#i have work tomorrow its too late to fix. ah well

[amygdalae]

Repainted my nails and there are a bunch of air bubbles trying not to kill myself about it

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

"Better Late Than Never" Part 13

Father-son bonding time (Ghost learns about cars from Price)

Soap sat in one of the garages on their base, playing with some cables and trying to appear as small and unimportant as he could so no one bats an eye at the fact that he is once again playing with explosives. 

He was ready to connect the final wires when suddenly he heard someone calling for him. He hid the small bomb behind his back, as he stood up. He prayed for his creation to not blow up in his hands, surrounded by cars full of flammable fuel.

"Mactavish!" A man who Soap knew was a lieutenant of a different Task Force situated at their base came up to him. "You are an engineer, right?"

Soap's brows furrowed. "Well... I-"

"My mechanic is indisposed and I need that car-" He gestured to a truck behind him. "-working by tomorrow. Is that clear sergeant?"

"I'm n-" 

"Good." The man interrupted him once again. Soap had to take a deep breath and count to ten. "I will check on your job later." After that, he was gone.

Soap stood still for a few seconds, making sure that the officer wasn't in his earshot anymore- then he carefully placed the unfinished explosive in his bag. 

"What a fucking prick!" Soap shouted frustrated causing a few other soldiers in the garage to look at him. He looked at the car he was supposed to fix. "Ah am not a fucking car engineer..."

And that was a problem because he had no idea how to fix a car, that asshole didn't even tell him what needed fixing. He walked up to the truck and kicked one of its tires- which he regretted as pain struck through his foot. He grabbed his leg trying to collect himself before checking out the car.

"Ok.. let's see." He muttered to himself. Soap walked around the car, searching for something obvious- like a flat tire. Something he could figure out how to fix quite easily. Sadly he didn't spot anything so he got inside the car and tried to start it.

He twisted the keys that were already in the ignition.

Nothing.

He tried again... and

Nothing.

He put his head on the wheel- it meant that the problem was probably not easy to fix. He already can't wait for the lieutenant to come back and be pissy about the job not being done, but it's not like it was his fault. He would fix it- if it was a bomb that he was supposed to fix. That's what you get when you are disrespectful to others and interrupt them, ordering them around.

"What are you doing, Johnny?"

Soap was startled when he heard a familiar voice right next to him. "Ye should start sprotin' collar with a bell, sae ye can't sneak up on people lik' that. Someone will die o' heart attack, ye will see." Soap poked at Ghost's chest.

Ghost blushed under his mask- for some reason. For some reason thinking way too much about the idea of a collar around his neck... for some reason.

He was thankful for the material on his face.

"So you have a casual mental breakdown in the car or...." Ghost leaned on the car's mask, as Soap got out of the truck. 

"Permission to complain about a certain officer, Lt?"

"As long as this certain officer is not me, I am listening." He crossed his arms.

Soap took a final look around to make sure that twat wasn't anywhere near. "This one lieutenant, from the other Task Force."

"Hill?"

"Yeah, that fucker!" 

Ghost put a finger to his covered lips, letting Soap know that he really shouldn't be so loud about his... aversion to the other man. Soap simmered down a little.

"What about him, Soap?"

"He comes up to me, in my free time and orders me to fix that damn car. I tried to tell him I am not an engineer, but he just kept interrupting me. So now here I am trying to fix that piece of trash."

"You are an engineer."

"Explosives engineer. If he wants me to turn the engine into a nuke I sure can."

Ghost smirked. "I don't doubt that." He also kinda wished that Soap did that, because he will have to have a talk with that man about respecting your subordinates. "What were you doing here either way? I searched for you."

He searched for him.

"Soap?"

"Nothin'" Soap eyed the bag in which rested the unwired bomb. Ghost followed his gaze.

"Price will kill you, Johnny." The lieutenant shook his head, knowing damn well what was in the bag. It wasn't the first time.

Soap was ready to defend himself when Price appeared from nowhere. Speaking of the devil.

"Why will I have to kill him?" The captain questioned as he approached them.

"Uhh... I- well-" Soap stumbled over his words, scratching his neck nervously.

"He is just behind on the reports from our recent mission, but I will make sure he will finish them today..." Ghost looked at Soap from the corner of his eye. "Right, Soap?"

"Yes, sir." And people said that Ghost didn't have a heart covering for Soap like that.

"Well, then why are you here instead of working, sergeant?" He put his hands on his hips.

 "I have to fix that car, lieutenants Hill order." Soap huffed.

"And he doesn't know how." Finished Ghost.

Price rolled his eyes. "You just have to jump-start this junk. Happens all the time. Help him Ghost."

Ghost narrowed his eyes at Price. "I don't know how to do that."

Soap chuckled. "Finally something Ghost can't do."

"It's not like you can do that either."

"Stop bickering you two, I have enough of that on coms." He sighed. "Come on, get me the booster cables. I will teach you."

***

"So first you have to connect the red cable to the plus on the dead car's battery, you do the same to a working car." Price gave the red cable to Ghost. "Do what I said."

They were now all standing on either side of Price, listening to him as he showed them how to restart the car's battery.

"Ahh... I think mah pa tried to teach me this once when I was a kid. I wasn't too interested in it though." Soap said as he watched how Ghost connects the cars.

"Well, mine sure as hell didn't." Ghost mumbled under his nose. He has no idea why he said that, recently things were just slipping out of him. Especially around Soap, but also around the rest of his Task Force.

He could feel Soap's sad puppy eyes on him and Price stopped in his tracks. Ghost felt a hand squeezing his shoulder.

"That's why now you have me, son." Price stated-like it was the most obvious thing. 

Why were Ghost's eyes suddenly a little wet? It was nice- nice to hear.

"Come on, now take the black cable and connect it to the minus on the working car..."

***

As Price and Ghost were working- Soap stepped back, letting Ghost spend some time alone with the older man. He leaned on a tool cabinet and admired the scene before him- Price explaining to Ghost every part under the car's mask, even though they got it working some time ago. 

Price was determined to teach him everything and while to everyone around Ghost might have looked just like always- simply listening to his captain. Soap saw how Simon rubbed his gloved hands over his jeans, he learned it was a little happy stim of his. It showed how truly happy it made Simon to share this moment with Price.

At some point Gaz showed up, standing right next to Soap- he also observed as the pair of men worked around the truck.

"He looks happier you know? Happier than when I first met him." Said Kyle with a subtle smile.

+

Ghost totally looked at Lieutenant Hills with daggers in his eyes, because no one gets to talk like that to his sergeant, to his Johnny.

Hi guys! I got this prompt from my favourite Discord server <3 I hope you like it, and forgive me for any inaccuracies. I know nothing about cars or the military for that meter. Just here to have fun.

Next planned: Tickling

[cheiyunn]

La fin du rêve [Part 1]

~Faniris practice ~

Felix: Lets cut off practice around here! Later on we can just revise at the rehearsals before the main stage.

Koharu: Okay, everyone, good work! Tomorrow, we meetup at the place right?

Daimon: Yes, while the performance tomorrow is at night, for tonight let's not stay up too late, take a good rest, and keep in good shape. 

Tomoru: Jun, that one was for you, got it?

Jun: Ah.. I get it.. Tonight I won’t game before bed

Daimon: Tomoru, this one also applies to you. I know you’re always very busy but do you think you can take it easier tomorrow afternoon?

Tomoru: Of course..! I handed in a request for half day leave a month ago after all

Koharu: Since we were also cut off from Duck River’s support, the only thing we can do right now is produce a steady flow of lives right now, we need to make progress

Felix: However, since we all have jobs outside of music, its not as if we can frequently hold lives. For everyone who waits for our lives despite that, let us bring a great soiree tomorrow 

Everyone: Yeah

Koharu: On that note, lets start heading back. Ah that reminds me Tomoru, where did you put the watering pail? I was looking for it before coming here but couldn’t seem to find it

Tomoru: Ah, I think after I used it for the plants in the cafe I just left it there.. Would you like me to get it later?

Koharu: Nah, I’ll be using it for personal use so I’ll go myself

Felix: Is it the plant you got from the kids last year? Has it bloomed yet?

Koharu: Well it should have, but nothing yet. Even when it was supposed to bloom a while back

Jun: Its a very beautiful flower right? Hm… I wonder what the reason is..

Koharu: I’m being careful with the sunlight and temperature plus the watering timing should be on track so…

Daimon: With all that effort and love that your showing it, it should bloom soon

Koharu: Ahaha, fingers crossed

~Backstage~

Jun: ah… a- I can’t draw my eyeliner straight..

Tomoru: Lend me it for a bit, I’ll do it…. Um… maybe.. Something like this?

Jun: eh..ah.. ah- wait a moment Tomoru..! Isn’t this a bit too fat?

Daimon: It seems we’ll have to ask Koharu to fix it when he arrives

Tomoru: That's right.. For the time being we should just prepare as much as we’re able to!..!

Felix: Speaking of that, Koharu is awfully late.. Daimon, after that, were you able to contact him?

Daimon: No.. during that call he just said that he’ll find a way to make it to the live in time but..

Jun: …ah.! Is it because today I haven’t been haunted by misfortune.. What should I do… thats right! Tomoru! Take that guitar over there and whack me straight in the head!

Tomoru: First, that's not possible, and second, no, I’m not doing that.

[Ping]

Daimon: Ah, a message from Koharu

Felix: Whats the situation on his end like?

Daimon: One of the kids he’s taking care of caught a fever, and their parent isn’t able to come by soon

Jun: …eh?

Daimon: To make matters worse, Koharu is the only caretaker available at the moment, so his hands are tied. Even if he’s somewhat late, he’ll still come to the livehouse, is what he said

Tomoru: What should we do? We can’t just go on like this, but there also isn't much time until the live is scheduled to start either.. should we change the performance now? 

Jun: Did we have any songs that didn’t require a bass… or should we just adlib something on the spot? …I’m worried about that though

Felix: hm.. But just brainstorming will take up too much time

Daimon: That's right, if we’re looking for a bassist I have someone in mind. They're acquaintance from my roadie days but they know our songs very well. I think that today they said they’d also be here, so while waiting for Koharu, what about having them play instead? 

Jun: but the costume and makeup…

Tomoru: How about having them play from the stage wings? They can look at the score while doing it, and we can explain the situation so when Koharu-san gets here we’ll-

Felix: Hold it.

Daimon: What’s wrong Felix?

Felix: In the chance that Koharu does make it later on, there’s no way we can show our audience and performance without all the official members 

Jun: …so that means..

Felix: Let's cancel the live.

Tomoru: But-

Felix: I’ll take all responsibility. To everyone who’s already gathered for the live today, I’ll apologize later on

Daimon: But if we cancel it now, won’t he feel worse about it

Tomoru: That's right.. It’s not as if Koharu-san is at fault either…

Felix: I’ll have a talk with Koharu later on. Tomoru, I’m going to talk to the owner, so could you accompany me?

Tomoru: Okay.

Felix: Daimon and Jun, remove your makeup. If there are any remaining fans, I want you to act as staff to explain the situation and lead them out

Daimon: Ah, okay. Jun, lets go

Jun: Eh..! Ah.. I got it..

~Bar~

Koharu: I need another refill of this

Owner: Roger that, you need a double?

Koharu: Yeah

Koharu: Hah.. at least nothing bad happened to the kid.. I handed them over to their parent safely so for the time being, one weight on my shoulder is gone.. But saying that, the live.. Got canceled huh. While it couldn’t be helped.. It still stings pretty bad.. They’re all nice so they’ll all probably say ‘don’t mind it’ or something like that..

Koharu: But on second thought its still so frustrating… because of me we had to miss one of our live dates. Even though we don’t have as frequent activities, the live for the people who were always waiting for us was…!

Koharu: Hah 

Koharu: I can’t apologize enough to both the members and the fans. But, how this kind of situation never happened before was most likely constant good luck after all… if something happens to one of the kids, regardless of what I want, I need to prioritize the children first. But its not like the others don’t prioritize the band either.. Even this time they’re all balancing things individually so its overwhelming..

Koharu: Thats why I ran to alcohol… drinking at this time definitely tastes bitter.. If I keep drinking, stuff that I don’t wanna think about will come wafting into my head..

Koharu: That's right… back then when Daimon’s grandpa was hospitalized I was…

Koharu: Shit

Owner: You seem oddly tired today, something happen?

Koharu: My bad, it ain’t much. .. I’ll ask for another of this then

Koharu The reason we appeared in the LRFes was because we were aiming to become pros. Thinking that was our last chance, we took care of alot of things and tried our hand, and even came all the way to Tokyo.

Koharu: If at that time, we had won the fes and went pro.. Something like “I have work right now so I won’t be able to perform” wouldn’t have worked.. did the me at that time really have the guts to go forward with that…? How do those guys feel about this.. Even the ones younger than me Tomoru and Jun will soon become 30… we aren’t students, we’re all full-fledged adults.

Koharu: Is it really okay to not drop these dreams and continue on like this..? 

~Fantome Iris sharehouse~

Tomoru: Ah, it seems Koharu-san is back

Felix: Welcome back, Koharu

Koharu: w-what, you guys. I told you all that I’d be back late so just go to bed earlier right?

Jun: Well, this is around the time I’m always awake so…

Tomoru: Since we’re all taking a rest day tomorrow, don’t worry about it

Daimon: We were all worried about you

Felix: Daimon, could you prepare something nice on the stomach? Something for post-drinking like chazuke?

Koharu: Today’s live being canceled was my fault so you don’t have to worry so much

Daimon: Regardless of that, take a seat. It was a tiring day right? The face you have on right now seems more alcohol induced than normal after all

Koharu: Seen right through huh. 

Koharu: I’m really sorry about the incident today. I caused alot of trouble to both you guys and our fans too.

Jun: K-koharu-san..

Felix: Koharu, raise your head. None of us here are going to pin the blame on you after all

Tomoru: That's right, there is no need for you alone to feel responsible for it

Koharu: … 

Daimon: I’ll go make the chazuke. Is there anything you want?

Felix: Ah, I’ll have one too

Tomoru: Me too. Jun, you’ll eat some as well right?

Jun: y-yup

-----------

Tomoru: Ah that reminds me, I was scrolling through sns a while ago and there were alot of supporting messages sent. Like “I’m sure there was something that occured” or “I want you all to still do your best!”.

Jun: Um.. there were also very few that were mad about it. Alot of people said that Fantome will always pull off a good live next..

Felix: That proves the strong trust and bond between us and our fans of course~

Daimon: That's true. Koharu, when the next chance comes we’ll bounce back

Koharu: ..yeah.. That's right…

Everyone: …

Felix: Lets discuss a bit about the next live. It was good that the owner of this livehouse was kind enough to say that while it won’t to be soon, as soon as a day opens up they’ll make adjustments to their schedule.  

Daimon: The fans are expecting a lot so, we need to show them something good.

Tomoru: On that topic, how about we make some adjustments to our set list? Possibly change the composition a bit to make it better

Jun: I’ll also help think with you… if my presence is needed though…

Felix: Thanks you everyone. I’ll take it that you’ll also start making preparations for the next live as well, Koharu?

Koharu: When the schedule is set, tell me, I’ll do my best to arrange around it

Felix: Are you possibly worried.. That something similar to this may happen again?

Daimon: Lets take this opportunity for not just Koharu but for everyone, to confirm our individual schedules 

Tomoru: Indeed so. Just like in the LRFes where due to company troubles I barely made it to perform after all… In the end it was okay since I made it but still…

Koharu: Hey… do you guys really think that… we can continue activities like this…?

Jun: …eh?

Koharu: We’re all adults here. We need to earn our own money and live, and as long as we’re all working we don’t know when this sort of situation might happen again.

Koharu: Just to put it out but I’m not putting anyone over the other, I’m just saying that at least for my job, I’m dealing with someone’s life…! If something happens, there’s no way I can look back and… if something like this between my job and the band happens again, I’ll…

Daimon: All we can do is do our best so it doesn’t happen, even me, I’ll do whatever is within my ability

Tomoru: I express the same sentiment.

Jun: y-yup

Felix: Koharu, we are comrades that settled on the same dream and moved away from our hometowns. Our dreams will definitely come to fruition, for now we can only continue on the path laid out

Koharu: Those dreams, are something we’ll all eventually wake up from right. Or do you seriously believe that those sorts of ever continuing dreams really exist?

Daimon: Hey, Koharu…

Felix: If that is how you feel, I have nothing to input then. Then, until our individual feelings can come back as once, how about we temporarily put a halt to band activities for the time being?-

Koharu: I didn’t ask for that…!

Felix: For now calm down, and lets individually sort out our thoughts, that’s what’s best now

Jun: …for how long…will that be..?

Felix: Who knows…when we’re all ready to restart activities that time will come naturally no?

Tomoru: Something like a cooling period right..? But in this situation where we all can’t really see the outcome is a bit…

Koharu: Are you really okay with that Feli..

Felix: If even one has an issue with the current band’s movement, then I believe that it is best to not make any at all

Koharu: I.. I’m asking what you want..!

Felix: I… I simply want everyone to continue music happily

Koharu: …Why do you always leave it to the will of others..! Why won’t you get mad and face me head on ?!!

Felix: I see it as there is no use in fighting, that is all.

Koharu: I said it before didn’t I.. that as long as you keep putting up that wall of yours it’ll come to bite you in the ass later on…

Koharu: To you, were we always just insignificant little existences that can be thrown away to you?!

Daimon: Koharu..! That's too much. Both of you, end it here.

Koharu: In the end… this’ll just be a repeat of the previous band isn’t it…

Jun: ah..!

[Koharu leaves]

Felix: … I’m returning to my room.

[Felix leaves]

Tomoru: Even Feli-san… ah.. How did it come to this…

Jun: D-daimon-san… it’ll be okay right..? There won’t be a fight and then break up… right?

Daimon: …ha. It’ll be fine, don’t worry about it too much. I’ll talk to Koharu for a bit..

[Daimon leaves]

Jun: There he goes… hey Tomoru.. Isn’t this…

Tomoru: Yeah… this definitely isn’t good…

Jun: I knew it…! I’ve never felt that bad of an atmosphere ever since I came to this sharehouse..!

Tomoru: Yeah… If they suddenly say that they don’t want to do the band anymore, then we have no input, is the feeling I got…

Jun: But both me and you have made sizable contributions to this band right…?...why are you smiling.. Did I get too full of myself..?!

Tomoru: No, thats not it. Its more that the Jun from the past would have been more like “Someone like me is useless..!”, or something like that right?

Jun: Thats true… but I realized that echoing those words wouldn’t be any good so..

Tomoru: …me too, I definitely want to continue this band..! I’m sure that both Feli-san and Koharu-san, and of course Daimon-san have the same feelings

Jun: um so… while maybe I can’t do much, maybe you could possibly find a solution to this problem

Tomoru: Me?

Jun: Because you had shown Feli-san your feelings when you heard their previous band was disbanding, is the reason that the current Fantome was born right..? Plus, when Feli-san asked you to join, you brought me along and now… I’m here too, so…

Tomoru: …

Jun: …ah! Sorry, someone like me butting in was…!

