#since it would keep her off the hook for being nosy

[ultimatecryptid]

Emery Brosca Banter

Emery: You can't cast when you're a spider.

Morrigan: Curious about my skills, Warden? I assure you they're up to par.

Emery: Not what I said.

Morrigan: I suppose not. No, I cannot cast when I'm a spider. I am thus relegated to biting things. Not a terrible fate, even if our enemies are usually less tender than I prefer. Is this where you explain your real question?

Emery: You're making yourself… something you're not. You like your magic. When you change, why wouldn't you keep it?

Morrigan: 'I like my magic,' what a strange way to put it. I do not simply like it, it is inseperable from the rest of me; if I were to cling to any part of it I would not be able to make the change.

Morrigan: For all it's strengths, a spider is not a mage.

Emery: This spider always turns back to one though.

Morrigan: Indeed.

[4pfsukuna]

Hellooo, lowk imagine a jealous sukuna x reader fic where he bottles his true feelings for her. That leads to an argument which then leads to reader storming out and meeting w/ her friends to have them dress up as a guy and pretend their her new hook up or smth 😭😭

Debrief: Sukuna would rather die than talk about feelings but you do that thing (exist) that he likes and he cant help himself (crash out)

4868 words.

If someone asked Sukuna how he felt about you he’d say you were just best friends. He’d actually talk so much shit that it could be the fic itself.

But if you were to ask anyone else how they think he felt about you? The majority answer would be ‘down bad’ followed by ‘obsessed’ followed by ‘unhinged’.

Gojo mutters something about pussy whipped.

“And they were roommates” you finish off before placing the cherry red lollipop back in your mouth as you lift the opposite arm to touch the ceiling. Yes the ceiling someway somehow you had convinced the pink haired brute to carry you around on his shoulders something about wanting to know what it fealt like to be his height.

“You're such a nosy brat y’know?” He keeps walking around, switch in hand looking so tiny since his palms are so huge. He was playing the sims and just put one with pink hair and no tattoos in the pool and took the ladder out. You lean down with your pink dyed hair covering his view wobbling slightly but he's quick to steady you.

Before you can retaliate his brothers Choso and Yuji are walking into his apartment not phased at all by the scene except Yuki, chosos girlfriend who definitely is shocked.

You greet them all while Sukuna glares at them not wanting to hear anything not even see the knowing smirks on their face.

The second time they walk in on the two of you your head is in sukunas lap your body elongated on the couch as you scold him for being mean to some of his employees at the tattoo shop. Hes barely listening though your slender fingers tracing his tattoos especially the ones on his bare chest. 

These were the perks of best friend privileges, you could do absolutely anything you wanted to him and hed just let you. Hed glare at you with that look of annoyance and call you a brat but he did that when he was happy too so you brush it off as nothing more than his default. 

He would never admit it but he likes when you dote on hin like this, likes that youre bossy and commanding you never ask him to do anything you tell him. For someone half his size you surely do think you have alot of power of him(you do). He likes the way your body feels against him too because to you the Y in Your space was silent not that he minded your excuse being hes so huge and takes up so much space.

The curves on your body drove him wild especially when you placed himself in his lap, your plush ass sitting right on his dick and if he even looked down he’d have a perfect view of your breast that’s always on display in the low cut shirts you wore.

“Are you even listening?” Your voice pulls his attention as you give him a slight glare, hand wrapping around his bicep… well the part your hand could fit around.

“No” he smirks the clouded over look in his maroon eyes fading as he looks down at you watching you huff and slowly sit up. “Why should i” he challenges loving the way you never back down.

“Because im your bestie for the restie and im always right” you arrogantly scoff climbing into his lap smiling at the eye roll he gives you, the fourth one today by the way, as an arm wraps around your waist to steady you.

“Shut up ‘bestie for the restie’ yuck” he mocks in a high pitched voice always making fun of you for saying stuff like that. He hated it, it was so girly and childish and stupid and he absolutely did not want to be your bestie.

“You actually bullied me into the silly little friendship” he reminds you the day you pranced into his shop bragging about the great colorwork of tattoos you did on all skintones and he couldnt deny your talent. Nor your friendship apparently.

“A woman half your size bullied you? The great lord sukuna. The masochist. The most muscular man in all of japan got bullied by a girl who doesnt use the top shelf in her home because shes to short to reach it” you gasp rhetorically leaning closer and closer making him hang off every word as if you were talking about something else. Its so innocent yet seductive all at the same time.

“Maybe i let the little pup thinks she is for my own amusement” he teases back with a smirk knowing it would get under your skin. Provoking you to get you riled up was one of his favorite pastimes. 

“I will fuck you up” you snap with a vicious glare  angrily sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. His skin burns at the sight remembering the drunk night at the club a few weeks ago and the kiss you shared when you sunk your teeth into his lip. Oh you couldve asked him for his soul and he wouldve told you its already yours.  The next day though you just brushed it off before pestering him about it being so cold in the shop and demanding his hoodie.

“I would love to see you try” his smirk never leaving his face leaning closer to challenge you. Before your mouth can open in retaliation your phone chirps with 5 back to back text and your attention is gone from him.

“Oh its ‘toru” you smile… a bit to widely for his liking before getting lost in your phone.

“What the fuck is a Toru” he sneers unable to keep his jealousy at bay, because who in the actual fuck was toru and why were you smiling at your phone like that.

“Satoru Gojo” you shrug as if you hadnt just named a man that was so famous for gettin around he was known for sleeping with men and women and nobody batted an eye because they were just waiting on their chance.

“And you call him Toru?” He tries to stay calm digs his nails into his palms and digs his heels into the floor.

“Yes sukuna” you hiss not sure why he was asking such a redundant question. You hated being questioned this is actually where you and him were similar you were going to do what you wanted and when you didnt need anybody questioning you or being nosy. You had fucked up though nicknaming another man and reffering to him as just sukuna instead of kuna or even kirby that you called him from time to time.

“Get off me” he snaps and your head snaps up from the phone to his eyes that are actively avoiding you. Well who pissed in his onigiri? What was with the sudden change in attitude.

“Are you actually dumb enough to let that little fuckboy—“ he starts raging, not caring what words come out of his mouth until its to late and he sees the pure rage in your eyes.

“Dumb?!” You snap climbing off his lap and taking a step back from him. While you may seem soft and sweet like a cute little yapper there was a dark very vicious side to you that it seemed he could only trigger and once it was out it was like two fires colliding to see who could burn the most.

“When did you even have the time to meet this fucking idiot” he scowls hating Satoru and maybe he shouldve told you about their rivalry and that he actually knew the man but that would require good communication skills which is obviously something a man whos been crushing on you for nearly a year lacks.

“Maybe if you didnt spend so much time being a grumpy scowling asshole youd make friends too” you snap at him and he nearly has to bite his tongue he didnt give a fuck about friends when he had two annoying brothers, a pain in the ass Toji, Uraume and most importantly you.

“Who needs ‘em when i have you to pester me all fucking day” he snaps and he really didnt mean it so before he can say anything else he turns around to walk away only for you to keep going. You knew he never meant it when he said stuff like that it was part of your banter but this time you were furious and how dare he turn his back on you.

“And now you wont have to worry about me ever again” you snap shoving him on your way out making sure to slam the white door as hard as you could.

“Dont slam my fucking door” you hear his deep voice boom through the walls. So rightfully so you storm back to open it and slam it even harder. You hear “fucking brat” but refuse to not give him the satisfaction because realistically what the fuck was he going to do.

“Hey Y/n, what are you doing at the shop so late?” Yuji ask making Choso, Yuki and Toji look at you along with Maki who cuts the tattoo gun off pausing on her client.

“You being here this late only means one thing: you got a shipment of new tattoo ink or you and your little pink haired boyfriend are arguing…” she smirks, turning the gun back on. “And unless the mail started delivering on sundays id say the later”

“Its not my fault hes such an ass… and hes not my boyfriend” you cross your arms sitting at your station tinkering with all of the trinkets on your desk until you spot a 2x4 cutout of you and Sukuna from a photobooth you found at the movie theatres. Yanking it from its place on the mirror you lay it picture side down ignoring the little scribbles on the back.

So frustrated you tell them about the argument as theatrically as possible expecting for them to be on your side because he was wrong… as usual whenever you two argued which isnt often until recently but when you only receive snickers and hidden looks it only pushes you further into frustration.

“What is so funny, Maki?” You scowl at her crossing your arms over your chest before Choso burst out laughing.

“You two are so stupidly obsessed with another its comical, just last week you were calling him a slut for a woman texting him about a tattoo” she  cackles taking her glasses off because her eyes were watering from laughing so hard.

“She sent him a nude that he kept looking at, which was gross by the way” you stick your nose in the hair and brush your hair off your shoulder.

“She was sending him a picture of her leg” Yuji intercepts being an actual witness to the picture and argument. 

“Yeah and you could see her underwear, very unprofessional if you ask me. I just think if you are a shop owner you should have a bit more professionalism and not allow stuff like that” you shrug licking your gloss covered lips.

“Sukuna… professional? Youre on a roll tonight doll” Toji laughs at you this time spraying his station down with cleaning spray signifying he was done for the day and throwing everything into a big drawer as the rest of your coworkers laugh at the comment.

“You guys are actually the worst and to think i was telling him he should be nicer to you guys” you pout looking at the picture turned flat on your desk.

“I'm going to just say what nobody else is saying— that moron fucking likes you. Its kinda cute the way hes been pinning over you for the last few months” Yuki blurts twirling her blonde hair around her finger from Chosos lap who hisses her name.

“Dont get involved ive been in the middle of their fights, not worth it” he tells her and Yuji just agrees. Maki nor Toji cared enough to get involved preffering to just be bystanders, sometimes the cousins even made bets on who would win.

A solid two weeks goes by before Yuki intervenes. Two weeks of glares, blatantly ignoring another and even bumping shoulder because truth be told you two couldnt go to long without touching another.

Yuki listened as you called him everything but a child of God including a slut, whore, whoremonger and 7 other curse words she wasnt even sure people with a degrading kink would enjoy being called as the two of you watch him tattoo a woman who had obviously been flirting with him the whole time. 

Yuki nearly looses it when its thursday— your day of the week to control the aux so of course everyone is expecting to hear megan the stallion which you don’t disappoint especially playing her newest album. But its when BAS plays that you and sukuna may eye contact before you look away going back to unpacking your ink not missing a single word.

“Im acting like i dont know him in public you treat him like a prize i treat him like hes disgusting” you rap a bit to loudly and the tension gets high in the parlor everyones eyes floating over to him but hes already glaring at you, you feel his glare but choose to ignore him so he does the only thing he knows he can.

