#it’s obnoxiously wide and tall and too fast for what it is

[bonefarm]

My truck too big for my got dang bridge.

[ms0milk]

firework breathing, fifth form.

tengen uzui(s) x bounty hunter of sorts

no cw whipped tengen and the wives try to recruit the love of their lives using all means available. thank you @ltadoriyuujl for making this request for the @ficsforgaza initiative! to say I had fun with this one is an understatement 2.5k

Vigilante justice had repercussions, and before you would have said you were amply prepared. Law enforcement had no chance of keeping up with you. That’s what happens when you don’t believe in monsters. You could make all the noise you’d like in a hunt and their incompetence only served to soothe, always looking for the humans on their wanted posters. Bounty hunters cowered when your blade cleaved through the throats of demons and theirs hacked pitifully at the creatures happy to consume them.

A looted sword and penchant for timeliness, what fight couldn’t you weasel victory from? The answer was rhetorical until a letter arrived on scented paper, where, buried under three pages of classical poetry there lay a clear and calligraphed, 'Marry me.' Signed, Uzui Tengen.

“Saw your kill,” Tengen gleamed at dawn outside the shop that kept you good and fed on steamed buns. “Just as flashy as they say.”

“Next time someone has something to say about me, kindly change the subject.”

To call him persistent was an understatement. The Uzuis were old money with old traditions and older practices. Their mansion sat behind flowering hedges and wisteria vines on the stream at the lip of the forest, just too far to receive visitors and just close enough to rub the opulence in the whole town’s face. You quite liked your little life, the little apartment above Old Man Tatsu’s udon shop, the reward money that came in little pouches when you rolled bountyheads across the sheriff's desk. Though you had to be fast. Their expensive criminals had a habit of disintegrating.

“Are you Kinoe?” He’d ask as you shopped for dry goods. Obnoxiously tall and draped in silk for every color of the week, the master of the mysterious house was never too far from the hunter in her linen haori. “Who's your master?”

Sometimes a wife would come and when Makio accompanied you she would drop coin into the merchants’ dishes before you had the chance to pay for yourself, “Stop asking her so many questions.”

“Women like to talk.”

“Not to you.”

And so gifts started arriving shortly after. Clothes and ribbons, a barley pillow of purple silk, perfumes, ceramics– your one room above Tatsu’s udon shop was soon so laden with treasure you worried it might fall through the floor. “Leave it here,” Hina whispered to couriers from the staircase outside your apartments.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” you yawned in the doorframe, wrapped in a padded red hanten. It was one of your many new treasures. Hina smiled wide at the insinuation and you could see even through sleep, all the notes she took behind bright eyes. Three more jackets came that autumn and the fourth was delivered in person.

You slid a cloth down the bladedge of your sword after a hunt. As always, your weapon had burst from the arc over your head and with shattering speed through the back of the creature’s throat, but it found your scent the second the rattling strike touched its flesh. It twisted this time and caught the blade at a notch in its neck before losing its head. Every swipe of the cloth down your sword was filled with the apprehension of it catching on a crack in the blade.

In the cold candlelight, there was a grunt and then a hand in your apartment window. You startled when the hand started to talk, and gripped your sword from the cover of blankets. “Don’t pounce, princess.” Tengen’s voice was at least better than the snarl of a demon. His head peeked over the frame. Two lilac eyes grinned at you.

“Little late for a climb, Uzui.”

“S’cold,” he grunted and his head dropped below the frame for a moment before his hand gripped the sill and the rest of him followed, swinging over itself into the room. His mountainous body landed without a sound and he smiled, white hair framed by moonlight, “brought a gift.”

You thought he might be referring to himself before he rummaged through his haori and pulled a twine wrapped bundle out from under his arm. You rolled your eyes, “How do you know where I live?”

“You know where I live.”

“You want me to know where you live,” you crept forward to accept the package, “you’ve practically spelled my name out with your hedges.”

“Did you like that?”

He crouched a respectful distance away from where you startled back into blankets and settled on his knees. He and his family moved like cats in the night. They appeared exactly where you expect them and still it was always surprising. “Why do you work so hard for my attention?”

“I want more than your atten–”

“Mr. Uzui.”

He bobbed his head in concession and shifted his legs underneath him so that the white muscle of his thigh glowed through the drapes and folds of his long pretty robes. He pulled one knee up and rested like a king against your simple wooden window. “Who taught you?”

“Taught me what?”

“The sword.” He pointed with a painted nail to the weapon you kept tucked against your chest.

You shook your head, “No one, I just– I found it.”

“And so you hunt demons for fun?”

You smiled through the sarcasm, “For money.”

“Is there much money to be had in bounties that disintegrate?” He loved to thread a reel between endearing and irritating and that evening was no different. He watched you like an acrobat on a line.

“And what do you know about hunting, Sir?”

“Why do you think the strong ones stay away from this town?” Strong ones, was a horrifying thought and for a moment you forgot to stay cool across from the sudden and fleeting stoicism of your patron. Tengen’s eyes darkened, his broad hands flexed like a fist would be more natural. “You’re safe here. Protected.”

“That’s not necessary.” 

And his facade changed with a nod of his head. The smile returned under summer eyes. “I hear you fighting, you strike like fifty firecrackers– a roman candle–” You jerked your hand to your lips in a signal to keep it down, which he did, and leaned forward with a simmered voice, “Your breath is like a firework. Like nothing I’ve ever heard.” It was as if the sound followed the command of its master and cupped your jaw where he’d like to. Worry about your chipped sword was as far away as ever. Your life was warmer with the Uzuis in it, if not just slightly more embarrassing. He raised an eyebrow, “Have you studied the poets?

One picture of your apartments could inspire a whole comedy performance. Cold and wooden and upholstered with jewels that could buy the building five times over. If he started sending poetry you might have actually had to pay taxes. Tengen waited, happy and handsome, for your response as you stared. Could you have ever guessed grabbing the sword of a fallen soldier as your village crumbled around you would have led to this?

“In pale moonlight,” he urged and leaned farther towards you, drawing his knuckle over your fingers at sword hilt, “the wisteria’s scent…”

You steadied yourself through the waves of goosebumps that came from his touch and his gaze, closer than he was before. “It’s late, Mr. Uzui,” you managed and closed your hands around his to keep it from wandering farther. He sighed through a smile and drew back slowly to stand.

“Then I’ll wish you goodnight, Mrs. Uzui.”

You pursed your lips and he laughed like a windchime, lightly, his warmth and perfume spilling from his chest as he drew a thick haori tight around himself. “I’ll show myself out.” He stood and crossed your room to pull open the door.

“No,” you startled again and covered your own mouth at the volume. He turned to you, grinning, surprised, and it took everything you had not to grin back behind your fingers. His flamboyant dress was already enough, townsfolk didn’t need any reason to speculate on why a man who dressed like a successful pimp was coming from your rooms at midnight.

Tengen flashed one more obnoxious and knowing smile before crossing back over his dozens of gifts and stepping through your window frame like there might be a staircase waiting outside. “As you wish.”

He dropped with your heart and your sword clattered to the ground and you dove to see, surely, a broken puddle of a man two stories down. But the master of the flamboyant mansion only dusted his shoulders off with his landing and turned back up to watch you from below. As always, every proposal of his was punctuated with a deep bow.

See how he likes it, you grumbled, brimming with renewed frustration. Just a few weeks later and it was supposed to be a simple night.​​ The edge of town reeked of blood that day, the blood of fresh kills and wild animals, all day it lingered on the shadows that touched the forest. A new demon was always easy to track because hunger is easy to smell when you’re quiet. You were the loudest thing at twilight. You hushed the moss underfoot and bobbed between branches. Simple. Night. You would have been easy to smell too if demons weren’t too gluttonous to realize humans can reek of bloodlust.

In the clearing ahead where iron mingled in the fog, stood a woman where, by all accounts of your tracking, the creature should have been. Uzui’s Suma stood alone, pregnant beyond imagining, and dropped her kunai in the grass when you stumbled into the open. She wailed when she saw you and sobbed immediately to the tune of, “s’not fair!” and “wanna propose too!” as she waddled closer.

Like gifts that much– lucky I’m even delivering this one.

You spent the better part of two hours walking her back home, sword raised and mind racing at all the ways you might strap a pregnant woman to your body and walk a little faster for the both of you. She apologized sixty-seven times and kept track herself and when you finally approached the back gate of her home, she labored over her belly to pull the latch open. No key, no guard, no Uzui. No supervision! No protection! No worried greeting at the door–

You gripped tighter at the vines on the side of the house and pushed higher. Your feet found purchase in wisteria so solid it must have been a hundred years old, farther, higher towards the window at the corner of the mansion that Suma pointed you towards. You hissed and pulled yourself the last two feet to the windowsill.

“Uzui,” came out as a grunt.

“M’lady,” he smiled. You edged yourself into the room with an arm braced over the sill. Tengen rose from his desk to meet you. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Bite me,” you grunted and regretted immediately and slung your other arm inside, ignoring all the retorts such a man might have to that.

He settled on, “Happily,” and offered you a hand. Suma had pointed you to her husband’s office before drifting towards the pantry for a snack. The room was modest, tatami mats and a paper door, and a low desk on the floor long enough to fit his long legs. Western paintings were hung satisfyingly asymmetrically in what would otherwise be a very traditional room. A coal brazier glowed beside the cushion he used as a seat. 

You tried your best to do without the hand but when footing gave way and your chin dipped below the window, he snatched you up by the bicep. The temperature difference inside was dizzying.

“Long night?”

“Understatement,” you shivered in the new heat. Your shoes and scabbard suddenly seemed too dirty inside such a pleasant home and a bit of your fire faded. You sat on the lip of the widow and pulled your legs up beside you. “You–”

“Yes?” Tengen cocked his head, smiling always smiling. His loose white hair fell in locks over his shoulders.

“Your wife was wandering demon-infested woods until just a minute ago.”

“My Suma?” You thought he might ask which one and had prepared a thousand scathing retorts, but he only watched your anger fall from you cooly, “she wanted to impress you.”

“By dying?”

“She killed your demon didn’t she?” You opened your mouth too quickly to realize you hadn’t processed the thought. Tengen massaged a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. He almost looked normal like this, in a pretty house, in a warm room glowing by firelight. The cold of the night nipped your back in breezes. “Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“You impressed?” He chuckled and settled himself on the floor beside the window. He knelt beneath you, elbow on sill and cheek in hand. “Do we impress you?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight a smile, “You all do something to me, but impress it not the word.”

“Do you think of us?”

“Naggingly.”

“You worry?”

“Not anymore,” you sucked your teeth and pushed his head off balance with a finger to his forehead. “She really scared me, you know. All those months pregnant and alone like that.”

He grumbled something like, not alone, and, mice were with her, which you chose to ignore because Tengen Uzui took up your rough fingers in his. Whatever face you made he couldn’t see. He brought the knuckles to his lips and kissed your ring finger just once before releasing you. “My wives are capable. They don’t need permissions and they don’t need escorts, but know they are cherished by me.” You watched him, fingers lingering in the warm space. “They want you, I want you. Want to cherish you.

The sincerity, the lack of laughter, made your ears hot. His lilac eyes set to swallow you. “Mr. Uzui–”

“Tengen.”

“Tengen–”

“Mrs. Uzui?”

“No,” you giggled and rolled your eyes. He rose to his knees and made to guide you inside but you rested two hands on his broad shoulders to settle the advance. You turned and tucked your legs back out the window, “It’s late.”

“Then come rest.”

“Mr. Tengen,” and the voice came out so much softer than you meant it to, “In pale moonlight.”

He clenched his own jaw at that as if to keep himself from pouncing. The veins in his hands rose on the sill instead of around what he so badly wanted. “The wisteria’s scent..”

“Comes from far away.” With your last murmured words and a smile, you dropped back into the vines and floated to the garden floor. He stared after you from the second story as you took a theatrical bow and called back up just once, “G’night princess.”

Next time then, he agonized behind his own smile, pink climbing up his throat like a spell. In the hallway outside of his office, the wives groveled amongst each other in piles cursing their husband’s lack of charm.

"In pale moonlight the wisteria's scent comes from far away." -Yosa Buson, 18th c.

[fauville]

‘trying to get the other to dance with them’ from the prompts!! For whichever pairing you think it suits best 💕

thank you sm for the prompt!! 🩷

kitty/morgan this time. this is actually my first time writing about them and it's been a while since i've written about morgan at all, so apologies for any butchery of her character, lol.

★ ★ ★

“I don’t dance, sweetheart,” Morgan says, folding her arms at Kitty’s bright, hopeful smile.

Even Morgan can admit that she looks cute as shit tonight: with her dangling pink heart earrings and light blue frilly dress that ends midway to her plump bare thigh. With her heels she’s almost as tall as Morgan, which makes her bristle a little, but she’s so adorable that Morgan barely even notices it.

She herself, of course, barely made any effort. She’s only here, at this stupid fucking office party, because Kitty asked her to come. Sometimes Morgan feels like a pining dog who is at her owner’s every beck and call with her. She chews on her unlit cigarette on the edge of the dance floor and wonders if she could ever say no to her for anything.

Well. Anything except dancing, of course.

“Please?” Kitty tries one more time, but after Morgan shakes her head, she relents and just kisses her cheek, before wandering off to the snack table. Morgan rubs her cheek, her fingers coming off with a pink glittery mess. She groans out loud and uses her shirt sleeve to rub off the lipstick stain, but she’s smiling lightly and is stupidly aware of it, too. Shit.

Morgan keeps staring after Kitty, as she sways on her feet to the beat of the music, popping a green grape into her mouth as she chats with someone Morgan doesn’t know. It’s kind of annoying how friendly Kitty is with everyone, because that means no one ever leaves her alone. It’s very rare that Morgan can spend time with her outside the warehouse for someone not to interrupt them in the middle of it. The worst part is that Kitty is too nice to tell them to fuck off and when Morgan does it on her behalf, Kitty gets pissed off at <i>her</i> instead of the obnoxious intruders.

Morgan is so focused on Kitty that she doesn’t notice that guy (Sloppy? Ronnie? She doesn’t care what his fucking name is), Kitty’s ex, seeing Kitty from across the dance floor and making his way to her. She frowns when maybe-Ronnie touches Kitty’s shoulder with a too gentle and familiar grip to Morgan’s tastes.

Kitty turns to look at him, her smile polite but also fake, but Sloppy doesn’t notice it and takes Kitty’s hand in his own, swiping a finger across her knuckles.

And Morgan sees red.

She drops her cigarette to the ground and is by Kitty’s side as fast as lighting. Ronnie blinks at her speedy arrival and then yelps as Morgan grabs his wrist in a too tight grip.

“Let go,” she growls, and Sloppy squeaks in fear to her delight.

