know, I’m too hungover to lie to you? Um.” He fidgets with the toilet paper like a cat finding its own enrichment. It’s almost endearing. “Um. Okay. Yeah. I was in a mood. I would still be, if my fuckin’ head didn’t feel like it’s losing a getting-crushed-by-a-steamroller race. I’ll have more feelings later, I guess. Jot that down on your calendar.”

“Noted.”

“I, um.” Taako closes his eyes, shoulders lurching a little again, but Kravitz gently pulls his long, silky hair back from his face, and it doesn’t go further than that this time. “I was supposed to get married this year. And, uh.” He waves the fingers on his left hand, all of them incredibly empty. “Sorta fucked that one up.”

“Oh,” Kravitz says, intelligently. He imagines frantically flipping through his guidebook. Even in his head, there’s no suggestions for this. It’s a picture of a cartoon frog giving a thumbs up. Frogs don’t even really have thumbs. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I can see why that would be hard to deal with.”

“Yeah,” Taako chuckles. “It sucks. I mean, he sucks, and both of us are stupid, and the whole thing is a mess, and I’m glad it didn’t go forward, but it’s.” He covers his mouth, looking green, but his shoulders slowly relax. “S’bad. Badtime. Badtime for Taako.”

“I see that.” Kravitz decides to carefully rub Taako’s back. If that’s overstepping, he’ll take the F. Taako can tell him to fuck off, and he will, and that’ll be that. But between last night and today, he likes Taako, and he feels bad for him, going through something awful like that. It’s got to be real hard, having to be a big part of a beautiful wedding, mourning one that’ll never be, even if it’s better for everyone involved. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone else who makes you happy, if that’s what you’re looking for. You’re very attractive and funny and- and-” Kravitz’s cheeks heat up. That might have been a bit much for sure. He especially didn’t need to keep talking, because the next thing on his mind was how perfect all of Taako’s freckles are, and that’s, that’s a lot. Wrong thing to say in the wrong situation. This is such a mess.

But Taako laughs.

“Yeah?” he says. “Sounds like you like me.”

“Oh, I- um. I.” Kravitz backpedals, pulling his hand away from Taako. His long, beautiful hair falls around his face again, and even as miserable as he is, he looks like some kind of angel.

Can angels puke? Rats can’t. There might not be a correlation there. Then again, what if there was?

“I’m- I wasn’t- You’re- that would be-” he can’t quite figure out how to defend himself.

“Admit it,” Taako sing-songs, his voice still hoarse.

“I could be convinced to like you,” Kravitz mumbles. “I happen, to, uh. Happen to have an opening. In my life. For likeable people.”

Taako laughs again, tipping his head back and smacking it on the toilet paper dispenser. He whines and rubs it, looking positively wretched.

“You’re wild, Krav,” he says anyway. “Soon as I can brush my teeth, I’m gonna find out if those pretty lips are as kissable as they look.”

Kravitz doesn’t have a page in his book for this, but something in the very, very back of his mind thinks that there are more things in life to do with your money than buy burritos. If not a wedding, at the very least, a date is a good start.

[astaroth1357]

Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work. 

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise. 

Mammon 

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan 

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan 

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus 

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor 

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged… 

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

[egcdeath]

Since you said we can send in request😄 how about a bachelor party for Steve and reader. Full of fun and romance.

bottoms up

summary: steve tells you all about his wild bachelor party. 

word count: 1.2k 

warnings: excessive drinking, terrible decisions, fluff, basically a crack fic, i barely use dialogue tags in this so you’re just gonna have to guess who’s talking

author’s note: this was supposed to be a drabble. 

you can find my drabble masterlist here and my regular masterlist here <3

It had been a long, exhausting weekend of celebration. Of course, it was exhausting in the best way possible, but between the extensive spa days, bar hopping, and seeing more male strippers in one night than you'd seen in the entirety of your life, you were really looking forward to curling up in bed with your fiancée.

It seemed Steve was feeling similarly to you, as he was already pajama clad and sprawled across your bed by the time you arrived home.