Tomoru: …no. Jun, thank you

Jun: I’ll also think of things I can do too, while waiting for the band to move along again…

Tomoru: Got it, I’ll do that too

~Koharu’s room~

Daimon: It’s me. I’m entering okay?

[Daimon enters]

Daimon: Koharu, I’ll get straight to the point. The reasoning behind you thinking you can’t continue the band isn’t just that one thing right..

Koharu: Yup. What happened now, if the worst happened to a child I was entrusted with, I didn’t know how I would be able to take responsibility.  

Daimon: …

Koharu: To imagine that my own child I entrusted to someone could be in grave danger when I’m not there… there’s no way their parents or family could handle it

Daimon: With your line of work. Isn’t that something you understood from a while back? Why now all of a sudden? …Is it because you thought of my grandpa?

Koharu: ..!

Daimon: Despite you and gramps being so close, when he fell critically ill, no matter how many time you were contacted, you never showed. In the end he couldn’t see you before passing, and you didn’t even attend his funeral either. But you’ve always hidden the reason why.

Koharu: Right now isn’t… this isn’t the topic at hand

Daimon: I’m prepared to take any explanation given, yet you give me radio silence so it frustrates me, and makes me sad.

Daimon: …hey Koharu. The way you’re acting right now, you’re no different than Felix you know? 

Koharu: …not like I don’t know that.

Koharu: …sorry but could you leave? Right now I don’t think I’m in the mood to talk with anyone

Daimon: …I see.

[Daimon leaves]

Koharu: …hah.. I’m pathetic aren’t I… Little potted plant, last year you were so beautiful but no matter how much water I give you now… it’s useless isn’t it…

Koharu: …if all you have left is to wither out…

~Tomoru’s office~

Tomoru: …even so we’re in a bind… ignoring the thorny atmosphere, we should really sit down and clearly discuss the future activities of the band together soon. As expected, the issue waters down to us being unable to focus on music entirely. Then instead we should switch our band activities to our main jobs and take up part time jobs during our free time… no that won’t work realistically…

Tomoru: Regardless of Jun, everyone enjoys their current jobs right now and none of us wanted to go pro just to quit our jobs either…

Chief: Kurokawa-kun

Tomoru: Going pro huh…

Chief: Kurokawa-kun…! How’s the progress on the project I asked about the other day?

Tomoru: Ah! My apologies! I am currently drafting the report mail at the moment. I will hand it over at once…!

Chief: Apologies okay? Make sure you’re taking sufficient breaks and not too much overtime okay? The labor standards office has been pretty noisy these days. And to add, maybe in around 30 minutes could you clear some time for a meeting?

Tomoru: Understood. Then, I will reserve the conference room.

Tomoru: Um.. so after I send this mail out, I need to reserve a conference room and then start preparing for tomorrow’s meeting, ah before that I need to contact the suppliers and my meal… well the snacks that someone gave out are here so I guess this’ll do.

Tomoru: Come to think of it, I haven’t been listening to music as much anymore.I used to keep up with music news more often, and watch live performances before bed too. Despite saying I like music, I only listen to the bands or artists I like on repeat and don’t try anything new either…

Tomoru: Wake up in the morning, go to work, get beat up by said work, come back home exhausted, practice music for a live, then wake up again and go back to work in a loop. I love music and I don’t want to quit, but if I don’t work, I can’t do the things I love either. For me and the others, are band activities really something we love…? Or is it just something that feels worthless if we quit halfheartedly..? No.. thats not it. But I know damn well that we can’t just continue to do it if we simply love doing it either..

Subordinate: Um, Kurokawa-senpai..!

Tomoru: …ah, sorry! Did you just call for me?

Subordinate: Yes, my apologies. I just needed to ask about something, can I take a bit of your time?

Tomoru: Ah, okay, sure. Apologies but could you wait 5 minutes or so?

Subordinate: Understood! I apologize for disturbing you while you’re so busy. Then, I’ll be waiting at a table in the break room..!

Tomoru: Okay, then I’ll be there in a moment.

Tomoru: I have a mountainload of work to do. I shouldn’t be thinking of my private life during work should I? Today I should maybe find a way to round this all up and take a detour back home.

~Champ de Fleur~

[Cafe door opens]

Daimon: Sorry, we’re not open- …ah, Jun. It's rare to see you come in this early

Jun: …I couldn’t really sleep well it seems. …I’m sorry for coming before opening hours…

Daimon: No, don’t be. Are you hungry? If its a simple dish, I can make you something

Jun: nono…! No need… to be honest, I came to ask you something…

Daimon: What is it?

Jun: I want to do a bit of work so… I think I’ll be coming here more often. I don’t mind just sitting in the corner of the kitchen either so if its okay…

Daimon: I don’t mind but, if its work, don’t you think the sharehouse would be easier to work in

Jun: um…well…

Daimon: …ah. Sorry, because of us it's become uncomfortable hasn't it?

Jun: no thats..! It's not any of your faults it's just… I just have some things to do…and this place is calming

Daimon: Got it, come whenever you please

Jun: Thank you so much, I’m glad that you’re here…

Daimon: Is that so… Jun

Jun: ah..yes?

Daimon: You’re worried that the band might break apart right?

Jun: thats.. well…

Daimon: Did you know the reason why the previous band that Felix and Koharu were in disbanded?

Jun: um.. If I’m correct, the band was slated for a major debut yet all of a sudden during a live, Felix-san said that they were disbanding..?

Daimon: Yeah, without giving any semblance of discussion or reason to the other band members.

Daimon: I’m sure that the reason Felix gave was that the members’ hearts were growing far from the worldbuilding that was created. I… I think that at this moment, we're just unsure of where to go and are temporarily lost. 

Daimon: I’m sure that the feeling of wanting to continue this band is still strong within all 5 of us.

Jun: Daimon-san…

Daimon: The feelings that Felix holds for this band is different from the previous, I’m sure. And Koharu as well. We’re not done yet. Thats why, I feel that we just need a something to instigate our feelings… or so I think

~Cafe~

Tomoru: I thought that by coming to a cafe I could organize my thoughts but my head has just been going around in circles for so long… That reminds me, I got a message from my parents asking how I’m doing, I should respond. 

Tomoru: But… the atmosphere feels awkward when I mention music, while they don’t say it straight to my face, they’re definitely asking how long I’m going to continue being in a band… what to do…

[Phone vibrates]

Tomoru: Huh? I don’t know this number… where is this from?

Tomoru: Yes?

Mashu: Hello. I want to confirm, this is a phone number of a member of Fantome Iris’, yes?

Tomoru: Yes, that is correct.

Mashu: My name is Mashu, from Dreadnought Music. My apologies for the sudden contact however I have a suggestion of action for your band members, and would like to ask for your time and audience.

Tomoru: …eh. Ah, what sort of business do you have with us?

Mashu: I would like to discuss this in detail, in person. Soon, a band from under our label will be performing a live, hence we would like to extend an invitation to you.

Tomoru: That band would be…

Mashu: Gyroaxia. Similar to you, they had also appeared in the LRFes and I believe you had also interacted with them a bit.

Tomoru: You want us to come see Gyroaxia’s live?

[stevmarie]

Saint of Steel AU: Part 5

Laxus slammed the barn door open with too much force. His mind was a mess of anger and shame and frustration and hunger and concern. Thoughts tangled themselves together in chaotic knots, each one so entwined with the next he could barely discern where one ended and another began. A few of the other men scattered from his way as he walked back to the little shelter that had been made for them.

Bickslow had been helping to tend to the mules. His head snapped up when Laxus approached, his brows raising high on his forehead in alarm.

What the fuck were you thinking? his emotional brain screamed at him. You couldn't have made that any worse could you?

He doesn't know who you are. It isn't right to get involved with someone and leave them in the dark. The guilty paladin in him chided, He deserves to know who is in his bed.

Follow him back to the inn and show him exactly who could be in his bed. His dick said.

Both voices yelled at the latter to shut the hell up.

He thinks you're suspicious of him, emotion continued, He thinks you blame him for what happened to him. You need to apologize. Actually apologize. Saint's balls! First you throw yourself at the man and then you do this?

You are a paladin to a dead god, his inner paladin lectured, You are a broken man, and even worse, you are a danger to him. He needs to know who he's getting involved with.

It's still not too late to go to his room. You know where he's staying.

Shut. Up.

Laxus paced around the small quarters before finally giving up and leaning over one of the stalls and glaring at a particularly uninterested horse. His skin was buzzing with the need for action. To fix it. To apologize. To do something.

Yes, yes, go ahead. I'm sure you can't possibly make it any worse.

Leave the man be. Give him his time. Apologize tomorrow.

Apologize now and have very rough, very loud sex to make up for it.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up!

He dropped his forehead onto his hands and shut his eyes. If he prayed to the Pegasus god, would it even listen to him? Or would it just shake its head at the lost cause that he was?

"Saint's balls..." he grumbled.

"That bad?" Bickslow said from slightly behind him.

"It's a marvel how much I can thoroughly ruin a situation, Bix. Truly, a marvel."

"What the hell did you do?" he asked, bemused.

"It started out well enough," Laxus straightened, running his hands through his hair in his frustration.

"You can’t tell me he didn’t consent.”

Laxus shot him a glare, but ended up scrubbing his face with his hands to banish the memory.

"I'm a fucking idiot."

"Yeah... you are." Bickslow sighed. Laxus gave him another nasty look and his friend held up his hands as if it couldn't be helped, "He's practically been throwing himself at you, boss. I really don't know how you could have fucked it up. Unless you're trying to."

"I'm not!" he objected, "I just... I don't know. Every time I'm around him I turn into a complete ass."

“Ah, well, that’s nothing new.”

Bickslow shrugged, which was infuriating in its own way. He never had trouble getting into, and out of, other people's beds. It was effortless to him. He could strike up a conversation, find attraction, have a one-night stand, and part ways as friends the next morning. Laxus had never been good as such things. Perhaps he just wasn't built for it.

They stood in companionable silence before Bickslow offered that there was still work to do to prepare for the next day. Laxus, eager for something to take his mind off of his blunder, set to work in helping. When he finally did lay down on his pallet to sleep for the night, he caught himself looking back towards the inn and scanning the windows for any light he could find.

The idea that Gajeel might be lying on his bed as well, waiting for him to knock on his door and beg for another chance, bloomed behind his eyelids. His robes would have to be dried, and he'd be in his shift again. He'd be beautiful laying across a bed, pristine form barely covered. What a thing to do, defiling a priest in white.

Laxus stifled a groan and pressed his palms against his eyes to force the image away.

Tomorrow, Laxus resolved, I'll find a way to apologize tomorrow... somehow.

Laxus did not apologize the next day.

If you had asked him outright, he would have said it was due to unfortunate circumstance. But in reality, that was being far too generous. Somehow, despite the size of the party and lack of places to hide, the friar was avoiding him.

Each time they stopped to rest, he was disappearing around the other side of the wagon. Or he was tending to some small task that involved his full attention. Or he was deeply engaged in conversation with someone else. Once, Laxus even overheard him indulging Bickslow in conversation on how best to find truffles. When Laxus approached and attempted to ask if truffles were underground and Gajeel truly did despise pigs as much as he said, then how did they ever tack them down? The friar found a way to politely exit the conversation and made some lame excuse to relieve himself in the bushes.

Bickslow had shot him a sympathetic look that said lowly, "You really did mess up, didn't you?"

And Laxus gave a sigh that might have been a bit to emphatic.

It didn't matter. One way or another Gajeel would have to speak to him. He had an ace up his sleeve despite how expertly Gajeel kept himself as far from him as possible. This became apparent when they were making camp for the night.

"We're sharing a tent?" Gajeel asked dumbly, holding his bedroll with both hands as if it might jump away from him and roll away. His face was carefully blank. His inflection neutral.

"If that isn't too uncomfortable," Laxus said gently, "But everyone else has a pair, save Bickslow. And Bickslow sleeps alone."

"Ah, yes." Gajeel said. His lip twitched just slightly, betraying some thought for only an instant before it was spirited away again, "Well, I suppose it can't be helped."

"I could sleep beneath the wagon," Laxus offered, giving him an out.

"But it's so cold," Gajeel said, shooting him a dubious look.

"The wagon will keep the frost away, at any rate. I understand if you prefer your privacy."

"Don't be ridiculous, Captain." Gajeel replied, his tone as dry and evenly measured as a baker's cup packed with raw flower.

Was it just him, or did the title Captain seem less like a formality and more like a barb being painfully pulled out of a thumb? Laxus might have winced, but he was too busy being happy they would be forced into conversation.

Unless the man truly is planning to ice me out. In which case, the underside of the wagon might be far more comfortable a sleeping place after all.

Laxus stepped a bit closer to him. Gajeel didn't flinch outwardly, but still he flinched.

"I would prioritize your comfort over mine own, father," Laxus said, his voice dropping a bit too low. He hadn't meant for it to sound quite that way but, well, it was too late to take that back now, wasn't it?

Gajeel didn't look at him. In fact, he was very pointedly not looking at him. He was so obviously not looking at him, that Laxus felt bad for scrutinizing him the way he was. The merciful thing would be to turn his gaze away.

And what in the hell is he thinking, I wonder?

When Gajeel did reply, Laxus fully expected him to say yes, he quite would rather Laxus sleep outside of the tent, wagon or not.

"I do not mind your company," he said very, very calmly. So calmly that Laxus got the distinct notion he was not calm at all, "I trust you're a man of honor."

A man of honor. Yes, he did still have some of that left, even if it was running precariously thin as of late.

Laxus wanted to reach out his hand and run his fingers through Gajeel's hair. He wanted to see if the man trembled from that simple touch again, and then he wanted ask if there was any way he could beg for forgiveness for what he had said by the river. If there was any way he could make up for his failings, even if it took all night....

How's about you focus on getting him to talk to you first, hm? Instead of shamelessly undressing the man you caused egregious offense with your eyes?

Vigil. You need to pour a bucket of cold water on your head and do vigil. All night. On your knees.

Laxus bowed slightly at the waist and excused himself, off to aid anyone else in setting up camp for the night.

Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

[patowrd]

dando fic snippet pt. 5 😳 (one day soon i'll actually post the first third of this fic - i promise - but for now have a dando club scene)

Of course it’s Carlos’ idea to go clubbing.

Everyone’s here, even Max, and everyone seems keen on getting absolutely fucking hammered. Daniel can’t remember if he has anything planned for tomorrow, so he orders a gin and tonic, specifying “double” as the bartender nods.

“Feeling brave, are we Danny?” Max asks. He's nursing a pint, an orange slice floating languidly in his glass.

“Feeling like I’ve got nothing to lose mate,” he shouts over the house groove. He brings the glass to his lips and swallows, inhaling through his teeth as the alcohol scrapes its way down his throat. He loves this feeling, the bitter bite of the tonic lingering on his tongue. It fades to soft sweetness as he turns to the bartender, ordering another before he even leaves the bar. 

He's aiming to get drunk enough to silence the nagging worry in his brain. Lando and Carlos have found their way onto the dance floor, and Daniel can’t help but stare at Carlos’ hands, which smooth down the faux-satin fabric of a girl’s slip as they sway, wordless. There's something enticing about the rhythm they’ve found, the breathless buzz of a couple of beers and two endorphin-seeking hearts. Daniel can’t remember the last time he’s felt that rush, the novelty of an unknown body pressed against him close as he loses himself in sensation, in pure feeling. He hasn’t had time lately, at least that’s what he’s told himself, that between standing behind the bar and smoking at the back door he’s had no break long enough to taste a stranger’s gin-soaked lips. He finds the need growing in him though, a need which crests as Carlos grips her waist, one hand firm as the other gently cradles the small of her back.

He pretends the bartender’s eyebrow doesn’t raise when he orders his third drink.

The table Daniel finds (as far away from Carlos as he can manage, so that the ache he feels when he watches can subside), is covered in a film of spilled drinks and cigarette ash. He sits alone and stares at the ice melting in his glass, wondering whether he’d better order a fourth or just head home and call it a day. Maybe this isn’t him anymore, he thinks, maybe he’s too far gone to go back to partying, to be the kind of person who, easy as breathing, can find someone to share a dance floor with. He downs the drink and inhales sharp, and he’s a second away from standing up when someone smacks him across the shoulder and sits in the booth opposite him.

“Danny!” Lando says, something strong and sweet on his breath. and then, in mock sadness, “Man you’re all alone out here.”

Daniel laughs, pretending the remark doesn’t sting something deep within his heartstrings, “Ah, and you’re drunk”

“You’re not?” he asks, eyes gliding over Daniel’s now empty glass.

“Nah, not yet buddy”

“Well we’ve gotta work on that” Lando says, matter of fact, a playful smirk on his lips, “Don’t wanna leave our guest all by himself to sulk.”

There's a beat where Daniel says nothing, his eyes fixed on Lando’s own, which stare back, unwavering. The smirk doesn’t fade, and Daniel notices how it spreads to Lando's eyes, how he stares back like a trickster, taunting, teasing.

A sharp inhale as he looks away, “So, you’re a bit of a dick, hm?”

Lando giggles, taking a sip of his drink and fiddling with the straw, “Only when I don’t know you”

“Planning to get to know me?

“Not before another drink” and it’s then that Daniel notices the concoction in Lando's glass, a dark red and orange liquid swirling and swishing as Lando twirls the straw around.

“God, what are you even drinking?”

Lando's eyebrows rise as he blushes, a smile (bashful now, Daniel thinks, fascinatingly bashful) drawing itself across his features. He takes a sip and pretends to really be evaluating it, his inexperience showing as he replies “Dunno really.” a further sip, where he swishes it around in his mouth like he’s at a wine tasting, an impression which has Daniel doubled over laughing, unsure if Lando's really that funny or if the three g&ts have finally had their effect.

When he swallows, Lando wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, lips turning a plush red as he adds, “I just let Carlos order for me usually.”

Daniel swipes the tear away from his eye, trying not to look too much like a smitten schoolgirl finally talking to her crush, “God i’ve got to teach you about actually good drinks some time,” his smile is honest here, bright and luminous, “Honestly i’ll bartend at the villa, free of charge.”

And Lando only laughs at the offer, his head thrown back and eyes screwed shut.

Daniel thinks that, at least as far as he can remember, he’s never seen a boy quite this beautiful.

[cqsuanla]

fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

The light in the stairwell flickers, but it doesn’t make a difference, dim and dirty as it is. It buzzes distantly in your ears. You’re too focused on taking the steps two at a time to notice. You hold your groceries to your chest and fish your keys out of your pocket. If you were strong like Nat, you might just have knocked the door clean of its hinges with the force of your body. Instead, it crashes loudly into your wall, and you nearly fall on your face from the momentum. 

In a bid to gain purchase on your wall, you sweep your coat rack over, and you stumble over it. The clatter makes you wince — you hope she’s in a good mood. It’s hard for her to process stimuli when she’s weak. You scramble onto your hands and knees, shoving scattered boxes and cans into the grocery bag. 

Then, the rhythmic thud-thud of footsteps. You pause, exhaling as your eyes close. 

“Drink?” in a monotone. 