Morgan is aware that Kitty is currently staring at her with wide eyes, but she doesn’t look at her, her eyes focused on his fearful face as her grip tightens even more.

“Morgan,” Kitty says very softly beside her. She doesn’t sound upset, but she takes Morgan’s free hand into her own and squeezes it gently.

Morgan releases his hand and he rips it to his chest, massaging his wrist with his fingers.

“Get lost,” Morgan grunts, and Sloppy does-- so fast he looks like a vampire himself. He fucking wishes he was.

Morgan folds her arms, Kitty’s hand falling away, as she watches him go with a satisfied smirk. After a moment she turns to look at Kitty, who doesn’t look angry, like Morgan expected she would. Instead she’s smiling and, for some unknown reason, Morgan’s heart squeezes inside her chest.

“You wanted to dance?” Morgan asks with a quirked eyebrow, swallowing down whatever she was feeling before, and offers Kitty her hand.

Kitty laughs. “I’d thought you’d never ask,” she says and leads Morgan to the dance floor.

[callme-dickmaster]

Sweetheart - (eddie munson x reader)

Ch. Nineteen - Failure

summary: the end of 1984 brings a new semester and upsetting news

cw: 18+ (minors dni) this is obnoxiously long, afab!reader, language, fluff, mentions sex, feelings of inadequacy, hurt/comfort part, just a filler to add more to the relationship :) -i think that’s all-

author’s note: k so the steve story is happening now. Lmao love you <3

Series Masterlist

January rolled around far too fast in your opinion. January meant school and it meant your family came back and Eddie had to go back home. You’d spent a couple nights at the trailer over break, but you took full advantage of having an empty house for so long you were both used to it.

So, going back to school and back to your own houses without the other was a huge change to your new everyday happenings. You left your bag in class and wandered into the cafeteria, scoffing at the big “WELCOME TO ‘85!!” sign hung in the center of the room.

“Babe! Holy shit, baby!” A voice yelled before you were swept up and spun around with kisses laid all over your cheeks. “Eddie?” You squeaked, pulling back some to look at the boy holding you. Eddie grinned brightly and gently set you down to avoid you tripping in your platforms.

“What are you doing in here?” Eddie asked, pulling you out of the way of the crowd of students. “Coming to lunch? Why else?” You giggled, taking his hand to make him go through the lunch line with you. Eddie smiled in excitement, practically bouncing in his spot. He used to think being assigned first lunch the rest of his high school career was a curse of the highest order cast upon him by the haggiest witch O’Donnell. But sharing lunch with his girlfriend? Fuck yes!

You and Eddie were both well aware that you were both deep into the honeymoon phase at the moment, but you were going to take all the time you could get together before the phase fizzled out.

You followed Eddie back into the lunchroom. He led you to the already loaded up Hellfire table. “Hi boys! Mind if we join you?” You asked, setting your tray on the table.

Eddie took his regular seat at the head of the table while Gareth and Jeff moved down to give you a seat. “Babe, this is Kevin and Drew. They’re old members of the club like Gareth, Jeff, and I,” Eddie said, setting a hand on your knee. You waved at the boys you didn’t know.

Kevin stared at you wide-eyed and Drew just waved before going back to his lunch. You shrugged off the boy’s staring and started joking around with Jeff. Right before the bell rang, you grabbed the trash from the table and rushed to grab Eddie’s hand when it sounded through the halls.

“What do you have?” Eddie asked, looking at your schedule.

“Speech,” you rolled your eyes.

“Damn. I have chem. I’ll walk you?” He asked. You smiled and nodded, squeezing his hand as you both waltzed through the hallways. “Well, I’ll see you after? We can do something if you want or I can just take you home,” Eddie asked when you reached the classroom.

You smiled, “Well, I know I have homework but I’m down to sit at the lake and do it in the van?” You replied. Eddie happily agreed, knowing that he would end up convincing you to do your homework later and snuggle in his van. With a kiss goodbye, you and Eddie parted ways again. Classes dragged on until the final bell of the day sounded and you hopped in Eddie’s van to ride off to Lover’s Lake.

Every day for the rest of your final semester, you and Eddie would ride off to Lover’s Lake to hang out unless there was practice, a show, or Eddie had Hellfire.

One day Eddie missed school, which wasn’t uncommon, but no one knew where he was. When you went to drop off the schoolwork he wouldn’t do to the trailer, his van was gone, and Wayne was at work. You hummed, setting the worksheets on his bed and walked to the only place he would go to be alone.

The walk wasn’t long, but it felt longer in your boots. You knocked on the front door of the run-down house until a very tall and tan tattooed man answered the door, looking down at you.

“Hello?” He grunted.

His gruff voice echoed in the confines of the front porch.

“Eddie’s here. Where is he?” You demanded, forcing a bored look on your face. Reefer Rick quirked his eyebrows curiously, leaning on the doorframe.

“Who’s asking?” He replied.

You rolled your eyes, “His girlfriend. Where is he?” You snarked. Rick let you in and led you to an empty bedroom that had a blow-up bed with Eddie cocooned in the blankets sitting on top. “Thanks, man,” you sighed, shutting the door behind you.

“Hey, Eds? Babe, what’s goin’ on?” You asked, sitting on the blow up beside him.

Eddie shook his head, too sad to look you in the eye. He felt like a fucking idiot. Like a failure. He felt like he would never accomplish anything because he couldn’t do anything right anyways.

“What’s got you so sad?” You asked, leaning over to brush some curls out of his eyes. Eddie shrugged, staying quiet. He didn’t want to admit it.

You tutted, unzipping your boots and kicking them off before tugging at the blankets until he let you in. You pulled him in close and let Eddie lay on you, burying his face in your neck. Eddie tightened his grip on your waist, holding you as close as he could.

“Do you think we could talk about it?” You whispered, carding your fingers through his hair. Eddie whined lightly, “Just wanna lay here,” he mumbled. You whispered “ok” and played with his hair while you laid there together in silence. More silence than you’d ever experienced in Eddie’s presence. Eddie softly whimpered and buried his face further into your shoulder. You twirled his hair through your fingers, slowly and gently working through knots in his curls. You’d laid there for a while. Long enough that you thought Eddie had fallen asleep. But he broke the silence with the saddest voice you’d ever heard on a human being.

“I failed…” he sighed.

You looked down at him, “What?” You asked, “I failed… again,” Eddie said. You shook your head in confusion. Failed what?

“I don’t understand,” you said, “Higgins called me up to his office this morning… he told me I failed senior year again. I can’t graduate,” Eddie mumbled, threading his fingers through yours. You could feel your heart physically breaking into a million pieces in your chest. He was so looking forward to graduation. But instead of being able to walk the stage and show Wayne the diploma he always wanted, he had to go back and start all over again. You felt like shit for him.

“B-but you worked so hard! And it’s only April! Isn’t there some way for you to change it?” You asked. Eddie shook his head with a frown. There was no way for him to graduate. Higgins said so himself.

“I am seriously starting to think it’s just because they don’t like you or something,” you scoffed. Eddie smiled softly, pressing a kiss to each of your fingertips. “Thanks, sweetheart. I don’t know maybe I’m just not meant to graduate. Like, maybe I’m just not that good at anything, you know?” He sighed, laying his head on your shoulder.

You shook your head, putting a hand on his cheek, “Absolutely not. You have no idea how fucking amazing you are do you?” You asked.

Eddie grinned cheekily, “Remind me?”

You shook your head with a smile, deciding to indulge him. “Well, you’re incredibly talented. Best songwriter I know of. You’re smart… and you don’t have to make fuckin’ straight A’s all year long to be smart,” you said, quoting what he’d told you months before. Eddie smiled, dropping his head back onto the bed. “And don’t get me started on how sweet and funny you are. Your stunning looks are just a plus… Also, how fantasmic you are in bed… Need I go on?” You giggled.

Eddie covered his face with his hands, trying to hide the burning red blush on his cheeks. You snickered, prying his hands from his face and pinning them to the bed. Eddie smiled softly up at you, heart feeling full.

“Thank you, baby. You’re the best girl I could ask for,” Eddie said.

You smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. Eddie wrapped his arms around you, smiling into the kiss. “Mm, you’re welcome, love. Now you just have to worry about telling Wayne,” you giggled. Eddie’s face fell and was replaced by a horrified look.

“Fuck!”

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(crossed out names means i could not tag you :( sorry)

love you <3

[thankssmitin]

Dad For One but with a twist.

cw: filicide, major character death, angst, semi-graphic violence (I.e., description of an arm going through someone's body but no gore mentioned)

-

As soon as his eyes locked onto All For One standing in the middle of a half-destroyed building, Toshinori knows that this will be the final time they would see one another. He cannot allow this man live, not after the pain and suffering he's caused and continues to cause. Not when his boy now has One for All, he refuses to leave Izuku with the same burden that had been left on his own shoulders at a similar age.

So he locks Toshinori away and brings All Might to the forefront. He does not engage in the banter All For One tries to start, ignores the jabs thrown at himself, his mentor and now his successor - he won't allow himself to become distracted. Not now. With each hit exchanged he feels his grasp on One For All growing weaker and knows he needs to end this sooner rather than later, before All For One gets the upper hand.

He manages to get the other man on the defensive, his punches desperate but no less effective and briefly thinks that this is it. He's finally going to do what he thought he'd achieved ten years ago. His fists will end a man who's legacy is drenched in the blood of thousands, but in the end, all it takes is one mistake, one punch thrown too wide and he leaves his chest open to an attack.

And All For One takes full advantage.

The fist is so fast, so efficient that he almost doesn't register what has happened, at least until the pain comes.

Hundreds of voices scream, echoing through the area, Izuku's shriek of 'All Might!' loudest among them, but he cannot think beyond the agony radiating through his chest. His legs become weak and he finds himself falling forward, hand reaching to grasp All For One's shoulder. The man himself is strangely silent, allowing Toshinori to touch him without any mocking words. Instead, All For One places his own hand on Toshinori's shoulder and leans in. Blood gathers in his throat as the movement jolts his body, and it's all Toshinori can do to cough in an attempt to clear his airways, staining All For One's already filthy suit with an obnoxiously dark splatter of blood.

"It's okay my boy," All For One whispers into his ear, pulling him further onto the arm embedded in his chest. There's no malice in his words this time, just a quiet resignation that would be unsettling in any other situation. "Just let go."

His words are familiar in a way that should unsettle him, yet do the opposite. For a minute Toshinori finds himself giving in, wanting to experience the unspoken promise of the weight being removed from his shoulders, and then he hears him.

Izuku shouts his name, calls for him not as a hero but as a man, as the person Inko had quietly informed him Izuku had come to see as a father figure in the last few months.

No. He can't! He can't let him win! Not like this! He needs to protect the people who were looking to him to save them, to protect the foolish children who came to save their friend, to keep Izuku safe as Nana had kept him. But it hurts and it's becoming harder to breath as All For One violently moves the arm embedded in his chest one last time, sending an agonising jolt of pain through him that results in a cry of pain that Toshinori cannot swallow.

He feels his body falling backwards, All For One's bloodied form standing tall over him as he falls onto the concrete. Voices cry out in horror, he sees a flash of green (Izuku-!) that All For One bats away without averting his unseeing gaze. Toshinori's fingers twitch, desperate to get up and stop the hand that hits his student a second time, but he cannot move.

And he cannot breathe.

The world seems to fall quiet as he lay amidst the rubble, gasping for breath that never comes. Sirens fade into silence, the lights from the emergency vehicles casting an eerie glow over the area just as water drips onto his fingers.

-

"Dad! Dad look!" He calls out to the man sitting on the bench while he tries to swing as high as possible, little legs pumping with the extra effort required to get him that extra foot.

His father chuckles, a deep sound that seems to echo around the area, but he sets his book aside, finger between the pages, to look over at him.

"I see you Toshinori," He replies with a nod, reclining against the park bench. "Try not to fall off."

"Yes Dad!" Toshinori giggles, he's not stupid! He's five now, that's a big number, mama said so, and he knows how to use the swings safely! That's why Dad's sitting on the bench reading a book. He's just about to get to a height where he can see over the fence on the other side of the park, wondering what is in the person's garden, when he feels himself slip.

The ground hits him hard, and steals his breath away. It's terrifying and for a moment he lays there gasping, the fingers of his left hand still clinging onto the swinging metal chain of the swing as it comes to a halt. And then his father is there, concern on his face, and speaking words that Toshinori can't hear over the rushing of blood in his ears.

A hand gently brushes over his head and then the shock of what has happened wears off, the noises of the world and pain in his back hitting all at once.

"Toshinori! It's okay, it's okay." His dad is saying softly, fingers running through his hair, "You're okay. I've got you."

-

All For One continues to stand over him as Toshinori feels his body begin to fail, and for a brief moment he imagines another man standing in his stead. Pure white hair caught in the wind and a warm smile on his face.

"Dad," He mouths, unable to gather enough air to say the word aloud. And as his enemy, the man who took away his secondary mother - the woman who'd raised him after the loss of his own parents when he was six, kneels beside him, ignorant of the heroes attempting to get closer, Toshinori doesn't feel fear, just exhaustion.

A hand brushes a strand of hair from his face, tucking it gently behind his ear just as Endeavor's flames are quickly redirected by an unseen quirk.

Then, quietened by the sound of his own heartbeat and distant voices, his father speaks, "I've got you. Let go."

And Toshinori does.

[hailsantabook]

Chapter 1: Baptism

Chapter 1

Baptism

My palms were pouring sweat like I had fire hoses implanted in my pores. My heart was racing so fast it could put Secretariat to shame. My mouth felt dry, I wanted words to come out but they wouldn’t.

“Kai,” My father’s voice sputtered out from beside me, “is there a problem?”

“No, I’ll say it, just-”

“You’re baptized now, Kai. Can’t just be freezing up when asked to say a prayer.”

My sister rolled her eyes, her plate of chicken curry steaming up her glasses as she waited on me, “can you hurry up? I’m starving.” 

I gulped, sat up straight and bowed my head. “Dear Jehovah God in heaven, we come before you,” I huffed a quick sigh to relieve the swelling feeling in my chest. I hated this. Why did I have to do it at all? Why can’t they say their own damn prayers? 

“We come before you,” I repeated, gave myself some time to come up with more words to sacrifice on the altar of my tongue before God, “to thank you for these meals you have provided us, and for the companionship you have provided us, and for, uhhh,” I stammered, gulped again. Dad cleared his throat intentionally, like he was trying to get me to remember something.

Oh yeah. I got baptized today.

“Thank you for bringing me closer to you today, Jehovah, for, um,” I couldn’t find the words. Thank you for baptizing me? Thank you for letting me get baptized? Thank you for letting me sign over my life to your earthly organization?