You quickly freshened up and joined him on the mattress, slipping under your duvet and cuddling up to Steve.

“How was your weekend?” Steve asked, rubbing circles on your back.

“Exhausting. I could probably sleep for years.”

He chuckled softly at your statement, “well, don’t do that. Wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll tell you over breakfast tomorrow. I don’t think I have the energy to come up with the words right now,” you aimlessly played with the hem of his shirt. “What about you guys? Why don’t you tell me a bachelor party bedtime story?”

“It was… a lot. I almost called you several times. Let’s just say that Sam... stopped me.”

“That bad, eh? Tell me everything,” you gushed.

“Well we were supposed to go camping. I don’t know who decided that was a good idea. Actually I do, it was Thor. It took about half an hour before Tony was starting arguments with everyone. I think he was getting moody about having to be in the outdoors away from all his tech, and something about how bachelor parties aren’t supposed to be like this. We didn’t even get to dinner before he insisted that we find a nice hotel to stay at for the night, and go to a club.”

“You guys don’t really seem like campers anyway. What happened after that?”

“I was getting there before you interrupted me.”

“There was a natural lull in your story.”

“Whatever. So we pack everything up and go back out to town. There was some boujee ass hotel Tony knew about and took us there, but there were no rooms. So he was like ‘make room’ and the staff told him that they would try but they just needed a minute. So Buck suggested that we go to the hotel bar, and we did. The only problem is that alcohol doesn’t have the same effect on some of us that it does with others, so Thor had to break out the Asgardian mead. And he had a lot of it.”

“Oh no, I feel like this is not going in a good direction.”

“You’re absolutely right, because one second I’m sitting in a hotel bar, and the next I was half conscious on a private jet.”

“Steve! You did not black out. That’s not very responsible of you.”

“I was peer pressured! Besides, I don’t think I did anything too bad. Did you not get super drunk for at least one night?”

You pondered the question for a moment, “hmm. Go on.”

“So I wake up on a private jet, not like a Quinjet, but like, a real plane. No idea where I am or where we’re going. Sam is the most sober among us by the time I’m awake, but still pretty drunk. Keep in mind I’m also a little out of it. I ask him where we’re going, and he told me Las Vegas. At this point I’m not surprised, but I want to call you to let you know that I’m no longer in New York, and I start to take my phone out of my pocket to call you, and he flips his shit. He grabs my phone and dunks it in a glass of water, and starts saying that if I use the phone on the flight, our flight will crash.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Now I’m phoneless, but I’m not really mad. Honestly, I thought it was funny in the moment. My memory’s a little blurry, but I feel like we laughed ‘till we landed.”

“Please tell me that the crazy events end here.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Steve chuckled.

“Christ, Steve.”

“So we get off the plane and at this point, I realize that Bruce must’ve left before we boarded. I don’t even blame him. This trip probably would’ve made me Hulk-out too. Anyway, we take an Uber to our hotel. Our poor Uber driver, he was so starstruck and excited to have Avengers in his car, but like, everyone was completely out of it. And to make things worse, Bucky threw up in the back.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yeah. It’s only a matter of time before tabloids get ahold of that. Remind me to call our PR person in the morning.”

“Got it.”

“We finally get to this hotel, and I guess at some point while I was blacked out, Tony had booked us some penthouse suite at one of those really nice hotels. I can’t really remember how we got up there, but I know it was a struggle. I was just glad to be able to go to sleep in a real bed. By the time I wake up, I desperately need an Advil and a call home. Unfortunately, I can’t have either, since everyone starts insisting that the best way to beat a hangover is to drink more. To be fair, I slept in pretty late. So it’s kind of a reasonable time to drink now. If you consider time zone differences. That aside, I’m sipping on a beer when there’s a knock on the door-“

“I feel like I’ve heard enough of this story.”

“That’s fair.”

“But I’d also like to hear more. But this is stressing me out.”

“I made it back in one piece, what more do you want from me?”