“Turn this shit off” he snaps getting up walking over to the power source but is stopped when you finally speak.

“If its not your day on the aux you cant touch it— your rules” you remind him not even flinching or missing a beat he stops looking over at you the first time youve said something to him in weeks your pink curls in a half up half down with two strands framing your face his favorite hair style on you and its like you were doing it on purpose.

 “We aint together but we together i hope nobody dont catch us” you keep going a second later this time your eyes meeting his through the mirror and he almost looses his cool when truth be told when it concerned you didnt take much. All eyes are back on him to see what his next plan of action is knowing hes not going to let you get away with it.

“New rule Megan is banned on thursdays” he smirks watching the way everyone turns back to you bracing for the argument to break out. But thats what he wanted… he was a menace and you knew better. You just unlock your phone with a grin turning on a worse song.

Aint shit by Doja cat and you watch the way his ears burn red with anger as you sing along. He wanted to burn everything down. You couldn't play anything if there wasn't somewhere to play it. But this wasnt a game he wanted to play with you… he didnt even wanna argue with you. He just didnt want you to talk to that white haired freak.

So with a few more hours of listening to your “indirect” shit talking songs somehow all of you survived the end of the night with nobody dying Sukuna ended up leaving early to go meet with Uraume.

��So it’s no shock when you run into Uraume at the entrance of your apartment who sends you a kind smile.

“Hello” they speak politely, bowing at you slightly and sending Yuki a look. Yuki wasn't their favorite person and vice versa but they managed… somehow.

“How are you, it's been too long” you smile, hugging them squeezing in a way that made them slightly uncomfortable as you usually did it being your running joke since Uraume acted so professional all the time. Unaware of the way Yuki snaps a picture and posts it on insta making sure to tag you in it with a small red heart and heart eyes opting out of tagging Uraume for obvious reasons with no idea of the storm that was beginning to brew.

You sigh tilting your head as your black gently used paintbrush glides across the canvas. You weren't supposed to be thinking of him. Weren't supposed to let him live rent free in your mind you were here taking this class with your friends trying to be more in touch with your softer feminine side with a half up half down hair style a black bow tying your now maroon dyed body wave bundles together with a pink crop top and white mini skirt.

Trying to get over your feelings, you were passed the anger now just kinda sad this was the longest you had gone without talking to the bane of your existance.

Ryomen sukuna.

So why were you painting a throne on a pile of skulls and bones while the paint instructor had a field of assorted flowers and a beautiful sky. Before you can dwell on it your phone rings and you roll your eyes at the contact.

“What Choso” you spit into the phone and not that you hated him it's just that every time he called it was for something stupid… every time and this time was no different.

“Fine, im sending you my location now. Besides i don't think this soft girl era class is working anyway” you admit after hearing his request noticing Maki was painting a sword with a gun at the hilt and Nobara was painting a self portrait with a flower in her hair.

“And you want me to believe I’m supposed to just go look him in his eyes and say “No Ryo you're not like this” and he's going to stop destroying everything in his path?” You ask boredly twisting a burgundy colored curl around your finger leaning back in the car seat watching the dark haired man next to you run a hand over his tired baggy eyes. He winces, sending you a quick glance leaning further into his leather car seats. He originally told you he needed to have a talk about Yuki but once you got in the car and saw Yuji you knew it was about Sukuna.

“We have to try something… Y/n… I know it's been 2 months but he's getting worse. Hes not just picking fights anymore he's beating the shit out of people, he's destroying bars and clubs getting us banned and i've bailed him out so many times i'm actually nervous he's going to start putting a dent in my bank account” Choso exclaims pulling up to the bar and you can hear the commotion from the car. 

There's a part of you that enjoys knowing hes spiraling without you. The fact that hes now a complete crash out and is so horrendously down bad for you it nearly makes your heart flutter. But you push that sick flattery down looking at yourself in the side mirror before applying more of your nyx butter gloss on your plump lips.

“If you don't do it for him can you do it for me…please.”Yuji, sukunas younger brother asks, leaning forward from the back seat tall body squishing inbetween the seats of you and Choso. His puppy dog eyes and innocent demeanor are overwhelming… how could you say no. Sighing you look over at Choso with your most vicious glare lash extensions giving you a softer look though and made you look more like a vixen than a murderer. 

“You're lucky he's too young to be a witness or accessory in your murder” you threaten before swinging your door open and climbing out. The bar doors feel heavy as you push it open and you feel disgusted even being here. It was where criminals hung out, where people sold drugs beyond just weed and a place nobody called the cops no matter what happened. You were a lady and had no reason being here. 

But when you’re eyes land on him it’s like everything comes rushing back. How you met, where you met your first kiss first gift first fight and the last. 

Was it shitty to stop coming to the shop whenever you knew he’d be there? Sure but you knew you weren't strong enough to do it with him around. All it would take is his eyes going soft on you and you'd fold.

It’s like he senses your energy, of course he could. He could spot you in a dark room he paused so much attention to you that he knew you anywhere. His eyes light up for just a second. There's a split moment of happiness before the rage returns 10 fold and he destroys everything in his path to you.

“I dont need you following me or doing anything out of pity” he gives you a bored expression before turning back to his messes he created with a proud look.

Scoffing, you look over towards Choso eyes catching a glimpse of the bar and actually looking at it this time. Bar stools were broken and destroyed, the pool table in half and bodies everywhere. The bartender wasnt even behind the bar. He nearly burned it down destroyed… everything. Its like he tore the bar down in search of something  and began throwing a tantrum beating everyone senseless when he couldnt find it.

Turning completely away from sukuna you send a “are you serious look” toward his brother before stepping over the large body of a man, the heel of your shoe getting stuck for a second in the sticky blood. This was beyond your scope, absolutely nothing you could do. He was too far gone.

“Where are you going?” His voice hitting such a soft timbre makes you freeze along with Yuji but Choso has a knowing look. Like he knew all it took was for you two to see another again he no longer feels bad about tricking you saying he wanted to hangout just to get you here.

Sukuna instantly realizes how he sounds and scrambles to let out his rough demeanor.

“How dare you turn your back on me, woman” he seethes and you hated when he called you that it sounded so derogatory. But it reveals something to the other two in the room: all the rough words and acts of aggression was just him being hurt… who would've thought the great sukuna would be hurting and acting out like this all because he missed you. 

He felt abandoned.

Turning back to him you look him directly in his eyes watching the internal battle, you can't even help your eyes trail over all the new muscles and ink on his body… he was the one shirtless in here.

“Dude you're standing in a pile of bodies people you picked fights with. I don't want to bail you out anymore” Choso says, frustrated with his brother who just glares at him unimpressed.

“So leave me i told you i don't need your money just leave me” he gritts out running a hand through his hair. 

“And yuji?” His brother ask

“Yuji will be fine— people leave” sukuna speaks making sure to put emphasis on people leave while looking at you. He didn't get to do that, he didn't get to put you in this situation.

“We’re leaving” you say looking at the door but nobody moves, especially Sukuna who turns his head away from you and it’s like you could feel the heat of the room increasing.

“I said WE’RE leaving” and you pick up his motorcycle helmet and jacket shoving it into his chest and turning to walk out not leaving room for him to disagree. You smile when his heavy footsteps can be heard behind you and he makes sure to push the door open for you so you don't have to touch it.

As much of an ass as he is, he still makes sure to help you on his bike even offering his jacket so you don't freeze or have to worry about your skirt raising up as well as his helmet that still had the stupid Kuromi sticker you put on it months ago.

When he climbs on turning on the bike the engine roaring to life you hesitate wrapping your arms around his midsection which he scoffs at though you miss it over the load roar that has you clinging tighter onto him.

He smirks looking back at you before the two of you are flying down The streets of shibuya his frustration mild as all he can think of is your with the skirt on. He was too good of a driver to let you fall but he still had concern and fuck the way you’re legs looked and when did you dye your hair and—

He slows down pulling in to the garage of your building pulling into his usual parking spot that was spray painted with fire and skulls before cutting the engine. The walk to your apartment is silent. He doesn't know what to say and the last time he said something to you it was the wrong thing. He was starting to fume hating that you had this power over him, hating that he couldn’t just open his fucking mouth and talk swearing that in a past life he must’ve had several that wouldn’t stop moving so now he’s cursed with one that can’t move.

“Thanks for walking me to my door” you awkwardly say twirling the helmet in your hands before giving it back to him, a Kuromi sticker a stark contrast to the deep blood red. He licks his lips, feeling the way you look at him and suddenly feeling so small under your gaze.

“You should probably stop picking fights with people” you finally offer breaking the silence and hes instantly folds.

“I didn’t want to argue with you! I just think you can do better than that fucking cocky ass loser. I can’t believe you still went out with him” he rolls his eyes.

“I meant at bars” you tell him watching the way he gives you a blank stare to arrogant himself to acknowledge his own wrongs.

“And i didn’t go out with him” you add watching him scoff pulling out his phone and holding it up to you. The picture of you hugging Uraume only you can’t tell it’s them just you hugging a man with bright white hair screenshotted from Yuki's instagram.

“D’you think im a fucking idiot?!” He snaps, nearly crushing the phone in his hand which only causes you to laugh as you walk into your apartment kicking off your heels at the door. He follows only because he wants a explanation you were blatantly laughing in his face after being caught in a lie why the fuck was it so funny.

“Is that why your hair is red now? And you started wearing more makeup? And dressing more girly? And stopped coming to the shop as much” alright this was word vomit because what was he saying and what the fuck was he doing? He doesn't waste time with feelings such as these? Doesn’t care about insolent feelings like l—

“You’re an idiot if you don’t realize that’s your own fucking lap dog— its Uraume. They were outside and we were catching up i guess Yuki snapped the picture cause she thought it was cute” you giggle with a hand over your mouth watching as realization sets in.

“And my hair is maroon not red like the color of your eyes but obviously you hate it and my outfit and obviously you hate me because you went two months without talking to me and—“ your dramatically faint in his arms watching the way he smirks down at you when you peak an eye open missing the way it felt being so close to him and how quick his arms wrap around your midsection to stop you from falling.  In a split second your cheek is being cupped in his large palm and his lips are on yours. 

You aren’t expecting it arent expecting the softness of the action or his lips making your whole body freeze and eyes shut. 

Oh.

OH.

FUCK!

He couldn’t help himself honestly his brain moved faster than his body he hasn’t even processed what he did and now he has to find a new tattoo artist, explain to everyone why you won’t be working there any more find a new tiny woman to annoy him and a cliff to throw himself off of—

“I knew this lip gloss made my lips kissable” and he’s back looking down at you with a bewildered expression watching  the way you smile up at him still in his arms a slight dazed look to your eye and he swears he can see the little hearts in your pupils.