“For being my shepherd, and guiding me to the waters in which I was baptized today. Amen.”

I looked up quickly, Loretta already had her fork in hand, her best friend Patricia was unfolding her roll of silverware right beside her. I looked to her side at a tall man, with the kindest brown eyes opening wide behind his black glasses.

He gave me a sweet smile. “That was beautiful, Kai.”

“Thank you.” I looked to my father, who was less impressed.

“When we get home, remind me to teach you how to say a proper prayer.”

Mom hushed him. “It was his first time saying a prayer for a group, Tim.” She turned to me, a soft grin on her lips, “you did great, sweetheart.”

“Thanks Mom.” I slouched back down, started picking at my food.

I glanced at my dad who was obnoxiously staring at our waitress. She was helping another table, her body facing ours as she handed a fist-full of straws to some thirsty patrons. Dad tsked, he had clearly found something objectionable about her, he always did.

“That little striped heart on her blouse, it’s the trans flag, isn’t it?”

I looked at her, Alan turned around too out of curiosity. “Yeah, blue, pink and white.”

“So our waiter is a man masquerading as a woman? Lovely.”

“Maybe she's just showing support.”

“The more you change your body, the more you disgrace God, Hezekiah. Nobody should support that.”

“How’s everything going over here?” The waitress in question appeared before us, checking in with one of her hands holding a nearly empty pitcher of iced water.

“Everything is fantastic, thank you.” Alan smiled at her, showing human decency, something Dad couldn’t afford regardless of the cost.

The older man suddenly raised his hand, and my heart sunk believing it to be the start of a confrontation. I was right.

“Actually yes, could we get a basket of bread please?”

“Right away!” She walked off in the direction of the kitchen, and I gave dad a quizzical look.

“Dad, why do you want more bread?”

“Shhh, this is a chance to leave a witness, son.”

“Oh God, Dad please, don’t do what I think you’re gonna do.”

“We’re Jehovah’s Witnesses, and we speak out in fearlessness, son.”

“Dad, I just want to have a nice dinner with you guys, we’re supposed to be celebrating, not preaching to the public.”

“If nobody knows we’re here on Jehovah’s behalf, then we may as well not be here at all, Kai.”

I turned to my mom, the slightly more level-headed one when it came to matters like these. “Mom, stop him, please.”

She shook her head. “You’re not actually going to do the bread thing to her, are you Tim?”

“Margret, it’s a fantastic analogy and it gets the point across. Ah, here he comes now.”

The waitress showed up with a brown woven basket full of freshly heated bread buns and cups of butter.

“What’s this?” Dad looked to her with mocking irateness. “I asked for bread!”

Her calm and professional demeanor quickly flashed into confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Well this is clearly a basket full of steak!”

Her confusion only sunk more. “I beg your pardon?”

Dad grabbed one of the buns and held it up. “This, it’s a big juicy steak, is it not?”

Her eyes were wide as dinner plates as she crossed her palms over one another and tried to comprehend the situation. She subtly shook her head.

“What is it, then, if it’s not steak?”

“It’s bread, sir.”

He smiled at her. “Now you’re getting it.” He put the bun back into the basket, “when we see something differently from what is true, we are right to be called out on it, correct?”

She seemed to be getting the point my dad was getting at. And she didn’t look too flattered by it.

“Is this about my pin?” She shrugged the shoulder that housed the offending object, furrowed her brow as she waited for Dad’s response.

“Just remember this, God made you a man. Men are among the strongest and most intelligent of God’s creatures. Women were meant to subject themselves to men. Why would you choose subjection if it is not what was meant for you?”

“I was born a woman.” She crossed her arms, her face flush with controlled anger. “I wear this pin in honor of my best friend. He died three years ago.”

She was nearly shaking, I could tell she wanted to slap him. Every part of me was wishing she would.

Instead though, she stifled a tear and walked away quickly, making a beeline for the bathroom before chatting with another waiter and pointing in our direction. Handing off the torch to someone who could handle our table, it seemed.

“Dad, that was-” I wanted to say unbearable, embarrassing, stupid, hateful. Dad was too much of a narcissist to fill in the gap with something accurate.

“Right, right. Remember, son, we all make mistakes. What counts is having the bravery to speak up for what’s right, whether it’s taken the right way or not.”

“You made a woman cry for no reason.”

“But Jehovah is smiling down, and a seed has therefore been planted.”

“Tim, could we just eat out once without you trying to teach moral lessons to random civilians?”

“Margret, it is our duty to guide sheep towards Jehovah. No matter what that shepherding may look like in the moment. She could come to our Kingdom Hall one day and thank me for calling out her out from the darkness of her path and towards Jehovah’s guiding light.”

“If that’s what you wanna think, Tim, go ahead.”

“Mom, you don’t support what Dad did today, do you?”

She sighed, lifting up a pair of fluffy blue pajama pants out of the laundry basket beside her. “I don’t approve, no. I don’t like the way he goes about things like that. I think it does far more harm than good.” She dropped them to her lap, looking around for a moment to find the words. “But, he’s my husband. Whether I approve of his antics or not, I have to support him. All I can do is give him a push in the right direction.”

“But, being so harsh like that is bound to turn people away from us. From God, right?”

She breathed in harsh, knowing this was the millionth time in her life that she was facing scrutiny on Dad’s behalf. “If that woman is actually one of Jehovah’s future sheep, she’ll find her way to him. Remember that everyone has free will, Kai.”

“But if Jehovah’s sheep will always find him eventually, why do we witness at all?”

“Well, we witness to call the sheep towards God. It’s their choice if they want to follow.”

“But-”

“Kai, it’s past your bedtime. Go get some sleep, alright?” She was talking to me, facing my direction and giving me the command. But I knew in reality, she was talking to herself.

Alan’s bedroom was always so immaculate compared to mine. Despite barely having room for his dresser, he had two simple bookshelves, one filled with JW literature, the other containing books of poetry and novels of the greats, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Alan Poe, Robert Frost, and dozens more.

Alan loved reading, especially poetry and short stories. He loved writing too. He held his own work in a little blue book on his desk that he wrote in during his free time, what little of it he gave himself.

I had always been tempted to take a peak inside and actually read the words of my best friend, but he never let me. He’d always snatch the book away when he caught me being nosy, and he’d change the subject.

“So how’s baptized life treating you, Kai?”

“Don’t really know. Feels like nothing’s changed.”

“Well, you can pioneer now.”

“I know, I just, I thought it would be like being born again. I thought I’d physically feel my old self shedding away when I rose up out of the water, that I’d suddenly have the zeal and drive to do more for God.”

Alan shook his head. “I could’ve told you that wasn’t going to happen. The change is gradual, not immediate.”

“It was immediate for Jesus!”

“Jesus was a perfect manifestation of God’s love for mankind, not a teenager from Greenville.”

“Good point. Well, least I got baptized at all, I was starting to think it’d never happen.”

Alan chuckled in his year-older wisdom. “You’re only 18. Jesus was in his 30s!”

“Well, you got baptized at 11. Dad always shoved that in my face, ‘you’re such good friends and yet you don’t even follow his example.’”

“You weren’t ready. Every flower blooms in its own time. Your dad should know that, didn’t he get baptized in his twenties?”

“Well yeah, but to him it was different, his side of the family is all agnostic. He wasn’t raised a Witness, he said I should take advantage of the fact that I didn’t have to go looking for the truth, that I was born into it so I had more time to dedicate to God.”

“You’re still your own person though.”

“I don’t know, am I? I feel like I didn’t even do it for me. I feel like I just did it to get everyone off my back.”

“If that were the case, Jehovah wouldn’t have let you get baptized.”

I shrugged. “You really believe that?”

“Of course. If you weren’t sincere, the elders would have picked up on that. They would have told you to wait. You’re here now, and you’re baptized, so that alone implies that you were ready for the plunge.”

“I don’t know. If you can only get baptized when you’re ready, then why are there so many apostates?”

“Well, that’s the worst thing about apostates, Kai. They were ready, they had the truth, and they had God’s love. Then they allowed self-righteousness to bubble up within their hearts, they let Satan in. The Devil breeds his strongest warriors out of those who were once loyal to Jehovah. It’s a reminder to guard our hearts with vigor.

“You’re baptized now, Kai. You have to be careful, Satan is going to do his best to take you away. Temptations will soon latch onto you unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.”

“Heh, and what temptations did Satan latch onto you when you got baptized?”

He blushed. “Well, you’re my best friend, so maybe it’s time I told you.” He grasped his own arm and nodded to the side, like it was extremely uncomfortable to even consider what he was about to tell me. “I, I struggle with homosexual tendencies.”

I blushed in return. Of all the things he could have told me, I really didn’t expect that.

“You’re gay?”

“No!” He corrected quickly, nearly shouting it before vigorously shaking his head. “I struggle, yes, but I won’t accept the label. I’m not gay. I’m, I’m straight with extra steps.”

“Yeah, I mean, I think I get it. I’ve thought about other men too, before. Just never really thought it could be something I’d struggle with. I barely even think about girls that way.”

“Don’t let it in, Kai.” He shook his head. “I let it in, and it’s been eating me alive ever since. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t struggle with unclean thoughts about men. Never let that curiosity get the best of you.”

“Well, why is it wrong? Jesus really never talked about it.”

“Jesus never talked about a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong. We shouldn’t focus on what Jesus didn’t say. It’s been very clear since the dawn of man that homosexuality is wrong.”

“But why is it wrong?”

“Well, the pieces don’t fit. When men… do things… with each other, they have to go through a whole process. They have to decide who’s going to pretend to be the woman, they have to have lubricant since their… entrances aren't meant to have anything go in there, they have to clean themselves out first so they don’t cover their partner in fecal matter. It’s disgusting, it’s a disgrace to God’s perfect arrangement of intercourse.”

I nodded along, hoping he couldn’t see through my ambivalence. Lovemaking being more messy or difficult just because it was between men didn’t seem like a reason for it to be an undoubtable sin.

“What about love, though?”

“What about love?”

I shrugged. “What if two men are in love but they just don’t have intercourse? Would that still be wrong?”

Alan raised his eyebrows. “Well, I don’t,” he scratched at his neck, “I don’t know.”

“It could be possible, right?”

“But love should lead to intimacy, that’s how Jehovah intended things to be.”

“Well, how about this. A man and a woman, they’re in love, they’re married, but they’ve never slept together because they’re both asexual. That’s not wrong in the slightest, right?”

“No, of course not. But if they were to be intimate, they could, and that’s what counts.”

“Okay, maybe the woman and the man are both disabled and can’t be intimate. Specifics aside, it could happen, right? They can’t be together that way.”

“Jehovah would understand a situation like that, I’m sure.”

“Well then, intimacy aside, what makes two men being in love wrong?”

Alan looked away, his features falling still. “I don’t know.”

I felt bad. I had used my reasoning for wrongdoing. I had enlisted doubt in his mind, and as a result I was assisting Satan in corrupting my best friend.

“Alan, I don’t mean to tear down your walls or anything I just, I wanna understand it too, and I never have.”

“The bible is clear enough that I don’t have to fully understand it to respect it. God says men should not lie with men, I have to obey that.” He looked melancholy, like he was somehow hoping the opposite could make sense to him.

“Right. But, you could love a man.”

Alan smiled to himself and looked at me tenderly. “I already do.”

Automatically assuming he meant his brotherly love for me, I smiled in return and went to put a hand on his shoulder. But then he looked up.

“Three men, actually. Jehovah, Jesus,” he opened his mouth, then turned back to me, “and you.”

Well, at least I was included.

Mornings in my home were rapid and unwavering. Monday through Friday, Dad would be getting ready for work while Mom prepared for taking the remainder of our family, namely me and Lorretta, out in service.

Regardless, we began every morning with the daily text before we scuttled away from the dining room table, Lorrie and I would bicker about who got to take a shower first and Mom would retreat to the bedroom to finish picking service clothes and say her private morning prayer. She told me it helped her wind her emotions down before the day began, and I believed her. Every day she’d walk out of the bedroom fresh as a daisy with a pleasant smile on her face.

I wished prayer had that effect on me. I figured it was something that would come with age, a result of getting to know Jehovah over a multitude of years. I thought that maybe now that I was baptized, praying would start affecting me more.

I tried it that morning once I finally got into the shower, a private prayer, nobody but me and God and the pitter patter of water falling from the shower.

When I finished, I opened my eyes, and…

Nothing.

It will happen, I reassured myself. Eventually it would fall into place. Eventually my eyes would open up and I’d see what exactly I got baptized for, I had complete faith in that fact.

And until I could find joy in the mere act of walking into a Kingdom Hall before field service, I could at least find joy in seeing Alan there, waving at me, ready to take on the day together as we knocked on doors and performed our deliveries of spiritual food.

Alan was smart, incredibly smart. He was the most put together and brainy person I knew. While more than half of his brilliant mind was filled with Jehovah’s Witness exclusive biblical lore, scriptures, and a bible based sense of right and wrong, the remainder of his brain power would often bewilder and dazzle me.

In particular, his uncanny talent for gaming.

For a guy who didn’t give himself much free time, Alan had this ability to pick up and master almost any videogame instantly.

A couple seconds of watching someone on an arcade machine later, he’d step up for his turn and fuse to the controls, his nimble fingers testing each button and knob a handful of times before pressing play and blowing the fellow patrons away. Racking up scores so fast and with such ease you’d swear he was a cyborg designed for mastering the digital art.

I can’t even describe the rush I’d get from watching him, something about witnessing a man in his element, distraction free, his eyes dancing across the screen rapidly, open and inhaling information like a computer. His fingers tapping, clicking, swiftly knocking around and about as though they had minds of their own and jobs they knew how to do by heart. All while his body stayed perfectly still, a suit on, separating his elegant, formal figure from the rest of the arcade-goers around us.

That suit was a constant reminder of the reality of our lives, we weren’t just two teenage boys out at the mall having fun on the weekend. We were two spiritual brothers who got dropped off at the mall after going in field service for the whole morning with Alan’s family, waiting for my mom to reunite with me, pick us up and take us home.

It was a routine we had down pat, but field service meant formal wear, and thus, my reminder.

Alan rocked it though. His tall stature only added to the elegance of his outfit, his black wavy hair perfectly framed his face and his dark brown rimmed glasses gave him not only an air of intelligence but one of melancholy and mystery as well. One look at him and his savant-like skill with his fingers and you’d instantly want to know more about him.

After all, if there were ever a man who I could see myself falling for, it would be Alan.

[nexttm]

location prompts  ||  accepting  ➜  @crimeloyalty revenge sex in someone else’s car.

It isn't the idea that is offensive, or even makes him uncomfortable. It is the car itself that is beyond obnoxious, but even that isn't the problem. It is the mere size of it. Or rather; the lack of size to accommodate someone as tall and wide as him. Sure, Harley claims they are fairly similar in height, but Simon has seen the dude in pictures. They don't wear the same size of shirt, so to speak.