Yikes. You open your eyes, biting your lip. Steel-toed boots. You’ve told Nat a million times that this is a shoes-off apartment. She never listens, and you never argue more. Nat stays; she’s the only one who’ll stay. You can’t drive her away. 

Her right boot rises, scraping against the floor, and you flinch. It just kicks a cereal box away so it can nudge at the shopping bag. The way she says your name, evenly, firmly, has you blinking rapidly, has your hands automatically shooting to the bag, following her prompt. Thank god the bottles are fine. You don’t know what you’d do if they had shattered. 

You wiggle a beer out of the pack, and only then do you dare to make eye contact. 

“Hi,” you murmur. 

She gives you a brief glance, impassive, before snatching the bottle from your hand and returning to her spot on the armchair. “That fucking coat rack.” She flicks the cap off your side table, grungy and scratched up for this very reason. The cap bounces off the wall and disappears under the couch. “Just move it further in. You never listen.” 

You did, weeks ago. You don’t say so. 

The coat rack came with the place, and it was nice, so you refused to get rid of it. Nat hated it, hated that it was so close to the door in your already bite-sized entryway, but never enough to throw it out herself. But you did move it because her complaints were valid, and you wanted her to like being here with you, living here with you. Anyway, she stopped complaining afterwards. Not that you think she noticed — you supposed it was a minor inconvenience to her, the way a fly was, annoying when it was in your face but non-existent once it stopped bothering you. 

Quietly, you move your groceries to the kitchen island, putting everything but your new medical supplies away. There are dirty plates in the sink, which you’ll wash after you make yourself dinner. You wonder what she’s eaten – you’d just bought two new steaks, but Nat likes a bowl of strawberry ice cream now and then.

The TV channel switches in the background. Nat snorts, and you peek around the wall to catch a report on the gruesome series of murders that have been happening lately. People in the neighbourhood hardly went out anymore, too afraid of the dark now. It would scare you too if you weren’t well aware you’d never fall victim. Nat was with you, after all, and you were with her. 

You would be with her for as long as she’d let you. So, what if she was the monster in the dark? So what? It was Nat. Your Nat. She came back to you, talked to you, fucked you. It’s not like she was disembowelling you in some grimy alleyway. She kept most of the violence away from you because she cared. Anyway, like everyone else, she had to eat. You couldn’t fault her for that. 

You’re pulling the gauze out of its packaging when Nat scoffs loudly at the news. They must’ve insulted her because she clicks the TV shut, practically inhales half her bottle and flings the remote onto the couch. 

Then, she sets her sights on you, meek behind the counter, and raises an eyebrow. “Honey, the hall’s a mess. Clean it up.” 

You frown. “You’re still hurt.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll eat tomorrow, and it’ll be fine.” 

You don’t think so. The longer Nat doesn’t eat, the worse it gets. It’s how she’s in this mess in the first place. Nat’s ethereal after a feeding, next to omnipotent. But the guy she picked to eat last week turned out to be some sort of track star because he had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and she’d been forced to retreat when the sirens started blaring. The day after that, she picked a local thug as her next meal, and she’d been caught off guard by the switchblade. So, here she is: slumped on your couch and stitched up sloppily. 

Her hair is limp, skin wane and dry, and in a bad enough mood that you can basically feel it every time you’re within a two-meter radius of her. 

Her physical weakness emboldens you a little, makes you think you can get away with a bit of stubbornness. You pick up the gauze and tape and round the corner. A car speeds by, high beam making Nat’s eyes glint a deep green in the dark. The green follows you the whole way until she has to crane her head around to watch you slip her tank top off a shoulder. 

Those eyes weren’t like that before when you first started dating. You don’t mind the changes, though. Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. 

“You don’t want to listen?” she asks, almost conversationally. 

You know better. You clench and unclench your fist. Shakily, you lift it and tuck a hair behind Nat’s ear, hoping foolishly that it will placate her. 

“Baby,” says she, like a gentle mother to a misbehaving child, “you should really listen.” 

You trace the bumps of her stitches, staring hard at her shoulder so you won’t have to see that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

“At least answer me.” 

“No, Nat,” you mutter, undoing the bandages on her bicep. “I don’t want to listen.”

To her credit, she lets you fix her up. Methodically, silently, you clean her wounds and rewrap them in new bandages. She doesn’t get in the way unless it’s to take a swig of her drink. 

When you’re done with her arms and back, you move to her front. She’s got an ugly gash on her calf, bruised midway from where the man had kicked her bleeding leg. You imagine this is causing her the most pain, not just physically. Nat’s not great with sitting still. She’s independent to a fault, enjoying control to the point that it’s probably some sort of diagnosable complex, and this restriction on her mobility has her restless and irritated. 

Looking down at her, at the space between her knees, you wonder if she’ll cooperate with you. The last time you tried to clean her leg, she’d torn your duvet in half and has since refused to let you look at it. But Nat tilts her head, coy, and gestures toward the space in front of her with her bottle. 

“Scared?” she whispers.

You glance at her face just in time to catch her tongue tracing the jagged end of a canine. Mutely, you shake your head. She smiles wide.

“Liar.”

Of course. You’re always scared of her. For her, too. But you don’t think it matters; it doesn’t change anything. You just want to help her, be good for her. Anyway, she’s trying to get a reaction out of you. You refuse to take the bait, raising your eyebrows and wiggling the bandages in your hand.

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she parts her legs. 

As if dealing with a feral animal, you move slowly, cautiously, afraid to make sudden movements lest she starts getting violent. You squat down and reach for the cuff of her sweatpants. 

“Ah, ah.” She slides the leg back, staring down her nose at you. You pause. “Kneel, baby.” 

Her eyes — did the ring of green get thinner? Your lips part, anticipation beginning to seep into your body, and you comply. Once you’re settled, looking up at her, she makes that same careless gesture with her bottle. A go-ahead. 

As you work, she shifts to put her beer on the table and then combs a hand into your hair. You tense, eyeing her nervously, but she only watches you, imperious, intense, and remains silent. Nevertheless, you pick up the pace, tossing the antiseptic aside and winding the gauze around her pale calf. 

She’s startlingly warm under your hands. Ever since… whatever happened to her — she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details — she’s run hotter than ever. You can’t sleep under a blanket with her anymore unless you’re shirtless; the heat would be unbearable. Not that Nat has any complaints about that. 

“All done,” you murmur. 

The lack of reaction from Nat gives you the courage to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the top of her knee. The hand in your hair rewards you with a gentle scratch, and you can’t help melting into a smile. She’s still got that air of arrogance about her when you look up at her, but she’s not glaring. Which is why it comes entirely as a surprise when she clenches a fistful of hair in her hand, yanking your head back, and slaps you clean across the face with her other hand. 

You take the full brunt of her palm with a cry, almost toppling over were it not for the grip on your hair. Your cheek burns, and so does your eyes. Mostly from pain, partly from the shock of it, maybe a little from shame when you realize you’re getting wet from the rough treatment. 

Nat tuts. “Crying already?” 

You imagine you look pretty pathetic on your knees for her, eyes glassy.

“Don’t give me those eyes, baby; you know I can’t help myself.” 

“I just wanted to help.” 

“I know,” Nat says gently, tipping your head back again so you can see the false sincerity on her face. “You can fix this, you know?” 

Your eyebrows furrow, thoughts racing a mile a minute to puzzle out what she means. 

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll show you how, dumb baby,” she coos as she nudges your chin with the knuckle of her finger, and you can’t help flushing deeply at that. Then, she offers a hand, and you take it, and she tugs you up into a straddle on her lap. “Come here.” 

You instinctively wind your arms around her neck, clinging on. Beneath you, she tenses and lets out a low rumbling sound that resonates deep in her chest. You inhale sharply. 

Teeth. Sharpened to deadly points. Poised over your neck. Nat’s breath comes short and hot against your skin, and her tongue, when it peeks out, drags wetly across your skin. 

This has happened once before; the first night she’d come back changed. Like before, she noses at your flushed skin, teasing you with the possibility of damage, and trails her teeth down to your traps. Back then, she hadn’t bitten you. She won’t now, you think, you hope. 

She sighs again, hovering over the meat of your shoulder and prodding her teeth against you. Doesn’t break the skin. 

“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Are you scared?” 

This time, you nod. Nat’s lips curve into a smile, and her hold on your thighs tighten enough to bruise. 

“You should listen, sweetheart,” she says against you. The front of her teeth scrapes over you when she speaks, leaving red marks behind. “I hurt you less when you’re good. Don’t you know?”

“How can you be in the mood?” you wonder, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “You’re half dead.”

“Barely.”

It would take a lot more to kill Nat like this. Anyway, how could you be in the mood when your girlfriend’s cut up like this? 

Nat stands abruptly, ignorant to your yelps and complaints, and dumps you back onto the couch in quick succession. Before you can even register what’s happened, she’s yanked your bottoms down to your ankles and has climbed between your legs. 

Even after that, you don’t get the chance to speak. She wraps her hand around your throat and pins you to the cushions. You grab onto her wrist.

Her body bears down, and you break into a sweat, in small part due to nerves, some part because she’s shoving her hand up your shirt to grab roughly at your bra, but mostly because she’s near scalding. You’re convinced her blood runs at a constant boil now. You’ve grown to love the heat, though. With her, pleasure comes white-hot, and you’d want it no other way. 

“Nat-”

“No,” she growls, and you get an eyeful of her monstrous teeth. She flexes both hands, cutting off your airway and squeezing your breast painfully. You whimper, wound tight as a coil. “Listen to me, baby.”

You look at her through hazy eyes. 

“Those eyes again. God, I love you like this.” Foolishly, your heart clenches at those words. She rucks your shirt up and claws her nails down your front. Beads of blood bloom from the thin scratches she leaves behind. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”

Her hand nearly crushes your throat closed, but then she releases you, and you suck air in desperately. Your hands, shaken off her arm, reach for the sides of her head. “Nat,” you croak, tasting the salt from your tears on your lips. “Nat.”

She shakes her head, descending on your chest. It hurts – badly. “Be good for mommy.”

“Mommy,” you gasp out, arching into her mouth. She ignores your pert nipples, electing instead to lick and suck at the burn between your breasts. “Please, please.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Oh, her teeth are still out. “Hands above your head.”

You obey, another sad sound crawling out of your abused throat. 

The dark pits of her eyes drink in the sight of you, face crumpled in pain and need. A thumb wipes up the last of your blood, and she delights in smearing it across your cheek. 

“Messy baby, clean up after yourself. It’s basic,” she chides, thumb still rubbing at your face as if she were fixing up some runny mascara. “Be good now.”

You don’t dare to speak, just nod and look pleadingly up at her. Your core aches from neglect. 

She makes quick work of that, reaching down to feel the slick between your thighs. Humming, she smirks and very deliberately rubs her middle finger over your clit. You jerk up into her, mouth falling open even as you strangle your moan. 

“I could do anything to you, and you’d still want me.” 

Again, you nod. 

“Where did my little liar go?” she baits. You shake your head. “Say ‘thank you, mommy, for letting me breathe.’”

It takes you a moment to gather the brain cells and say: “Thank you, mommy.”

Her smile widens, teeth back to normal. “Again, for the lesson.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

She brings her hand down on your cunt, full strength. You scream, jolting away from her. Well, you would have if she hadn’t pressed you down by the chest, entirely uncaring about the wound she’d left there. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, trickling into your hairline. 

“Thank me for that too,” she demands.

“Thank you,” you cry around a hiccup. 

One more spank, and another, and another. Your legs kick uselessly against the cushions, body twisting after every awful smack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Your hole clenches around nothing, slick leaking onto the couch. Then, two fingers dip into you, and Nat thrusts them up hard and fast. She’d shoved them in on a contraction, and it hurts for a second before she’s curling her fingers into the velvet of your walls. 

She makes a pleased sound. “Tight as always. Makes me want to tear you in half, baby.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “Th-” She starts up a fast pace, digging her fingertips into your front wall. “Thank you!”

Her cheek rests on your chest, listening to the thunder of your heart. “We should try that big one.” Impossibly, your heart rate quickens at the thought, and you manage to shake your head. She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, and music to your ears. “Maybe another time then.”

She sits up then, still working her fingers into your cunt, and moves her other hand to your mons. She pets gently over your labia, a sharp contrast to the vicious pace she’s keeping up. Your head spins. 

“My baby,” she breathes, “good enough to fucking eat.”

But she parts your folds to press her fingers into your clit, circling them once, twice, thrice, and you’re so close. So desperately close. 

She leans down, near delicate in her movements, and licks into your mouth. You taste copper and beer and the faintest sweetness. Urgently, you try to kiss back. 

If she’s mean, she’d pull back and deny you the chance to come with her mouth on yours. 

She must think that you’ve suffered enough, though, because she rubs her thumb at your clit and drives her fingers deeper into you, and you push up as far as you can into her body with a scream. You’re swallowed in molten heat, pleasure stripping away at you until you’re just bones on the couch. 

When you come to, Nat’s pulling out some bandages for your chest. You’re too tired to do or say anything, forced into silence by her dominance. 

She smiles at you, still not kind, but it doesn’t look bestial like before. Maybe just self-satisfied. She strokes your sweaty hair as she fixes you up, shushing you if you moan quietly from aftershocks or pain. You are in a lot of pain, bruised and scratched up as you are.

“Good girl,” she says when she’s done. 

Finally, you muster the energy to grab her hand and say, “Thank you.”

She lets you hold on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sure.”

You wish she’d hold you for a bit, but you don’t vocalize it. She’s been through too much in the last few days; you shouldn’t burden her—

“Don’t be fucking needy,” she says, suddenly and harshly. Your face must have given you away. 

“I don’t mean to be,” you mutter, bringing your arm up to cover your eyes. Feeling stupid, feeling mad that you feel stupid, you say: “It would just be nice if you’d stay for a bit.”

A hand grabs your arm, yanking it away from your head, and you’re treated to a view of her scowl. “Where would I go?”

You didn’t mean it that way, but you don’t know how to get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. “I-I don’t know.”

Out of nowhere, her hand slaps your cunt again, overstimulated, sore, puffy. You groan, curling in on yourself and hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Fuck, Nat.”

She takes the opportunity to sit down on the end of the couch, where your legs once were. The TV turns back on, and you hear her take a sip from her can of beer. “Clean up the hall later.”

At least she stayed.

[bimb0beee]

hi :) i had a dream abt sero & here we are !!!

MDNI ‼️‼️

2.6k !!

sero x y/n

warnings: sero hanta. come eating? very small, sero is kinda mean, one mention of sir, fucking against a window, pet names? angel, princess, sweetheart & puppy. uhhhh idk what else to put 😵‍💫

i hope you like it 😪💕

There is nothing that pisses Sero off like rude reporters. Reporters, who he knows would never be able to do what he does. Most of the time he can keep his temper in control. Not today, though. It's been a very long day. All he wanted to do was get home to you. But his agency made him go to a press conference. The nerve of these people.

There’s blinding lights, flashes, and too many fucking people. He grins and takes it. It's part of the job. It's been a long day. It was almost over with; he was almost scot free. Then, some stupid asshole reporter had to open his mouth.

“Cellophane! Cellophane! So… you’re in the top 10. We all can recognize that. Although, what’s it like knowing you’ll never be at the top?” The nameless reporter has a smug look on his face. Sero is going to fix that.

“Well, um. Sir. It’s funny you have the audacity to ask me such a moronic question; we both know you would never have what it takes to be here, in my spot. I’m not doing this to be the top hero. I'm doing this because I care about my country. Why do I need to be at the top to do that? I can obviously tell you’re just envious you’ll never be at the top. Fucking beautiful women, miles above the city. A real pity it is to be you, isn’t it?”

Sero laughs hysterically off the stage and makes his way home to you.

You were watching Sero’s press conference biting your lip anxiously. You know how rough his day was and how bad he just wanted to come home. You knew the second that idiot opened his mouth, Sero was gonna stop caring about saving face. You were so embarrassed when Sero talking about fucking women; you knew he was implying you. One of his favorite things to do in his penthouse high above the city was fuck you against the large window. It was scary. It was exhilarating. He loved knowing he could ruin you and none of the little ants below would ever realize what he was doing. He fucking loved it.

You were more bashful about it, but he knows how much you liked the adrenaline of looking down while he abuses your cunt on his cock.

Your body is tingling with anticipation. You’re getting everything all tidy for him. You want to do whatever you can to make his mood lift, even if it is a little bit. His dinner is warm for him and get him a nice, cold beer in hopes it’ll wind him down.

You hear him grumbling when he stomps through the front door and he looks so angry, so irritated. Then he sees you, standing by the table with a nervous smile on your face and all that anger melts away.

He smiles and makes his way over to you, “Hi, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”

you lean up to kiss him and whisper into the kiss, “I always do, Hanta.”

He kisses you a few more times before he tickles your neck with his mouth and you can’t really help the elated giggles you let out.

“Go shower, Hanta. You smell like you’re covered in sweat. Your dinner and I will be waiting for you to come back!”

“Of course I smell like sweat. I am covered in sweat.”

He stalks off grumbling. All he wants to do is hold you and kiss you. He supposes a quick rinse won’t hurt. After all, making you pleased is one of his favorite things to do.

You’re fussing with your phone when he comes out, a cute little furrow on your brow. He hates it. He wants to get rid of it. He wraps his big arms around you and grunts in your ear, “What are you doing that has you so worked up, princess?”

You yelped and threw your phone when you felt his arms encircle you.

“N-nothing, Hanta. It's nothing…”

He quirks a perfectly sculpted brow at you. “Yeah? Then why did you throw your phone? Are you being… naughty, puppy?

Your insides are vibrating in anticipation. “No, no. Of course not, Hanta. Someone just sent me an article about that asshole at the press conference and I didn't want you to see…”

He tchs at you. “Enough of that shit, princess. I don't want to deal with any of that bullshit for the rest of the night. Alright? I’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow, at the agency. Right now the only thing I want is…”

He's attacking your neck with such an intense vigor you can’t help but moan out.

“B-but, Hanta… your food is getting cold!”

He licks a stripe up your neck before nipping at it; making you squeal in response.

“Actually, I have everything I need in my arms right now.

He manhandles you so your ass is directly on top of his hard cock, “This is the only thing I need tonight, puppy. Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes, yes sir. I'll be whatever you want me to be, Hanta.”

He groans at how good you are to him and presses your body down so he can watch himself rub his cock against your sweet, little ass.

“You look so good bent over like this for me, don’t you, princess?”

“Gimme more, Hanta. Please, missed you so much all day…”

He releases you from his hold and you're about to whine out for him to come back.

“Shut up. Go in the room and strip for me, yeah? Gonna make you feel so good, angel. Promise.”

You're dashing away from him before he can blink and he laughs loudly at your eagerness. You've always been such a good girl for him. It makes your heart beat faster hearing how happy you can make him just by listening to his instructions.

Sero waits a bit, smashes a bottle of water in the hopes it'll give you enough time to be stripped and waiting for him. He doesn't want to punish you tonight. Sometimes he enjoys it. But tonight, he just wants you to be his sweet, obedient little puppy. His cock throbs at the thought of you taking him like the good little bitch you are.