“I do hate you” he hisses with a smile pulling your lips back to his and this time you kiss back your hand reaching up to tug him closer making sure he knew exactly how you felt, letting your teeth graze his bottom lip pulling a small growl from him.

“Yeah. I like you too”

[cariantha]

Mine

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Explicit Warning: 🔥NSFW, ⛔18+ Only, contains explicit sexual content Category: Fluff, Smut Word count: 2.1K Prompt: Inspired by this prompt from @liaromancewriter

The nurses’ station was buzzing with activity. Behind the desk, nurses were busy answering patient call buttons. A pair of interns were at the counter, tapping lab orders into their tablets. Across from them, Ethan was poring over a stack of files.

“Hi Maureen, what’s up?” Sawyer asked, responding to the page she received a few minutes ago. “Wow, those are beautiful. Are they for a patient?” she gushed, nodding to a giant bouquet of at least two dozen red roses. 

“They’re for you, Dr. Brooks,” Maureen responded. “That’s why I paged you.” 

“For me? Really?” An uncontrollable smile spread across Sawyer’s face as she scooted over to the vase and reached for the card. 

Ethan's gaze met hers as she lifted her eyes. Still wearing a giddy smile, she subtly nodded her head accepting his invitation. He winked back. 

Maureen suddenly popped up in front of her, trying to get a peek of the card. “Soooo, who are they from?”

“Oh, um…” Sawyer quickly tucked the card back into the envelope, trying to think of a response. The worst part about being in a secret relationship was having to lie to keep your secret safe. It made her feel icky, so she always tried to spin the truth instead. “They’re from someone I started dating recently.”

“Anyone we would know?” the nosy nurse pressed further.

“Uh-”

“Brooks! Where are the discharge orders for Mr. Cruz? I don’t see them in his file,” Ethan called across to her, making her jump. 

“Oh, I… I must have left them in the DT office. I'll put these away and grab them for you, Dr. Ramsey.”

Sawyer played along, returning the wide-eyed look on Maureen’s face that said, “Oh boy, he’s in a mood.” 

Sweeping the vase off the counter, Sawyer cast another glance in Ethan’s direction, giving him an appreciative smile for the quick save.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

A luxury town car dropped her off in front of Ethan’s building the following night.

Sawyer knocked gently on his door. “Coming!” she heard from inside, and a moment later, Ethan answered. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and a kitchen towel was draped over his shoulder. He gestured for her to come in, then helped her with her coat, hanging it on a nearby hook. When he turned back to her, Sawyer wrapped her arms around his waist, tipping her head back to meet his eyes. “Hi.” 

Ethan wrapped his arms around her, lowering his head to meet her lips in a sweet, welcoming kiss. “Hi.”

“It smells delicious. What are you making for us tonight, Chef Ramsey?”

“Georgian chicken. Since you didn’t get to try it last time,” he said, guiding her to the kitchen. 

Soft music played throughout the penthouse. The living room was dim save for the warm glow cast from the crackling logs in the fireplace. The dining table was set for two, decorated with rose petals and flickering tapers set in coordinating candlesticks.  

“Do you want some wine?” Ethan asked, pulling her attention back to the activity in the kitchen. 

“Please.” Sawyer pushed up her sleeves. “Okay, put me to work, Chef. Give me a bowl of butter and I’ll give this chicken the best massage of their life. Or rather afterlife?” she giggled. 

Ethan chuckled. “Chicken’s already in the oven. I just need to saute the asparagus.” 

The pan sizzled as he tossed the vegetables in. He turned them over one-handed, letting Sawyer curl into his other side. With one arm around his back, her other hand drifted up the front of his thigh until she was cupping his crotch. “I guess I’ll just have to put my skills to use elsewhere,” she purred.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he warned, dropping the tongs on the counter. Gripping her waist, he picked her up, turned around, and set her atop the kitchen island. He handed her a wine glass and kissed her forehead. “If you touch me like that, we won’t be eating dinner anytime soon. So you’re going to stay right here until the food is ready. Got it?”  

“Fine,” she pouted, taking a sip of her wine. “This chicken better be worth it.”

An hour later, Sawyer had cleaned her plate and set her fork down. “That was so worth it.” She stood and moved around to Ethan’s side of the table. He scooted back to let her sit on his lap. “Thank you,” she whispered, giving him a tender kiss. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and laced her fingers with his. She fell into a lovely trance, watching the dancing candle flames as Ethan rubbed her back. “Mmm, that feels good,” she murmured. 

Ethan kissed the top of her head, then encouraged her to stand. Squeezing her hand, he said, “I’ll be right back. Do me a favor and pour us each another a glass of wine?” Then he disappeared down the hall into his bedroom.

Sawyer poured the wine, then made herself useful, carrying their dirty plates to the kitchen sink. She had just put the leftovers away when Ethan returned. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, grabbing the glasses of wine from the dining table.

“Just helping clean up,” she answered.

“Leave it,” he insisted. He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “Follow me.”  

When Sawyer stepped into his room, she found a trail of rose petals leading to the en suite. The bathroom was dark, save for the candles glowing around the rim of the tub. More rose petals, hundreds of them, floated on the surface of the steamy water. A fragrant aroma of roses and jasmine filled the air.

Ethan set the wine glasses down next to the tub. “Come here,” he said, reaching out his hand. 

Sawyer took it and let him pull her close. “I’ve been wanting to do this with you for a long time,” she confessed.

“Me too.” He lifted her shirt over her head and placed it on the counter. Reaching around her back, he unfastened her bra. Curling a finger under each of the shoulder straps, he carefully pulled it away and set it on top of her shirt. 

Ethan’s knuckle traced around the pink centers of her breasts while Sawyer unbuttoned his shirt, then his jeans. She unzipped him, then took the sides of his shirt in her hands and peeled it away. 

After removing their shoes and socks, Ethan slowly spun Sawyer around, pressing his warm chest against her back. His hands slid under her arms, finding and loosening the button of her pants. Moving to his knees, he tugged the waistband of both her jeans and panties downward, helping her step out of each leg. As he returned to his feet, he kissed the back of her thighs, her ass, then her shoulders. 

Sawyer turned to face him and returned the favor. She pushed his pants and underwear to the floor, letting his erection slide between the valley of her breasts as she rose. Ethan grabbed the sides of her face and crashed his lips onto hers. “Do you have any idea how goddamn sexy you are?” 

He stepped into the bath and sat down. Extending his hand to Sawyer, he helped her step safely into the water. Standing before him naked, Ethan admired her body. His eyes trailed from her cherry-painted lips, to her plump breasts, to her smooth sex. He leaned forward and kissed the lines of her hips, then the mound below her belly button. “You’re so beautiful.”

Sawyer lowered herself into the water, positioning herself between his bent knees. She leaned back and melted into his embrace. The warmth of the water, and the feel of his skin against hers, was a comfort like no other. 

“I could get used to this,” she said softly, running her hands through the blanket of flower petals floating on the water’s surface.

“So could I,” Ethan agreed, sipping on his wine. 

After a few more minutes of blissful calm, Ethan set his glass aside and reached for a sponge. He dipped it in the water, then gently nudged Sawyer forward, swiping her hair to the side. The sponge moved up and down her back, then the length of her neck, and across her shoulder before traveling down her arm. Ethan dragged it across her collar bone, then after another dip under the surface, he squeezed a stream of warm water directly over each of her breasts. Her nipples hardened in response. 

When she arched her back begging for more, Ethan tossed the sponge to the other end of the tub. He pulled Sawyer back onto his lap, clamping his mouth to her neck as he reached between her legs. Her head fell back on his shoulder, and she moaned as his fingers stroked her core. With each twitch of his cock against her ass, her arousal grew more intense.

As the pleasure continued to build, she turned her head to the side. “Kiss me,” she demanded. Ethan obeyed. As their tongues met, he plunged two fingers inside of her, curling them right where he knew she'd come undone. 

“Oh god… I’m going to come,” she whimpered. 

He sucked her earlobe, then his warm breath caressed her ear. “Lasciati andare, bella.” 

Sawyer reached behind, gripping the back of Ethan’s head, anchoring as her body shuddered with wave after wave of euphoria. “Uhnnnnn…Ethan…”

Water tepid and fingers pruned, they eventually climbed out of the tub. Sawyer shivered as she plucked a few stuck rose petals from her body. Ethan wrapped a thick towel around her shoulders and rubbed up and down her arms to rid her of the goosebumps. “Let's warm up in front of the fire. We can set up a picnic for dessert," he suggested.

“Dessert? You’re spoiling me tonight.”

Ethan kissed her cheek as he walked past and into his closet. “You deserve it.” He emerged wearing a pair of loose shorts with a t-shirt in hand for Sawyer, but she was already buttoning the dress shirt he discarded earlier. “Fuck me,” he growled at the sight.

“Oh I will... But dessert first,” she smirked, walking past him to the kitchen.

🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁

With perfect timing, a log in the fireplace cracked in two, sending sparks up the chute. “Sawyer!” Ethan cried out as he found his release. Their bodies slick with sweat, he slid off of her and collapsed onto his back, just missing the tray of strawberries and chocolate sauce he had prepared for dessert.

Sawyer rolled to her side and propped herself up on an elbow. Ethan’s eyes were closed as he tried to regain equilibrium. She kissed his cheek and started tracing shapes on his chest. “Thank you for tonight, Ethan… and for the flowers yesterday. Who would have guessed you were such a romantic?” His lips turned up in a small smile. “Though, given your love of opera, I guess it shouldn’t come as such a surprise.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head to her. “I wanted to make up for some of the time I wasted before,” he explained. “Was it too much?” 

Sawyer cupped his cheek. “Not at all, babe,” she assured him, using the term of endearment for the first time. “I loved it.” She leaned down and kissed him softly. “You pulled out all the stops. I’ve never had anyone do the things you did for me.” 

He combed his fingers through her hair and looked her in the eyes. “You deserve nothing less, Rookie. I’ll have to think of some new ways to sweep you off your feet in the future.” 

“Tonight has been incredible, and consider me swept… But Ethan, I don’t need love letters every day.”

“I know, but I like showing you how much you mean to me.” 

“That’s easy, babe. Just smack me on the butt and say, ‘I’m glad that ass is mine,’” she laughed.

“That easy, huh?” 

“Mmm hmm,” Sawyer hummed. Sitting up and reaching across him, she plucked a strawberry from the tray.   

“Good to know."

After dipping the strawberry in the chocolate, Sawyer held a hand underneath it as she brought it to her mouth for a bite. Moving her hand away at just the right moment, the chocolate sauce dripped onto Ethan's abs. “Whoops, my bad,” she smiled wickedly. Licking her lips, she lowered her head, “Let me get that for you.”  