The more surprising part is finding and getting hold of the car. It stands out from the rest of Gotham with simply being on the firm end of the color spectrum that screams “Rainbow!” at your face, true. But it is also his car. It just seems like it should be harder and not so… parked right in front of a club with the key still in the ignition. Who even has a car that needs a key to be inserted these days? Jesus Christ. There are all kinds of things Simon would like answers to about the matter, but now is not the time, nor does he ever expect to even get those answers. Not even if he sits down with the man himself.

Keeping his hands in the pockets of his worn-out jeans, letting Harley climb all over the purple vehicle to satisfy her need to simply… take things. He can't deny that she is due more than a few things if even half of what she claims is true about the Joker, and frankly he is sure she even tones down the version she supplies for him when she does start talking.

The climate in Gotham is perhaps not the most inviting this time of the year, chilling to the bone with the humidity getting frozen as the lower degrees taking over the country. Even with the balaclava on his breath still leaves little trails of fog on every exhale. How Harley is fine with simply wearing booty shorts is nothing short of amazing. Not that Simon is complaining. Not at all. If anything, he is looking. Respectfully.

He only notices that he's been prompted and missed it once he catches sight of a finger calling for his attention to move from Harley's ass to come closer – and to look at her face and not just her ass. If the balaclava didn't cover his face as it did, a smile of the more abashed kind would be visible. With a step closer he has one hand on the top of the car, and one on her ass, gently nudging her to climb over to the passenger seat. There is no way he'll let her drive, even without her drinking prior to the idea of; “hey I know a great car to have sex in.” Not that the plan is to really drive the car. It is more along the lines of taking it for a very different kind of ride.

With a healthy amount of skepticism while attempting to get in the car, Simon is fairly surprised he actually fits behind the wheel. Closed door and everything. The “I told you so” goes completely ignored in favor of putting his hand between Harley's legs. The perks of the shorts being so short is truly the lack of material between those pale thighs. He has half a mind to get the car on the road, but he'll need both hands for that, and Harley seems entirely too happy with keeping one of his hands busy and all to herself – judging by the happy grin and content moans coming from her. Is it performative? Oh no doubt about it. But he doesn't care one bit. The whole stunt is to put on a show, and a show they will give.

With no windows pulled down ( it was on purpose, and not a rookie mistake thank you very much ), the whole car fogged up pretty fast. With the multicolored lights on ( both inside and out, why not let the battery run to the bottom of all pits, right? ) and the stereo playing whatever weird playlist had been left on, it didn’t exactly take them long to manage another rearrangement of bodies and limbs. Thank whatever carshop had custom built the car to allow the driver’s seat to be moved back another two feet.

While Simon kept most of his clothes on, pants merely pulled down to his knees, balaclava pulled up over his head. Harley was the contrasting opposite. Shorts together with extravagant jacket and one singular shoe was occupying the passenger seat. A bra in matching colors to her hair was hanging from the rearview mirror, much to Simon’s appreciation of being able to get his face on her chest, pulling on her piercings with his teeth. The thong to go with the bra had been left on for the sole purpose of seeing the lace next to his own cock when being pulled to the side. So sue him for having a thing for lace – few piece was big enough to fit him so he’d have to make due somehow.

Having the steering wheel in the way of really getting any leverage with his thrusts, it was basically lodged against his knees and therefore restricting movements in what could only be described as a most inconvenient way. What he lacked in movement he certainly made up for in dedication, however. Both of his hands held on to Harley’s ass, gripping hard enough bruises even someone like her. Having big hands certainly had it’s pros at times like these. Two of his fingers pressed further between her cheeks, against her hole just hard enough to tease, but not enough to give her anything. The gasp and following whine it earned him only made him laugh through the moan stuck in his throat as she sank down over his cock, soaking wet or not he was still a lot to take, and the tremble in her thighs gave her away.

As much as it was a moment for the two of them, something they shared and most certainly enjoyed. It was still clear it was a show. Harley’s hands all but roamed over the windows as if she’d been fathered by a windshield. If it was for the purpose of opening the fog so people could see them, or if it was for the actual purpose of moving herself was harder to tell, most likely it was a combo of the two.

With her hand accidentally catching the steering wheel, causing the horn to not just honk but fill the street with the most loud obnoxious melody known to mankind – this really was a clown car. Simon could only laugh. His whole body curled around hers, holding her close as they both laughed through the struggle of catching their breaths. This had to be the dumbest situation he’s been in. At least the dumbest situation from the past five or so years.

With his face buried against Harley’s neck, feeling her hard at work pulse against his own forehead, while their skins stuck together from the sweat they had both worked up over the past twenty some minutes. Most of it having just been an attempt at how to maneuver themselves in the dumb car. Looking out at the street gave even more perspective on how dumb it really was. They had a crowd now. A rather big one on both sides of the street, he didn’t need unfogged windows to figure as much out. And after the honking they certainly had everyone’s attention.

 If Simon had struggled with getting off before this very moment, it was nothing compared to now. The paranoia was creeping up, tickling the back of his neck more than Harley’s nails were clawing for his attention all over his body. Now where was that damn key? Did they leave it in the ignition- Yes, yes they did. His fumbling hands, having let go of Harley’s ass. Slowly attempted to locate not just the key, but also in what position the steering wheel was. All done as gently as possible as to not startle anyone outside, or give it away to Harley so she’d give too much away to the outside.

With a firm grip on the wheel with one hand, and one on the key it barely took him two seconds to get the car started, and in the first gear, forcing the vehicle out of there before anyone could move too close. Maybe it was a night for both kinds of rides after all. Now this certainly ticked off something he’d never tried before.

[bite-sized-devil]

Avatar of Lust

'Tis a bit silly this one, just Asmo being a little shit. You need to be 18+ to ride read.

Each brother knows when you are feeling their particular sin. Most of the time it can be nice to have them help you through it, but sometimes its just plain annoying!

The avatar of Lust knowing when you are turned on is straight up annoying. Especially when he's so vocal about it. What makes it even worse is that he is always close by when your freak starts to fly.

The first time it happened you were looking for Beel to ask what he wanted for dinner that night as it was your turn to cook. Seeing as he always eats most of it why not make it something he enjoyes?

You found him in the gym, mid squat. That thick ass on full display has you stopping dead in your tracks. Fuck his pants are tight, or maybe his ass is just too big for them? He pushes back up to a standing position and racks the weight. Your gaze leaves his perfectly toned buttocks to slide up his glistening back. Of fucking course he's shirtless, your salivating as his muscles contract.

Sweat turns the hair at the nape of his neck a darker shade of orange. What you wouldn't give to lick the sweat from his chest. Desperate for some friction, you clench your thighs.

You almost jump at the loud obnoxious voice coming from beside you. Amidst your perving you hadn't seen Asmo sneak in.

"Oh so naughty of you MC! Lusting over Beel like that while the poor boy is working out."

He's smirking at you with one eyebrow raised.

"N-no! I swear I wasn-"

You start stammering, but he cuts you off with an unsavoury retort.

"uhh uh uh, I can tell what you're feeling my little horny darling."

You flush deeply at being caught out, your eyes meet Beel's for a second before you're almost sprinting out of there. You can still hear Asmo laughing when you make your way back to the kitchen.

The second time, you at least thought you were safe from his rising brow, seeing as how you were in Levi's room and it was just you and the third born.

Cuddled up together in his bathtub playing games. You were both about to start the next level when Levi pauses to talk strategy.

He grabs your waist and turns you around to face him, he's super excited. Gesturing wildly and ecstatically yelling, he's going into detail about how to attempt this next level.

Fuck he's cute like this, purple hair brushed to the side so it doesn't hinder his vision. Cheeks slightly pink from how excited he is.

You want to kiss him, you let your mind wonder about how soft his lips might be. It would be easy, he's so close, and your already straddling his thighs.

Your soul almost leaves your body when out of the corner of your eye you see Asmo's head raise up beside the tub. Where the fuck did he come from! You don't remember hearing the door open.

He pops his eyebrow, eyes wide with mock shock.

"Really MC, right now! With Levi of all demons?"

His words have you standing up so fast you nearly fall out!

You are so embarrassed, unable to meet Levi's eyes you squeak out an apology before dashing out of his room.

Asmo's voice chases you down the hall to your room.

"Oh MC, I'm only teasing! I'm sure Levi would be an adequate lover."

The last one, before you lost count, involed Lucifer.

He was berating you one morning for being tardy. You would like to have pointed out that is was Mammon's fault but there was no way you were snitching on him.

Standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his big chest, tall and foreboding.

"Do you ever think of anyone other then yourself MC?"

What a low blow as right now you were covering for the second born!

Huffing angrily you turn away from him.

That pisses him off even more, grabbing your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks, he forces your head back so you have to meet his gaze.

You weren't expecting the heat to pool between your legs. Shit!

You look away from him quickly, oh fuck, you see Asmo's head pop up outside the window of the empty classroom you and Lucifer were using. That cursed eyebrow raised again, he's mouthing something to you.

You make out the words "uh oh" and "horny jail" you think? Fucking arsehole!

You blush deeply. This confuses Lucifer, his grip on your jaw loosens, you take the opportunity to bow your head so you're staring at the ground.

You swallow your pride and apologise so you can get out of there.

"I'm so sorry Lucifer, I swear I'll do you.... Uh I m-mean I'll to better FOR you!"

You look up at him as you miss-speak, eyes wide with shock, is he blushing? No he can't be.

You quickly side step past him and race out the door. Asmo is to busy laughing at what you said to see the filthy look you shoot him before you stomp away.

After numerous more encounters like this, you soon find yourself turned on everytime that little fucker lifts his eyebrow.

You're sure that was his plan from the start but you're now to horny to care.

[sohin-ace]

Jolyne - No Ordinary Girl

Mermaid Y/N x Surfer Jolyne

Today was a particularly fitting day to go to the beach. Jotaro had taken Jolyne, Hermes and Foo Fighters to the shore. He mostly went for some observation and the girls decided they would take advantage of the nice weather for some surfing.

It was not long after they arrived and started installing themselves that Jolyne and Hermes' eyes fell into very familiar faces.

Annasui, upon seeing the group, walked towards the girls with a confident stance, making sure his long hair was flowing in the wind.

"Oh look who we have here. The ladies victory." Annasui exclaimed, before completely falling heart-eyed, his voice and tone softening, dreamy even, at the sight of his object of worship. "Hi Jolyne~"

"Oh! Weather Report's there! Hi Weas!" Jolyne called out to the older man arranging a parasol a few feet behind, her completely ignoring the pink haired-male that seemed to have come with him. He waved shortly at Jolyne in response.

"Anyways, what are you guys up to?" Hermes asked, sipping on some lime flavored granita.

"Well, as you can see..." He pointed at the ocean, "We just wanted to take a day to work out a bit, but the waves are real nice today."

He leaned in not so subtly towards Jolyne, despite Hermes' evident judging gaze.

"But you know what else is real nice today?" He brought his hand up to cup Jolyne's chin, but before he could even say or do anything, Jolyne leaned away and pointed behind him.

"Oh wow! My dad's coming back with drinks!" She called nonchalantly, looking behind Annasui like he was more transparent than air itself.

"...! DRINKS?! DRINKS!!" Foo Fighter gasped, pushing the feminine man off to the side with such force, he fell and slid against the sand.

"Hey, Jojo," Hermes tapped her friend's shoulder, "Let's show these pendejos how girls ride waves."

The Asian American smirked, eager to show who's boss and always ready to follow on her best friend's mischief. "I'm racing you then."

"Pfft, I won't go easy girlfriend." The Mexican cracked her knuckles and grabbed her plank.

After surfing for long enough and being outran by Jolyne's stamina, Hermes decided to go back and sunbathe next to F.F's who was playing cutely with sand.

Jolyne glided full speed over the water, the wind and droplets of salty water refreshing her skin. More than competition, Jolyne loved the acceleration, the adrenaline, the sweet fresh air through her long hair. When she was surfing, Jolyne's heart lightened up and her mind purged of any negative thoughts, anxiety, fears.

She was at peace.

Before she could enjoy the sweet taste of her peace of mind though, she caught up to a blond surfer in front of her who she recognized as she got closer. Oh god, not him of all people.

"Oh, hey! Isn't that the sexiest surfer in all Miami?" Romeo teased, admiring the girl who gained up on him, "Not bad, look at you go! Who knew my little Jojo would be so talented, hot damn!"

Jolyne frowned and clicked her tongue. She swore if she wasn't so focused on staying in balance, she would drown him on the spot. He laughed obnoxiously, satisfied with being a disgusting excuse of a human.

"Romeo, I swear to fuckin-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, something, a gigantic fish tail appeared out of the wave and flicked itself right accross the blonde, slapping him off of his plank with a painful sound.

"HUAARGHH-" He screamed before crashing into the water with the splash and disappearing behind Jolyne.

"O-OH MY GOD!" She gasped, both surprised by the sudden turn of events, and incredibly scared for her life, thinking some kind of hostile shark was in the shore currently, which was to report immediately.

The moment she decided to take a turn and leave as fast as she could, warning the others to get the hell out of here, a shadowy form within the water followed her along the wave.

Foolishly curious, Jolyne looked at it, not without her heart hammering in her chest at the potential danger she was facing.

What she saw was not a sight she'd have ever expected to ever see in all her 19 years. Her legs shook at the shock and she almost completely fell over her board.

Gliding along the water right next to her, right inside the tall wave, was the figure of... a girl.

Or was it a girl? It couldn't be. She looked human at first glance, but the more Jolyne's gaze moved sideways she noticed the long and impressive fish tail replacing what were supposed to be legs.

Jolyne's jaw felt slack. She felt like she was hallucinating. Believe it or not, she had not smoked or taken any recreative substances beforehand, but she truly wished she had because that would have at least explained what her eyes were showing her.

The girl swimming and following her only smiled, waving cutely with webbed hands, as if amused by Jolyne's disbelieving reaction and wide eyes.

"W-w-w.... What the fuck..???" Jolyne finally spoke after rebooting her entire brain, "No fucking way-...! A mermaid??!! A real one??!"

Like a bad trick from fate, the wave Jolyne was trying her hardest to not get swallowed by, seemed to grow weaker and weaker, shortening in size.

Jolyne saw the mermaid slowly retreat away in an elegant swim, her form vanishing into the deep blue.

"Wait, no!" The surfer called, almost desperate to have such a mystical meeting and ethereal moment be so short lived.

She reached her hand out to the creature, unsure of what she was even trying to do, but the force of the current got the best of her, and Jolyne lost balance, falling forward with nothing to hang onto for purchase.