He slowly makes his trek to your shared bedroom, salivating at imagining what you look like waiting for him. It's even better than he could have hoped for. You're on your knees, in the middle of your bed wearing absolutely nothing with a sweet smile on your precious face.

“Baby… don’t you just look so pretty for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

God, he loves when you're like this. So sweet; so willing to please. To do whatever debauched thing he wants you to do.

“Come here, angel.”

You slowly remove yourself from the bed and walk so slowly over to him. Basking in the way his eyes trail all over your body.

He smirks devilishly down at you, “This all for me, puppy?”

You look away from his eyes with a sweet blush adoring your cheeks, “Of course, Hanta. It's only ever for you.”

“Place your hands against the window, sweetheart.”

You can’t do anything but obey. You're absolutely quivering in excitement. Sex with Sero is always such an exerience. He's always so good to you.

He drops to his knees and spreads your cheeks so he can see your cunt tighten around nothing.

“Wow, puppy. You're dripping. You're a nasty little thing, aren't you?”

There is no time for you to reply when you feel his face so close to your cunt. And he inhales. Fuck. its so embarassing but it always makes you so fucking wet.

He moves you up a little bit so you can feel his warm tongue on your clit.

He flicks his tongue on it before he's shoving it inside as far as he can get it. Just because he likes to feel you clench on it. He takes one of his fingers and starts softly rubbing your clit and the reaction is instant. You're clenching down so hard he thinks you're gonna trap his tongue inside you forever.

“M-more, Hanta. Give me more…”

Who is he to deny you when you're asking him so sweetly? He starts to rub figure 8’s onto your clit, putting only the slightest bit of extra pressure on it. It’s driving you insane. You want more.

“More, Hanta! Before I-”

And then he stops. Tears stream down your face when he moves away and you look down at him when you see the look on his face.

“What was that, puppy? Was that a threat? You're supposed to be my good girl, and here you are acting like a fucking brat. I was ready to devour your sweet cunt just the way you like it, but I guess I can't even do that. Such a shame.”

“W-wait, Hanta. I’m s-”

“Ah, ah, ah. Too late for apologies, sweetheart. I wanted to take my time, but I guess I'll just have to take what I want instead.”

Now, sometimes. You love when Hanta takes his time. When he builds you up, up, and up. And the other times, you love when he just takes what he wants with you. Does he make you come? Sure. but he makes himself come first. There is something so utterly, so undeniably sexy about your sweet, precious hero using you like a cock sleeve.

Youre dripping down your thighs, it’s a nasty mess and sero fucking loves it. He strips down to nothing and forces your body around so you're facing him. You look so cute and fucked out waiting for him to shove his fat cock in your pussy. You're biting your lip, looking at him up and down. Staring so longingly at his cock.

“What are you staring at my dick for? Acting like you don’t know I'm about to shove this whole thing inside you, huh, sweetheart?”

“You’re just so pretty, Hanta… I can't help myself sometimes.”

He chuckles at how cute you can be. Even when he's about to wreck your cunt.

Sero makes his way over to you; lightly grazing his hard cock around your soaking pussy lips.

“F-fuck, Hanta, you feel so good…”

“Yeah? Of course I do. It’s not about you right now though, is it, puppy?”

You blink up at him, unseeing. All you can think about is how nice his cock feels gliding against your pussy lips. He grabs one of your legs and puts it over his arm. You look so happy, so eager to please him it makes his tip drip with pre.

With no warning at all he slides his dick inside you as slowly as possible. You want him to shove it in rough, all at once. He knows this. Which is why he takes his sweet time. Watching your face twist in pleasure.

“Hanta, you're so big, please…”

“Can you shut up? For once?”

He grabs your other leg to go over his other arm and presses your back against the cold glass.

He’s unmoving. Feeling your cunt clench around him. Knowing how bad you want him to move. He doesn't give two fucks.

“I’m going to ruin you right here. Against this window. Above the world. This is my cunt, you know? I don't care how fast or hard you want me to go. I'm going to use you however I see fit. And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it, puppy.”

You clench down on him so tight he can’t help but let out a loud moan.

“You're disgusting, you know that? What kind of bitch gets off on the fact that she's about to be used like the whore she is. From a hero no less. You're nasty. Filthy.”

You whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “Of course I'm getting off to the fact that my hero wants to use my cunt.”

He slowly moves his hips, feeling the slick of your cunt. It glides so nicely around him he can’t help but fall in love with how good it feels.

“Such a nasty whore, taking my cock raw. You love it don’t you? Can you feel me, puppy? Can you feel me deep inside your guts?”

You can't think, you can't see. All you can do is focus on the feeling of him stretching you out to your limits. It feels so fucking good you might pass out.

You're drooling and he laughs at how fucked you look.

“I havent even done anything and youre dumb and drooling for it already? You're sick, puppy.”

He moves a little faster, and he can’t understand why it feels so good. Why does your cunt feel like heaven wrapped around him? He wants to obliterate your insides.

He walks you over to the bed without ever removing his cock from inside you. The way he is so strong that lifting you is nothing for him.

He throws you on the bed and you look up at him in confusion, wondering why his cock isnt nestled inside you.

He grabs you by the legs and yanks you over to him and enters you in one thrust.

He places your ankles on his shoulders and starts pounding you into the mattress.

He's moving in and out with such a brutal pace you're sure you're seeing stars.

“You love this don’t you? Love when I abuse your little cunt like nothing else matters? Love when I hit you so deep you can feel it in your throat.”

“Yes, yes, yes, Hanta. Love it so much, love your cock..”

“Yeah, puppy? Love when I fill you to the brim with my come, don't you? Want to be my little breeding bitch, don’t you princess?”

“Fuck, god, yes Hanta, please. Love feeling you come so deep inside me I cant even fucking reach it..”

“Yeah, princess? You love feeling it seep out of you, don’t you, angel?

You're sure you're trying to speak. It's coming out in garbled noise. He's hitting you so deep you're sure he's bruising your insides. It feels so good, his cock hits every spot it can. He's hitting your g spot with expert precision. You're clenching around him so tightly he’s sure he's going to burst at the seams.

He leans back to spit on your clit and starts rubbing it furiously.

“You gonna come for me, huh? Come on my cock like the good little bitch you are?”

You're about to moan out a yes, Hanta when he presses down just a little too hard on your clit and your eyes flash white. He keeps rubbing your it, keeps absolutely demolishing your cunt, extending your orgasm for as long as he can. He keeps going even after you're done, even after there are tears in your eyes telling him, “it’s too much, Hanta, too much” and he doesnt stop until he fills your cunt to the absolute brim with his come.

He collapses on top of you, completely exhausted from the day and his orgasm.

“Hanta,” you’re whining and smnacking him, “you’re heavy, get the fuck off before you kill me!”

He laughs at your indignant whining and slowly pulls out of you. He watches as you try to stop his come from seeping onto the bedsheets.

“Here, let me.”

And he pushes it all back inside you and grins wolfishly at the moan you let out.

“Hanta, please… let's go take a bath?”

He takes his fingers out of you and quirks an eyebrow at you waiting for you to open your mouth.

You do it obediently; sucking his come off of his fingers, making sure they're nice and clean like the good girl you are.

“Yeah, princess. We can do whatever you want.”

You smile so brightly at him, he's sure it rivals the stars.

“I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you more, princess.”

[sparkbeast20]

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt13

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11 Pt12

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature, Suggestive content.

Previously

The two snap out of their feral state by Levi’s scream, they turn towards Levi and shock to what they saw.

“Leviathan!?!, put that book down now!!”

You felt like something is missing next to you. Confuse you try to search it with hand but all you can feel was coins and clothing. You open your eyes to see that Mammon was gone.

You push yourself up and look around to see at no one is in the cavern with you.

“Hello?” slowly got to your feet and wander towards the mouth of the cavern, then you heard a voice call out to you, startling you.

You look up to see Beel looking at you.

“Your awake!” He flew down and immediately engulf you in a bear hug. “We were so happy to find you and Mammon, we didn’t stop looking ever since you two left.”

That feeling again, just came back. The feeling of guilt.

“Sorry to make you all worried”

He chuckles and tells you that breakfast is ready, you nodded and quickly flew out of the cavern and landed near the campfire where everyone is there and greets you.

“Ah…. Good morning, I guess?” once Beel let you go, Asmo was the first one to pounce at you and start rubbing his face to yours as he dramatically starts sobbing. After a moment of fake crying pulled away and cup your face and squishing it. “Look at you, a week of no shower or bath. *Gasp* a week wouldn’t be enough fix you and not to mention all the lost time we have make up since you and Mammon vanish”

You felt your chest tight, just hearing anything about casino and “running away” you feel guilt building up. You want to change the subject.

“I know, I look like I came from a post-apocalyptic game” you were hoping for Levi to jump in, to make one of his game/anime references. But you met was a confuse look from Asmo and Beel. And a dull look from Belphie and doubtfully look from Satan.

“If you look for Levi, he not here. He and Lucifer followed Mammon to who’s knows where” Satan broke the awkward silence.

“Ugh, Mammon is in a bad mood this morning, all though he did lighten up when I mention that you were sleeping…...what have you two been doing for the past week” Asmo grins and playfully bounce his brows up and down. Clearly thinking some private thoughts that Belphie are not to please to hear this early in the morning, he glared at him to stop with the “Asmo speech” but the fifth just wave his hand at him to stop his feeble attempt to scare him.

“Asmo how could I do it with him, when his three times bigger, and that his…... I don’t know a crow monster!”

“You said that his “Three times” bigger. Then that means his- OW!?! Satan the fuck that was for!” Satan smack him at the back of the head to cut that discussion short. He hisses at Satan, who just flash a fake smile at him, you chuckle at the Fourth and Fifth interaction.

“Anyway, why was Mammon in a bad mood?”

“I was just cleaning tail feathers, when squawk at me. I was just trying to help him”

You couldn’t say it out loud but every time you ask Mammon about his brothers, he just stay silent and turn his head away from you, like he didn’t want to hear about them.

Its like before the week you to left, Mammon starts too distant himself from them. As if he was irritated to be in the same room with them.

You felt your hands turning colder, as your heart start to beat fast. The guilt is killing you; all this happen because of you.

“I’m sorry…... this all my fault.” All of them turn and look at with a confuse look on their face. Satan was the first one to asks.

“What do you Mean?”

“……Mammon wasn’t the one who want to go to the casino……. I was”

It was a quiet night at the house, too quiet Mammon wasn’t his cheerful attituded that night even though it was Saturday night he tends to be at the casino by this time but he wasn’t feeling it.

You were at the couch in his room, doing some reading about the demon king and his time ruling for a report you’re doing.

While Mammon is laying at his bed looking at the ceiling with both arms under his head.

“Maybe we can play with Levi, he said that there was devil kart update last week”

“Nah, I’m not in the mood video games right now” he sounds tired and uninterested like all the passion in him is gone.

“Mammon” call to him in low tone and a slight worried, stood up and walk over to the bed and sat next to him. “Are you okay, did Lucifer or the others~”

“No, its….” He tilts his head and landed his sight on you “I think, I’m losing interest in cards”

“What? But you’re the sin of greed how are you losing interest in cards?” he sat up and look at the table by the couch with a stack of playing cards on it

“I don’t know…… it does excite or thrill me like it use to, maybe it has to do of me being in a slump lately. I mean babe, I lose all the rounds last week and all my cash in my pocket…... I think I’m losing my spark”

He lay back down to bed and turn to face away from you, not knowing what to do.

You hate seeing him like this, somehow its Mammon depress like this, just crush your heart. He always lively cheerful, full of himself, cocky and arrogant that why you love him. Even he does stupid and dumb things for cash. He is the light of this house and his brothers they just don’t want to admit it.

Then suddenly you thought of something to help your boyfriend, you lay beside him and start kissing him on the back of his neck.

“Babe, I’m not in the mood for sex”

“Oh……... I’m just doing this to grab your attention” you said it in a playful tone.

He turns you and with a pout “What are you gettin’ at?”

“Well….” You start playing with his hair “I have a couple of friends back in the human world that was in same state as you are right now”

“Yeah…... yer point?”

“Their solution is to change it”

“Okay now, I’m more confuse”

“You been playing poker and other card games normal and/or cheating” he looks at you narrow bows and his pout is even more sour, and you just chuckle and ruffle his hair. “You got used to it, and eventually the game got dull. So, I should come and play with you and make things interesting”

“You don’t like gambling, I’m even surprise that yer dating me”

“You know why I choice you right!” he turns away to hide his blush.

“Get to the point” he’s getting fluster, you try your best not tease him any farther.

“Yeah, I don’t like gambling…… but people change their mind about things and I want you to teach me how” you can see his face change into something to what his usual expression is.

“Yer tell me, that ya want the great Mammon to teach ya how to play and win”

You pulled out a grimm out of your pocket and show it to Mammon “I want more of this to buy something” you said like you’re making a deal with a devil. And his liking it.

“Go on……” he fixes himself in a sitting position with his hand under chin as you continue on to all the things you want to buy and other activities that you can only do with grimms. The longer you go on, the cocky grin on his face grow. He loves this feeling you indulging in his sin, what he saw is a wave of aura that he is the only one can see, surround you and your pact mark glows.

But to you you’re just talking about thing you want to buy; you know Mammon just love listening to you talk about things like this.

After all of that, Mammon jumps off the bed and turn to face you with his chest puff up.

“We’re not sleepin’ tonight, cause baby I’m teach ya all the tricks and cheats of this. By this time tomorrow we’ll be swimmin’ in grimms”

You smiled back at him, happy to bring back his spirit again “Can’t wait”

“After that, we spend all night playing cards until I memorize all cards in the deck. And we spend the nights at casino after casino earn wins and having fun…... until the Basto thing happen”

“So, you let yourself get too greedy and try to cheat for the thrill” Satan said with a stern tone. All you can do is nodded and try not to cry.

“I though changing things up and making them more exciting for him, will help get out of his slump…. But I didn’t want him to get all the blame and blame himself for me getting hurt” you start to sob and let the tears fall as you hold the case which should be off of you by now close to your chest.

Satan sigh and crouch right Infront of you and start talking.

“That was stupid and reckless of you, to act like Mammon, knowing that you’re playing a dangerous with powerful demons for the thrills” you nod as Satan continues “But what’s done is done, once this all over you and I are going to have a long talk” Satan pause for a moment and grab your case arm and looked at it and saw the writing in gold ink.

“But you shouldn’t blame yourself for Mammon hating himself for you getting hurt” he taps the case and it broke apart surprising you as you bend your wrist feeling free from it.

“Because this is what you are to him” he grabs a piece of the case of the floor, he gently grabs your hand and place the case on it revealing the piece is with writing My Treasure with the scribble of a feather next to it.

Your eyes widen and you looked up to met Satan’s eyes, he smiled back at you.

“Mammon loves you, if guns work on demons, he would’ve jump Infront of the bullet for you without a second though. Mammon is dumb but…...” he trails off and wipe the tears of your cheek. “His heart is in the right place”

“Satan’s right” Asmo fixes your hair “We make of Mammon from time to time, because his easy to tease. That’s goes to Levi with his obsession with his hobby, Satan’s with cats” Asmo can feel Satan glaring at him. “Beel with his eating, and Belphie with his laziness” Asmo pause for a moment remembering all the time Mammon and he were clubbing, and how he teases him on winning you, and boasting about in that was the best out of the seven of them to choose to be with. Sure, he was jealous all of them are, but seeing him happy like that and happy being with you. He couldn’t to smile and be proud of Mammon.

“We all care and love him, even these heartless demons won’t say anything” Both Satan and Belphie frown and look away from Asmo, who he and Beel chuckle of their brothers attempt to hide their emotion.

“Thanks…. All of you, I feel so much better”

“I’m glad, now let’s eat”

“Yes” without hesitation Beel start stuffing his face with the food he and Asmo has been cooking

“Make sure you save some for the three, we wouldn’t want to be in their bad side, if they came back hungry and expecting food waiting for them.” Belphie tells the others, and thinking what taking the older brothers too long to get back.

[floofs-headcanons]

Hello hello! Both of your have such awesome writing! I had so much fun reading the headcanons and scenarios of the bodyguard AU! Could I request either college AU or a soulmate AU or your choosing for Zoro? Whatever you feel like writing! Thank you!!

College & Soulmate AU; Scenario

Character; Zoro

Word Count; 1,718

Thank you so much, we’re glad you liked it !! But no, but let me tell you how we screamed at each other for literally half an hour when we saw this request. There were too many good soulmate AUs we ended up using a generator aksjdhas.

The first time you and your soulmate touch you get stuck together for a while.

December is when you find him sleeping on campus grounds. He’s resting on one of the outdoor tables, book open, with arms covering the pages. Snow is falling, and you’re cold even with a heavy fur coat and umbrella keeping the white specs from melting into your hair.

You’re not sure if you should wake him up despite the fact that he was wearing nothing other than a T-shirt and some jeans, but he doesn’t seem very bothered. Well, that is until he sneezes. It’s followed by some incoherent grumbling and nearly scares the shit out of you, but it’s enough for you to decide to help.

“Hey,” you poke his cheek with the butt of your umbrella, not too fond of touching strangers. “Hey!”

He doesn’t stir, and you’re left wondering if anyone else has tried to help him before you showed up and ended up leaving it be because he wouldn’t budge.

Still, you couldn’t leave him here in this type of temperature; so you decide to leave your umbrella behind. It’s long enough to lean against the table and shield him from the ever piling snow without directly touching any part of his body and possibly bothering his rest- not that you think it would. He didn’t flinch even when you yelled at him.

December is when you’re working at Shakky’s bar late into the night to pay off your college tuition.

Those loans wouldn’t pay themselves after all and the salary was good. 

The company at the bar itself was interesting to say the least. You could never truly say you had a dull night while working there. Be it the slurring drunks and their awful attempts at pickup lines, to the terribly sobering tales that would be shared across the counter; it was an eye opening experience. 

Tonight would be much like any other- at least, that’s what you had thought until a familiar man comes through the door. 

He seemed well- that was good. You didn’t give it too much thought, after all, you were on the clock and this was a rather popular bar for the student body to frequent. From the way Shakky greets him, he must’ve been a regular long before you had begun working here.

Setting down the glass you had been mindlessly polishing, your attention is drawn towards a customer sitting near the back of the bar. He’s a bit louder than the other customers, but you were pretty used to that. Eustass Kid came in all the time and drank until he either passed out or his blonde haired friend carried him out forcefully. At the very least he wasn’t bothering anybody.

“Excuse me,” the green haired man raises a hand, successfully catching your attention. It seems he was done talking to Shakky by now.

“Yes?” You make your way over, an award-winning customer service smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I get for you?”

He ends up getting a few, maybe more than a few, beers. This man sure could drink.

December is when your car decides it needs its own break from the cold winter snow. It thankfully doesn’t break down anywhere too traffic heavy, and there’s an auto-repair shop not even five minutes away.