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

Two days later, Sawyer rode the elevator up to the fifth floor with Sienna. When the steel doors slid open, she looked up to find Ethan waiting on the other side. She smiled and winked as Ethan waited for her roommate to exit. 

Ethan’s shoulder rubbed Sawyer’s as they crossed over the threshold at the same time. Then… SMACK! Sawyer jumped when the palm of his hand slapped her ass cheek. Safely on the other side, she turned to face him with a questioning look on her face. 

Ethan leaned forward to punch the button for the lobby. Then he looked at Sawyer. As the doors began to close, he smiled. “Mine.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose  @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @zealouscanonindeer @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75 @socalwriterbee @txemrn 

[bohemian-nights]

How would you personally like to see the relationship between Nettles and Daemon develop?

So I’ll be basing my ideal scenario off of a “leak” earlier this year that stated Daemon is going to be the one who recruits Nettles. She’s allegedly very reluctant, but he somehow manages to convince her to join their cause.

Ideally, I’d like to see him initially try to recruit her because he sees she has an interest in Sheepstealer therefore he thinks that she really is a dragonseed. She insists that she’s not one of them and then tells him to get lost.

However, she keeps mulling over what he says in her mind and thinking about what she could be if she were able to claim a dragon. She’s always felt called to them, but she knows who she is so she doubts her ability to claim a dragon, let alone tame a wild one. Until she sees Silver Denys becoming dragon food and then something awakens in her to where she knows she can do it.

So she tries her luck and she tames Sheepstealer like in book canon(Daemon either sees her do it and congratulates her which she again brushes off or he’s away somewhere and he finds out via raven from Baela).

Then the Battle of the Gullet happens. Nettles is distraught. Everyone she knows, the people she grew up with, Jace the new friend she made, they are all dead. Daemon catches her at lowest, she tries to brush him off, but she completely breaks down, and she lets him comfort her (which a certain someone later finds out about).

Fast Forward to Team Black taking Kings Landing. Daemon at this point is fully hooked and trying to get Nettles’ attention, but ignores him cause she doesn’t trust him fully due to his reputation. He’s not giving up though. There is just something about her that draws him in(and it has ever since he saw her on Dragonstone).

He’s become so taken with her that he’s going to Mysaria to ahem relieve himself which is a big mistake because she knows about him and Nettles. She tells him that she knows about everything and will tell Queenie(who’s become kind of insane and territorial as of late).

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Nettles also feels guilty about what happened. She tells Daemon that what happened was just a moment of weakness and that it will never happen again. This completely devastates him because he thought it was just lust until he finally had her and saw he wouldn’t ever want to stop having her. Heavy emotions. The situation goes from bad to extremely bad.

A letter from Maidenpool arrives. They fear for their lives cause Aemond is acting crazy. Rhaenyra orders Daemon to go to Maidenpool and take a dragonseed with him to hunt down the one-eyed maniac(I jest, I love Aemond, no one stone me).

Daemon views this as the perfect opportunity to get away from a nosy potentially murderous Misery Nettles still doesn’t fully trust him, but she knows if she stays in Kings Landing she’ll be toast so she agrees to go with him. So they leave for Maidenpool.

At Maidenpool things get a little better. They still haven’t renewed their ahem physical affection for one another, but they are laughing and they are talking. Considering the mission they are having a good time.

Until Lord Moonton is like, dude, my prince, my bro, I appreciate your help and all, but I know your wife and boatload of children need you so why don’t you wrap this up so you can go home? Don’t worry I won’t tell Queenie about this little fling you are having. I get it Lady Moonton can be a real piece of work sometimes too. Bros before hoe’s. Do you guys need some moon tea by the way? 🫠

That sets Nettles off. She tries to go after Aemond by herself, but Daemon finds her in the nick of time. They have a screwing match. She tells him she isn’t a whore or being thought of as a whore and to let her go. He’s trying to get her to calm down, but it’s not working and he is getting frustrated. They are really going at each other until he screams out that he loves her.

Nettles goes completely still. She has tears in her eyes and she doesn’t want to believe him, but he is sincere. She knows she’s sincere and she loves him. She can’t deny that. She can’t deny herself happiness when they may not survive all of this. They passionately embrace. We get to see an actual love scene on this show for once. and everything is golden.

Queue the romance/honeymoon stage of their relationship. The gifts (which are ramped up), the long dragon rides (yes they are working, but they can have fun) the nicknames, the looks (even when someone else is in the room they only have eyes for each other), the baths 🛁, them going at it like rabbits(they may have even created a little Daemon or Netty😏). It’s just perfect 🥰….until the letter.

Rhaenyra knows and she’s pissed. She wants Daemon back and she wants Nettles dead. Daemon can’t lie or deny nor does he want to. Nettles freaks out the moment Maester Norren leaves. Daemon tries to calm her down, but he knows he can’t lie or deny what has happened. He doesn’t want to send her away, and she doesn’t want to go, but he forces her to leave(either reminding her that she’s with child or lying and telling her he’s going back to his wife).

Gearing up to leave, Nettles slaughters a lamb with Dark Sister(it’s become their custom). She climbs on top of Sheepstealer with tears streaming down her face. Daemon watches her fly away not moving a muscle. Caraxes let’s out that infamous scream and their time with each other at Maidenpool is over.

Daemon flies for Harrenhal. He’s waiting for Aemond. He has this token he keeps of Nettles that he often stares at. Aemond comes after a fortnight. They battle. He plunges a sword through Aemond killing him. Their dragons go down and hit the water. If Daemon dies with Caraxes he dies with Nettles’ name on his lips and the Rogue Prince is no more. If he lives, well then let’s fast forward one last time to the last scene of the last episode of this show(it’s a mid-credits scene coming after we see a sad Aegon III on the throne).

It’s the middle of winter and we see that Nettles has settled in the Mountains of the Moon. She has a little cottage which she’s puttering around in(maybe rocking a baby👩🏽‍🍼, idk it’s hard to tell), but we are outside seeing her from the perspective of someone who is watching her from a bit of a distance.

It’s nighttime, the cottage is a beacon of light and coziness in an otherwise bleak landscape, the snow is really coming down, and we see Sheepstealer resting and then perking up at the sound of something.

We hear footsteps in the snow and breathing. With each step, the illuminated cottage keeps getting closer and closer. A pale hand reaches out to affectionately pat the wild dragon who leans into his touch. We pan out to see the owner of said footsteps who is none other than Daemon Targaryen making his way to an oblivious Netty.

(I know my behind is crazy when it comes to Dettles, but someone else out there is just as crazy as me because look at the edit of this glorious art work😭).

Cut to black. Roll the rest of the credits. The end 😁

Lol there is a 75% chance at least half of this will never happen, but as long as they keep the essence of Dettles, I.e. that this isn’t just lust(🤢 )or she’s Rhaenyra 2.0(🤮), and Daemon is shown to actually genuinely love and care for Nettles to the point where he’d do anything for her(🙌🏽), then we’ll be good 👍🏽

It doesn’t have to be perfect but show unselfish unconditional love for once on HOTD😊(please feel free to use any of the above for seasons 3 and 4 HBO).

Otherwise Ryan Condal we are going to have some problems ☺️

👆🏽Me trying to keep the writers from ruining Daemon and Nettles. Shonda Rhimes can you please come in and save my OTP🥺

[tchallasbabymama]

Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

Taglist: @ladymac82, @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy, @raysunshine78, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me,@toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @blacklytical, @uzumaki-rebellion, @honeyandpeaches, @cecereads209, @wakandama2,

[soulmate-game]

Curiosity Killed the Exorcist

“And then, see here? You have to be on the lookout for subtle signs like these. This indicates that he’s…” Marinette nodded as Tim continued explaining, pointing out various body language and other clues out on the Batcomputer. It had only been about six months since the Batfam collectively adopted the little ladybug into their menagerie of heroes, and started teaching her deductive habits and skills. She would not allow them anywhere near Paris on pain of death (some of them had already tried, and Bruce was still recovering from the bruise to his ego. The bruise on his ass from being teleported out of the city and onto the stone of the Batcave was gone, though) but she welcomed any help they could give from within Gotham’s city limits.

Usually, at least in the beginning, they did their mentorship at a distance over video call. But then Tim found out her identity, and Marinette made the excuse of wanting to meet with them in person to gauge their trustworthiness for herself and erase their memories of her identity if they failed her test— and, well, it all snowballed from there until she was teleporting to the Batcave every few days for detective lessons. She was practically a Bat herself, if not for her out of theme codename. And she found herself surprisingly comfortable with the thought of them being a… very eccentric extended family.

Tim was flipping to another saved video in the Batcomputer archives to show another example of his current lesson, when Tikki flew up to Marinette in a hurry. She was holding Kaalki’s glasses. The little kwami whispered something in Marinette’s ear, instantly making the teen blanch and force on the glasses.

“Sorry Timmy, gotta cut this short! I’ll come back tomorrow to make up for it! Okay? Okay! Awesome, you’re the best, bye!” She ignored all of Tim’s protests and rapid fire questions, instead opening up a portal and jumping through it as fast as humanly possible. The portal has barely disappeared before an all-too-familiar voice rose up from behind Tim.

“Maybe I’m still drunk, ‘cause I could’a sworn I just saw a portal closing in the damned Batcave, of all places,” the British-accented drawl was accompanied by the flick of a lighter and accompanying fizzle of a flame. Tim groaned, mentally making a note to ask how in the world Marinette had known that John “Annoying asshole” Constantine was showing up soon, and if he could be in on the warning next time. Bruce, cowl still off, walked over from where he had been sparring with Damian and crossed his arms. He had also heard Marinette’s hasty exit, and made a few mental notes of his own before focusing on the exorcist in front of him.

“What do you want, Constantine?” he grumbled. Any time the blond brit showed up, things only got far more complicated than he ever enjoyed. And he always gave Bruce a migraine, to boot.

“Two things actually, Batsy,” John held up to fingers as his free hand tucked his lighter away in his pocket. His unlit cigarette stayed in his mouth though, probably just for the familiar feel of it. “One; I’m gonna need you to tell me why there was a portal closing when I walked in, because I’ll be honest. The implications there are way more interesting than what I came here for in the first place.”

“None of your business. What’s the second thing?” Bruce immediately shot him down, but John was not one to be deterred. He never fucking was.

“But you hate magic! You make sure I know that all too bloody well every time I pay you a visit, so why the sudden change in heart? Huh?”

“Drop it, Constantine. What. Do you. Want?”