Jolyne splashed onto the water and the wave died with her hope of ever living such a dream again.

"Ooohh dang it! You were almost there!" Hermes called out from the shore, her voice booming enough for Jolyne to hear as she broke into the surface.

"Fuck...." Jolyne cursed, hanging onto her board.

She felt defeated. Not because she couldn't ride that wave to the very end as she was expected to with her skill level, but rather because she couldn't immortalize that beautiful moment.

She blankly climbed onto her board again and barely even paddled her way back to land, too out of it to do so.

Was that even real? That had to be, right? She saw the mermaid. She saw her hair, her skin tone shined-on by the sun. She saw the scales over her skin, the fins along her arms and tail.

She saw her attack Romeo, he must have seen her too, Jolyne pondered.

"Aaah the champion is back!" F.F cheered as Jolyne finally walked back, drenched and with her plank under one arm. "I made a sandcastle for our ocean queen!"

"Thanks Foo..." Jolyne's small smile didn't not match her quiet tone.

"Hey, what's up, chula ? You look like you've seen a ghost, or something? You did great back there, so why the long face?" Hermes fixed the straps of Jolyne's bikini top and removed some seaweeds from her hair.

"It's just... I saw something weird it the water and I don't know..." Jolyne hesitated, "Maybe I was dreaming or something."

"Hum..." Hermes hummed in thought. "What do you think Féfé?"

"Maybe Mr. Jotaro can answer if you saw an animal? Damn, I'm thirsty." F.F stuck her tongue out, clearly expressing her thirst.

"Dude, there's water litterally everywhere here." The mexican grimaced before turning back to Jolyne. "But yeah, maybe you should ask your dad if that worries you so much."

"Uhh..."

Jolyne looked towards her father who was crouching somewhere next to some rocks, taking notes about mollusks, or so Jolyne guessed.

"Yeah, maybe not. It's fine though, no big deal." She smiled, waving her hand in dismissal.

Shrugging it all off, the girls decided to join Weather Report and Jotaro who brought food to finish the day at the beach with a relaxing touch.

And so, the day ended with an uncanny normalcy for Jolyne, who kept thinking more and more as the sun set, that it all had been in her mind. Mermaids didn't exist. It was probably a Stand user playing tricks on her.

That what she wanted to believe. When she thought of all the events that would follow, she truly wished she had spoken to her father about it. After all, if he had fought a very real vampire, then there would be no doubt that something as crazy as a mermaid could exist in her bizarre adventure.

Jolyne came back to the beach that same week. Alone, this time. She was careful to come by the time the sun started to lower in the sky and the temperature of the water and air dropped, knowing tourists and athletes would be gone by this time.

'What now?' She thought. Coming back out of sheer curiosity was a thing, but making sure she could attract the creature back to her was something else.

"Should I bring food? What do mermaids even eat? Does she like hot dogs...?" Jolyne thought out loud, looking around, secretly glad no one was here to hear her talk mad nonsense to herself like some insane crackhead.

She approached the water and drenched her feet in the small rocking waves, coming and going her way and gently splashing her. She hesitated for a moment, remembering that along with the legend of mermaids came the fact that these creatures were known to attract and enchant humans by their beauty, leading them to their inevitable death.

So maybe, Jolyne accepted, she was destined to die in the ocean.

Just as she came hip-deep into the sea, she felt a strange current shaking her legs, almost knocking her out of balance.

Before she could even process how strange it felt, she looked down into the clear water and saw no less than the same huge colorful fish tail she had seen that very day.

She gasped in realization and soon enough screamed as she felt calloused hands grab her thighs, the creature pushing herself out of the water to be met face to face with the human who had been, unbeknownst to Jolyne, her newfound fixation.

"Y-WHAAAAAHH!!!" Jolyne hollered, not expecting such a strong and surprising appearance.

The mermaid still halfway into the water, climbed and gripped up the girl's hips for leverage. She looked up at Jolyne's face, smiling wide and eyes glinting in both adoration and mischief.

"Greetings."

"HOLY CRAP-" Jolyne's voice cracked, "I mean- fuck yes! I mean-..."

Poor Jojo was completely out of it. But who could blame her, though? It was not everyday that one got to meet a real mermaid in the flesh. And certainly not such a handsy one.

She cleared her throat and mustered her most suave voice, pretending she wasn't completely flustered by the sheer beauty before her.

"Hi."

"I knew you'd come back..." The mermaid spoke, her voice almost ethereal and distant, "They always do."

Jolyne's heart wanted to stop. God, she felt burning hot and was sweating everywhere. Her voice stilled Jolyne to place in a way she couldn't explain. The legendary creature was so impossibly close to her, bodies almost touching.

She noticed she couldn't stay up overwater any other way than using Jolyne's lean body for leverage, her heavy tail anchoring her down. But the warm proximity between them and the sight of such a beautiful, rare and mystical creature right under her chest felt unreal and exciting.

Jolyne wanted to look her over for hours. Her hair texture, drenched and flowy, her skin tone glowing like gold, her holographic scales and fins shining like crazy diamonds.

"Why... Why did you...? Of all people...?" Jolyne questionned, now wondering if their first meeting in that wave was really a trick of fate, or if she was chosen in any way. "You attacked Romeo, yet you showed up to me... Why me?"

"I like beautiful humans." The mermaid smiled, her radiant features and smooth voice making Jolyne's legs weak, "You're beautiful."

The young surfer couldn't help her heart shaking and the wave of warmth spreading through her chest. If it was anyone else, she would boast her obvious beauty or maybe flip them off. But now she couldn't. Being complimented by a mythical being that was already the most gorgeous thing Jolyne had ever witnessed was truly something else

"What's your name?" Jolyne started.

"Call me Y/N."

Y/N, Jolyne's mind echoed. Cute. Even mermaids had names, she thought before realising that may be a very stupid thought to have. She didn't really know what else to expect.

"I uh, I'm Jolyne..." She looked down into the water, somewhat not daring to look at Y/N's adorable curious and sensual gaze. Oh god that was bad, she was entrancing.

"Not to be gay but...You look cute. Hot even. Can I say that? That's not weird, right? Since ya know... You're not exactly human, but you're not an animal either, like... I'm not gonna get arrested for this... I hope..."

"I'm not too familiar with human tongue, but I think Ms.Jolyne looks really pretty as well." Y/N moved to wrap an arm around Jolyne's waist, gripping her for better leverage and pointing at her chest, right in her reach. "Healthy mammals, great for feeding the young."

"Mammals...? Oh! You mean my boobs?" Jolyne glanced at her modest chest before grinning at the creature, "Aw thanks! Finally someone who likes them who's not some degenerate creep!"

Jolyne's chuckle died down and she finally took the time to look over Y/N's face. She ran a cold hand over her much warmer cheek, gliding it down to her gilled neck, mesmerized by her anatomy.

It truly was a one-in-a-lifetime meeting. Jolyne was slowly comprehending her luck to be met with a legendary sea creature like her. And a friendly one, at that.

How could this be even real? Our human knew that even though she was feeling relatively serene at the moment, the adrenaline would come down later and she would most likely cry herself to sleep.

"Hey uhm..." Jolyne was at a loss for words. There were so many things to say, but at the same time, she couldn't speak a word.

"Hm?" Y/N hummed and closed her eyes, enjoying the human's gentle touches.

Merfolks would express themselves via physical ministrations the most in the ocean, but she knew well a lot of humans did not share intimacies, or at least not before building a certain bond.

Glad that Jolyne was open to it, the sea-bound girl squeezed both her arms around the human's waist lovingly, forcing endearment on Jolyne, who felt her own heart tighten at the sweet and adorable embrace. The girls wanted to keep each other.

"Will we see each other again? I mean, I know you shouldn't be noticed by the public for your safety, but I don't know... Guess I took a liking to you or something." Jolyne mumbled, still resting her hands mindlessly around the creature's shoulders, fiddling with the ridges of her dorsal fin.

Y/N smiled, a smile that looked empty on her fish eyes, but sincere regardless. She let go of Jolyne who couldn't quite take her own hands off of her, clinging a little bit longer.

"Don't you know this, Ms. Jolyne? When human women die in the ocean, they relive as our kind."

"What? Really?" Jolyne let the mermaid get away slowly, ready to swim off to some unknown destination.

"If you want to see me again," Y/N called out cutely, waving her webbed hand like the very first time she saw Jolyne surfing, "Then perish in the ocean!"

She grinned, diving into the deep blue and splashing her tall tail strongly, giving herself a boost of speed, and disappearing away.

Jolyne could only stare into the horizon, darkening as the night arrived, stunned into place.

"...Ok, that was metal as fuck..."

H2O Just Add Water opening, but with Jolyne, Hermes and F.F

[ohheyitsokay]

🎉Congratulations lovely! 🎊

The tattooed phrase trope is absolute gold in soulmate AU fics.

Am also a sucker for rivals to lovers ^^

Maybe a fluffy little piece between Poe and the reader with the Reader's phrase being "Well show me what you've got then, flyboy?"

hellooo welcome to the chaos (since you're new here!)

I'll do my best, I hope you enjoy!

warnings: I think this is just fluff, with vague mentions canon typical drama

>>

soulmate requests / follower celebration

<<

There was something about those hanger hallways, something that made it feel like you had to walk fast.

Maybe it was the clean sharp lines, and the regular announcements, and the smooth lines of droids on their merry way.

Maybe it was the urgency of saving the universe from pompous 'rulers' who thought they had any idea what was best.

Or, maybe you just liked to move quickly.

It was in your blood - not because you were born into it, but because you had shed blood, with sweat and tears to get to where you were. And because the universe had half dictated it that way.

"I hardly think it matters. Not that I dont think good pilots help, but I dont save lives," you retorted to the rebel beside you, her steps in pace with yours. "Not like you."

"Become a medic then," Jane rolled her eyes. Your mouth opened, words still forming on your tongue, before your friend stopped dead, hands on her hips. The hallway was forked, little labels indicating youd half pulled her in the wrong direction.

"Hush," she said. "I dont care what excuse you have this time. We both know you don't have a option." Eyebrows raised, and you sighed, dodging another hurried rebel as they almost tripped on a little mouse droid.

On your arm for years now were the words So, you're a pilot?

Long nights you'd spent arguing about fate with your friends - you loved flying, you really did, but-

"It's such a glory job," you always protested.

"Main characters are pilots," she would reply, her sturdy shoulders shrugging. Her agreement didnt make you feel better. If you were lucky, someone else would add, "But you're not like that."

Because you weren't. You were just... you.

"I just want to help people." And no one would argue because that was true, too.

It hadnt come upon awhile, fate, and short lived careers, and how infuriating it was when people held nations lives in their hands because they loved the attention. You lived with it, and kept your mouth shut. because General Organa needed all the help she could get.

And you couldn't deny that you loved it, and it was easier to bear the stress of reality when you didnt think too hard. But -

"Why is this coming up again?" A rhetorical question, delivered with a smirk, and responded to with a childish face.

Jane was pulling you down the opposite hallway, towards the bay, and your stomach twisted, despite the friendly teasing. He was there, you'd told her before, so she knew the reason you'd been antsy, looking for something to blame.

Poe Dameron.

A hotshot pilot, maybe the best in the galaxy. An infuriatingly handsome, ridiculously charismatic, obnoxiously smart, stupidly kind rebel who had nearly blown up your favorite x-wing.

You couldnt decide if he deserved an award or a good solid slap to his cheek. The favored option switched each day, but nothing would come from either - you had never actually talked to him, always too afraid of... what youd be opening yourself up to.

Becaus even from far away you saw him, late at night repairing that dumb x-wing with his bubbly little bb unit, talking to the little thing like he really was sorry. Because you saw him hugging a new recruit, talking to them for what must have been hours after their first mission. Because his smile, the same one that had captured the hearts of almost everyone around, was full of thoughtfulness and earnestness and confidance.

And if you didnt tell yourself that he was selfish, flying for all the wrong reasons, and that you were going to show him? If you didnt protest that your attention was solely in seeking pilot humility?

Then, Maker help you, you were in love with him.

"Shut up," you said sternly, as your friend grinned, and the two of you approached the ship you'd spent all morning checking and rechecking. Her response blew away, drowned under the noise of chatter and intercom announcements and the chaos of the hanger.

A hard hug, a fistful of fabric, and shouts to stay safe, and both her and her teasing disappeared, and your turned the the hunk of metal above you.

"So, you're a pilot?" It was the words, but the voice that made you flinch. You'd heard him before, voice like dark caf in mornings, sweetened at the edges with golden honey.

No way he was talking to you.

"I mean, obviously you're a pilot." Why was he here? Wasn't his ship... oh. Next to yours.

"And a damn good one, I hear," he kept talking. Your words were sticking in your throat, alarm bells screaming to tell him off, to spit out your righteous lecture or tell him to mind his own business or something. You unintentionally ignored him, but he just... kept talking, content to let you work opposite of him.

"I... I've seen you around." For the first time, your gaze snapped into his, wondering at the nervousness of his tone. Regretting it instantly, you turned away. His eyes were like his voice, dark and warm and bad for you. Bad, bad, bad.

"You talk about how we do this for others."

Hand on the top rung of your ladder, you paused, this time looking at him deliberately. He really wanted to have this conversation? And... Maker it felt like you'd hit an asteroid. All those walls, sharp and sturdy like tempered metal, crumbling around you.

He shouldve looked smaller, hanging from his own ladder like he didn't have anywhere to be, but he didnt. Of course he didn't.

"I agree," he said, awkwardness replaced with a resolute phrase. Almost a promise.

And you grinned.

"Well," you held his gaze as he pulled himself up another rung, to be even with you. "Show me what you've got then, flyboy."

And he grinned back.

He disappeared from view for a moment as you pulled yourself into the cockpit, and your mind, which had gone blissfully silent, abruptly began to scream.

Something - something just happened - but it was time to go, and you had a mission, and the coms were switching on, and -

Looking over you saw him, his beautiful eyes as wide as yours felt.

And then you got the all-clear for take-off.

-

He had searched for you the moment you landed. You knew he did.

But you had landed a row away from where he did and hunkered down in the cockpit and tried to breathe and process the mission - a resounding success - and the terrifying thought that you had maybe just found your soulmate. And been one slightly-less-perfect maneuver away from losing him again.

He - he probably got swept away int he rush of celebrating crowds like he always did. Not that you noticed.

The phrase, on your arm, it was... it was common, right? Anyone could say it.

The whole mission you'd shoved it out of your mind, only focused on getting everyone out of there alive, and now that it was over...

You didnt know what to do. The hanger was quiet, void of cheering crowds and pilots alike, and you climbed out, hitting the ground with a thud.

Poe was waiting for you, looking almost shy as he buried his hands in his pockets. Sleeves rolled up, you saw words youd never noticed before... words you'd felt in your mouth mere hours ago.