“Oh, hello,” you greet, surprised to see a familiar face working here. He’s wearing a tank-top and some slacks, and this time you think the attire is appropriate given how much he was sweating.

The owner, Franky, had more than generously came to pick up your mobile and gave you a ride along the way, saying it would be done the same day. I have a reliable repairman, he said more than just a bit too loudly for comfort.

The male glances up at you for a second before going back to finish up on the vehicle he was already occupied with. “Hey, there.” You’re not too sure if he recognizes you- it’s a hard to not recognize him- but that’s fine, you just needed your car fixed.

It doesn’t take him very long to finish up on his current project before moving onto yours. He thankfully doesn’t ask any questions, it seems like the owner had already filled him in, and just starts working.

“You know,” he spares you a glance, picking up another tool. “He said it’d be done the same day but it’s still gonna take a few hours. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Unfortunately not,” you sigh. The only plans you had were to go back home and take a long, long nap, but there was no way you were going to walk back in this type of weather. For a while, you’re standing around a little awkwardly, fiddling with the fluffs of your sleeves before he speaks up.

“If you want you could sit inside where it’s warmer. There’s a TV and some magazines you could read to keep you occupied.” You debate that for a bit, looking through the glass door to the waiting area, but ultimately decide to stick around for a bit longer.

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. You could wait inside later, for now you’d want to wander a bit. It’s not every day you’d get to go to an auto-repair shop and you’ve always been a bit curious with how often Kid yells about it in the bar. “Would it be alright if I take a look around?”

He gives a grunt of approval and you make yourself comfortable, roaming the workshop. It’s quite big, and you hadn’t noticed ‘til now that the walls were painted in vibrant blues, red, and yellow. It matched the owner’s eccentric personality.

“Oh,” a stand hidden to the back of the shop catches your attention; a lone umbrella resting on its handles. Yours- to be more precise. “You use an umbrella during snow time?” You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back, the thought never really occurred to you. Considering they weren’t that expensive buying a new one wouldn’t be much of a hassle. If anything, you were more surprised he’s kept it around.

The male clears his throat, stopping whatever it was he was doing to your car and wipes his hands down with a towel. “Actually,” he admits sheepishly, “I’ve been meaning to return it to you. I just kept forgetting.”

You raise a brow, “You knew it was mine?”

“I’ve seen you use it around campus before,” he admits. “Not a lot of people use an umbrella while it’s snowing, and the color’s pretty vibrant so it’s hard to not notice. I had wanted to give it to you when I visited the bar, but you were constantly busying yourself so I never got the chance.”

A chuckle escapes your lips at his little confession. He seemed like such an intimidating guy, with the furrowed brows and scar over his eye, but he was a lot more awkward than one would expect. “Well,” you catch his attention. “I’m working there again tomorrow night if you want to come give it to me in person.” December is when you’re sparing hopeful glances at the door every time the bell chimes.

“Expecting someone?” Shakky teases, coming behind the bar and pouring herself a glass.

“Something like that,” you mutter before making your way past her to attend to someone in the corner of the room. It’s the same person from around two weeks ago- he’s louder this time, but there were also less customers tonight and no one seems to be complaining any so you let it slide. “Yes? How may I hELP-?!”

What you can’t let slide is how he forcefully grabs your wrist and essentially drags your body to lean over the table. “Ah, damn,” you’re used to drunks, not idiots. He has a permanent grin plastered over his lips and his grip on your wrist tightens. “I can’t let go! Guess we must be soulmates!”

There is no explaining the disgust that washes over your face. “Sir, I’m asking you politely to let go.”

Everyone who goes here knows that it’s simply an unwritten rule to not fight unless you wanted to be beaten half to death. Not by you- dear lord no- Shakky on the other hand was ruthless and you’d never want to end up on the other side of her fist.

Ever.

“Huh?” He slurs, “didn’t I just tell you that I can’t let go?”

“I’m telling you-” before you’re able to get anymore words out another hand wraps around the older man’s wrist, successfully shutting you up. For a second, the dread of it being one of his friends rises, but it’s quickly crushed by the voice that follows.

“I’m sure you’re not deaf. She said let go.”

The bar is dead silent for a few seconds before the man roughly releases his grip on your arm. A bit gentler would’ve been nice, you internally grumble, rubbing the sore area.

“Hey there, could I ask exactly what you were trying to do with my precious barkeep?” Your boss comes over, leaning against the table. She gives you a wink and a slight nudge of her head towards the break room and you don’t think twice before leaving the scene, your green haired friend following close behind.

“Is your wrist alright?” He questions as soon as the door closes. “My bad for being late, I got held back by some work Franky wanted done.”

His hand reaches out to gently hold your wrist and a spark of electricity shocks you both. Usually, your first instinct would be to flinch and pull away, but he has a firm grip.

“Uhm,” you glance down, then back up at him. “It’ll probably bruise tomorrow but it’s nothing to worry too much about...”

His face is unreadable, and after a couple seconds his ears turn a faint shade of red. “I can’t let go.”

You chuckle at his poor attempt of a joke. “C’mon now, we just went through this.” You lift your free hand to pry his fingers off your wrist only to feel the same electric shock as earlier. It doesn’t hurt, only stinging enough to really initially surprise anyone, but you quickly realize he wasn’t trying to pull your leg.

Oh.

“So,” he awkwardly lifts his other hand. “I brought your umbrella.”

[resident-mercie]

Carlos Oliveira - Fluff Fic.

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

Coffee For Carlos - Chapter 6.

it's been a long while since the last chapter, i apologise! definitely very long overdue.

"Alright, we're here." Carlos shot you a smile, fiddling in his pocket to find his keys. It hadn't taken you particularly long to get to Carlos' home, but it was quite amazing to feel how different the atmosphere was from the hustle and bustle of the city.

It was a quaint little cottage, amongst similar others in its cul-de-sac. However, Carlos' place had a lot of character to it – in particular, his yard was adorned with brightly coloured blooms and shrubbery that set it apart from every other building near by. Seemed like Carlos had a knack for gardening as well as coffee.

Carlos pushed the door open, before flicking the lights on quickly, and helping you with the two boxes you decided to take with you – one with your clothes and basic necessities, and the other contained your precious typewriter.

"Alright, I can help you unpack tomorrow, if you'd like. Neither of us are working tomorrow, so you can sleep in, unpack, and see about phoning up whoever your landlord is and see if we can end the lease if you'd like?"

"Sure." You gave Carlos a weary smile, tired from the general stress of the day. Not to mention it was late.

"I'm sorry Newbie, I completely forgot how late it was. Go make yourself comfortable. I'll go and prepare some bedding for you."

Carlos' house was surprisingly colorful and cosy. You curled up in his soft blue loveseat sofa, slowly drifting off into your slumber as soon as your head hit a cushion...

You awoke with a bit of a start. The sun blared through the windows, which were slightly ajar, letting a drift of summer breeze in. Gently sitting up, you pushed the colorful knitted bedding away, before standing up and stretching after your rest. Only now did you realise that there was a faint sizzling sound emanating from the kitchen. Were those pancakes you could smell?

"Ah! Hey Newbie." Carlos smiled at you as you wandered into the kitchen. "You fell asleep as soon as you sat down last night. I decided to give you some bedding incase you wanted any." Carlos was in his pajamas - grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, but had an apron tied around him which had been splattered with pancake batter.

"You thirsty? I can fix you up some fresh orange juice."

"That'd be great, thank you Carlos." You gave him a smile, before taking a seat at the little table that was in the kitchen. "You didn't have to make me breakfast, you know."

"Hey! You're my guest. Of course I have to. Plus I really like baking." Carlos gave you a grin, setting a glass of fresh orange and a plate of chocolate chip pancakes at the table. "Dig in. They're all yours."

They were really delicious too - some people might've called "heaven on a plate" a bit of an overexaggaration, but they were that damn good.

"Okay, I have to ask." You swallowed another mouthful of pancake. "Just who the hell are you, and how are you this good at making breakfasts and coffee?"

Carlos looked at you and laughed, taking his own seat at the table, a newspaper in hand. "That's a secret, I'm afraid."

"Not even a hint?" You laughed back at him, twirling your fork around. "Hey, are you not eating? These are so good!"

Carlos shook his head. "No, that's your breakfast. I'll make myself some toast in a bit or something."

"C'mon!" You smiled, fidgeting in your chair. "Just a bite?"

"Fine!" Carlos rolled his eyes, grinning. "Just a bite. Remember it's YOUR breakfast."

Rather than leaving Carlos to get his own piece with his own fork, almost instinctively, you cut off a bit of pancake using your fork, holding it out for him. You didn't even realise what you'd done.

Carlos graciously took the piece of pancake from your fork with his mouth, as you still held it out for him. Neither of you had realised what had happened.

"See! I told you you're a really good cook. Feel free to take some more. I don't think I can finish this myself."

"I might have to take you up on that." Carlos blushed slightly, standing up to get another fork from the kitchen drawer. "Although, this time I think I'll feed myself."

The realization hit you suddenly, that you'd fed Carlos from your fork without thinking. Anyone from afar would think that you were a couple.

"Ah jeez, I'm sorry!" You blushed too, trying to laugh off your embarrassment. "I'll leave you to it."

"Don't worry about it. It was pretty sweet actually."

The two of you spent your day off attending to real world business you needed to try and get sorted. Carlos phoned the landlord on your behalf, mostly because you felt a little too awkward phoning them yourself after your first night in the city. Amazingly enough, he managed to get your lease terminated, meaning that you were free to stay with Carlos.

"Are you sure you don't want me to pay anything, Carlos? I feel really bad staying here without contributing. Kinda like a leech."

"Don't worry about it, Newbie. I couldn't get a refund for the rent this month, so I don't want you paying out of pocket. We'll figure something out from there if you're so insistent, but seriously, I don't mind."

The last thing on the itinerary was to unpack. Carlos had space in his wardrobe upstairs for the clothes you brought with you, and let you keep the typewriter safe in his office room. Seeing your clothes all mingled together in the same wardrobe was pretty heartwarming, honestly.

The evening rolled around, which left you watching TV in the living room while Carlos fixed dinner. You felt bad that he was going all out to make sure you were comfortable here, while you wondered if you were giving enough back.

"Are you sure you don't want any help, Carlos?" You yelled from the living room, before Carlos appeared in a clean apron with a smile.

"It's all under control, I promise. You don't owe me anything."

He'd made casserole for dinner, and the two of you resumed your positions at the table from earlier this morning, laughing and chatting as you ate.

"Sorry if I'm a pain at all, Carlos. I feel bad that I'm staying here without giving anything in return."

"Don't be like that. Having company is more than enough." Carlos took your hand in reassurance, and you smiled.

"Oh, by the way, are you comfortable on that couch down there? I feel bad that I'm taking the bed if you're down here all uncomfortable."

"I'm okay, I promise!" You gave a nod back, not wanting to take the guy's bed as well.

"Well, what I was going to ask you is—" Carlos cleared his throat. "My bed is pretty big, a queen size, I think. I wouldn't mind— well, I wouldn't mind sharing it with you, if you'd be comfortable with that. I'd sleep on the other end of the bed obviously. I just– well, I don't want you to be down there alone."

Carlos was blushing. And honestly? So were you.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Oh! Can you write a Spencer x reader fix based on Dress by Taylor Swift? I feel like it fits it so well, like hiding the relationship from the team/friends to lovers? Love your work!

Thank you darling! ❤️ italics are flashback

Our secret moments in your crowded room

They've got no idea about me and you

There is an indentation in the shape of you

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

“She’s going to be ok you know?” you spoke, snapping Spencer out of his thoughts.

He looked up at you, wide eyed and scared. It broke your heart to see him like this.

“She hates me,” he sniffed back tears.

“No she doesn’t.” you took hold of his hand. “She’ll understand, it’s the best place for her.”

You couldn’t comprehend what he must be going through. No eighteen year old should have to make the decision about whether or not his mother should be committed.

“I hope so.” his bottom lip quivered as though he might cry but he managed to keep his tears at bay.

“We’ll go visit her this weekend ok?” you squeezed his hand, shuffling closer to him on his bed.

“I’d like that.” he nodded.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from holding back from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

You wanted to kiss him so badly. It really wouldn’t have been hard to, he was right there and his lips looked so inviting.

But he was your best friend and he had never given you an inclination he liked you in that way. He’d never given any inclination of liking anyone in that way.

You pushed your own desires aside, not wanting to ruin the friendship you had built up over the years on a whim.

But god his lips felt as though they were calling to you, just begging to be kissed.

But how long were you supposed to ignore your own needs? Honestly, you didn’t know how much longer you could just push them aside.

Spencer Reid had lips that needed to be kissed. And by you.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off (ha, ha, ha)

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Two weeks later and his mood had lifted a little. You’d been to visit his mom a couple of times and each time she was getting more used to the sanitarium which allowed Spencer to sleep better and the weight of his decision weighed on him a little less.

Tomorrow you were leaving Vegas for college in New York. Honestly you had thought about not going. Because the thought of leaving Spencer almost broke your heart in two.

“You look nice Y/N.” he smiled a little at you as he spoke.

You felt your cheeks burning as you played with the hem of your new dress.

“Thank you Spencer.” you swallowed.

You wanted to make your move before it was too late. What if you went off to college and he forgot all about you? You wanted him to have a lasting memory of you.

You’d bought a new dress and spent ages on your hair and makeup. Just to hear Spencer say you looked nice was worth it.

But you needed more. You needed him to know how you pined for him for so long.

But the words got lost in your throat somewhere and they never came out.

When he hugged you before you left you felt a piece of your heart break off and entwine with his.

And you’d never fully get it back.

Inescapable, I'm not even gonna try

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

I'm spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about

The music was loud and the room was crowded. You threw back glasses of wine like they were going out of style.

Your girlfriends laughed at another joke one of them told that you’d missed due to the volume of noise but you laughed anyway.

“It’s your turn Y/N,” one of the girls yelled to be heard over the music.

“I think I’m going to sit this one out.” you shook your head.

“No way!” another said. “It’s my bachelorette party! And you’re the only single one of the lot of us so we’re all going to live vicariously through you.”

You sighed, knowing resistance was futile.

“Fine.” you rolled your eyes. “Who?”

The girls looked around, conferred for a moment and the pointed across the bar.

The man they’d chosen had his back to you. He was tall, skinny and had a mess of brown curls.

“Sweater vest.” one of the girls said. “He’s your target.”

The game was simple. You went up to a stranger of their choosing and without saying a word to them, you had to plant one on them.

You downed the remains of your glass of wine and put the glass down on the bar.

You smoothed down your dress, inhaled a long breath and then headed over.

You heard the girls behind you cheering you even over the music.

This man was about to get the surprise of his life. So were you, you just didn’t know it yet.

His friends noticed you coming just as you reached him but he didn’t have time to turn to see you before you grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed your lips hard against his.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from holding back from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

He froze up completely at your kiss which was completely understandable.

His friends stared on in confusion.

When you pulled back you went to speak. You went to explain to him that you were sorry but it was a dumb bachelorette party dare.

But your words got lost when you looked into those eyes.

“Spencer?”

“Y/N?”

“Oh my god.” You didn’t know what to do.

So you ran.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off (ha, ha, ha)

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

“Hey you.” you smiled a little awkwardly as you approached him. “Two years is a long time not to visit.”

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry. It does work both ways though. You’ve not been back to Vegas since you left.”

“Ah but I have the excuse of being busy with college.”

“I am working on my third PhD Y/N.” He laughed.

“Fair enough.” You toyed with the hem of your dress. Another new one, just for Spencer’s visit. “I missed you Spence.”

“I missed you too.” He smiled shyly. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

Beautiful. He called you beautiful.

Was this your chance?

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself Mister. Or sorry, is It Doctor now?”

“You can call me whatever you want.” He swallowed and if you weren’t mistaken, he’d moved closer to you.

You moved closer to him too, now so close you could feel his breath on your face.

Year’s worth of longing rushed to the surface. You couldn’t hold back any longer. You needed to kiss him.

Clearly he felt the same as he was edging even closer. His eyes closed. This was it. He was going to kiss you. Finally you were going to know what it was like to kiss Spencer Reid.

And then, he pulled back.

“Uhm…” he scratched the back of his head. “So, are you going to show me around New York?”

Flashback when you met me

Your buzzcut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth of me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

You shyly clung to your dad’s side on the lawn of your new house, chewing your lip frantically.

“New neighbors, say hello Spencer.” Mrs Reid motioned her son forward. He had large, thick rimmed glasses that seemed to take up his whole face.

“Hello.” he gave you an awkward wave.

“Hi,” you returned the gesture.

“This is my daughter Y/N.” your dad introduced you.

“I like your dress.” Spencer smiled shyly at you.

You felt yourself blushing and found yourself playing with the hem of your dress.

“Thank you Spencer.”

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Spencer found you hiding out the back of the bar, completely mortified. Of all the men in all the bars in the all the world you could have kissed, it happened to be your childhood best friend.

Why was the world so cruel?

“Y/N?”

Hearing your name from his lips made you shudder. It had been a long time since your name had sounded that good.

“Hi,” you chewed your lip. “Look I am so sorry about that. I had no idea that was you and it was a dumb bacherlorette party dare-”

“It’s ok.” he smiled sweetly at you, coming closer to you. “It only took us nearly twenty years but we finally had our first kiss.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s really good to see you. What has it been, ten years?”

“Nine years, seven months and two weeks.”

“Wow.” you chuckled. “I forgot about that eidetic memory of yours.”

He was really close now, you had backed yourself up against the wall outside the bar.

“You look as beautiful as ever.” he whispered.

Before you could respond, Spencer pressed his lips to yours.

It was completely different to the kiss you’d just shared in the bar. He took hold of your face and pressed his whole body against yours. His tongue worked its way into your mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into the kiss.

It was all you’d ever wanted. Spencer Reid’s lips on yours.

And it felt better than you ever dreamed it would.

You were both panting when the kiss broke, smiling at each other.

He ran his hands down your sides, taking you all in.

“I really like your dress.” his eyes turned dark. “But I think it would look better when I’m taking it off.”

There is an indentation

In the shape of you

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

[barnesbabee]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ- ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ᴇɪɢʜᴛ-  ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST:

White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

“The stars sure look beautiful today.”

From that night on you and Seonghwa continuously exchanged shy glances, and even the simplest touch would make you blush, as you both reminisced what had happened that night. You anxiously waited for the day you would finally belong to each other, and as the night approached, the both of you started feeling butterflies all over your body.

You had decided the wedding would be small. Not because you weren't extravagant, but because none of you had friends, so it wouldn't make sense to throw a big party. Although the King, without your knowledge, had ordered the most beautiful wedding dress, and he couldn't wait for you to see it.

One day, you decided to take a peek at the ballroom, where the wedding would be taking place. You could see he tried to minimize the red and black, but it was stronger than him. It did look beautiful though... The gold chandelier lit up the sparkly room, decorated with rose petals cut in the shape of a heart, and several portraits of you and the King beside each other. You wondered when those had been painted, but you were honoured. Your heart was clenching in adoration as you noticed the contrast between the portraits all around the castle compared to those. Every painting of the King you had seen so far was of him with a stone-cold expression, but in all of these you were both smiling, laughing, or looking at each other lovingly. The King make sure to capture his favourite moments in all of these paintings, from the day you met, to the picnic in the garden.