“Fine, fine. I need your help with…”

— * — * — * — * — *

A week later, Marinette was sitting with Jason and Damian in one of the manor’s sitting rooms, the three of them just minding their own business and silently enjoying one another’s presence. Even if two of them would never admit it. Jason was reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, Damian was leaning against Titus on the ground as he sketched, and Marinette was embroidering a sunhat. Unfortunately for her, Alfred the Cat was currently asleep on her lap and thus holding her hostage.

Even as Tikki flew up to her ear in a panic and whispered, making Marinette prick herself with her needle. She hissed for a second but shrugged off the familiar pain, much more concerned with whatever news Tikki had given her. Damian and Jason were already on high alert from the second that a whispered curse had left her lips, and were staring straight at her and her kwami and Marinette frantically tried to find a way to get up without awakening the cat sleeping on her.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jason asked, feeling thoroughly confused and left out. On one hand, he knew that if they were in physical danger she would have moved Alfred the Cat without hesitation. On the other, he did not like the sheer amount of anxiety he could see her experiencing. Marinette’s frantic eyes shot over to him, pupils mere pinpricks and hands mouth agape as she tried to form some sort of plan.

“Uh— “

“Ah! You must be the fair maiden that the Bats are comfortable with using magic around them,” John goddamned Constantine threw the door to the sitting room open wide, making it bounce off of the wall and lightly smack back against his shoulder. He ignored it as he grinned at the three younger people in the room, waltzing in casual as anything. He wagged a finger at her playfully. “I’ve been awfully curious about you, ya know? Brucie boy knows a shit ton of magic users, but he never likes seein’ any of us do our thing. And to not only allow you to teleport without any apparent discomfort but to actively protect your identity from me? Now that’s a damn accomplishment and I really gotta applaud you for it,” he mockingly clapped his hands a few times. “So what’s your secret, huh? I won’t tattle.”

“No thanks. Kaalki, a little help?” Marinette carefully pushed Alfred the Cat off of her lap before diving into the portal that Kaalki whipped up for her, the entire process happening so fast that Constantine couldn’t even get out a proper “hey!” before she was gone and the portal closed. He just nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Ya know what? Fair. That’s fair.”

“Goddamn it, Constantine!” Jason threw up his hands in frustration. “Why the fuck do you have to scare away one of the only sane people in this family?”

“Part of my charm, little red riding hood.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“You know, I’ve been pretty damn nice not teleporting right over to you whenever you disappear. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re avoiding me now that we happen to be in the same room by complete accident, huh?” John asked from where he sat in one of Bruce’s lounge chairs sipping on a beer. Marinette mimed choking him, clearly fed up. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for the past three months, ever since that one time he caught the tail end of her portal closing in the Batcave. Three. Long. Months. And he hadn’t given up, because something about this little Parisian teenager intrigued him. She was sixteen, that much he had gathered from the Bats. But to be sixteen and not only in possession of the Horse miraculous but also clearly the Ladybugs, since he had seen Tikki more than once as well, now that was interesting.

Anybody being in the possession of more than one Miraculous was already cause enough to be keeping an eye on them, which was why he had been keeping an eye on the Paris situation and had pieced together on his own that the presence of Tikki meant that this little parisian teenager was none other than Ladybug herself. Now, that? That was a whole new level of concerning, especially since he knew firsthand that the old Grand Guardian was gone and passed his title down to— yeah, Ladybug.

After that deduction, his interest in Marinette had swiftly switched from curiosity to fuck-I-need-to-know-what’s-going-on-here. Because no kid should have to deal with that kind of weight, and Constantine always looked out for kids when he could.

But right then, Marinette was glaring at him. She had been just coming over for a normal “family” dinner with the Waynes, which she attended from time to time. And apparently they had decided to have Constantine already over so that they could chaperone a meeting between them that would hopefully appease the stupid british magic user enough that he left them all alone again until the next time he needed help.

“Believe me when I say, you’d rather not know,” she replied sharply, glaring Dick. He was the one who had convinced her to come despite her recent close calls with Constantine in the past few days. He studiously avoided her gaze. “I just would rather not cross your path, and there’s no reason for us to interact. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You see, now that is an excellent question!” he chugged the last of his beer and gestured to her with the empty bottle. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. But I’ve put two and two together, since I know who Tikki is,” he nodded to the red and black Kwami. “And maybe I just wanna keep an eye on the new Grand Guardian to make sure she’s doin’ alright. That’s an awful lot of magic and responsibility that you don’t deserve, but I’m not about to try to take it away. Keepin’ an eye on you is the next best thing.”

“Try again,” Marinette shot back, crossing her arms. “You were interested in me before you learned about me being Ladybug.”

“I’m nosy, what do you want me to say? I saw a portal in Batman’s man-cave, I get curious. Sue me.”

“Well. I have Bruce and everyone else already watching out for me, so you can leave me alone now. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to ask every other magic user first before contacting you.”

“Woah, now what’s all this venom for?”

“Uh, maybe we should go and actually eat dinner?” Dick tried to step in, hands up. Constantine had stood up from the chair he was in, which was usually a cue to change the subject as fast as possible. “Before Alfred has to come get us?”

“Maybe I’ll be less venomous if you let the subject drop and leave me alone!”

“Context would be nice, though.”

“Seriously guys, let’s go! Food!” Dick was once again ignored.

“Context is the last thing you need in this situation,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, her arms dropping to her sides. “We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many now-deleted timelines. Just drop it this time.”

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

“See? I fucking knew you would— that this would happen. This always happens, you always hate finding it out, but you’re so— so stubborn!” Marinette was blinking away tears, digging in her pockets and bringing out Kaalki’s glasses. “You’ll drop it now, at least. You always do.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Constantine rubbed his forehead, still trying to sort through his amalgam of emotions. Marinette just shook her head, turning to Kaalki.

“Do you mind showing Monsieur Constantine the way out, Kaalki? I’ll grab you a load of sugar cubes afterward.”

“No, wait, hang on a second!”

A portal opened up under him, making John “Stubborn Idiot” Constantine drop ten feet down onto the hardwood, polished floor of his house. His bruised tailbone would take a while to heal, but his frazzled mind was by far the more concerning development. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila.

“Ugh, fuck my damn life.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“Marinette..?” Damian nudged the girl with his shoulder, frowning. It was after dinner that same day, and as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to actually like having her around. She was a good friend to have. And seeing her slumped back on one of their sofas, sketchbook covering her face and not a single rambling conversation to be had or heard? It was very concerning. She just made a groaning sound to answer him, prompting his frown to deepen. “Are you alright?”

“I just can’t believe that such a sweet, adorable thing like you is half made up of Constantine’s genes,” Jason mused bluntly from the opposite couch, where he tossed a rubber ball up and down out of boredom. “But now I see where you get all of your Disaster Bi-ness from.”

“Shut uuuuup,” She groaned, chucking her sketchbook at him. He caught it in midair, replacing his rubber ball with it and tossing it up and down in the air. “I’m just frustrated. This timeline is still perfectly stable, so I can’t erase it. And I can’t exactly ask ‘hey, can someone commit a horrid atrocity that makes this timeline split from the main one so that I can erase it and we can start over from four months ago?’ because that would be horribly irresponsible of me. But seriously, Jason. If you’re gonna ever commit, like, city-wise arson? I’d probably condone it right now if only so I have an excuse to use time travel to get out of this situation.”

“Not committing arson unless you give me a better reason for it, Pigtails.”

“Damn.”

“But are you okay?” Damian asked again, seeing as she had completely ignored him.

“I’m fine, Damian,” she finally sighed. “And I know how this is gonna go. He’s going to totally ignore me now, until we meet during some magical crisis and he only interacts with me when necessary. Then he pretends we never met, we have a private little one-sided whisper-argument about how he will never make a good father figure and I would be better off leaving him alone, blah blah blah. Avoidance is a coping mechanism I guess I inherited from him.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m trying to bite that in the bud then, eh?” Marinette startled out of her sitting position, seeing John stumble into the room…

Drunk off his ass. But apparently still at least mildly coherent.

“I agree with deleted-me’s, I’m not gonna be a dad. Not me,” he tripped, landing on his still-bruised ass and hissing in pain before continuing from the floor; “So if you’re looking for another Daddy dearest, that ain’t me.”

“See, I knew this is how you’d—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I don’t know how long the booze is gonna last and I need it’s courage here. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. Where was I? Right. But I know magic, ya know. The kind that doesn’t rely on little bobblehead gods to do. I got— like, a million books. Shit ton of books. At my place. Ya can read ‘em. My books. At my place. But I ain’t gonna parent, but I can lend ya books. Maybe give magic advice. Teach a little. Little bit. Didn’t think I’d have a child, but apparently I do and she’s the fuckin’ grand guardian and a damn hero, and I don’t know how the fuck I was able to help make someone like that. But whatever, it’s not like the world’s ever fuckin’ been easy on me,” He pulled out a sample-sized bottle of whiskey from one of the pockets on the inside of his trench coat and chugged it. After a brief wince and hiss at the burn, he kept rambling. “My door’s open, is what I’m tryin’ to say. No guarantee I’ll be in any state to talk to when you walk through it, but it’s open.”

Deciding to steadfastly ignore the tears streaming down her face, Marinette just swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I, uh. I think I can work with that.”

John barely made it to the nearby bin in time to vomit into it.

— * — * — * — * — *

I hate my imagination sometimes, guys. I started imagining a convo between Mari and Constantine at like 4am and it wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. but by the time I wrote it, I kinda forgot like 60% of the original convo and just winged it. And this was born. I 100% blame @multifandomscribette because their Bio!dad John Constantine headcannons are amazing and even though this isn't in that universe, those headcannons are exactly what inspired this. So blame them, lol.

[blackdragonturds]

Headcanons for My Return!

Hi! Apologies for the haitus but I'm back! And to kick things off, I have some extra sweet headcanons! Without further ado, "Kabal as a Father to a baby girl!"

(And yes this is perfect) -The moment your daughter is born, he's excited to hold her. A little too eager, and since it's the dad's duty to cut the umbellical cord, he is worried he'll cut the wrong way. - When his eyes meet hers, he falls so hard and fast for her he won't let the nurses take her away to see if she's healthy at first but he eventually swallows his pride and lets them examine her.