"How'd I do?" He asked, his smile small, dark eyebrows bending in.

Like before, the chaos of your thoughts stilled, storm waves settling to a gentle tide. You walked towards him, wondering at the feeling.

"Not too bad," you said, trying your hand at a matching smile. It came easy, easier than you were prepared for.

"Yeah?" Was he always so tall?

"Didnt get anyone killed."

"Good point," his voice sounded rough, and... he was close.

"I think," Poe wet his lips, and you could almost feel it, he was so close. "I think my soulmate prefers it that way." He was right.

Hand on that broad chest, flight suit streaked with who knows what, you kissed him.

He kissed you.

Warm and sweet.

And slow.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz @saradika @zinzinina

[carolmaximoffs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜

a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way. 

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.

“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”

"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.

“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”

You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.

.......

Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.

Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.

 Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.

The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones. 

You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.” 

“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.

“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.

.....

The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward. 

Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it��s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird. 

Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.

“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them. 

“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.

So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer. 

“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!” 

You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”

“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”

“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly. 

“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.

On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.

“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.” 

“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”

Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”

“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”

“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”

Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”

“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.” 

You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.” 

Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.”  You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.” 

“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.

“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep. 

“Yes, Wanda?” 

“I love you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.

--------

Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires. 

“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you. 

Things make so, so much more sense then.

[yejiroh]

Siren Scales & Village Tales

•••

For @chaoticyuna 's Summerween event!

Siren Gojo with a female reader.

Word count: 2.3k

TW: large bodies of water, bullying, blood.

•••

“The water was always murky by the bog trees, billows of dirt and sod and other bits always falling into the water by the pounds. Further down the dirt road that passes through the swamp, and you’d find a well, then a town.

“A merchant’s town, children waddled through the puddles that filled the pit holes- it wasn’t a rich area, despite all the good business. In the center of the town, a big fountain captured the sun’s rays during the golden hour- usually around 5 in the afternoon.

“Now, back to the well- it’s kind of important.

“The well, around 3 feet wide, was built of what was now crumbling bricks- terribly small, but just big enough to fall down; should you be unlucky enough.

“But there was also a rumor- as there is in every town and village. And, like other rumors that resided in other towns and villages, it was that of the supernatural. But in this case…

“Sirens.

“Sirens were fish tailed peoples with webbed hands and glowing eyes. It was said that if you ever heard one singing, you’d be inclined to bring yourself forward, to take their hand and fall.”

“Fall?”

“Yes, fall. Fall down the well, they would tell you. However, once in a blue moon, there’s a survivor, one who crawls their way up from hell and back to the siren as if they were addicted to their voice; coming back every day while the sun is still up, just to leave crying their eyes out as the sun comes down.”

“Why only during the day?”

“Well, no one knows. It’s just something that happens. Like a law of nature.”

***

“Don’t you think it’d be better to just relax once in a while? It wouldn’t hurt you, I promise.”

Despite all the reassurances of saying a story was a story until proven otherwise, better safe than sorry. And the only well in a 15 mile radius was this one. 

Curse them for being so cheap. 

Your hands burned from the rope as you dragged the bucket up, clear water sloshing around spilling out some. 

“Nanami, with all due respect, you are the last one I want to hear the word ‘relax’ from.”

Gravel bits dug into the souls of your shoes, some chunky enough to feel even through the rubber. It kind of stung. 

“Y/n, I’m going to be frank with you; mermen? They don’t exist. Neither do griffins, or hydras, or any of that fairy tail nonsense you’re always babbling about. It’s just us two, and old Mr. Gakuganji down the road.”

Sighing, Nanami adjusted his glasses, not bothering to wait for you as he loaded the last gallon onto the wagon, getting ready to go. 

***

People surged forward, coins and paper money grasped in hands before thrown at you two, grabbing at the jars of the well water. It was always like this, the town coming up to the well water like it was their life sustainer, and maybe for some, it was. 

“Y/n! Welcome back! Did you see anything unnatural today?”

A mocking laugh, a tall man tore his shirt off- Aoi Todo. Behind him, the Zen’in twins chuckled.

“Actually Todo, I haven’t. BUT, I do have something else to note. That well water you’re drinking? It hasn’t been boiled yet.”

Watching his face contort, a smile is set on your face as Aoi began to hurl, tiny worms and water with last night's feast falling onto his feet.

“Y/n! What the hell! Did your siren buddy put you up to this?”

“What happened to them not being real?”

It was the same conversation everyday. And, like everyday, you was met with a horrible answer.

Todo scoffed before spitting onto the ground, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“No man is every gonna want you, you stupid woman.”

“And if I don’t want to marry?”

***

As the hours passed, dusk came, bringing the stormy clouds with it- but it wasn’t yet raining. A ripple in the lake waters caught your eye- maybe a fish, but the fish weren’t in season, so it was unlikely. 

You shouldn’t have been out after curfew- there were rules for a reason, yeah, but what was the harm? Especially after dinner, where you’d only had time for stale bread; chewing down the more than stale pieces was troubling. 

The sands of the lake were dry, like all the water had been taken from the ground, pooling into the lake. Odd.

“A  law of nature? But that's so…”

“Boring? Stupid? Illogical? Aye, it is.”

Kneeling down, you dipped your fingers into the water. There was something missing from the story the elders told you, you're sure of it; no matter how many times you waved your hand in the shallows, not a single ripple- only from that tail you saw earlier. 

Something rumbled, whether or not it was the stormy clouds or your stomach, you didn’t bother to check. 

Dipping your feet into the water, a sigh of relief escapes your lips- a breath let go you didn’t know you were holding. 

Another roll of thunder- but something caught your eye; the tail again. 

It was only for a moment, but you could make out the colors and fin shape. Various shades of blue and silver and yellows, shifting in the light, and the fin, large and (almost) pillowy. 

It hit the water, disappearing once again. 

“Stran-THE HELL?

Digits quickly grabbed your foot, webbed and slimy, pulling you under before you could scream. 

Something pressed into your mouth- maybe seaweed? Bitter and salty, whatever it was was quickly shoved down your throat, forcing you to swallow. 

As clear as the water was on the top, it was far too dark and dirty underneath. The vice grip that had pulled you down was now dragging you deeper, the breath you were saving long gone with the swallow, your eyes began to close. 

‘Count the digits!’

A tiny raise of suspicion, you felt around for a limb, feeling up before coming to your wrist. 

Forcing your eyes to open, the tears that pricked at your eyes were quickly swept away with the current.  

Head feeling light, panic was soon replaced with adrenaline, and you raised your legs, knees to your chest, before kicking out hard. Your feet hit the thing holding you, and it let go quickly, allowing you a chance to escape. 

Already out of breath, you swam up as fast as you could, finally breaking through the water’s surface. You sucked in a deep breath, coughing violently as you wiped the water and dirt out of your eyes, hurrying to the land. 

Behind you, waves crashed, and the water of the lake that seemed crystal clear was now red and thickened. The air became heavy with the scent of iron, and soon the entire lake shifted up, sands and all, dragging you up with it.

“Now, now, it's not strange, is it? I think it’s quite the opposite. Normal even.”

You found yourself in the palm of a hand- or, in the webbing between fingers that curled in, as if to cradle you.

Finally getting a good look at the thing in question, it didn’t take long to put two and two together; the fish from the beginning, the thing that pulled you under...and now…

“I’m Y/n, what the fuck are you, and what’s your name? Also, you’re hot.”

And it was true. Big glossy blue eyes that seemed to be lashed by the purest white doves feathered around,the hair, just as white as the lashes, seemed to trail deep down, and looking down, you leaned over it’s thumb, holding it tight as you peered down. Purple scales glimmered all the way down. 

Two fingers grabbed your collar, picking you up, bringing you to face an eye. 

“You’re a funny little thing- I could just eat you up”-it opened its mouth, biting the air before laughing”- “I am Gojo. You’ve heard of me, yes? I’m a Siren...but I guess the more accurate description would be to say that I am this lake. And thank you, Y/n. You’re much too kind, considering I was about to drown you. Here, let me brush you off.”

As Gojo patted you down, your insides churned; it was much too fast, and to be frank, it was more like you were getting spanked. It didn’t help that dust clouds rolled off you. 

“Y-you-ow-’re a -OW-guy?- STOP THAT HURTS!”

Gojo laughed, smiling as you coughed and waved your arms.

“A guy hmm...I suppose I am. You’re quite big for a fairy. And what the hell are you doing near a lake with no wings?”

“Fairy? I’m a human. There’s a whole ass village down the road through the forest.”

“Human? Oh...Ohh, yeah that makes a lot of sense.”

“Are mermaids- sorry, sirens- -lake dudes?”

“Lake dude, siren, doesn’t matter.”

“Right. Are y’all supposed to be this huge?”

 Gojo gasped, a webbed hand on his chest and mouth hanging open before promptly putting you down, laying down himself as his lower half dissolved into water, the pit that was the lake somewhat there again.

“Big? You think I’m big? I’m just a small lake! You flatter me Y/n!”

Propping himself on his elbows, he rested his face in his palms, looking at you with a smile. 

“Eh, it wasn’t for flattery- just curiosity.”

“Still...well, now I feel bad. I was gonna eat you.”

“Eat me?”

“Yeah.” Gojo scoffed before looking down, glaring at the ground. “There’s this human who calls himself Todo- a real-

“Pain in the ass? Insufferable? Obnoxious? Egotistic? A liar?”

“YES EXACTLY- you know him?” Gojo put his head down, and you watched in interest as some of him crumbled to sand before promptly climbing up onto his nose.Tapping it lightly, you let out a out a small “oomph” as he rose up, eyes on you. 

“Yeah, I know him. He’s actually why I’m here now- kinda. The fucking jerk kept messing with me, talkin’ about how, ‘Oh, Y/n, did you see anything weird? A siren perhaps?’ and yeah, the fucking town laughed at me, but it’s okay, cause the well water he drank hadn’t been purified ye-”

Gojo interrupted you, waving his hands around in the water before bursting into laughter.

“The WELL? Not the one by this place I hope? Oh god, thank Yaga y’all purify that!”

Joining in the laughter nervously, you asked why, which sent the siren bawling into more laughter,forcing him to place you on his head so you wouldn’t fall off.

“Oh, oh my gosh- stop tugging my hair Y/n- that well water is connected to this lake- me! Y’all would have been drinking my piss and body had you not purified it! And I can’t have a pretty thing like you melting from the inside out and drowning in your own blood because of scales or something!”

“So...what I’m getting at here is...Todo is going to die if he hasn’t already? I mean, he spit it out, but he still drank a bit-”

A sudden burst of wind, you tugged Gojo’s hair again, holding on so tight your knuckles turned white. 

Gojo hummed, deep in thought before exhaling slowly.

“Well- no pun intended-, I believe he’d turn into a fish. At least, that's what happened to the last guy who did that. Man, he was a crazy one. Called himself Get, going on and on about how everything he consumed he could turn into. Weird shit, Y/n.”

“Turned into a fish but could shapeshift?”

“Ah yeah- you guys know magic and stuff is real right? Anyways, my body, as you can see, is basically this entire lake- not like a lake god or something. Once I die, this place will have never existed. Back to what I was saying, I have a strict ‘no-no’ policy. A little spell just so I could get more dinner. And, I don’t think anyone would want to just be a lake their whole damn life.”

“Huh...that makes sense.”

“Yeah. “

“So…”

The two of you paused for a moment, and you couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly; to think that sirens were only bloodthirsty monsters- well, he did try to kill you, and it was true that they were beautiful, but the fact that you were literally sitting on the head of one now- one who claimed to be small- it was entirely laughable. 

Clearing your throat, you crawled over, leaning down to come facing his eyes once again, poking his forehead.

“Say...Gojo, you wouldn’t mind eating Todo if he turned into a fish right?”

“Hmmm...not really. Why?”

“Just asking. I’ll drop by here tomorrow, yeah? It’s getting late, and I gotta make sure no one took my dumplings.”

And with that, you said your goodbyes, promising to meet again, you with your vial of well water and siren scales, and Gojo with a gold coin.

“Payment, my dear. Nothing is free in this life, you know. Hopefully now you’ll have some better village tales to tell now.”

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

[oatmilkslytherin]

veritaserum (d.l.m)

description: anyhouse!reader and draco have a strange love/hate relationship, mostly consisting of you pretending like you hate him, while he flirts nonstop with you. at first you thought it was purely just to get on your nerves, but after a little run-in with veritaserum, the truth unfolds itself.

requested: yes / no

warnings: none

y/n’s pov:

he was too charming for his own good. his grey blue eyes never failed to make me melt under them whenever he glanced over his shoulder in potions. i couldn’t help but stare at him; he was much too captivating for my eyes to keep to themselves. of course, it would be blasphemous for me to admit my wandering eyes were more than just purely coincidental. as far as everyone was concerned, draco’s heart couldn’t be won over by the most loving souls. including mine.

this day in potions was no different. i sat behind him, my head leaning against my hand as my elbow dug into the wooden countertop to help support my poor heavy mind. ron, who was to my left, often picked up on my gaze that fell on the back of draco’s head. being my best friend, he had full right to tease the living daylights out of me about my unrequited crush. i, of course, would always laugh in his face to cover up the fact that that’s exactly what it was. a love that could never be mine. 

“you’ve got a bit of drool there, y/l/n,” ron whispered in my direction, nudging my ribcage with his elbow. i straightened up immediately, the hand that was supporting my head coming down to wipe the corners of my mouth. ron couldn’t help but let out a muffled laugh as i realized there was nothing there at all. i shot him a glare in retaliation. 

“very funny, ronald. you can talk when you’ve admitted you have the hots for granger,” i shot him a smug smile that made his face flush a deep crimson hue. i giggled lightly at his flustered state, turning back to my parchment that only had the title of the chapter scrawled messily at the top of it. 

i began to write down the vague messages on the blackboard, trying to connect it with the lesson and writing what were probably the most incoherent notes in the entire castle. as question marks and scribbles began to litter my paper, i caught a glimpse of a note fluttering in between ron and i. we both glanced at it briefly before i snatched it from the wandering eyes of snape. 

i unfolded it discreetly in my lap, my eyes darting from snape to the piece of parchment in hopes he didn’t catch me reading something other than the textbook. 

you look awfully pretty when you don’t know what’s going on 

-d.malfoy

i glanced up after reading the message, my eyes falling upon draco’s as he glanced back at me from his seat. i shot him a quizzical look, letting a smirk fall upon my features as i shook my head lightly at him. a smile crept to the corners of his lips and shot me a wink before returning his attention back to the lecturing professor.

before i could fold the note back up, ron had taken it from my grasp, reading over it with furrowed brows. his darting eyes were now balancing between the back of draco’s head and me, a laugh threatening to spill from his lips as he connected the dots. 