“I want you to get a new friend group,” you whined.

“Is it bad that I want the same for myself?”

“I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Okay, so back to the knock on the door. I’m getting a little nervous, because I specifically told the guys no strippers. That was just a can of worms I didn’t want to open. And I think there’s gonna be a stripper at the door, but nope. Who opens the door? Fucking Loki. I don’t know why they came, or how they found us, but they were ready to party. Suffice it to say I do not remember the majority of that day. All I can say is that there was way too much gambling happening, and if I found out that Tony is filing for bankruptcy, I would not be surprised.”

“That is… wow.”

“I’ll give you one more thing before you go to sleep. Someone got married to a stranger. They’re gonna get it annulled but.. I did attend a wedding ceremony where an Elvis impersonator was the officiant,” Steve leaned over to his bedside table and turned off the lamp that was dimly illuminating the room. “Goodnight.”

“You are such an asshole! You don’t get to leave me on a cliffhanger like that.”

“I need you to be excited and engaged for when I finish my story tomorrow!”

“Fair,” you huffed and snuggled closer to your fiancée.

“Was it Sam?” you asked after a moment of silence.

Steve quietly laughed at you instead of responding.

“Nope. It was definitely Bucky. I’m right, right?” you pressed.

More silence from Steve.

“No way. Thor?”

His snickers became louder at this, and you gasped.

“I said I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“I don’t like when you keep secrets from me,” you prompted, trying to guilt trip your partner.

“Fine. It was Thor. But that’s all you’re getting from me for now.”

“Oh my god. Why wasn’t my bachelorette party as exciting as yours?”

[maadorii]

taste my disaster— i. matsukawa x gn! reader

max.note’s: i really thought about not posting this and just keeping this in my dungeon to never see the light of day but i really like this concept so here it is, mattsun romcom hehe 

synopsis: where a supposed “one time fling” during iwaizumi’s bachelor trip turns into something more. somehow.

warnings/tags: strangers to lovers, fluff, implied sexual content, suggestive themes, slow-burnish, mutual pining, recreational drug-use, food mention, pancakes

w.count— 3.8k

if there was one thing matsukawa was expecting to do on this trip, it was to get drunk while speeding down the strip at 2am from a night of gambling from the most expensive casinos las vegas had to offer. right? it was iwaizumi’s 2-week bachelor trip that oikawa had so meticulously planned mostly because he didn’t want to throw some measly little party like everyone else. he was getting married, why wouldn’t they all go out for him this one time.

but, if there was one thing matsukawa was not expecting to do on this trip, was somehow end up black out drunk; the only thing he could remember was hanamaki losing a game of black jack at caesar’s palace–– and wake up in a unfamiliar bed, naked, with a unfamiliar warm body next to him still sound asleep. who was just as naked as he was. 

it took him a minute, but when everything clicked together in his brain, matsukawa let out the deepest sigh he could muster. sinking deeper into the plush bed below him, dragging his hands across his face, pulling at the skin. his head was pounding, unbearably so, the luminous rays of the sun that filter through the curtain drapes making it worse. he looked over to you, your back turned towards him as you slept away peacefully. matsukawa’s indolent eyes leisurely scanned the expanse of your back, how it bloomed with hickeys and teeth marks. your muffled snores were the only thing that filled the stark silence of the room. 

matsukawa didn’t know what to fear more, the fact that he had sex with a random stranger last night and is now laying in their bed or iwaizumi’s wrath when he eventually gets back to the hotel. 

iwaizumi’s wrath, he chooses. definitely. 

peering over the bedside to the floor, he sees the clothes he had on yesterday strew haphazardly along with your own clothes. in the mess he finds his phone just barley alive and about several hundred text messages and missed phone calls. most of them were from oikawa, unsurprisingly. a lot of “where are you’s” and “please call us” and even a “did you die on us bro?” but that’s when he noticed the time. 