-When he sees his baby girl in that cute little pink blanket, he is bouncing with joy and excitement. - When he hears her crying from taking her first breaths, he cries with her, being tears of pride. - He is super loving and sweet to his little girl. She becomes his whole heart and soul. -He loves to shower her with presents and spoil his Princess. He used to call you princess but now with the baby, you're his Queen. -When you and Kabal bring your daughter home, he has a beautiful and expensive tiny tiara just for her.- -He crowns the baby as his princess, as a way to say she will always be his, no matter what, and she will always be his baby girl. -He loves to sing to her when he can. Especially the song "You'll Be In My Heart" by Phil Collins. - He especially would give her a royal name! - Expect a tiny pink onesie with "Princess" on the chest and a little embroidered crown on her heart - He would say to you, "Babe, you were once my princess, now you're my queen. Now our baby girl...she's our crown princess" - He's a very protective but caring and playful dad. -If he's still Black Dragon, he'll keep a pair of hook swords nearby for added protection. He fears that if something happens to his baby he will do anything to make sure she's safe. - If he's a cop, expect him to use his police tactics on anyone who dare lay a finger on his pride and joy.

-He collects Disney movies for his baby girl. Nuff said. - His mom would be so proud to see her son having a beautiful little girl. Eager to hold her granddaughter his Ma would insist that she be shown off to the rest of the world, much to his dismay. -Kano would be nosy all the time but expect Kabal to be on guard 24/7! @boomerangjr @spideypotpie @kaballinx @kabals-nose-scrunch You beautiful ones deserve to see these too! And that is all! Hope you like them! Peace!

[1littleshippergirl1]

Teachers have lives, too

Percy/Oliver

Modern AU with magic. Teacher AU. Zoom style

Prompt 23 (I think) from my challenge: secret relationship

My first and only Percy/Oliver fic. Hope y'all enjoy it!

__

"What, no robes?" Oliver raised his eyebrows when Percy came out of their bedroom dressed in one of Oliver's muggle style t-shirts and casual trousers instead of strictly adhering to the dress code of wearing his teaching robes like he'd set upon himself to do since the start of online school.

"I didn't feel like it," Percy shrugged as he took a much needed gulp of tea. Swallowing, he added, "It's Friday and I doubt the kids will care."

Oliver propped himself up on the countertop by his elbows, simply adoring the way his shirt highlighted the muscles that his boyfriend was adamant didn't exist. "You're staring," Percy remarked idly.

"can't help it. You're irresistible, love."

Percy scoffed, but Oliver saw that tiny smile appear when he made to turn around. Grinning, he maneuvered around the counter to sneak his arms around the red-head's waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. "We should take the day off," he murmured into his ear. "Tell Minerva we're both sick."

"Much as I would simply love to," Percy turned to face him, "we can't and you know that." He moved away and Oliver sighed dramatically.

"Don't see why we have to keep it a secret, Perce."

Percy shrugged again. "I don't want our private life aired out for everyone. You know how nosy the kids are."

"I know how nosy Phoebe is," Oliver chuckled as Percy snorted and rolled his eyes.

Phoebe Wren was one of Hogwart's newest students, a Gryffindor and a complete and utter chatterbox. She had no qualms about asking personal questions or blurting out whatever came to mind, no matter how embarrassing it was to the other person. She was a nice enough girl, a real sweetheart but that mouth of hers needed controlling.

"Didn't she ask you to take off your shirt so she could see if that rumor about you having a tattoo was true or not?"

Percy groaned good naturedly. "Don't remind me. I've yet to figure out who even started that ridiculous rumor."

Oliver's eyes dropped and a broad, yet sheepish grin came across his face. "Well-"

Percy's jaw dropped but he was smiling as well and choked out laughter. "You didn't."

"In my defense," Oliver chuckled, "I was bored and Phoebe was willing to listen."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, spreading rumors like a third year," Percy had a sparkle of mischievousness and playfully swatted Oliver's bum.

"I should be," Oliver agreed, smiling cheekily. "But I'm not."

Percy rolled his eyes good naturedly and opened up his computer. "Quiet, now,' he ordered mildly. "I don't want her hearing you."

Phoebe had a tendency to bring up irrelevant subjects in class that had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson. Other times she was late to another class because she stayed on chat with Percy to talk about anything and everything she wholeheartedly believed he needed to know. So, being that she was in his first hour of the day, he let her get on early so she could get everything out of the way ahead of time.

In a very unPrecy like manner, he curled up on the couch, with his feet facing one way and the computer resting on his lap. He clicked on Zoom, waiting for his students to sign on. In the meantime, Oliver moved Percy's legs, raising them up a bit and sat down, laying them on top of his upper thighs. The redhead raised his eyebrows but his boyfriend merely smiled innocently.

He didn't buy it one bit.

Oliver began to gently rub Percy's legs, massaging them. The redhead would be lying if he said it didn't feel good. "I know what you're trying to do," Percy closed his eyes.

"I'm just giving you a massage, love," Oliver momentarily passed, grabbing Percy's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Quiet, Percy mouthed as Phoebe's window screen popped up. Immediately, red came into his vision. A bright red. She'd dyed the ends of her hair red with some muggle beverage. Today, she wore her hair in two knots on top of her head with the end pieces sticking upward for the world to see. She beamed as soon as she saw him, bouncing in her chair. He couldn't help but smile back. She was contagious in that aspect.

"Hello, Professor Weasley!"

"Hello, Phoebe," he said, warmly. "I trust you had a good weekend?"

"oh, yes! Unless you count my mum's mood swings. I think she's going through menopause."

"I see," Percy said as he noticed Oliver trying not to laugh and waved him off for it.

"Your mum's still around, right? Is she going through menopause, too?"

That was just something he preferred not to think about. "Remember what I said about asking inappropriate questions?"

"Yes," she nodded, more like bobbed her head up and down. "But it's not like I asked something personal."

"Actually-"

"Professor Weasley, how old are you?"

"Excuse me?" Percy raised his eyebrows.

"You're like thirty five, right?"

Percy spluttered indignantly. Oliver was laughing in one of the couch pillows to keep from being heard. "I'm not even thirty yet!"

"Really?"

"Yes," he said shortly.

"Woooow. Talk about being unlucky."

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his job....he loved his job....he loved his students....

His thoughts were broken through by an excited squeal. "Oh my gosh! You should totally let me give you a makeover! I read this magazine and I can totally make you look twenty."

"As kind as that is," Percy lied through his teeth, "I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

She pouted.

Percy inwardly sighed in relief when the rest of the class popped up. They said their hello's and he allowed the kids a few minutes to talk before he dove into the lesson. All the while, Oliver had a free period so he stayed where he was, poking and touching Percy. First it was his knees, drawing circles on them. Then he grabbed the red-head's hand again, interlocking their fingers. When they couldn't keep it like that, Oliver's hand slithered up to Percy's bum--to what he could reach anyway--and the red-head gave him a subtle warning look.

He let out a grunt when Oliver gave it a squeeze. Oh, he was so in trouble once school was over. If it weren't for the fact he was still in charge of twenty five students, he would toss the laptop aside and tackle Oliver now. Soon, he promised himself. Right after class when he had a bit of a break.

"Professor Weasley!"

"What's he staring at?"

"I dunno."

"He looks constipated. Professor, are you constipated? I can relate. See just the other day-"

"No, Phoebe," he said, cutting her off. "I'm fine. Sorry everyone, just spaced out for a moment."

Discreetly, he mouthed to Oliver, this is all your fault

Oliver looked pleased.

Percy rolled his eyes.

"Professor, I was thinking about something."

"Yes, Phoebe?" He said, warily.

"You totally need a date!"

He spluttered. "Excuse me?"

Some of his students snickered and giggled.

"Men your age need that companionship. And the sex. Unless you're like a virgin," she said with a thoughtful expression. "Are there virgins at your age? Oooh, if not you could be the world's oldest virgin! Do wizards have a record book? Muggles do. I think you get money for it...."

Oliver's face was fairly red now from trying to refrain from laughing out loud.

He sighed heavily. He did not get paid enough for this job. "That is inappropriate to ask-"

"Do you fancy anyone? I could totally set you up. I've seen a gazillion rom coms. I know what to do!"

Percy checked the time. No he couldn't leave yet. He sat up straighter, figuring that if he started the lesson now, he could salvage what was left of the time.

And his dignity.

Suddenly, someone--Phoebe, of course-- let out a gasp.

" Professor, you're wearing Professor Wood's shirt!"

Percy's head snapped down to look at it. It wasn't anything distinctive that could be traced back to his boyfriend. Nothing about Puddlemere or how much of a fanatic he was (he'd gotten a shirt like that as a gift for Oliver's birthday once). Just a plain olive green shirt. How did she-

Oliver was surprised too.

"How do you know?" One of his other students demanded.

"isn't it obvious? He's worn it before."

"You also said it makes his muscles pop," someone else pointed out.

Shamelessly, Phoebe agreed and added, "No offense, Professor Weasley, but that looks hideous on you. That is so not your color."

"It's a good thing I have you, Phoebe. Otherwise I might have worn the bloody thing outside," Percy deadpanned.

She nodded vigorously in agreement. Then something seemed to click in her mind. "Oh my gosh!" She let out another squeal. "Do you guys know what this means?!"

Her classmates simply blinked.

"If Professor Weasley is wearing Professor Wood's shirt....they must be together or something!"

Alarm was clouded over Percy's face. He was rendered speechless at how she'd figured it out. Oliver jumped to his feet and came around to the camera on the laptop so the kids could see him. "Hey, kids," he waved.

"No way!" Phoebe exclaimed excitedly. "Hi Professor Wood! I can't believe you hooked up with our History professor. This is so cool! Everyone thinks you're both hot. This is like double hot....like fire!"

Both men regarded her with amusement.

"I feel like I should warn you, Professor Wood, that if you break Professor Weasley's heart, there's gonna be problems."

"Oh?"Oliver chuckled.

Phoebe nodded. "He's the nicest professor ever and if you make him cry just know I'm good with a knife."

"I have no intention of breaking Perc-Professor Weasley's heart," Oliver reassured her and kissed Percy on the forehead. The girls awwed and the boys grumbled about how gross it was.

Percy was grinning broadly. He'd been wrong about all this. Perhaps they didn't need to hide in the first place.

__

After class was over with, Percy placed the laptop on the floor and laid on the couch with Oliver on top of him, his head resting on his chest. The red-head threaded his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, craning at his neck at times to nuzzle him.

"Do you regret telling them?" Oliver murmured.

"No," Percy decided, dropping a kiss on Oliver's soft hair. "Not one bit."

"Me either."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Even if you are the world's oldest virgin."

"Oh shut up!"

[fanficimagery]

Hell Takes Riverdale pt. I

Imagine moving to Riverdale while your father has some business to attend to. While there, you meet some people you find yourself growing attached to.

Words: 8.8K Author’s Note: Riverdale AU where FP didn’t go to prison for his crimes and Jughead joined the Serpents because he wanted to. This isn’t exactly Northsider friendly and I’ll be focusing more so on the Serpents, so I won’t go into detail about all the drama the Northside gang constantly puts themselves into the middle of, nor will Jughead be a part of it. I will mention a certain family who lives nearby from another show, but I will NOT be bringing those characters in here. The most you’ll get is what I explain about them in the imagine.