“blimey, forget about hermione and me. malfoy’s got the hots for you!” ron shout-whispered, making my eyes widen as he spoke a little too loud for comfort. i shushed him immediately, taking the note back into my possession and shoving it into my bag. now it was my turn to get red as ron suppressed his laughter to my left. 

i immediately turned back to my parchment, shaking off the note as if nothing had happened. deep down, i couldn’t help but feel butterflies erupt at the thought of draco calling me pretty. even if it was just a joke, my mind contemplated the possibilities. 

- before lunch -

“y/n!” i heard two synchronized voices yell from behind me as i walked through the corridors before lunch. i turned around, my eyes meeting those of george and fred’s, who were smiling widely and mischievously. i gave the two a questioning look, knowing them much too well to excuse their grins for something harmless.

“what did you boys do?” i questioned, sounding much like a mother to the two older boys. they exchanged quick glances between each other before their eyes landed back on me. 

“dearest little brother told of us of your little crush on the slytherin prince,” george started, my face already red with embarrassment at the thought of ron outing my secret to anyone, even if it was the twins.

“and we have decided to help,” fred finished, a proud smile tainting his features. my eyes widened suddenly, knowing that whenever the pair said they were ‘helping’ with something, it more than likely ended up disastrously. 

“once more, what did you boys do?” i questioned once more. suddenly, fred pulled out a small empty vile from the pockets of his pants, shaking the empty glass lightly between his fingers.

“we didn’t do anything, love. our friend veritaserum did it all for us,” fred teased. i groaned outwardly, covering my hands with my face as i thought of the twins spiking draco’s drink with the truth potion. the twins only laughed at my flustered state, moving to stand on either side of me and looping their arms through mine to drag me towards the great hall. 

the great hall was bustling with students by the time we entered, many of them chatting excitedly amongst themselves. my face was still stained with embarrassment as fred and george led me, much to my opposition, towards the slytherin table. 

many of them gave the three of us questioning looks, wondering why i was being escorted by the two obnoxiously tall gryffindors through the hall. we came to a stop right by draco and his little posse. 

“hey, malfoy,” george said in a slight sing-song voice. draco turned his head slightly, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of me caught between the two red-heads. he furrowed his brows at our little trio.

“please enlighten us on your innermost feelings towards our good friend y/n here,” fred continued. i looked up at the two of them on either side of me, smirks dancing across their features. i felt like i was being held hostage at wand-point as i was trapped between the two much larger boys, and draco in front of me. he eyed me suspiciously, opening his mouth to speak but words began tumbling out of his mouth. 

“she’s incredibly witty, much smarter than she appears to be. she’s much too pretty for her own good, it’s a surprise that no one has gotten the nerve to ask her out. i would love to be the one to sweep her off her feet, but i’m much too scared that she would reject me.” the words fell from draco’s mouth much too fast, his own eyes widening as he spoke. he immediately slapped his hand over his mouth to silence himself, making the twins snort from either side of me before high-fiving above my head.

i, on the other hand, was crumbling between them. my legs felt gelatinous as i heard him speak. from the way draco’s face danced with a red pigment, i could tell the vertiaserum had done its job after all. i bit down on my bottom lip, glancing around nervously. i was at a complete lose for words at the moment, but everything that draco had unwillingly spilled from his mouth was a dream come true. 

he was standing in front of the three of us now, his eyes still wide with shock and embarrassment. my silence probably didn’t help his nerves in the slightest. the twins retreated from my side suddenly, causing me to lose my footing and tumble straight into draco’s arms. he brought his arms up instinctively to catch me. i stared up at him for a moment, my mouth open and my mind begging to say something. 

“did you mean that?” i asked suddenly, my voice barely above a whisper. draco smirked slightly as he kept his arms around my waist. my hands fluttered delicately across his chest as i peered up at him. he only nodded wordlessly, making a smile creep onto my features. 

“i like you, too, draco. i don’t need veritaserum to tell you that,” i joked. draco rolled his eyes in realization he had been the victim of one of the twin’s pranks. 

“bloody gits,” draco muttered, making me laugh lightly. i only shook my head and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, making him flush a light shade of pink once more. he stared softly down at me with a smile and pressed a feather-light kiss to my forehead.

“be mine already, will you?” draco joked, making me scoff in retaliation and roll my eyes. 

“only if you’re mine as well,” i teased. draco smiled deeply down at me, pressing another kiss to my lips.

“fine by me.”

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Dance Party | Dream SMP

Requested? No but I did 

Warnings? None? It’s long as hell 

Summary: You have a dance party with your best friends in the dream smp, with a little bit of revealed feelings at the end 

Word Count: 2,773 (It’s so long but so worth it i promise) 

Spring break was finally here and you and the boys had something big planned. It was your first meet-up with most of them and you were beyond excited. You, Quackity, Karl, Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, Dream, George, Bad, Ranboo, and Sapnap were all renting a place out for the week in California.

You had been planning it for months, rounding up the money, getting the details set, and now finally traveling to Cali. You guys didn’t have any specific plans for the week, just wanting to spend quality time together but you were excited nonetheless. 

Your dad offers to drive you to the airport, still weary that you were spending your spring break, hundreds of miles from home with boys you had never really met before. You promised him it’d be fine though, you had already met up with Ranboo, Dream, Sap, and Karl which gave your dad enough to let you go. 

The plane ride thankfully wasn’t super long, and it was a straight flight to California. You also had a plan to meet up with some of the boys at the airport so you could head over to the Airbnb together. Your nerves were beyond anything you had felt before, a mix between excitement, anxiety, and content. You just wanted to finally be with your friends. 

“Dream!!” you yell over facetime when you land. “Please tell me you’re in LAX right now.” 

You had just landed, turning your phone off airplane mode to see that Karl, Ranboo, Sap, and Dream had landed in LA. You grabbed all of your stuff, instantly pulling up Dream’s number and facetiming him as you made your way off the plane. 

“We all are!” Dream exclaims panning the camera around to show the rest of the boys. “Hurry up you’re late!” 

You giggle loudly as you make your way to baggage claim and where the rest of the boys are. When you get there and see the boys, there’s so much excitement coursing through you, you can’t even contain it anymore. 

“(y/n)!!” Karl yells seeing your first. 

He books it in your direction, and you start to run towards him as well. You both collide halfway to each other, falling to the ground in a mess of limbs and loud laughs. You’re definite the rest of the airport goers are staring at you like you’re crazy but you couldn’t care less. You finally stand up, Karl pulling you into a bone-crushing hug and you’re smiling so wide your face is going to break. 

“I want one!” Dream whines and you turn in Karl’s arms. 

You squeal loudly, moving from Karl to rush into Dream’s arms. The tall boy wraps you up in his arms, lifting you off the ground ever so slightly. 

You then turn to Sap, your heart racing erratically. You had only met him once or twice but over a million facetime calls, late-night text conversations, and those two meetings, your heart had settled on him. 

His smile is wide and bright when you face him and you rush into his arms, wondering in the back of your mind if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. You tuck your head under his chin as he squeezes you tight and your smile is radiating. 

You then greet Ranboo in a similar fashion, the tall giant giving you the best hugs you’ve had in years, practically lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You couldn’t help but feel the best you had in years though. You were so grateful to be around your found family again. 

After exchanging long-awaited greetings, you grab your luggage and the five of you head out to the Airbnb. The entire time you five catch up on life, upcoming projects, what you wanted to do while you were in LA everything. 

“When is the British Dream Team and everyone else getting here?” you ask as you pull up to the Airbnb. 

“I think Bad and Quackity are already here?” Karl says. 

“The rest of the boys should be here tonight,” Dream chimes in. 

Your heart is racing once more as you all climb out of the car and make your way inside of your home for the next week. As promised, Bad and Alex are inside, and you can hear them the minutes you step through the door. 

“Language!” Bad yells out and Alex’s signature laugh can be heard throughout the place. 

“We’re here!” Ranboo calls and the two emerge from the living room. 

“Guys!!” Alex greets. 

You make your way to him first, squeezing him tight and stepping back, in shock that you had never met him before. You head for Bad next, the older boy offering a quick hug and a shy smile. It was the first time you had ever met the two but you felt right at home anyway. 

As everyone gets settled, rooms are arranged, and dinner gets decided you suddenly get a phone call from Tommy. 

“Mister Tommyinnit!!” you greet and Tommy rolls his eyes but smiles. 

“Hey bitch! We’re headed to the hotel!!” Before you can respond, the phone is pulled out of Tommy’s hands and you’re faced with a smiling Tubbo. 

“Hi (y/n)!! I can’t wait to see you!!” you giggle at the younger boy, Tubbo always acting as a younger brother to you. 

“Get here soon! Dinner will be ready!!” 

As the seven of you wait for your British companions, you relax in the living room, getting to know Alex and Bad more and getting reacquainted in person with the rest of your best friends. Just as food arrives, you’re all swarming the kitchen, grabbing plates, silverware, food, the works when you hear the doorbell ring. 

“Got it!” you call dropping your stuff to head to the door. 

When you swing it open you can’t help the excited scream that leaves your lips. There in front of you was the British dream team, the boys you were beyond excited to meet for the very first time. Wilbur stands at the front, an excited smile wide across his lips and you tackle him in a hug. He catches you with ease, lifting you up into the air as you squeal loudly. 

You break away from Wilbur just as the rest of the boys have come to see what all the commotion was about. Wilbur walks through the door first, considering you were now pulling George into a tight hug, pushing your face into the taller boy’s chest. 

Everyone finally makes it inside, and before you know it you’re being tackled by Tommy, a loud laugh bursting from the two of you. You hug the younger boy tightly, love filling your heart for the kid who was like a younger brother to you. You look up during the hug to see Tubbo pouting, making you pull him in too, now hugging both boys who were hilariously taller than you. 

Sap stands at the kitchen doorway, a soft smile gracing his lips as he watches you finally meet Tommy and Tubbo. You had been talking about meeting the younger boys for ages, the two kids stealing their way into your heart and you had talked endlessly about how you had always wanted little brothers and how you’d do anything for the pair. 

Sap’s heart does a backflip as you look up at him, beaming wide as you’re finally able to meet all of your best friends. He knows how much this means to you, making his heartbeat fast at the mere thought of your happiness. 

As you pull away, your heart is soaring being around your best friends. Your little found family meant everything to you and to have them all in one place with you meant the world. For a moment you think about how in a week it would all end but you pushed the thought away quickly, knowing you had plenty of time to enjoy. 

The just-arrived boys throw their stuff in their assigned rooms, and finally, you all start to grab dinner. You had practically ordered enough to feed an army but once the boys grabbed their portions you realized it was the smart move. 

As you sit and eat, surrounded by your best friends the vibe was beyond immaculate. You had great food, your best friends, and this was going to last a week? Nothing could get better. 

It had been 2 days of adventures, memories, and storytelling between you and the boys. You guys had been going nonstop since you had gotten to California and while you loved every second you needed a slight break. 

On day 3, most of the boys were still out, some were relaxing in their shared rooms, and some went back and forth. You had decided to sleep in before relaxing in the living room for a bit. Your music played on shuffle through speakers set up in the room. 

You had skipped through a million songs, unable to settle on anything specific when it hits you. You head straight for your throwback playlist, hitting shuffle on the almost 200 songs. 

The first song pops up and you gasp in excitement. About You Now by Miranda Cosgrove starts blasting through the speakers and you can’t help but get up and start to dance. 

“There’s a mountain between us! But there's one thing I'm sure of!” you scream sing dancing around the room. 

“That I know how I feel about you!” 

You whip around to see Karl standing in the doorway of the living room, big smiles and wild eyes directed towards you. You giggle as he runs into the room and the two of you start to dance and sing along to the iconic Miranda Cosgrove song. 

“What the-, “ Wilbur asks emerging from his room. 

He spots you and Karl dancing around the room and you beckon him to come join you. The second the song hits his ears, Wilbur’s grinning and joining you and Karl in your obnoxious activity. 

As the song ends, Karl is immediate to want to continue your fun. 

“Dance party!” he declares. 

Quackity, Bad, Sap, and Dream book it out of their rooms excited to join the chaos, and you instantly grab Sap, a strange confidence coming over you, pulling him towards you so you can dance together. 

The next song comes on and all of you start to get hyped all over again, the throwback playlist working its magic once again.

Your head becomes dizzy as the proximity of you and Sap hits you like a train. His hands trail your waist, his eyes making their way over you before landing on your eyes. You slip your hands around his neck, trying to find that first boost of confidence again as he starts to sing the words. 

“You spin my head right round, right round!” Sap yells pulling you close and swaying with you. 

Sap didn’t know how either of you got into this situation but he’d keep you in his arms for the rest of the night if he could. He pulls you even closer, as you sing the next lyrics, your eyes trained on each other’s.

“When you go down, when you go down down!” you echo the next lyric back to him and Sap smirks at you as you dance with him. 

“Language!!” Bad yells as the lyrics dawn on him and you’re all left laughing. 

You turn back to Sap, your breath stolen the minute your eyes land on his beautiful green ones and you wish you could close the distance between you two. 

“(y/n)!” Dream calls as the song launches into its second verse. You turn towards him and he holds his hand out to you. 

You giggle, extending a hand and Dream pulls you towards him as you two start to dance together. You two make your way around the room, your dancing massively exaggerated but out of the corner of your eye you see Sap glaring at the older boy. 

The song keeps going, the seven of you officially popping off together. Just as the song is reaching its end, Tubbo, Tommy, Ranboo, and George finally emerge. 

“Were we all poppin off?” George asks and Dream nods. 

Your music keeps playing, another excellent throwback starts up and this time you and Ranboo are the ones screaming in excitement. 

“Guys, you are about to watch me embarrass myself.” 

The boys tilt their heads to the side in clear confusion but you don’t give them time as Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore is blaring through the speakers and the rap begins to play. 

“Get 'em, what it is, what it does, what it is, what it isn't, Looking for a better way to get up out of bed, Instead of getting on the Internet, And checking a new hit me, get up,” You rap the words flawlessly, a result of too much time in 2012. 

The boys hype you up as you continue to sing, Ranboo coming over to dance next to you. When the chorus hits you all jump around, screaming out the words. 

“Okay, my turn,” Ranboo says as the second verse starts. 

“Now, can I kick it? Thank you, Yeah, I'm so damn grateful, I grew up really wanting gold fronts,” He starts to rap with ease and your jaw drops looking at the younger boy. 

“Pop off!!!” Dream and George yell in unison and you laugh loudly before joining Ranboo. 

The two of you scream the verse together, pointing and dancing together as you do so. As you hit the peak of the bridge, you and Ranboo are practically screaming the lyrics, dancing around like idiots in the living room but you had never felt better in your life. 