"Thank you, Miss."

You were startled to hear a voice behind you while you peeked through the barely opened door. You jumped slightly and turned around, but calmed down once you saw it was one of the maids. She was looking at you with her big, sparkly frog eyes. At some point, it freaked you out, but after seeing them every day you got used to the frog people.

"You're welcome ma'am, but what might you be thanking me for?" You asked, quite confused.

"You've made our lives infinitely better with your presence. Our King has really changed... He said 'thank you' the other day. I have worked for him for a decade and not once had I heard those words from him. He treats us like people, not like servants. You are a blessing, Miss."

You smiled at the maid, a sad yet sympathetic smile.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I beg of you, give him another chance. Seonghwa is but a neglected, traumatized child in an adult man's body, and I'm trying to help him become a better person."

"I cannot promise anything Miss, but if he truly shows the people mercy and compensates them for all we've been through, the people might give him another chance."

You gave her a slight nod, and thanked the maid for her honesty.

"Hey!" A voice called from up the stairs.

The maid excused herself, and you looked at the staircase, to find a distressed Seonghwa running down towards you.

"Did you see the room?" He asked arms crossed over his chest.

You stayed quiet for a second and looked away from the man who stood apprehensively in front of you.

"No?" You lied.

"Aw come on! I wanted it to be a surprise! I knew I should've covered that paintings."

The image of a sulking Seonghwa was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. You wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his chest.

"I'm sorry, but I was too curious..." You paused and looked up at the man "If it serves any consolation, I was very surprised, and I loved it."

"Really?" He happily asked, flashing you his pearly whites.

You hummed in agreement, earning a small kiss from the man.

"Well, the surprises aren't over. There's a couple more, starting with tonight's dinner."

Before you could ask what he meant, Seonghwa grabbed your hand and dragged you towards a small room in the attic. It took a while to go up all of the marble stairs, and you were out of breath once you reached the room, but it was worth it.

The King gripped the golden handle of the red, wooden door, while looking at you with a big grin. Once he pushed it open, the most beautiful sight was prepared for you. The roof of the small room had a beautiful glass skylight, and the stars looked down at you as you stepped inside. There were white rose petals scattered all over the dark wooden floor, and a small table with two chairs sat in the middle. On the wall right in front of you was a lit fireplace, and the table was set for two, with the most beautiful cutlery you had ever seen. You noticed a letter sitting on one of the dishes, that you assumed was directed at you.

"I, uh... I learned to like white roses." Seonghwa said, embarrassed.

You remember the first time you met when he freaked out over the white roses in the garden. He moved to stand behind one of the chairs, and pulled it back.

"Come, sit down."

You obliged and sat down on the chair he held out of you The male sat in front of you and motioned towards the letter.

"Tomorrow we get married, and there are many things I want to tell you, but I can't. So I wrote it down."

You grabbed the letter and opened it. The King's calligraphy was beautiful and easy to read, but it didn't surprise you: everything about him was very neat.

'Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you have to read this, instead of hearing me say it, but I know that if I were to tell you how I feel, half of my sentiments would be left unsaid. I have lived a short life that felt very, very long. These years have dragged on relentlessly, but ever since you arrived, time flies. I hate going to sleep and I can't wait to wake up, to be with you, to look at you, to kiss you... I have had many experiences that I thought were love, but the second I laid eyes on you, I knew all of those previous times were wrong, I finally knew what love was. And recently I've come to find that love isn't only one thing, because somehow my love for you grows in many ways every day I spend with you. You may call me crazy, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, and I will keep my promise of changing to be a better King. Even if you stop loving me, even if you leave me, I will hold up my promise as proof of my everlasting love for you. But I must confess, I've imagined us growing old together, and one day, when I pass the crown onto my future child, I hope it is your child as well.

Forever yours,

Seonghwa.'

Tears streamed down your cheeks like two rivers and your bottom lip trembled as you read the letter.

"Ah, those are happy tears! Correct?"

You set down the letter and wiped away said tears with your wrists.

"Yes, yes they are. This was beautiful, Seonghwa, thank you."

"I'm afraid that's as far as the surprises go today, because when it comes to dinner," Seonghwa paused, revealing two sandwiches that would be your meal "I'm afraid it's mediocre. I tried my best but everything I made came out raw or burned, I'm afraid this is as far as my cooking abilities go."

You were surprised and very touched that he had done it all by himself, even if it were just some lousy sandwiches.

"You made dinner by yourself? Well, my good Sir, they must be delicious." You joked as you took one of them.

They weren't good, but they weren't bad either, and you appreciated the effort that had gotten into them. You imagined what kind of King Seonghwa would have been if the previous King had chosen to raise Seonghwa instead of his sister... Surely a kind, caring King that everyone looked up to, one every eligible young woman (and man) would bad their eyelashes at. It was truly a shame... But it wasn't too late for a change, you were hopeful.

You spent that night together, cuddling and telling stories while looking at the starry sky, and you eventually fell asleep on the many pillows Seonghwa had sprawled on the floor.

The next day, you woke up with a smile, remembering that your wedding was in a few hours.

You laid on top of Seonghwa and kissed him.

"Wake up sleepy head."

Seonghwa smiled, wrapped his arms around you and flipped the two of you, so you'd be under him.

"Good morning princess."

You help his face in your hands and smiled.

"After today I'll be a Queen."

"My Queen."

Your sappy moment was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Sir, Miss, I'm afraid we must commence dressing you for the wedding."

The King peeled himself off of you with a groan (but not before kissing you). He helped you get up, and the two of you followed the maid that took you both to your assigned fitting rooms. Seonghwa had picked his own suit, but you had no idea what he had in store for you. The second you opened the door, you were met with the most beautiful dress you had ever even imagined. It was white, with a tight corset that expanded into a glamorous princess-like puffy tulle. The tulle had many layers, and its bottom was decorated with pearls. The corset, while sleeveless and heart-shaped, had lace appliques that covered your chest and arms, and the torso was decorated with many sparky stones. The veil was equally decorated with pearls and had a tiara attached to it.

Attached to the dress there was a letter.

'They say white symbolizes faith. I have faith in you and in our marriage. Much love, Seonghwa.'

The maids helped you dress, very carefully and with care. They truly seemed to like you. One of them even fixed your hair in a pretty bun and attached the veil to it.

They had spent around an hour fixing everything, and when you were almost done, the door opened.

"The King is waiting for Miss Y/N."

And that was your queue to leave the room. You carefully walked down the stairs and made your way to the big ballroom, once the doors opened, with the announcement of your name, your eyes fell on Seonghwa, who was staring at you happily, in his new look. His hair was slicked back, no longer covering his eye, displaying it proudly, no longer ashamed of his past. His suit matched your dress: it was white and fit him neatly, and it only served as proof that Seonghwa looked good in any colour.

You noticed the crowd in the room, but you weren't too surprised. Although you had decided to hold a small wedding and not invite anyone, you two knew the people would want to see who was brave enough to marry their King, so the man opened the castle doors for anyone who wanted to witness the wedding.

To say the people were surprised to see the King smile was an understatement, but the fact was that he was smiling, and the smile grew wider for every step you took towards him.

The ceremony went beautifully. There were tears in your eyes and in Seonghwa's eyes, and as you celebrated and sealed the marriage, everyone clapped (to you and Seonghwa's surprise).

Everything went perfectly, until the toast. Seonghwa suggested a toast in your behalf after the maids handed every citizen a glass, and when you took a sip, your body felt weird, and you started shrinking, and shrinking, and shrinking until you looked like Thumbelina.

"Y-Y/N!?" Seonghwa asked frantically, as he looked at tiny you standing on the table.

"Tweedles, now!" Someone roared from the crowd.

The Tweedles grabbed you and tossed you over to the Hatter, who had been concealed in the crowd this whole time. After hearing about the wedding, the Hatter decided he would use the certain crowd and commotion to blend in and enter the castle. Without anyone noticing, Cheshire sprinkled some of Absolem's shrinking cake into your drink.

The Hatter grabbed you gently and Bayard came running in. He placed you on the dog and reached for his pocket to retrieve some cake as well.

The King, noticing what was happening before his very eyes, panicked. Tears streamed down his eyes and his bottom lip quivered.

"No! Please don't steal her away! Please!" He begged, running towards the group with one hand stretched out, hoping he could get to the dog before they left but to no avail.

The Hatter just laughed and shrunk himself, giving Bayard the signal to leave. The card knights tried to follow the dog but he was too fast, and there was no time to get the horses before losing sight of the dog. You were gone.

The King fell to his knees, and cried, as he stopped seeing you from the distance.

"Please, don't take her away from me..."

[idy-ll-ique]

Art.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, little bit of Angst

Warnings: jealousy and insecurity

Requested: nope

Summary: In which Steve is into art but Y/N is not.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Haven't got anything to say specifically so,,, enjoy the fic! Hope you like it!

[Y/H - Your Hobby]

---

"Oh my God, this is awesome!"

"It is, isn't it?" Y/N smiled softly, staring at the pure joy on Steve Rogers' face as he stared at the beautiful painting in front of him. "So much! Ah, realistic paintings, they're always so amazing. Do you like them?" he grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Sure, they look cool," Y/N shrugged, not really understanding the painting. It was aesthetically pleasing, though.

Well, anything to make her boyfriend happy. They were at an art gallery in Brooklyn, which Steve loved to visit. Y/N, knowing how much Steve liked art, and her, always accompanied him. Steve and Y/N had been dating for nearly a year now. "Yeah! I know you aren't into art, but thanks for coming."

Y/N scoffed, burrowing closer to him. "You're my boyfriend, bro, anything for you." She giggled when he gave her a playful shove, immediately pulling her back to him. "Don't call me that, I'm your boyfriend," he chided jokingly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sure you are." Steve laughed, ruffling her hair.

"We've been together for a year." They stood in front of an abstract painting. Just as Y/N was about to retort, they heard someone clearing their throat. Turning around, they saw a woman standing there, smiling at them. "Hello, I'm Tiffany! You're Steve Rogers, if I'm correct?" she addressed the man.

"I am, and this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N," Steve answered with a polite smile, unconsciously pulling Y/N closer to him. He didn't like the way Tiffany was looking at him. "This is my painting, do you like it?" Tiffany asked. There was something off about her... "Ah, sure sure, it looks really good." Even though he didn't trust Tiffany, he couldn't lie about the art.

"Thank you! What do you think about it, Y/N?" Tiffany turned her smile unto Y/N. The woman blinked and glanced at the art. "It's nice," she shrugged truthfully. "Ooh, I'm so glad! The meaning is truly wonderful, I worked hard on it," Tiffany clapped her hands. "Yeah… the meaning…" Y/N cleared her throat, looking away from her.

"If you wanna see more of my art, you're very welcome to check it out! This one is on sale, actually, if you would consider," Tiffany offered, looking directly at Steve. "Oh no, not here to buy anything, just to admire," Steve chuckled, waving his arm in dismissal. "Okay, okay, but if you want to ever talk about art, you can give me a call. Toodles!"

With that, Tiffany handed Steve a business card, turned around and left. Steve stared at the card he involuntarily accepted, scrunching his nose. "Oh God, that—" He cursed, throwing the card into a nearby trash can. "What about her? I think she was lovely," Y/N lied, giving him a quick smile.

"She was clearly condescending! Ugh!" Steve rolled his eyes, "Anyway, we don't wanna ruin our day. Let's continue with the art!" Y/N's mind wandered as she casually latched on Steve's arm, ignoring the words he was saying to her. She couldn't help but think about Tiffany and how it was clear that she was hitting on her boyfriend.

To be honest, Tiffany was kind of better than her. Steve and Y/N had no common interests, why was he even interested in her? Why wasn't he into Tiffany? Steve's main attraction was art, he loved it more than anything else in the world and yet he continued to be with a woman who had absolutely no curiosity in said thing.

Why?!

Y/N softly groaned.

Oh no, this was gonna be a problem.

Which she was gonna fix.

---

Impressionism is a 19th-century art movement characterized by relatively small, thin, yet visible brush strokes, open composition, emphasis on accurate depiction of light in its changing qualities (often accentuating the effects of the passage of time), ordinary subject matter, inclusion of movement as a crucial...

Y/N blinked and yawned, throwing her phone on the bed. "Ugh! Why is art so fucking boring and frustrating?!" she moaned, rubbing a hand over her face. She sat up all of a sudden, squinting at the clock in the corner of the room. It was 4:56 am. "Or maybe I'm just tired…" She lay back down on the bed and kept her phone away.

The thing is, ever since that one visit to the art gallery, Y/N's little confusion about Tiffany and Steve had turned into the biggest insecurity of hers. Since that time, she had been limiting her meetings with Steve, as was she learning more about the thing that made Steve most happy: Art.

Steve hadn't questioned her as of yet, which was good. He didn't suspect a thing. She knew he didn't like Tiffany, given how he had called her unsavory things and also immediately threw her business card in the trash. Y/N just couldn't help feeling like she didn't belong with Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Steve, meanwhile, also awake, was sitting on the balcony in his room, thinking about his girlfriend. Why had she been acting so weird for the past one month? Absolutely refused to be around him for more than half-an-hour, sounded tired every time they talked and knew surprisingly a lot about paintings.

How? And why? He sighed and got up, stumbling into his bedroom. A little talk tomorrow won't hurt, right? Running a hand through his hair, he plopped down on the bed, lay down and finally decided to sleep.

---

"Y/N? Sweetie, can I talk to you?" Y/N glanced at Steve. "Yeah, what happened?" she smiled when he sat next to her, putting an arm around her. "Is everything okay with you? Lately you've been… kind of strange," he whispered. "I'm fine! Just having trouble sleeping, that's it," Y/N muttered, resting her head on his shoulder.

They were sitting in his room at the Stark Tower. "No, it's something else. I've known you for a year, my love, tell me. I'm here for you," he assured her, brushing her hair with his fingers. "Fine! It's Tiffany! She got into my head," Y/N groaned, burying her face in his neck. "Her?! That— sorry," Steve blushed when Y/N gave him a pointed look.

"Look, I get it, man. You're Captain America, you're America's hottest man or something and women literally flock to you all the time but she— she likes art. Just like you do. You both know so much about it, it's insane! I'm only thinking, why am I with you? I've never been interested in art, and Tiffany actually seems like a fun person to be around."

"So you got a little insecure?" Steve teased, pressing his lips to her temple. "I haven't slept in a month! Why do you think I know so much about art all of a sudden?" Y/N huffed, looking away from him. He froze. She gave up her sleep just to make sure she was… worthy of his affections?

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying. I slept at 6 am yesterday. Today, technically speaking. I had to be at my job at 8, and I got half an hour of sleep all because I was researching impressionist art— Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N deadpanned. Steve continued to stare at her, a look of disbelief and incredulity on his face.

"I want to tell you something very important." He pulled away and turned to sit face-to-face with her. "What's that?" she mumbled. "I love you. I love you so much, Y/N, you're the most gorgeous woman I've seen, we are happy together and I like that. We have different interests, of course I know that, but it doesn't matter."

"Why doesn't it?"

"Because when we're together, next to each other, I have the best time of my life. Everything is blissful when you're with me and it's… it is euphoric. You don't need to learn about art just to hang out with me, I like rambling to you! Unlike artists, who would most definitely interrupt me at all times, you listen. And I like that. I also love listening to you talk about Y/H."

Y/N teared up at his words. "Thank you," she managed to blurt out, sniffling when Steve laughed and pulled her into his arms. "Off the bat, I knew what that bratty woman wanted. But I didn't want it because I already have it better," he chuckled, rubbing her back in soothing motions.

"I love you too," Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, smiling softly when she felt him pressing a kiss to the top of her head. All of a sudden, there were knocks on the door. "Come in," Steve called out and Sam poked his head into the room. "Steve, we have a meeting in 15 minutes, just a heads up. Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Sam!" Y/N greeted enthusiastically. "I see you're doing better now," Steve smiled, wiping her tears away when Sam left. "I needed to talk and we did, I'm… I'm not insecure anymore," Y/N admitted, playing with the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. "I'm glad we could sort this out. I gotta go now, talk to you later?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Bye!"

She smiled when he leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss. "I love you!" he called out when he left the room. "I love you— close the door, you turd!" She laughed loudly when he turned around with a raised eyebrow. "I love you too, Steve," she grinned cheekily, bursting into boisterous laughter when he closed the door behind him.

Outside, Steve only smiled, happy that his girlfriend was doing much better.

See, a little conversation didn't hurt.

---

A/N: Hope you liked it! Leave a like if you did, thanks for reading!

[malereader-inserts]

Not Impossible

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Marauders & Male!Reader Summary: It’s all theoretical, really Word Count:  1,822 A/n: Just like End-Game we can ignore the flaws of time travelling here

“Professor?”

You looked at your head of house, she sat in her office, looking up at you confused to why you would venture out for her at the hour, very early in the morning before breakfast as even started. You looked sheepish, your tie done loosely and your shirt untucked for its pants. 

“What can I help you with?”

“I have a question, one that I usually asked Professor Dumbledore, but seeing he’s not here I would go to the next best professor,” McGonagall smiles at your compliment, “If you were to go into the future with a time turner, unlikely but not impossible when you return to your time - will you have the knowledge of the future sticking in your memory? I know that you cannot be seen by your future or past self, but other people?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity, ma’am,” You replied with a shrug, standing at her doorway, “After all, I did get hat stall with Ravenclaw, curiosity is just natural with me.”

“Well,” McGonagall hums, thinking before looking at you with sharp eyes, “I would assume so - explain further by what you mean.”

“Say I travel to the future, I have married with kids, and my kids see me - I know their names and who I marry, but not asking how it came about, technically I am not ruining the future because I’m not stopping what will come to be, right? Therefore, I should remember my time in the future and is the reason I named my kids because I met them.”

“Interesting,” McGonagall nods, “I would assume, by your logic, you would be correct - though I do wonder how you came to this conclusion.”

“I asked dad once why he called me (Y/n),” You say, there was a thoughtful look on your face, “He said I’ll understand in due time - it’s always has stuck with me so I was just thinking-”

“If your father travelled in the future and met you...”

“It’s unlikely, but not impossible.”

McGonagall had a twinkle in her eye, as if she knew something, a few years ago a group of boys come barreling into her office late in the night. You looked at her uneasy before she comes to approach you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“You are correct, try not to think too much for it. You have exams to concern yourself with and a quidditch match tomorrow to think about.”

“First game against the slimy-”

“Umh!”

“Sorry,” You looked at her sheepishly, “With the Slytherin team.”

“Well, off you go, I don’t want us to miss breakfast and look smart - your father looked better in that uniform than you do!”

You smiled cheekily before dashing away from the office, McGonagall locking her office for a time being, there was a glint in her eyes as she noticed the date. Reminding herself to tell your teachers of the day that you’ll be missing on their lessons for special reasons. You walked down to the great hall, you had quidditch practise that night. Your robe draped over your shoulder bag as you tried to look presentable.