[12:42 pm]

“aw fuck.” matsukawa cursed as he flopped back on the bed, his arm lifting up to cover his eyes in annoyance. as he contemplated his options on potentially surviving this fuck up of his, you shifted next to him which caught his attention. he watched as your body turned to face him and how your eyes slowly fluttered open, the way your pupils dilated to welcome the grating sunlight. 

and when your eyes met his, you stared for a moment before closing your eyes again and snuggled back into your pillow. “––mornin’ random person in my bed...” 

matsukawa looked back confusingly, opening his mouth to say something back, when your eyes shot back wide open and jolted out the bed, dragging the duvet with you. 

“random person in my bed?! how–– how did get into my room,” you paused as matsukawa’s naked and lean body was on full display for you to gaze upon, inevitably resulting in your face burning up like a sauna. 

“and why are you naked, why am i naked?!” you screeched, wrapping your duvet around yourself, completely drowning yourself in the material. and then it sunk in for you. 

“oh no, don’t tell me––”

“that we fucked? yes.” if any more possible, you could feel your face grew hotter at his... extremely blunt statement at your predicament. you watched as matsukawa reached over the bed and slipped his legs through his boxers. at least he had the decency to cover up you thought to yourself as he shifted his way towards you on the other side of the bed. 

“look... i- i’m just as surprised and quite frankly, embarrassed about this too. i’m really sorry about all this. i’ll... just grab my stuff and i’ll be out of your hair in no time.” you didn’t get the chance to say anything as he backed away to start pulling on the clothes he had on the night before, watching him silently as he did so. you couldn’t help but feel bad as he took his time to dress himself. your gaze lingered on his eyes, and how they droop in remorse. 

just as he was pulling on his right sock, you stepped closer into his field of vision. “can i... at least know your name?” you take note of how the dark umber in his eyes seemed to glow for a split second, his gaze shifting over to you. still draped in that damn duvet like a fucking burrito. 

“it’s issei, issei matsukawa.” 

you nodded your head, jutting your chin out confidently. 

“well then, issei matsukawa. i, (y/n) (l/n), kindly ask you to join me for breakfast–– wait time is it... brunch? lunch? ahhh, fuck it. just come get something to eat with me. please?”

––

matsukawa watched as you shoved half of your omelette in your mouth, your eyes gleaming as you chewed happily, savoring the flavor.

the table was loaded with an assortment of all kinds of food, mostly breakfast food. from sweet honeyed pastries to smoky, charred sausages. in front of him was a stack of warm and fluffy buttery pancakes, dripping in warm gooey syrup. matsukawa could feel his mouth water just simply staring at it, his fingers twitching to inch towards the fork next to the plate, dying to have a bite. 

you noticed his tentative actions towards the plate in front of him, the way his teeth pulled on his bottom lip in slight anticipation. swallowing the mouthful of food, you nudge him with foot, catching his attention. 

“eat, i know you’re hungry. you don’t need my permission to eat,” you chastised, returning to your omelette. 

matsukawa didn’t waste any time digging into his food, practically shoving the whole pancake in mouth. his nostrils flared out as he chewed, moaning at the flavor bursting on his tongue. you chuckled as he quickly shoveled another one in his mouth. 

“woah, slow down there tiger. good aren’t they?”

he nodded frantically and continued to shovel bite after bite. and you smiled at that. it still was kinda crazy how you’re out eating with someone that you... just had sex with last night. a one night stand? can you even call it that? was this even a normal thing? you weren’t entirely sure considering you couldn’t remember a single damn thing from last night.

when you both finished most of the food, tummies full and satisfied, a slightly uncomfortable silence fell between you two. 

“so...” you started, tapping your fingers against the mug as you looked anywhere but the man in front of you. 

“so...” matsukawa copied your actions. you sunk lower in your chair, blowing the hair that landed on your face. why was this so hard? oh wait...

“since we...we, well you know where i’m going with this––”

“since we had sex? fucked?” his eyebrow twitched upward.

“well shit, you didn’t have to put it so... bluntly, issei.” you remarked.