The music and dancing continue, Wilbur requesting Love Story by Taylor Swift kicking off another round of giggles and loud singing especially from him, Karl, and Alex. 

Just as Hey There Delilah starts to play and the boys have another round of energy you can’t handle, you slip into the kitchen for half a second to grab something to drink. However, what you don’t notice is someone following behind. 

“They’re crazy,” Sap says from behind you, startling you slightly. 

“They’re the best though,” you tell him an unbelievably wide grin set on your lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.” 

“Without you,” you continue carefully and Sap’s eyes snap to yours. 

You look up at him, peering through your eyelashes and Sap keeps your stare. Something quiet passes between you two, and before either of you can say anything, Tommy comes bursting into the room. 

“(y/n)!! Come on I wanna sing with you!!” 

Tommy runs into the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you out with him. You cast a quick glance back at Sap, an apologetic look on your face before turning and joining the rest of the boys once more. 

Sap’s head drops the minute you leave the room, wishing he had just admitted his feelings and gotten it over with. As he sits in the kitchen, kicking himself for not making a move, his mind races with an idea and suddenly he’s propelled out of the kitchen. 

“Can I see your phone?” Sap asks when the song ends and you break away from Tommy. 

You hand over your phone, watching as he scrolls through your playlist before deciding on a song. His smile widens when he hits play before handing your phone back to you. 

“Oh, her eyes, her eyes, Make the stars look like they're not shinin',” Sap begins and he takes your hand making you look at him. 

You smile watching one of your best friends singing, dancing around the room with him. But, as he continues your heart stops realizing what he’s saying. 

“And when you smile, The whole world stops and stares for a while, 'Cause girl, you're amazing, Just the way you are.” 

Sap pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your waist and you stare up at him in shock. He smiles wide at you and your heart has definitely stopped beating at this point. 

The song ends, and you’re breathless looking up at Sap. He smiles wides at you and you’re certain you’re reflecting it. 

His other arm wraps around your waist, dipping you back and before you know it his lips are on yours in a show-stopping kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer and when you break away, the boys cheer, making you laugh and push your face into his chest. 

“Finally,” Sap whispers and you giggle, unbelievable happiness radiating through you. 

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Four: First Day

By SisterSpooky1013 / Read Previous chapters here

Rated E / Tagging @today-in-fic

Angel leads Scully out of Ricky’s office and back down the hall, pointing to various doors.

“Here are the customer bathrooms, we don’t use these. That’s the exit to the lobby, but we have our own door in the back. Through here is the floor.”

Angel makes no mention of the other, unmarked doors in the hall. She pushes the “Enter Here to be Dominated” door open and they walk into a large room with the floors and ceiling painted black. To the left, there's a long bar that covers nearly the entire wall with at least twenty stools butting up to it. Directly across from the bar on the right wall, there’s a small round stage with a gold pole erected in the center. A shallow counter, just wide enough to set a cup, runs along the entire perimeter of the stage with chairs neatly pushed in against it. A mental image of herself on the stage while men look on flashes in her mind and she shakes her head gently, forcing it away. Along the back wall are several small partitions; little rooms constructed out of dark red curtains that are currently pinned open to reveal a loveseat and table in each one. The rest of the room is filled with small black tables and chairs, and can probably seat upwards of 100 people. Angel leads Scully to the left, approaching the bar.

“Back here is the bar, obviously, and this is Queenie, our lead bartender. Queenie, this is Diane, Ricky just hired her,” Angel continues.

A tall Asian woman stands from behind the counter holding a case of Jack Daniels. She has wide, round eyes and a diamond-cut chin, her full lips painted dark red and her black hair tied into a high bun.

“Hey,” she replies, “is Diane your stage name? You’re getting soft, Angel,” she teases, casting Angel a flirtatious smile.

“Oh, no, we actually haven’t gotten that far yet,” Angel replies before turning to Scully, resting one elbow on the bar top. “So while you’re waitressing, you’ll talk to Queenie a lot. She can make any drink under the sun. Tip her out twenty percent of whatever you make.”

Scully nods and wishes she had something to write all this down. Between the new terminology and rules, she's already getting confused and is bound to make a mistake. Angel leads her to the other side of the room and climbs gingerly up onto the stage.

“This is the stage, duh, and this is the pole. We call him Paul, the pin to make it spin or stationary is down here,” she leans and points to a small pin at the base of the pole.

“Oh!” Scully exclaims, “I guess never realized the pole spins.”

“Common misconception,” Angel goes on, wrapping her knee and elbow around the pole and spinning a couple slow rotations as she speaks. “But that’s why you don’t want to put oil or anything slippery on your legs or arms. You need to be able to get a good grip, especially while the pole is spinning. We’ll talk more about that later, come up here.”

Scully baulks and looks around, but climbs onto a chair, then the drink rail before finally getting to the stage itself. The room looks even bigger from up here.

“So, just from a Bird's Eye view up here,” Angel continues, “those seats against the wall back there at the end of the bar we call the rock section. Dudes just grab a seat and order a soda and then nurse it all night. Never pay for dances, never come to the tip rail, nothin’. Just sit there like a damn rock. It can be a fun challenge when you’re waitressing to try to get them to buy more drinks, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Tip rail?” Scully asks, sensing that this will be something she has to do a lot.

“Right, these seats right here,” Angel points to the seats that are lined up along the perimeter of the stage, “are the tip rail. You have to sit here or be close to it in order to tip stage dances, hence the name. Something else you’ll hear is doing a mini-lap, which is just when you let a guy at the tip rail motorboat you or put his face in your ass or whatever. Usually you’d do that when they give you a really fat tip.”

“I thought Ricky said the men aren’t allowed to touch you?” Scully clarifies, subconsciously rounding her shoulders and crossing her arms protectively.

“Ah, important distinction. WE can touch THEM, but they can’t touch us. So like, I can rub my tits on a guy's face, but if he grabs them, he’s toast. There are some limits to that I’ll tell you about later, but you can’t give a good lap dance without touching so we definitely touch, it’s just always us who does it, not them.”

Scully is impressed by the degree to which Ricky seems to embrace the “women in control” model, but she’s curious to see whether it’s all talk.

“So that middle part with lots of small tables,” Angel is now pointing to the middle of the room, in front of the rock section, “that’s usually where the whales sit, like Mr. Keane. They’re too classy to sit at the rail but you can still see pretty good from there. And lastly, over there,” she now points to her right to the small curtained rooms, “those are the VIP rooms. We’ll talk more about those later too when we talk about the rules, but they’re basically where customers can take a girl for a private dance.”

Scully feels a pit in her stomach. No matter what rules they have in place, there is no way she can be safe behind a curtain with a man who is paying to access her body. Her distress is interrupted by music suddenly pouring from the speakers at an obscene volume, making them both jump. It cuts off as quickly as it started, and Angel turns to look at a small raised booth behind and to the right of the stage.

“What the fuck, Ben?!” she shouts, raising her arms in an angry gesture.

“Sorry, Angel, my bad!” A thin Asian man with a narrow face and a goatee waves down to them apologetically.

“That’s Ben, the DJ. He’s not usually so obnoxious,” Angel says to Scully, then turns and shouts up to Ben. “This is the new girl, Diane!”

“What the fuck kind of stage name is Diane?” He calls back down. “Also, hi, I’m Ben,” he adds, waving again. Scully smiles warmly and waves back.

“We haven’t picked her name yet!” Angel shouts back. “We really need to pick your name, girl, this is getting old fast,” she says to Scully.

“Um, this may be a strange question,” Scully starts, “but, is everyone who works here Asian?”

Angel looks off into space for a moment, lost in thought. “No, but everyone here right now is, huh?! That’s a weird coincidence. Anyway, Asian is a big group. Denny out front is Samoan, which is actually Pacific Islander. Queenie is Vietnamese, and Ben is Japanese. And Ricky is white as fuck,” she bursts into a fit of giggles at her own joke.

“And what about you?” Scully asks her.

Angel turns and starts to walk away from her, casting a coy glance over her shoulder. “I’m whoever you want me to be, Baby,” she says with a flirty lilt in her voice, before adding “come on, I’ll show you the back.”

“The back,” accessible by a door just behind the stage, is a long hallway with restrooms, a staff locker room, a break room with a kitchen, and a dressing room for the dancers.

“So, I’m gonna show you the dancer’s room now, just so you have an idea what you’re working towards, but just FYI that they really don’t let the waitresses come back here. After this I’d keep your ass out if you don’t want to get torn a new one,” Angel advises her.

The dancer’s room is modest in size with mirrored stations set up along two walls and a small bank of four more in the middle of the room. Each station is slightly different, but most have a makeup kit, hair products, and a box that locks with a code to store cash tips. Three of the stations sit empty. Along the back wall are four doors, and along the left wall is a double-height clothes rack full of straps, sequins, lace, and mesh of all colors. While the floor had smelled like cleaner on top of stale beer and sweat, the dancer’s room is sweet and perfumed with hints of vanilla and cinnamon.

“What’s through those doors?” Scully asks casually.

“The second one on the left will take you outside, that’s the one we can use to come and go without having to go by the customers,” Angel answers. “There’s another one of those at the end of the hall out there you can use while you’re waitressing. The door on the far right is a single stall bathroom. The other ones are storage or something, I don’t know. They’re locked.”

Scully gives no reaction to this information but makes a mental note of it for later. After they look at the general staff locker room and the kitchen, Angel plops down at a table near the fridge and Scully follows suit, taking the seat across from her.

“So, before we go grab lunch, let’s figure out your stage name so we can introduce you to people properly,” Angel begins. “There’s kind of a tradition here that your stage name starts with the same first letter as your real name. I don’t know why, and people will say it’s not a ‘rule’ per se, but if you don’t do it it will probably seem weird.”

“What’s your real name, if that’s okay to ask?” Scully inquires nervously. Not having real names will make this whole investigation a lot harder.

“Oh no, it’s fine. They aren’t a secret or anything, we just don’t like the customers to know our real names. My name is Ann. So Ann/Angel, both A’s. Queenie’s real name is Quyen. You can ask any of the girls and they’ll tell you their real name if you want. Except maybe Lexie, she’s a stuck up bitch. So I’ll just tell you now, her real name is Leanne.”

Scully laughs good-naturedly, though she has the passing thought that a lot of people may describe her as a stuck up bitch too.

“So, something that starts with a D, what suits your fancy?” Angel asks. Seeing the worried look on Scully’s face, she makes some suggestions. “You could go with a classic, like Diamond. Something a little more stereotypical like Destiny. Oh, what about Desiree, that’s really pretty, and it suits you.”

Scully considers it for a moment. Who she’d really like to be is Dana, on her way home from this insanity. Given that isn’t an available option, Desiree isn’t so bad.

“Yeah, I think I like that,” she says with a shy smile.

“Great, can I call you Desi?” Angel asks excitedly.

“Sure,” Scully responds, and then follows a very spirited Angel out into the afternoon sunlight in search of something to eat.

They end up at a little Mexican restaurant a short walk from the club. It’s the kind of hole in the wall place that only locals know exists, with tacky pink paint on the booths and dusty Cinco De Mayo flags criss-crossing the ceiling.

“So, Angel, how’d you end up working at Damsels?” Scully asks as she drags a tortilla chip through the watery salsa. She’s highly motivated to solve this case and get the hell out of here, so there’s no sense in wasting time.

“Oh, I just met Ricky through mutual friends and he told me about his club. I was a dancer at a total shithole before, so coming here was such a huge relief.” She stabs at the ice in her drink with a straw, breaking it up into smaller pieces.

“Are you working towards something else, or is there something else you’re hoping to do?” Scully asks next.

“I might ask you the same, Desi,” Angel returns with a slight cock of her head, and Scully realizes that was a rude question.

“Sorry, I guess I still have a lot to learn about the social nuances of this job.”

Angel shakes her head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a question you get asked a lot as a dancer, as you’ll find out. Everyone thinks you’re just stopping here on the way to something better, something more legit. God forbid your life plan is to show your ass for cash, right? I mean, that is true for some of the girls; Tibet is getting her masters and Magenta has a day job as a therapist, but I honestly just like it.”

Scully is more careful with the wording on her next question. “What do you like about it?”

“Well,” Angel takes a bite of a chip and chews thoughtfully, “I grew up with really judgmental, uptight parents who basically made me feel like I was dirty and disgusting for existing, and for being female. I was always really ashamed of my body and when men looked at me, I thought I was doing something wrong to bring it on myself. After I moved out, my friend took me to a strip club and I was totally blown away by the confidence the women had with their bodies. Men were looking at them, but not like they were gross and sinful, just like they were…beautiful. And they looked so powerful up there commanding all that attention. And I just wanted to be up there like that, celebrating my body and deciding what happened with and to it. And here I am.”

Scully sits quietly, absorbing an answer that she wasn’t expecting to hear. She thinks about her own upbringing and the “good girls don’t” mentality that tainted her early sexual exploration. Even as a fully grown adult in consensual, committed relationships, she couldn’t shake the underlying guilt that she was worldly and sinful for desiring and having sex outside of marriage. It bleeds over into her relationship with Mulder, she knows. She can accept any physical attention he bestows upon her, and in fact wants it desperately, but for her to initiate it would mean…something. Something she isn’t ready to admit, even to herself.

Angel speaks again, interrupting her thought. “What about you, Desi, what brings you here? I showed you mine, you show me yours…or whatever.”

“Oh,” Scully says, scrambling to bring her cover story forward. “Um, I, uh, I got divorced recently, or I’m legally separated, anyway. I just got my own place after living with my husband for seven years and I haven’t really worked that whole time, I just supported his work. So, I don’t really have any marketable skills.”

Angel smiles. “Shoot, that ass is a marketable skill, girl! Those titties are hella marketable.”

Scully blushes, unused to anyone talking about her that way, and is surprised by how flattered she feels by such a crass compliment. Their server arrives and sets their plates down, and Angel’s demeanor shifts a bit as they dig into their meal.

“Okay, so down to the nitty gritty. Like I said, there are rules for us as dancers, and for waitresses too. Ricky mentioned his feelings about heroin and meth, right?”

“Yep, that will not be an issue,” Scully says confidently, spearing a bell pepper with her fork.

“Good, so also don’t get, like, super drunk or super high while on shift. A little to take the edge off is okay, but a drunk stripper is just pathetic. Like I said, the men can’t touch us, but it’s okay for us to touch them, EXCEPT we do NOT do extras at Damsels. No hand jobs, no blow jobs, and definitely no fucking, not even in VIP. Not in their car outside, not behind the dumpster, it’s a very hard and fast rule, no pun intended. Ricky will fire even his best girl in a heartbeat if he finds out she’s doing extras. Oh, and no kissing.”

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