That was until you heard voices murmuring, as you went closer to an empty classroom you could hear harsh whispers. Out of curiosity, you opened the door to see four boys looking like they were just caught. Your eyes widen as they had Gryffindor ties - you know all the boys in your house, after all, prefect went to you rather to Ron - who was very relieved

“Who are you and why are you posing as Gryffindor boys?” You asked as they looked at you with wide eyes.

“We’re um-” The long hair boy spluttered, looking at glasses for support. 

As you gave them a harder look, you realised something, you had recognised them, old pictures in your dad’s photo album.

“I know you!” You exclaimed.

“Oi Lupin!” Your head snapped outside to see Seamus waving you down, “You’re going to miss breakfast!” 

“Fuck off Finnegan, no I won’t,” You say as the Irish boy chortles before dragging his friends away from you. 

You sighed as you entered the room and closing the door behind you, looking at the boys in front of you.

“You’re James Potter,” he waves, as you turn to the long-haired teen, “And you, Sirius Black!”

“Yeah, I am.”

“You’re Remus,” You smile fondly, how can you possibly miss your dad’s awkward smile? Before turning to look bitter, “And Peter Pettigrew.”

“How do you know us?” James asked.

“What year is this?” Peter asked meekly.

“Hang on,” Remus exclaimed loudly, “We’re ignoring that they said you’re a Lupin, but I don’t-”

“The year is 1996, late April, and I know you because how can I not? You’re famous whether you like it or not,” You replied, shrugging your shoulders, “By any chance have you fiddled with a time turner?”

There was silence as you crossed your arm, sharply looking at them before James broke under your stare - it was all too familiar. 

“No?”

“James,” You say lowly before he looks at Remus who reveals that he had the time turner around his neck, “You’re all idiots, the lot of you!”

“Well, we’re aware of that,” Sirius says boldly, as you glared at him.

“Well, I don’t know how long you’ll be staying here. But, you better fix it. Because what you’ve created is a paradox. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Ah, unlikely but not impossible,” Remus pointed out.

You opened your mouth before closing them, this is what your dad means when you’ll soon find out about your name. You finally picked up on McGonagall look towards you, you sighed, running your hand down your face.

“Well, breakfast will be ending in half an hour, you stay put and I mean it - I’ll help you sort this out and you go back to whatever year you are in. How old are you even?”

“Sixteen, the lot of us, Wormtail here just turned sixteen two weeks ago.”

“Oh cool,” You answered, nodding, “Guessing in nicknames that you’ve recently able to shift into your animagus forms?”

“Yeah, how do you know that?” Peter asked as you had to hold back a glare for the lad, he’s just an innocent sixteen year old who has the whole world coming for him.

“I know you guys better than the world does,” You shrugged your shoulders.

“You haven’t answered Lupin’s question,” Sirius says.

You smirked, “You’ll find out in due time. Now, will you guys promise to stay put if I get food for you?”

They all looked to each other and nodded, you sighed in relief as you placed your bag down, before leaving the room. The group of boys looking loss before obeying and getting themselves comfortable, you had returned with goodies. 

“I’m starving!” Sirius says, ready to pounce before Remus grabbed the back of his collar, “Aw, Moony!”

“Sorry about them,” Remus says as he helps you out to distribute food, “Thank you.”

You waved them off as the five of you get to work in how to get them back to their year, not much with you telling about the future for them, but dropping sublet hints for them.

“I miss Evans,” James sighs wistfully, the three other boys ignoring him - used to his pining as you stare at him, “What?”

“Oh nothing,” You hummed before looking back at your books - which you had to make a trip to the library to bring the boys some books to look for information, “Have you ever tried referring her with her first name?”

“Trust us, Evans is scary when you call her by Lily,” Sirius responded, “I tell you, bloody scary gingers - the lot of them.”

“Tell me about it,” You say thinking about Ginny Weasley, what a fiery girl, “Well, don’t give up James, might work out.”

“You think?”

“I think.”

“James, you’re asking someone from the future - it would make sense, he would know,” Remus replied dryly.

“Do I have a kid?!” James asked excitedly.

“I’m not telling?” You give him a look, “I’m not an idiot in telling you that, Merlin’s beard, knowing you idiots you would ruin the bloody future. My future - if anything, the only one I trust is Remus!”

“Yeah, make sense,” Peter answered, even you chuckled in his response.

“Well, I’m not surprised - you do share a last name.”

You give them a glare before they all got to work. You sighed back, by midday you were hoping to find a resolution. 

“God, I’m going to be tired for practice,” You yawned as you shut the sixth book of the day, standing up to stretch, “Angelina is going to be pissed.”

“You play quidditch?”

“Yeah? Chaser,” You say, before waving it off, “Not important really.”

“I think it is, Remus doesn’t like playing quidditch but knowing that you a Lupin does - it’s fascinating!” James teases as you rolled your eyes.

Your quidditch practise started at seven, luckily it was about five that you were able to finish up with the group of idiots. You had neatly stacked some books to bring back to the library. You had a nice day, you learnt more stuff about them, stuff that you wouldn’t have known, you got them to talk about their time at school.

“We’re making a map, of the whole school, but we’re not really sure what to name it. We don’t have a group name for us, by now we were hoping someone in school would name our group for us,” Sirius mention before James nudges him, telling him that he shouldn’t have told you.

You a bit preoccupied, answered without a thought, “Oh, marauders fits you idiots quite well.”

“Marauders?” Peter asked inquisitively. 

“One who roams from one place to another, it fits well with a map if you ask me,” You hummed before looking at them, all of them huddled with a chain around their necks. Remus holding the time turner, he looks at you.

“Wait, we never got your name or who you are,” He says, you smile at him.

“Oh, I’m (Y/n) Lupin, I’m your son,” With that, you started the turns of their time tuner, as Remus looks at you wide-eye, “Told you, you’d understand in due time.”

With that, you step back watching the boys fade away. You sighed and continue with your dad as you left the classroom to make your way to the library then to the great hall, you just can’t help be send a strongly worded letter to your father - hoping he reads it to Sirius. 

“Bunch of wankers,” You muttered to yourself.

“Are you okay, Mr Lupin?” McGonagall asked as you looked at her, “Muttering yourself again? How was your day?”

“It was eventful, more than I thought it would be.”

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you too long, hope you had a lovely day.”

You nodded, “Yeah, what an unlikely day I’ve had.”

[lost-inthedream]

Tea and warm compress

Pairing: Husband!Youngbin x female reader

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

Warnings: mentions of sex

Words count: 1.4k

Summary: Moving to a new apartment can be quite exhaustive. There are still so many belongings to be organized... But they definitely can wait! The reader gives Youngbin some extra care because he has a backache.

Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes that you might find.

It was starting to get late, more two cups and you would be emptied that cardboard box also. The new apartment had a bunch of cupboards fixed on its walls, which allowed you to organize your kitchen tools pretty well. Youngbin sorted the dishes on the shelf right over the cups. You were both close enough to touch one another while picking items out of the boxes and putting them in their new places.

"Don't you think that's enough for today, Binnie?" you asked as you noticed him placing the last dish on the top of a small pile.

"I dunno, love. We still have a few boxes to clear out" he answered with a subtle grimace and combing his bangs back, only to have them covering his forehead again once he lowers his hand.

You glanced at the intact cardboard boxes on the corner, but by the look on your face, he knew that they didn't bother you at all.

"We have time to work on them tomorrow." You lifted one eyebrow as if it were the smarter declaration ever. "I'm sure they won't escape this apartment if we don't grab them right now."

You closed the cupboard door in front of your husband to seal your decision, drawing some words from him.

"Oh! That's my girl" he freed a weary giggle and quickly pulled you to him so he could peck anywhere on your face. A playful smooch clicked on your forehead and then he let his hand go of your back.

You stepped just a millimeter backward without breaking eye contact with him and positioned your hands on your own waist and tilting your head. Youngbin contemplated your cocky loose smile. But you somehow killed the mood when a tired sigh came out of your lips.

Moving has really drained your energy. The process of packing everything you had took so much time in the previous days, then the two of you helped at placing everything inside a truck and finally at carrying all the stuff to the apartment where you would live from now on.

He suddenly noticed the favorite mugs of yours laying on the sink countertop. The items were decorated with matching motifs that suited both of you, quite cheesy.

"What about those mugs?" he pointed with his chin.

"Ah! We're gonna use them right now. I've already found the tea." You winked.

...

"I couldn't wait to sit like this on our couch." Youngbin sighed allowing his face to express exhaustion for the first time.

He leaned backward, his head rested on the couch cushion, which was out of place just a couple of hours before. He still held the mug between his hands, laid on his lap. In any case, having his eyes closed for a while seemed to be a priority.

"Why haven't you said that you were this tired?"

"I guess I have barely noticed it" he replied in a low tone and you could say that he had just figured it out.

His body had been already screaming it to him a bit earlier but he was so absorbed in other tasks that he couldn't hear anything. It was not his fault though, he was excited. The idea of transforming the new place into your actual home was his only thought and so was yours. Even now there was a soft smile making his lips prettier than they already were.

You moved carefully towards your husband, motioning him to accept your body on his lap without pouring the hot liquid on yourselves. That was as if you did some sort of acrobatics, but you succeed together without spilling a drop and now you were close and cozy.

He took a sip and tried to shift his position a bit but the movement made him whimper in pain.

"What's this?" you immediately asked.

"It's just my back" he tried to dismiss your worry but there was an alert signal already resonating inside of you.

Youngbin took the cup to his mouth again, the warmth fulfilling his insides. The gesture was repeated a few times as you observed him closely also drinking from your own mug.

"You're gonna pierce me with your pretty eyes or what?" he joked after a few sips in silence.

You grabbed the empty mug from his hand and equilibrated it on the arm of the couch beside him, along with yours. The patterns on them facing each other, exactly the way you and your loved one did now. You leaned to touch the tip of his nose with your lips causing a snap sound. His chin raised so he could make your mouths meet. It felt sweet and wholesome, the flavor of the two herbs you mixed together slow danced with Youngbin's natural taste. You separated your lips before you were not able to do it anymore.

"It's time to take care of your back, baby". You attempted to stand up.

"I'm alright, y/n. Don't worry, just stay here with me"

He was so exhausted that his arms wrapped loosely around your frame, though it was enough to stop you from letting go of him. He was pouty, a clear sign that he needed to be taken care of. It was true that you were also worn out, but still in better conditions than Youngbin.

"I'm so sorry to have to do more than just staying here but you need a relaxing shower. I'm gonna make you a warm compress as well."

He gave you his familiar side smile as feedback.

...

You had to look for your heat pack in the boxes you had not opened yet. Fortunately, you found it quite easily, which made you sigh in relief.

Youngbin took a long shower and you managed to have the compress ready by the time he left the bathroom. He walked into your shared room barefoot. The floor still fairly cold in the spring "I have no idea of where my slippers are" he complained.

"Same, but you know what? I don't care!"

He hummed in a good mood and carefully put his lazy body on the bed, lying on his stomach and turning his face to the right side, so his cheek got squished against the mattress. You comforted him with a delicate caress on the shoulder that got his eyes to close, like those smart flowers that shut for the nighttime.

"It hurts on your low back, right?"

He grunted positively, eyelids fluttering.

The compress was too hot to touch his skin directly so you used the soft cotton of his t-shirt as a barrier. Since it was now settled down on his back, his movements were restricted and you both did not have much to do other than talk. You did not do more than staying comfortably sitting at his right.

"Aren't you hurting too, love?" he asked reopening his eyes. His sleepy yet charming gaze inviting you to trace his facial features.

"Just from seeing you in pain," you replied seductively. "I didn't carry any heavy box because you're such a gentleman."

He did not know how to respond so he sweetly voiced an "I love you" while your warm hand caressed him on the face.

You shifted to lean down and whisper the same close to his ear, then you could not resist the urge to sniff on his neck. The fresh scent of his soap enchanted you, making you down your eyelids to the friction your nose made on him.

"You shouldn't provoke a man in my condition"

"Is this a complaint or a warning?" you asked playfully letting your lips brush on his earlobe on purpose.

"This is only a complaint tonight. I'm good at waiting."

You dragged one finger down his spine. A sloppy invisible line, coming to an end when it reached the compress.

"I can't wait" you signed.

"Can you move it a bit, baby?. It's like burning my skin" he politely asked interrupting the way your talk was growing steamy.

You took the pack from his low back and placed your hand flat instead, stroking the area tenderly for a few seconds.

"I'm probably waking up better tomorrow and I'm treating you right then. Like the queen you are."

"Don't worry, my king" you said low feeling funny with those words. you calmly unfolded a towel that laid next to you in order to make a new layer between Youngbin's skin and the hot pack. "We have a lot of time to make love in our new apartment. Or should I call it a kingdom?"

He giggled.

"Just home is fine" you decided.

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Making memories - a Chenford fanfic

For Chenfordficweek2021 - as described by @therookiebook

Instead of a fic a day for chenford fic week I decided to just write one incorporating as many prompts as possible. This is because when I read them a few just connected in my head and then I had way to much fun seeing how many I could kinda incorporate. Some of the quotes aren’t word for word but the lines are inspired by the original prompt.

*Note: my beach fic was also inspired by this prompt list but I got antsy and posted it early so if you haven’t read it, you can check it out.

Main prompt: Road Trip

Other prompts:

July 11th- 

"Is that you...singing? Since when can you sing?" 

"I wish we could stay like this forever." 

Fight 

"You're comfier than a pillow." 

July 12th- 

With Child(ren)- theirs or not

"I fucked up."

"Where have you been?" 

July 13th- 

"You're crushing me." "I can't breathe with you on me." 

"Stay here." 

"What do you want?" 

July 14th- 

"I'm calling the police." "We are the police." 

"Don't move." 

"That a new dress?" 

Sweet tooth

July 15th- 

Locked out (Car/house/station) 

"Stop hogging all the blankets." 

"Why are you bleeding?" 

"Make me." 

July 16th- 

Shopping together or for the other 

Getting lost

"Is that my shirt?" 

Under the stars

July 17th- 

Competition 

Tears 

"Why are you so late?" 

When Lucy arrives in role call and hears she’s partnered with Tim for the day, she’s excited. When she hears they are to wear civvies and take Tim’s truck to surveil a suspect, she’s confused. And when said suspect drives further and further out of LA and they are instructed to keep on his tail, she’s annoyed. If she didn’t know better she’d think some writer designed the assignment purely because it was convenient for their story. Nevertheless, this is her life: crashing at a random hotel nearly nine hours from LA, after finally being relieved of surveillance detail, by the local sheriffs department, at 2:30am. The plus side is she’s being paid overtime, not only for the late night but also for the commute back to the city tomorrow. The down side is despite being exhausted she twists and turns all night unable to get comfortable in the strange environment. So when Tim knocks on the adjoining door between their rooms at 10am she’s already been up for a few hours. She has written a journal entry in her notes, preordered drinks for them to pick up at Starbucks and spent more time than she’d like to admit on google maps and various travel sites researching their trip home. She has also found time to plunder the continental breakfast and is currently demolishing a strawberry danish and a cinnamon bun. This earns criticism from Tim, whose plate carries sausage, eggs and an orange.

By 11am they’re on the open road again, coffees in the console between them. The small talk they had been making since they left the hotel had slowly died out so now they sit in comfortable silence. That is until Lucy reaches over to turn on the radio. 

“You know how I feel about car radios Chen,” Tim warns in his best TO voice. 

“Even off shift?” Lucy scoffs, and continues to press the on button and turn the volume dial up. Nevertheless, nothing happens.

“Looks like it doesn’t work anyway,” Tim states as he continues to hold the volume down button on the steering wheel, unbeknownst to Lucy.

“Fine then I’ll be the radio.” “You like Lady Marmalade, right?” She’s referencing Tim’s LA CLEAR security answer but she doesn’t wait for his reaction or reply before beginning to belt out the opening lyrics.

As she sings his initially surprised expression, morphs to shock and then awe. 

“Since when can you sing?” he asks when she finishes.

She just shrugs, looking down at her hands as they begin to fiddle in her lap.  

“Now I wish the radio really was broken,” Tim states as he turns it on and music starts playing.

Lucy shoots him a quick death glare before turning her attention back out the window.

---

By noon Lucy’s singing quietly along to the music (causing Tim to reevaluate his opinion on car radios) when she suddenly sneezes then freezes as her eyes go wide.

“Ah, can you stop at the next place with a bathroom?” she asks bashfully.

“We haven’t even been driving that long can you hold it?”

“Find me a bathroom or your truck will be covered in blood,” Lucy says, her tone conveying urgency.

“What? Why are you bleeding?” Tim asks, confused.

“If you don’t know why I, a woman, would be bleeding and thus need a bathroom then the public school system failed you.”

 “Oh, ah, right, sorry,” Tim stutters, “I think there’s a small town at the next exit.”

“Thank-you,” Lucy replies clearly relieved.

“Do we need to find a drug store or do you have what you need?’

“Ya, if you could find a drug store.” She’s fiddling again, unable to shake the feeling of embarrassment even though she knows, rationally, she has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Several minutes later Tim’s pulling into the drug store parking lot and Lucy’s unbuckling her seat belt to run in. But as soon as she stands up Tim’s voice stops her.

“Wait Luce.” There’s a tenderness to his voice especially when he uses the new nickname that stops her more than the instruction itself. “I think we’re too late.” 

Lucy looks down at the seat she just vacated to see its center now decorated with a dark red stain. A matching stain is present on the butt of the long yellow dress she’s wearing. 

“Of course,” she spits as she tries to fight back tears that are already running down her cheeks.

“That a new dress?” Tim questions awkwardly, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion.

Lucy lets out a choked laugh as Tim flounders to find something helpful to say.

“I ruined your truck, I ruined my dress and now I have to walk around the drug store with a giant stain on my ass,” Lucy sniffs.

“Hey Lucy, everything’s going to be okay.” He reaches across the console to put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

She stares at him surprised and unsure. The idea of him buying her tampons and pads and, she realizes, new underwear seems uncomfortably intimate.

“So, ah, what do you want?”  

Because she has no desire to walk around the store with a giant blood stain on her butt she gives him her order, eyes down, face turning redder by the second.

He just nods and returns a few minutes later with three grocery bags and immediately hands them to her.

Inside she finds much more than she requested. The first bag contains two chocolate bars, two bags of candy, and two bottles of water. The second holds 6 different packages of assorted pads and tampons.

“How much blood do you think someone loses on their period,” Lucy teases.

Tim gives a small shrug. “I didn’t know which kind you wanted.” 

Inside the third bag Lucy finds a bottle of Advil, a package of wet-wipes, a spray bottle of stain remover, a new package of underwear (simple white cotton), a pair of black tights and a box of black garbage bags. 

“What are these for?” she asks holding up the garbage bags.

“They didn’t have any shirts so I thought we could make some head and arm holes and-“ he stops talking when he sees Lucy’s unimpressed expression. “I know it’s not ideal.” 

“Good thing I already have that figured out,” she says holding up a plaid button up. 