“shit, i was just simply stating what we’re both thinking, (y/n).” the corner of his lips tugged with mirth at your annoyed face, his eyes crinkling at the corner.

you couldn’t help your own lips tug the same as his, your body shaking as laughter struck between the two of you. as you both laughed, the waiter brought over the check, clearing some plates out the way while doing so. matsukawa was about to reached out to grab the bill before you snatched it out of his reach. he was about to argue but you pulled out your card, already handing it to the waiter as he returned. 

––

“oh, so you’re from new york?” you asked as you both weaved through the heavily dense sidewalks of the vegas strip, an assortment of performers and tourist, big and small accompanied you. nothing new you haven't seen before. all while dying in the blistering heat that did nothing but sit on your backs. 

“well technically, i was born in a small town in japan, but moved when my parents decided to immigrate here when i was about, ahhh i don’t know 4 or 5 years old.” matsukawa explained, wiping the sweat beaded at his brows. “what about you?”

“me? i was born and raised here in good ole' nevada. but i didn’t move here to vegas until high school.” you cheered unenthusiastically with just as unenthusiastic jazz hands. "it's nothing really special, vegas i mean."

“really? well, i guess that makes sense. you did take me a hole in the wall restaurant with damn near the best pancakes on the fucking earth. ” you chortled at his statement, hanging off matsukawa’s arm as you laughed loudly, catching the attention of a few bystanders.

“oh god, you’re still on about those damn pancakes?”

“yes i am! those beautiful, golden brown cakes of pure buttery fluffiness that just basically melt in your mouth at the first bite?” he rambled, basically foaming at the mouth. conversation was light between the two of you, it felt natural. not forced. matsukawa didn’t make things awkward. it felt so carefree talking to him, almost as if you’re floating. 

but it was when you came to, that you realized that you made it to the hotel that matsukawa was supposed to be staying at. a part of you grew glum at the thought of having to separate from the man next to you. within the last few hours that you spent with matsukawa, you came to the conclusion that you really, really liked him. what wasn’t there to like about him? he had a great sense of humor, he was charming and gentlemen like. and, that fact he was incredibly attractive was just the cherry on top of the sundae. 

you didn’t want to leave, in fact, you can bathe in the attention he showered you in. 

“welp, i guess it’s time to die.” he said dryly as he turned to you, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. 

“good luck with that. i hope your friend doesn't kill you, but based on the description of him you gave, it seems likely.”

“yes, highly.” 

a silence fell over the both of you again for the second time that day, avoiding each other's lingering gazes. why was this shit still hard?

“can- can i have your number?” he blurted out randomly, voicing your thoughts out loud for the both of you. staring into his umber eyes, you broke contact first to pull out your phone from your back pocket to hand it to him.

“i’ll be honored.”

––

surprisingly, matsukawa wasn’t murdered by iwaizumi when he walked into the hotel room ten minutes later. though, he did get a hard scolding from not only iwaizumi but oikawa as well while hanamaki snickered in the background.

“i feel like a five year old who's been caught with sticky fingers.” matsukawa slumped, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“as you should! what the hell were you thinking last night? getting drunk and having a one night stand with someone else, jesus mattsun, and i thought maki was bad.” oikawa grumbled frowning, but it didn’t last long when hanamaki threw a dirty sock at the back of his head. matsukawa rolled his eyes at the two childish adults began fighting with each other, wrapping each other up in headlocks of the sorts.

he sighed again, lifting himself up from the so called “interrogation” chair as hanamaki called it to head towards the shower. “hey, mattsun.” 

perking up at the nickname, he turned around to see iwaizumi standing behind him with an unreadable face. earlier when he walked in, his face definitely was the face of anger and rightfully so. but now...

“just be careful next time, okay?”

and matsukawa knew exactly what he meant.

“yea, okay.”