Jughead Jones was notorious for laying low and staying out of the spotlight. At least he was until a murder rocked his small town, Veronica Lodge- along with her criminal family- moved in, and his best friends Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews put together their very own crime solving Scooby Gang. He liked a good mystery every now and then, but the murder of Jason Blossom pointed towards his father's gang and he didn't know how to cope with that.

When FP Jones- Jughead's dad- eventually confessed to the murder, Jughead didn't know what to think. All he knew for sure was that his dad was innocent. So he and his friends did their best to prove Mr. Jones of his innocence, which they eventually did, but given FP's past the police decided to keep him a bit longer.

Jughead Jones was a powder keg waiting to explode, so in a move no one expected, he channeled his anger from the crookedness of their small town Sheriff to the local high school jocks when they decided to target the new girl for laughs. Y/N Y/L/N was a meek little thing, small smiles and small voice whenever called upon. She didn't dress like someone who had money, but then again she didn't dress like she didn't have any either. She presented herself as someone from the middle class which is probably why Jughead felt at ease coming to her defense one day out of the blue.

You're at your locker, putting away your books before you head over to the cafeteria for lunch, when someone shoves their shoulder into your back. You grunt as you collide with the metal in front of you, a few notebooks falling to the floor, and you turn to frown at the culprits. Reggie Mantle and his merry band of jocks laugh at you. "Seriously?" You mumble.

Reggie smirks, shrugging. "I gotta find my entertainment somewhere and what better entertainment is there than the new girl with no voice?" You roll your eyes and bend over to pick up your belongings, only for a sneaker clad foot to kick one of your notebooks away.

"Hey!"

The sound of someone being shoved into the lockers next to you has you looking up, a beanie-wearing, plaid shirt tied around the waist, boy coming to your aide. "What the hell is your problem, Mantle?" Hands fist into the material of Reggie's letterman jacket, slamming him twice against the lockers. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase pick on someone your own size?"

Reggie shoves him back. "Cool it, Jones, less you wanna end up in a cell next to your pops."

He scoffs. "You look real tough picking on a girl. Keep walking, jackass."

Your gaze darts between the two boys, chest to chest with one another, and you practically hold your breath. You can see the other jocks just itching for a fight, but the longer Reggie and your savior stare at one another, the less Reggie seems to be amped up for a fight. He eventually scoffs, smiling. "Whatever. The little mouse isn't much fun anyway."

Reggie goes to walk away, but not before kicking another one of your notebooks further down the hall. You sigh and start collecting your things closest to you once more.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about him. Reggie's a total dick."

You glance at the boy collecting one of your notebooks for you and flash him a small smile. "It's fine. Every school has a bully. I didn't expect this place to be any different."

"Yeah, well.." He trails off, placing the stuff he collected in your locker. "I'm Jughead."

"That's an unusual name," you say. "I'm Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, would you care to join me outside for lunch? I'm kind of alone today and I noticed you don't really sit with anyone either. I'll help keep Reggie off your back," he muses as if his protection would somewhat sweeten the deal.

"Sure. Why not?" You shrug.

Once everything is situated in your locker, you grab the lunch bag that had been hanging from a hook on the inside. Side by side, you walk with Jughead outside and towards one of the concrete picnic tables. He sits down and only then do you realize he had a brown sack clutched in his hand. Immediately he pulls out two smashed sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap, and unwraps them to start eating.

"So as a token of my thanks," you say while taking a seat across from him and unzipping your lunch bag, "have a fruit cup." You toss him a cool cup of mixed fruit and he happily catches it.

"Thanks." From the corner of your eye, you watch as he stares at you until you start eating your own sandwich and chips. "So Riverdale," he says. "Why here of all places?"

You huff a quiet laugh. Of course you'd heard the whispers about you, curious about your move, but you never spoke to anyone and no one dared to ask you before now. "My half sister lives in Greendale, and she and her aunts were having some personal issues. My dad moved us here so he could help them out, but he wasn't fond of the housing situations Greendale had to offer so we ended up here."

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." He takes a bite of his food. "So are you and your sister close?"

"Not really." Your nose wrinkles. You eat a bit of your own food before explaining. "She kind of hates our dad because he slept with her mom when she was married, but instead of villainizing them both for their mutual decision, she puts all the blame on him."

Jughead shakes his head. "Well that sucks."

"Yep. But she obviously doesn't have a problem calling on him when she's in trouble." You roll your eyes, opening your water and taking a sip. "It's whatever. Riverdale is.. interesting."

"Yeah. It is," he huffs a brief laugh.

Over the next month or so, you and Jughead become actual friends. He attempts to introduce you to his group of friends, but the only one you can actually stomach being around is Archie. Veronica is too nosy, Betty too suspicious, and Kevin rarely hangs out with everyone less it involves a good gossip session. So more often than not, after realizing his group of friends wasn't just your cup of tea, you and Jughead hung out at Pop's Chock'lit-Shoppe.

The retro diner quickly became one of your favorite places in all of Riverdale, but upon entering one Sunday evening and seeing Jughead's expression you know you're not going to enjoy your dinner.

"Uh oh. What's going on with your face?" You ask as you slide in across from Jughead. "You look like you have some bad news."

He grins, shaking his head. "It's not bad. I'm just not sure how well you're going to take what I have to tell you."

"Mhm. Tell me after I've gotten my food." Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, Pop Tate himself is dropping off your and Jughead's usual order. "Thanks, Pop."

The old man chuckles. "Don't mention it, Y/N. Enjoy your meal."

"Always do." Before any other words can be spoken, you and Jughead squirt ketchup on your respective plates. He steals the cherry from your milkshake and you plop a straw into his Coke to take a sip. The both of you take a bite out of your burgers, chuckling at each other and how at ease the two of you have become with one another. "So what's up?"

"I'm leaving Riverdale High." You pause in chewing and Jughead refuses to meet your gaze. "I'll be starting at Southside High tomorrow morning."

"Oh."

"It's just- my dad's getting out." When he looks up, the excitement in his eyes at the prospect of his dad coming home makes your exterior soften and you start to feel happy for your friend. "He, uh, he's been doing good. Jail forced him to get sober and he's talking about starting over. I'm going to move back in with him."

"That's good news, Jug. I'm really happy for you."

"Are you?" He grabs a fry and quickly dips it into your vanilla milkshake. You chuckle at him.

"Yeah. I mean we mostly hang out here anyway. That won't change, I hope." He's quick to shake his head, letting you know your weekly hang outs at Pop's would still be on. "I'll just have to toughen up and learn how to throw a punch. Reggie and his goons need a nice swift punch to the throat every now and then, I think."

Jughead exhales with relief. "Please let Kevin know beforehand so he can catch it on video for me."

"No promises."

The two of you go on to finish your food, making small talk and promises to keep in touch. Eventually you have to leave, so before you go your separate ways you decide to give Jughead a ride home. And since he's no longer embarrassed to have you over after the first time you'd been over, he accepts the ride with a shrug.

FP Jones has been out of jail for three days and in those three days Jughead has noticed his dad has been a little paranoid. So one day after school, he's had enough and decides to sit down and talk with him.

"What's going on?"

FP glances away from the paper in his hand. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're acting weird! Ever since you got out of jail it's like you're constantly looking over your shoulder."

Jughead and FP stare at one another before FP sets the paper down, running a hand through his hair. "Someone's coming to town," he says. "Someone you don't ever want to cross."

"Okay. And?"

"It's worrisome," FP says. "Mr. Morningstar, he's the real deal, Jughead. Expensive suits, expensive cars, posh accent.. this man can be very dangerous."

"Well then round up the Serpents. I'm sure they'll enjoy running this guy out of town."

"Nah." Jughead scoffs, confused as to what his dad's deal is. "Mr. Morningstar is the one who sent one of his lawyers to get me released."

"..oh."

"But Mr. Morningstar doesn't hand out favors without wanting something in return. I don't like being in debt, Jug. Especially to someone like him."

"We'll figure it out, dad. He reached out to you, not the other way around. He can't want something too bad if he came to you first. Right?"

"I don't know, son." FP falls silent, tapping his fingers along the tabletop. "And there's something else you should know."

"What?"

"Mr. Morningstar isn't exactly.. human." Jughead scoffs, but FP shoots him a warning look. "I'm serious. This man is capable of things you wouldn't believe unless you see it in person, but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. If he comes around, you do as I say. I'll settle my debt with him as quickly as possible and hopefully Riverdale will be in his rearview mirror sooner rather than later."

Jughead doesn't know how to feel at seeing his dad- the Serpent King himself- looking so on edge. He's never seen him so rattled, so it leaves Jughead himself feeling the dread start to seep in.

Every single Serpent inside the Whyte Wyrm was well aware of who Mr. Morningstar was and to be on the lookout for anyone fitting his description. For a week there was no sight or word about him, the same week which Jughead finally decided to throw in with the Serpents and officially become one of the gang. He had texted his friends, some more supportive than others, but he only found comfort in his decision after hearing back from Y/N who held no ill will towards him for wanting to be a Southside Serpent officially.

Jughead is still healing, everyone at the Whyte Wyrm celebrating him completing his initiation.

"Toni," FP calls out, "serve us up some shots!" The petite, pink haired girl behind the bar laughs, she readily grabbing up shot glasses and lining them up along the bar. She fills every shot glass, smiling as her fellow Serpents grab one to await the impending toast. As FP grabs one, he raises it up while staring at his son across the room who's hanging out with a few younger Serpents. "Jughead, while this wasn't the life I wanted for you, it is your decision and you don't know how proud it makes me to have you ride by side. To Jughead!"

"To Jughead!"

The Serpents all whoop and holler, downing their shots in one go.

"Hear, hear," an out of place accent muses. Those closest to the man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere all tense and FP's smile slowly vanishes as he stares at the man who hasn't aged a single year since he last saw him over fifteen years ago. "Well, well. Freedom seems to suit you well, FP."

FP schools his expression. "Mr. Morningstar."

"Call me Lucifer. No need to be so formal."

The Serpents seem to fall silent as FP and Lucifer Morningstar stare at one another. Jughead, seeing the way everyone is holding themselves as the tension amps up, pushes his way through the crowd until he's just behind his dad. "Lucifer," FP says, "why don't you follow me. We'll go somewhere a bit more private."

Lucifer gestures for FP to lead the way. "After you."

FP glances at Jughead over his shoulder, but he doesn't give him any sort of cue to follow. Instead, Jughead follows after them to a table that's not surrounded by any others over by the stage. Once seated, FP stares Mr. Morningstar in the face. "So what brings you to Riverdale? It's been a while since you were last here."