“Is that my shirt?” He had taken it off as soon as he got in the car, since like usual he had a henley underneath, and thrown it into the back. Lucy must of retrieved it while he was in the store. 

“Please,” she says fixing him with those puppy dog eyes. “I promise I won’t get blood on it. Well, I’ll do my best. Please don’t make me wear a garbage bag.” 

He laughs. “I forgot I had that. I guess I didn’t need these.” He takes the garbage bags from her and is about to throw them in the back when Lucy speaks up.

“Actually I’ll take one,” she says ripping the cardboard and freeing a single bag. She proceeds to rip a hole in the top of the garbage bag and pulls it over her legs like a skirt. Then she puts Tim’s plaid shirt on overtop. Tim is watching her with raised eyebrows.

“What? It’s just temporary. I promised I wouldn’t get blood on your shirt.” She puts everything she needs in her bag and goes into the bathroom to clean herself up. When she returns Tim is just finishing cleaning the blood off the passenger seat. 

“I would have done that.”

 “It was no trouble.” “Here spray some of this on your dress before the stain sets,” Tim offers as he hands her the stain remover.

Lucy does then drapes her dress over the backseat.

“Ready to go,” Tim asks.

 Lucy nods and by 1pm they’re back on the road.

 ---

By 2pm they’re both hungry and decide to stop for lunch. The place they choose is a fast food joint connected to a gas station. It’s busy. Probably because it’s the only place to eat for miles around. While they wait in line to order, Lucy goes to use the bathroom, only to find another line just as long. She decides to try the gas station bathroom instead, telling Tim that she’ll be right back but if he gets to the front first he knows her order. He goes to argue but she’s already gone, which is probably a good thing since he has no rebuttal, considering it’s the truth. 

A few minutes later Tim has their food: a veggie burger with extra pickles and fries for her and a burger and fries for him, but she still isn’t back. He wanders over to the gas station to find her standing in line at the register. 

“Put the candy back Chen.”

“Make me,” she says shaking the bags as she holds them by her shoulders.

Tim reaches for them but Lucy moves to evade his grasp. “Too slow,” she teases.

“You’ve already had two pastries, one bag of candy, a chocolate bar and a frappa-cappa-crapacciuno or whatever.”

“It was a chai tea latte and you know it.”  

“It was more sugar than anything and we still have more candy in the car. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.” 

She shrugs. “It’s not a road trip without excessive amounts of junk food.” 

“It’s not a road trip. It’s a commute home.” 

“It’s whatever we make it,” she says as she taps her card to pay for the candy. 

They find a state park a few minutes up the road and unpack their lunch at one of the picnic tables. They talk as they eat, familiar banter flying across the table. As they near the end of their food Lucy is animatedly telling a story about a recent arrest. She has a french fry in one hand and as she gestures, a little too aggressively, a glob of ketchup flies off the end of the fry and right into Tim’s face. 

She sinks down a little in her seat and covers her mouth to try to suppress a laugh.

“Did you just throw ketchup at me Chen?” he glares as he slowly removes the offending condiment.

“Not on purpose,” she giggles.

“If you start a fight you better be prepared to finish it,” he says as he rips open a package of mustard and squirts it at her.

Although it has poor projectile power a small amount lands in Lucy’s hair. She looks back at him mouth wide. “That was on purpose. That’s assault. I’m calling the police.”

“We are the police,” Tim deadpans as he rips the top off another mustard package.

“You wouldn’t” Lucy warns as she opens a mayo.

Then words are abandoned as condiments fly. They go through 5 ketchup, 3 mustard, 2 mayo, 1 bbq sauce, 1 ranch dressing, 1 aioli and 1 pepper packet before they both surrender. In fact the only packets left untouched are the hot sauce and salt. Both their faces are covered in assorted condiments. Most that had been scooped off the picnic table and smeared directly onto their target when it became clear the packets could barely project their contents a foot. The only one that was truly an effective weapon was the pepper which successfully gave Tim a sneezing fit. 

As they sit back down to finish the last bit of their lunch Lucy picks up a fry and runs it along Tim’s cheek then throws it in her mouth. 

“Not bad,” she says as Tim makes a face of disgust.

When the last fries are gone they throw out their garbage, wipe down the picnic table, then turn their attention to themselves.

“It’s a good thing I bought these wipes,” Tim says as he passes one to Lucy. 

She laughs as she takes it and begins to wash her face. 

“Did I get it all?” she asks when she thinks she’s done. “Because you didn’t,” she adds as she reaches up to wipe the side of his mouth.

He’s startled at first then his expression morphs into something she can’t quite read but something that makes her linger just a little longer than strictly necessary. Then she steps away and climbs into the drivers seat and by 3pm they’re back on their way.

---  

By 4pm Lucy’s in the middle of a seemingly endless monologue about the bachelor franchise when she looks over to realize that Tim is fast asleep. She would be insulted but instead she sees it as an opportunity. She starts to take every turn she can. Whenever she comes to an intersection she turns on to the smallest street. By the time Tim wakes up, about half an hour later (of course he would have is body trained to nap the ideal more than 20, less than 40 minutes), they are in the middle of nowhere. She waits until he’s fully awake then slams on the brakes.

“I’ve been shot. Where are we, Tim?” she demands in her best Tim Bradford voice. He looks out all the windows to see nothing but ranches then back at her, confusion clear on his face.

“Did you get us lost just so you could prove a point?” His tone an odd combination of annoyance and amusement.

“We’re not lost I’m taking the scenic route.” 

 “I’m pretty sure the scenic route is supposed to run along the ocean not through the desert in the middle of no where.” 

“We’re not in the middle of no where we are North of Martinus Corner at the intersection of Cross Rd and and Lockwood Jolon Rd,” she brags. 

“Great you know where we are. Do you know how to get us back onto the main road?”

“It’s not all about the destination, you know, It’s about the journey,” Lucy offers. “When’s the last time you did something just for the fun of it.”

“We go for a hike or a walk along the beach with Kojo every weekend.”

“I know I’m fun to be around,” she teases, “but that’s an errand, Tim, the dog needs exercise.” 

“I see your point but what are we supposed to do in the middle of ranch land? You want to go cow tipping?”

“We won’t be in ranch land for long,” Lucy replies, but half an hour and at least twenty turns later they’re still surrounded by fields and livestock.

“Will you admit you’re lost now?” Tim asks.

Lucy sighs, “Fine, can you please google map how to get to Route 1”

“We were on 5.”

“5’s the freeway. 1’s the scenic route,” Lucy explains. “the one that runs along the ocean.”

Before Tim can bring up the app they’re emerging into a small city centre. As Lucy continues down the main street she excitedly points ahead. 

“Let’s go bowling,” she says indicating the bowling alley sign.

“I thought you wanted to go to the ocean.”

“We can still take the scenic route home, after we go bowling.”

Tim sighs.

“Come on let’s have some fun, make some memories,” Lucy encourages.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer.”

Lucy shakes her head and happily pulls into the bowling alley parking lot.

Several minutes later they have their bowling shoes on and their names entered in the computer on lane 4. Tim goes first and immediately gets a strike.

“You want to put money on this game Chen?” he asks cockily.

“Lucky shot,” Lucy replies. “I’m not betting money but if you win I’ll let you pick the route home but if I win you can’t complain when we take the scenic route.

“Deal,” he says shaking her hand.

Lucy goes next and gets two gutter balls in a row. “Why didn’t we get the bumpers?”

“The bumpers are for kids.”

On her third throw she throws the bowl with two-hands after swinging it between her legs.

“Speaking of for kids,” Tim teases.

“Don’t argue with results,” she counters as her ball connects with the pins.

They continue going back and forth, Tim using the classic one-handed bowling throw and Lucy trying a different technique each time. She tries sitting down and pushing it down the lane, pulling out the ball slide meant for toddlers, standing backwards and throwing the ball between her legs but eventually settles on the two-handed granny throw. 

By half-way through the game Tim’s score is double Lucy’s and he starts to get cocky. He throws with his eyes closed, on one-foot and after spinning in a circle 10 times. 

3 quarters through the game the black lights come on and they laugh at each others teeth glowing in the dark. The disco lights and music follow. Then Lucy who had been giggling and joking around all game suddenly becomes serious. 

“I have two more turns and I really want a strike,” she states. She has a couple spares on the board but strikes remain elusive. Tim on the other hand has three.

“Can I show you? he questions handing her a ball.

He initially tries to coach her through the throw but she isn’t catching on so he steps behind her, puts his hand over hers and leans into her back as he guides her through the motion. The ball knocks over all but one pin but Lucy almost misses it because she’s looking up at Tim. He lets go and steps back.

“You think you can do that on your own next turn?” he asks shaking the huskiness from his voice.

She nods. Tim bowls, then it’s the moment of truth as Lucy throws her ball imaging Tim’s arm along hers, guiding it. The bowl rolls straight down the alley where it connects with the pins and knocks them all down. STRIKE flashes on the computer screen as Lucy jumps for joy then right into Tim for a celebratory hug. He’s initially surprised but is able to catch her and himself before they fall over. He spins them around as she laughs and he’s suddenly really glad Lucy made him stop.

With that the game is over. Tim’s still ahead but the margin had narrowed. They return their bowling shoes and head out to the truck.

“Fine you win this time, we can go back to the interstate but I want a rematch. I’m thinking mini-golf or the arcade,” Lucy says as she pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Nah, go to the 1,” Tim says as he starts to read the directions off his phone.

Lucy looks at him quizzically but doesn’t push her luck. By 6pm they’re driving along the ocean.

---

By 7pm, although it’s not that late, it’s already dark. That combined with her lack of sleep the night before is making Lucy sleepy. When she yawns for the third time in less than 20 minutes Tim suggests they switch drivers. Lucy happily obliges pulling into the next rest stop. During the day it would have a beautiful view of the ocean but now all one can see is darkness. The only evidence of the ocean’s presence being the rhythmic, crashing of waves against the base of the cliff below.

They pull into the abandoned lot; Lucy takes her time backing into a spot, mostly just to annoy Tim and they both get out, reflexively closing their doors behind them. As they pass each other Tim holds his hand out for the keys. 

“I just left them in the ignition,” Lucy explains. Tim looks over to the truck then back to her a look of defeat on his face.

“Your doors lock automatically, don’t they?” Lucy asks rhetorically, “I fucked up.” 

They try the doors just in case but sure enough they’re locked. 

“Well it could be worse,” Tim offers much to Lucy’s surprise, “at least it’s not running.” “I’ll call Angela and see if I can convince her to grab the extra set of keys from my house and come meet us but its going to be a couple hours.” 

Lucy nods. “Thank-you and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim shrugs, “we’re making memories remember.” Then without another word we walks away from her as he hits a button on his phone and puts it to his ear. The conversation doesn’t last long. Angela obliges but insists that Tim now owes her one. He thinks she still owes him a couple from everything he did as her man of honour but decides now isn’t the time to bring that up. When he hangs up he finds Lucy has lowered the tailgate of his truck, where she now sits. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around herself, but she’s smiling as she looks up at the sky. 

“You can see the stars here,” she explains hearing him approach, “away from the lights and smog of the city.” 

Tim climbs up into the bed of his truck and removes a stack of old moving blankets from the storage box he keeps in the back. 

“Angela’s on her way but in the meantime we should stay warm.” He wraps one around Lucy’s shoulders. Then lays the rest on the floor of the truck bed. 

“Good thing I left these in after helping Tamara move last weekend.” He shimmies his way in-between two layers then taps the spot beside him, inviting Lucy to join. She climbs in beside him eager for more warmth. With the sun gone the temperature had dropped fast. 

Lucy pulls up an app on her phone and hands it to Tim so he can identify constellations for them while her hands and arms stay hidden under the blankets. Then they lay down and look-up at the stars. Tim uses the app to find constellations, points them out to Lucy, then reads the story about them provided by the app. Meanwhile Lucy snuggles deeper and deeper into the blankets. Tim stops in the middle of the story he’s reading about the the swan constellation as the blankets are pulled off his torso. 

"Stop hogging all the blankets,” he complains pulling them back.

“Sorry, I’m freezing,” she confesses. 

He pauses for a second clearly debating something internally before opening his arm out to the side. “Then come closer,” he finally says. 

She hesitates for a second before slowly moving to snuggle against his side. The possibility of warmth far outweighing any awkwardness she’s feeling. She rests her head on his chest. She can feel his heart racing to match her own and can’t help but smile to herself.

“Better?” he asks once she’s finished squirming around trying to maximize her view of the stars and the amount of body heat she’s receiving from him.

”You're comfier than a pillow,” she confirms, nodding. 

Tim doesn’t respond just wraps his arm around her shoulders. He continues to point out constellations and read the stories in Lucy’s app. 

“None of the constellations actually look like their name sakes,” Lucy says after a while.   

“You have to use your imagination.” 

“I could use my imagination to name my own constellations.” 

He shrugs. “Go for it.” 

She finds a cluster of stars that vaguely resembles a duck. She points it out to Tim then makes up a story about a duck that joined the LAPD and saved the city from a gang of geese. When she’s finished she turns to Tim,. “Your turn.”

He gives her his best ‘not happening’ look but he’s met with those pleading brown eyes that hold more power over him than he’ll ever admit and caves almost instantly.

He points out an X made of stars. “That is where the space pirates buried their treasure.” Lucy looks up at him expectantly. “The end,” he finishes.

“That’s your whole story? One sentence.”

“I’m not as creative as you.”

“Then tell a real story,” she says, “here I’ll go first.”

She points to a jumble of stars. “That is Caligula’s toy chest,” she says then proceeds to describe in great detail all the filthy, horrid things she had seen the day he taught her the DEAR method.

“Why would you tell me that?” he asks when she is done.

“Now you share my pain.”

Tim laughs and points at four stars arranged in a rectangle. “That is the phone that was used too much at work.” He spends his entire story essentially mocking her for always being on her phone. Lucy would be annoyed or insulted but the amount of detail he remembers about the completely benign things she has done is kind of sweet and a little exhilarating.

She next finds a ’surf board’ and tells the story of a weekend getaway with some collage friends that ended with a black eye, a broken board and a lot of great memories. 

Tim follows suit finding a ‘football’ and telling the story of a particularly memorable championship game during his high school career. He’s half-way through his story when he interrupts himself. “You're crushing me,” he tells Lucy who is draped over his torso. “What are you even doing?” I can't breathe with you on me."

“I’m tucking in the blanket so our heat doesn’t escape,” she says as she pushes the edge of the blanket under Tim’s side along the length of his body. When she’s done she rolls off of him, cuddles back into his side then tucks the opposite blanket edge under herself. 

When Tim finishes his story they continue to go back and forth, learning more and more about each other each turn. Lucy tells stories from the time she spent travelling and working odd jobs, from her time as a psych major and her time in the academy. Tim talks about his family, his time in the army, and his early years on the force and with Isabel. 

He tells her about a colleague who despite being a great cop made the mistake of using his radio near an explosive and paid for it with his life. He is the reason Tim baby powder bombs every Rookie: so no other good officers will be lost because a critical piece of information was taught so dryly that it couldn’t possibly be recalled under pressure. 

She tells him about her ring as she twirls it around her finger. About how she found it in her grandma’s dress-up chest when she was six and it immediately became her favourite item. How every time she played dress-up the ring was part of the costume, whether she was a princess or a ninja, a cat or a witch, a clown or a police officer. How unlike her parents, who always thought she’d follow their career paths, her grandma always told her she could be anything she wanted. How when her grandma passed away she had found the ring again as she helped her parents pack up her things. How she had started wearing it to feel closer to her. How as she looked at the ring day after day she heard her grandma’s voice in her head:  “You can do anything you put your mind too,”  “the sky’s the limit,” “do what makes you happy.” How that made her realize she was not where she wanted to be and led to her decision to quit her Master’s program.  How her parents had chalked it up to grief and tried to use psychoanalysis to convince her to return. How that had pissed Lucy off and led to her applying to the LAPD. How she had continued to wear the ring as a reminder and motivator during her training. How much it had meant to her to have it returned. How now it not only symbolizes her grandma’s belief in her, but also Tim’s and her own. How it continues to give her strength.

As Lucy talks Tim rubs circles on her back as if connecting the stars that constitute Lucy’s ‘ring’ constellation. 

Just as she finishes she excitedly points up. “Look a shooting star!”

“Make a wish,” Tim advises.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” She surprises herself by how quick and confident that comes out. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it is true. In this moment everything is perfect. She is no longer cold. She is warm and happy in her little burrito with Tim: wearing his shirt, listening to the ocean, surrounded by stars. 

Lucy half hears Tim name a constellation “the best boot I ever trained” and start to tell a Coles notes version of their story but she’s already falling asleep.

She wakes up some time later to Tim shifting beside her. 

“Don’t move,” she groans still half-asleep.“

“Ange is here Luce. It’s time to go home.” 

“Am home,” she mumbles before falling back asleep.

Tim manages to free himself from Lucy and the blankets. He shuffles out of the back of the truck and walks around it to meet Angela who is just getting out of her car.

“Where have you been,” Tim asks. 

“Driving.” 

“I mean, what took you so long?” 

“I thought you might be enjoying your alone time with Lucy more than you’d admit, so I didn’t rush.” 

He wanted to argue but he couldn’t. “Thank-you for coming.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, when your baby refuses to sleep anywhere but a moving car a 4 hour drive is not as inconvenient as it sounds.”

As if to prove her point the infant starts wailing from inside the vehicle.

Before Angela can move Tim’s opening her car door and removing his god child from the car seat. He holds the baby to his chest and starts rocking him. As the baby continues to scream and Tim continues to rock, sway and bounce, Lucy emerges from behind Tim’s truck seemingly woken by the crying.

“There’s my favourite little guy,” she coos as she approaches. “You’ve gotten so big. Next time I see you you’ll be taller than your Uncle Tim,” she continues as she rubs the baby’s back. Despite all the attention the baby continues to fuss.

“He’s hungry,” Angela explains. “Give him this,” she continues handing him a full bottle, “I pumped on the way here.”

“You pumped while driving?”

“It’s called multitasking.”

Tim takes the bottle and offers it to the baby who immediately begins suckling. While the baby drinks Lucy goes back to Tim’s truck and grabs some blankets. She gives one to Angela, drapes another over Tim and the little boy and wraps herself in the last. 

Over the next half an hour Tim and Lucy work together to feed, burp, and change the baby before putting him back in his carseat, all while his mother watches with a very amused expression. When he’s buckled in they say their goodbyes, thank Angela again, then head back to Tim’s truck, which is now unlocked.

By 10pm they are back on the road. They spend the rest of the drive cooing over baby Evers and talking about their own theoretical future kids. While conveniently avoiding any mention of theoretical future spouses or co-parents.

By midnight Lucy is just getting home. As she walks through the door she sees Jackson on the couch watching TV. 

“Why are you so late?” he asks turning towards her.

“Long story.” 

“Is that Tim’s shirt?” 

“Longer story.” 

“Aha,” Jackson says giving her a knowing look.

She just rolls her eyes and goes to get ready for bed. She falls asleep almost immediately and dreams of sweets and stars, babies and bowling and a life with Tim.