––

later that evening, after contemplating whether or not you should send a “hi!” or a simple “hey,” you finally texted matsukawa. and almost immediately you got a text back from him. you bounced up and down in your room, feeling like an excited teenager who just talked to their crush for the first time all over again. is this what it was? a crush? maybe, and you should be mad at yourself for feeling like this, but you didn’t have the heart to do so. 

and over the span of the next week, the messages never seemed to end. on some nights, he would call you instead of texting you to tell you about his day. what attractions he went to see that day, what places he went to eat at that day and how much money he lost playing poker at the casinos. and he would ask you about your day, about your day at work. did you eat today, are you taking care of yourself? 

your heart melted at the sweet messages he would send you throughout the day, reminding you to care of yourself and heck, maybe even be a little selfish if need be. some of your coworkers caught onto your starstruck gaze when you looked at your phone and few even tried to ask why but you’ll brush them off. oikawa, hanamaki and iwaizumi even noticed matsukawa’s sudden interest in his phone recently. and even when they're all laughing at oikawa losing again for the third time at russian roulette, matsukawa wasn’t entirely in the moment.

 because he’s waiting for a text from you. 

they noticed the way his eyes glowed when his phone ping, indicating that you texted him back finally. the way his ears perked like dog. although they were suspicious, they didn’t say anything, knowing he’ll come around eventually. 

–

it was the friday before they all had to fly back to new york, the cool desert night air filled his lungs as matsukawa perched himself on the balcony of the hotel room. the gleaming lights of the vegas strip below illuminated the curves of his face in a soft glow of blue, magenta and gold. 

suddenly, his phone started ringing in his back pocket. he smiled when he saw it was your contact lightening the screen of his phone. answering, he brought the phone towards his ear, “well hello my dear (y/n). nice of you to call me on this fine evening we’re having here.” 

he hears you snort on the other end over the slight static of the phone. there was muffle shuffling before you replied, “nothing much my dear issei, just sitting here bored as hell so i thought, why not give you a call.”

matsukawa felt his heart skip a beat at your statement, trying to contain the smile that was tugging on his lips. 

“haha, how thoughtful of you...” and then it was quiet again, save for the occasional horns of cars stuck in traffic.

“hey, uh… issei?” you interrupted.

“yeah?” 

“can i… can i see you tonight?” 

––

matsukawa stood outside the place you asked him to meet at 30 minutes ago on the phone, which just so happen to be a very crowded and loud nightclub not far from the hotel he was staying at. he could hear the bass of the music thump against inside of his bones, the rhythm sending chills up his spine. he watched as people filed into the building like a swarm of files. 

it was another 5 minutes until he heard your voice call out to him from behind. and when he turned around to say hi back, his jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of you. but he quickly contained himself as you approached him, trying to blow away the rouge that tinted his cheeks in the slightest. 

“hey, ready to go inside?” you questioned, reaching out to hold his hand, pulling him slightly towards the entrance of the club. and he nodded dumbly behind you, cursing himself inside his head for acting like a hormonal teenage boy in front of you. he couldn’t help it, especially when you’re holding his hand. you can blame it on being touch-starved.

when finally inside, bulbs of black light were hung overhead on the ceiling, making everything brighter, making the sea of club goers nothing more than blobs of fuchsia, tangerine, and aqua. you and matsukawa wormed your way through the swarm of adults, bodies sweaty, sticky and hot, shaking and bobbing their heads to the music that blasted in the overhead speakers. finding two available seats at the bar, you both situated yourselves onto the stools overlooking the crowd. 

“this is an interesting place you’ve brought me here, i honestly wasn’t expecting it.” you hear matsukawa say next to you, turning his attention to you. 

“yeah, this is one of the few clubs here in vegas that i actually go to from time to time. plus security is pretty tight here, so hopefully you won’t end up fucking someone else.” you gave him a thumbs up, a dorky smile making its way onto your lips. matsukawa’s shoulders shook as he laughed, turning towards the bartender, ordering two old fashioned’s. 

“an old fashioned? wow, i didn’t take you for a rye whiskey type of guy.” you teased, reaching out to grab your drinks when the bartender placed them in front of you. matsukawa shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of his own drink. 

“well, i’m always full of surprises, they say.” and when he looked at you from the corner of his eye, you could’ve sworn a you felt a chill borrow itself into your bones from the predatory gaze he sent your way. that, mixed with the half-buttoned up shirt with the gold chain he wore exposing so much skin–– much to your own liking; the way his inky curls were slicked back away from face. you swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling incredibly hot under the neon lights. 

this was simply a recipe for absolute disaster, but you didn’t mind at all. 

an hour later, after several drinks later, you found yourself being dragged onto the dance floor by a slightly tipsy matsukawa leading the way. reaching the center, the lights dimmed down even lower, the neon lights appear more luminescent in the room. The nerves you felt moments ago seemed to vanish as your body began moving to the beat of music along with matsukawa, feeling lighter than the air around you. matsukawa started doing these stupid dance moves to the song currently playing, getting a rise out of you. and at some point, the mini circle formed around the two of you as you danced the night away together, encouraged by the cheers and whistles of the crowd. 

matsukawa didn’t want this to end.

the way you’ll cling to him whether it was from laughing too hard or when you danced together to another song.

then this one song started crooning over the speakers, catching his attention. 

almost instantly, it was like time stopped around him, bleeding into a colorful flurry of fireworks. illuminating your face even more so with explosions of lavender and magenta, hints of quinacridone gold and phthalo blue.

his body relaxed seemingly watching you jump around without a care in the world. the beaming smile that radiated on your face that could argue the sun. your eyes glittering with such mirth. he hasn’t even known you for very long, but was really going to admit to himself that he… that he was possibly in love with you?

no, no, no, it’s too early to say something as... drastic as something like that. but was it?

he’s never felt like this with anyone before at all, but with you, he felt at ease. like he could be himself without having to worry about what’ll think. but there was no denying that he felt something for you.

“issei? hey, are you okay?” it was you who snapped out of his daze. 

“oh yea, i’m fine… say, how about we get out of here?”

––

you drove yourselves just outside the strip to the open desert, gazing up the phosphorescence of stars in the pitch black sky on the hood of your car. no words were shared between the two of you as you let the alcohol sink into your systems. And it was like that for a while, until you interrupted that silence. 

“you have to go back to new york on monday, right?”

matsukawa didn’t answer right away, letting your question digest in his mind, word by word. he wanted to say no, he really did, but y’all both knew that’ll be a lie. 

“yes…” 

at his answer, you sat up from your lying position on the hood, matsukawa following right behind you. your eyebrows were scrunched in distress, and he was about to say something before you beat him to the punch line. 

“issei, i… i know this whole thing is really out of the ordinary for both of us, but i can’t get these feelings off my chest. i’ve only known you for what–– two weeks? but it feels like i’ve known you my entire life and i don’t know what to do— a-and you’re leaving and i don’t want you to leave and—” you rambled on before matsukawa leaned forward to press his lips against yours, ultimately shutting you up. you didn’t waste any time returning the kiss. the same fireworks from before were going off like crazy around you like it was new year’s or the fourth of july. the moment was too surreal for any of you to believe it was real. 

and when he pulled just enough where your lips barely met, he the corner his lips twitched upwards, his hand coming around to cup the supple roundness of your cheek, his thumb gently grazing the warm skin, “it’s okay, (y/n). i feel the same way.” 

“then, promise me you’ll come back.”

“for you and those pancakes? a thousand times over.”

smiling, your lips dove to meet his again, this time harder, steamier. matsukawa slowly pulled himself on top of you, trapping you as you lie back down on the hood of the car, intensifying the kiss. he moved his lips away from yours to latched them onto your cheek, leaving a trail of glowing kisses, trailing down to your jaw as a small mewl slipping past your teeth. you weaved your fingers through the ringlets of curls of his hair, gently tugging on the strands. 

matsukawa’s hands felt up and down your torso underneath your shirt, feeling the expanse of skin beneath the pad of his finger tips, leaving burning trails in its foot. 

“issei, p-please…”

“with pleasure.”

turns out he wasn’t wrong, he was certainly always full of surprises. 

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