"Ah, yes," he says. Lucifer leans back in seat, smiling. "I originally came to watch a client of mine wreak havoc on your precious little town," at this, FP and Jughead tense, "but someone very important to me made attachments here and I've had to rethink my plans of letting your town burn to the ground."

"A client of yours?" FP's eyes narrow. "Who?"

"I think you know who," Lucifer says. "Annoying little bugger. But as I said before, attachments were made and I had to keep watch over said attachment to see whether or not I approved. And let me tell you, Mr. Jones, I quite liked what I saw."

"Okay?" He drawls. "So what does that have to do with why you're here? Or are you calling in a favor for getting me out?"

Lucifer laughs. "Oh no, FP. You getting out was not my doing." FP freezes. "You see, this someone important to me is my daughter. She's the one who requested you be freed."

"You have a daughter?" FP shifts in his seat. "Why would she want me out?"

"I do. And because one of your little snakelings made quite the impression on her after showing her kindness when he didn't have to." Lucifer raises an eyebrow at FP's completely flabbergasted expression. "This person was and continues to be genuine with my daughter, so I figured I'd step in and help clean up your beloved little town instead of letting it be turned inside out by Hiram Lodge. After all, it seems we're going to be in Riverdale for quite some time now."

FP glances around, but he can't see any of the Serpents being this person in question. Eventually, he asks, "Who?"

Lucifer's gaze darts up over FP's shoulder and lands on Jughead. Jughead's eyes widen. "Me? Who have I-"

"Me, of course." You choose that exact moment to walk out from the back room, ignoring everyone's stare save for Jughead's. You're a bit self-conscious of the black crystallized crown on your head and the skin tight, all black outfit your dad's minions had chosen for you, but you don't show it. The way you're dressed now, Jughead's never seen you this way. "What's wrong, Juggie? Cat got your tongue?"

Your friend gulps as he eyes you up and down. "Y/N?"

"Surprise!" You muse. At his slack expression, your smile diminishes. "It's still me, JJ. No need to be weird now."

FP glances between you and his son as Jughead asks, "Was our friendship even real?"

Your eyes widen. "Of course it was! I was never meant to make friends here," you quickly explain, "but you just couldn't leave me be when Reggie set his sights on me and you- you befriended me for me." Jughead loses some of the tension in his frame. "You didn't talk to me because of who my dad was and what he could do for you. You talked to me because you felt bad for me and then you continued to talk to me because we actually got along."

A beat passes and Jughead eventually sighs. "Don't kid yourself. I only talk to you because you let me steal the cherry from your milkshake." It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do you snort. Lucifer chuckles and poor FP has no idea what's going on.

"This is quite fitting, is it not?" Lucifer grins.

FP frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The Serpent Prince and the Queen of Hell. Royalty always seeks out royalty."

You freeze, Jughead's brow furrows, and FP seems to blanch as he comes to a sudden realization. Quick as a snake's strike, you slap the back of your dad's shoulder. "Not here." Then you glance at FP. "Can we continue this talk in a back room?"

He slowly blinks before he snaps out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Let's go."

FP stands and leads the way, and you grin over at Jughead. "Come on. We have some more stuff to talk about."

In a back office, FP and Lucifer have already taken their seats as you and Jughead join them. Instead of sitting, the two of you stand side by side after the door is shut behind you.

"So what exactly is going on here?" FP wonders.

Lucifer glances at you, smirking, and you sigh. You had a feeling he was going to make you explain yourself. "So I noticed instead of scoffing at the queen of hell comment, you blanched." FP hesitantly nods. "So that means you understand my dad is quite.. different."

Lucifer huffs. "I'm the devil, darling. No need to tiptoe around it."

You cringe as he so bluntly puts it out there and nervously gauge the Jones' reactions. Both seem more than a little intimidated and your heart starts to sink. "I'm still me, Jughead. Just a little.. more."

Jughead glances at you. "You're really the daughter of Satan?" You nod. "And this isn't some joke?"

"No. My sister, the one who lives in Greendale, was meant to take the throne," you admit. "But she really does hate my dad and refused it, so it passed on to the next heir. Hell got a little bit stuffy and some of my dad's more important minions were trying to marry me off, so I left with my dad as he dealt with business here. I was supposed to keep my head down until we moved on, but well.." you trail off, smiling softly. "I found that having a friend was quite nice." When Jughead has nothing else to say, you look towards FP. "You've raised a kind son, Mr. Jones. And for that, I'm going to offer you a favor." He seems to straighten up then, glancing worriedly at your dad. "And don't worry, this is a favor from me. I don't do contracts or cut deals like dad does. My favor is a no strings attached type of situation. This is a favor for a friend."

FP and Jughead glance at each other, and you notice FP subtly shake his head. Jughead sighs and looks at you. "Do you promise that me or my dad won't owe you?"

"Jughead," FP warns.

But you only have eyes for your friend as you step towards him and take up his hands within your own. "I swear. You're my friend, JJ. You got Reggie off my back and offered genuine companionship, so let me do something for you."

"You mean like getting my dad out of jail?"

You grin, releasing his hands and shoving at his shoulder. "Oh whatever. I was bored and you seemed like you missed him. Bite me, Jones." Lucifer chuckles and FP looks like he has no idea what's going on. "So come on. Whose life needs ruining?"

Jughead stares at you before shaking his head in amusement. "You're a little too excited to be ruining someone."

"I am my father's daughter."

Jughead stares at you, as if trying to conclude whether you're being genuine or not, and then has a silent conversation with his dad. Eventually FP sighs, cradling his head in his hands as Jughead looks back to you. "I messed up bad, Y/N. When my dad first got put into jail, someone suggested I visit this lawyer- who is also a Serpent- so that she'll guide me on how to get my dad released."

"And the snake double crossed you. Shocking," your dad chuckles.

"Shut up." Lucifer continues to chuckle, mime zipping his lips shut. You look back to your friend. "Go on."

"She gave me advice as a favor and said I'd owe her one someday in the future. I didn't think it through."

"The snake charmer is notorious for collecting favors and blackmailing you into continuing owing her favors," FP says. "She's turning the Serpents into drug runners and using video of my son delivering a crate of drugs as leverage so we don't tell her no."

Lucifer tuts. "That just won't do. Last I recalled, the Serpents were against drug dealing."

"We are," FP says, "but we can't deny her since she has that damn video. It'll be his word against hers."

Expression tightening, you glance between the two Serpents. "Give me a name."

"Penny Peabody."

Immediately you and your dad glance at one another, and you're the first to shout, "Dibs!" At his pout, you grin victoriously. "It's been awhile since I've seen any action. I'll call auntie Maze to collect the guest of honor."

You and Jughead are sitting at Pop's, waiting for your order to be brought out. It's your usual weekend hangout session, as well as a mini celebration for getting the Snake Charmer out of Serpent territory. FP had been a little hesitant around you and your father, but the more he watched you and his son, and you and your dad, he came to the realization that neither he or Jughead would be in harm's way. No one would be less they actually crossed the devil himself, so you were a bit surprised when FP had actually hugged you when you told him Penny would no longer be an issue. Afterwards, he was eager to talk to your dad and figure out a way to get the Southside cleaned up and fix the Serpents' reputation.

Seeing Jug's beanie laying on the table, you grin as you swipe it and quickly put it atop your head. "What do you say, Jones, wanna switch crowns for a day?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head. "I don't think I can pull off your crown." Your nose wrinkles at him as you laugh. "And speaking of crowns, are you going to tell anyone else anytime soon?"

You shrug. "I only talk to you and your dad, and at that your dad already knew about my dad."

"I didn't know anything about you or your dad and you told me."

"You were my friend before you found out about me being Hell royalty. I don't want to just tell anyone and then have them kissing up because of things I could possibly do for them."

Jughead nods in understanding. "I take it, it's happened before."

You touch the tip of your nose. "Bingo, JJ. Demons of Hell are shady assholes. But don't worry, if I befriend more Serpents they'll find out when the time is right."

"Well I think you're going to get your chance now because here come some friends of mine."

"What?"

"Whoa, Jughead, is that you? You've certainly changed from the last time I saw you earlier."

You smile sheepishly as three Serpents come up to your table, the one who spoke sitting next to Jughead while the tall one climbs in between you and the window, and the female sits on your free side. You pull off Jug's beanie and hand it back to him just in time for your food to be delivered. Immediately, Jughead steals the cherry from your milkshake and you take a sip of his soda. Once that's done, you squirt ketchup on your plates before you take a bite of your burgers.

"Well that was freakishly adorable." You glance at the pink haired cutie next to you and she grins. "Toni Topaz."

"Y/N Y/L/N. Well Y/N Morningstar now. I don't have to hide who I am anymore."

"Nice." She then points to the guy beside Jughead. "That's Fangs and the one on your other side is Sweet Pea." You nod at each boy in greeting, bite down on a few fries and steal from Jughead's plate every time he dips a fry into your milkshake. "So how did you and our snake prince become so close?"

Toni steals a fry from your plate and you grin at her. "First of all, I really hope you're not insinuating anything there. Don't get me wrong, Jughead's a cutie but I'd totally seduce Papa Jones before I went after baby Jones."

Jughead groans in disgust, Fangs and Sweet Pea snort, and Toni laughs out loud. "I like you."

"Maybe the sentiment will be returned soon," you say. "And to honestly answer your question, Jug came to my rescue when a few jerks decided I was an easy target at Riverdale High."

Sweet Pea scoffs. "Ugh. How do you put up with those mangy mutts?" It's his turn to steal from your plate, but you merely raise an eyebrow at his audacity before you glance at Jughead as he smothers a laugh.

"By avoiding them at all cost," you say. "Is food stealing a thing with you guys or..?"

"If you're really hungry, I'd hold onto that burger of yours. Fangs is notorious for stealing any and all food left unattended." Toni chuckles as you pull your plate towards you, but that only makes it easier for her and Sweet Pea to continue eating off your plate.

"You're all heathens," you deadpan. "At least Jughead waited a few days before he started eating off my plate."

The Serpents chuckle all around you and you find yourself relaxing in your seat. You knew the Southside Serpents had a bad reputation, but the more time you spent with them the more you realize just how wrong everyone is. The Serpents are some of the most loyal, drama free individuals you'd met and they're only riled up when someone attacks one of their own. And that- that you can respect.

During your lunch break, you're sitting alone and texting back and forth with Toni. Apparently word has gotten out that the Mayor is looking to shut down Southside High because it's unsafe for children, and the plan is to divide every Southside High student between several other high schools. Needless to say, every Southsider is pissed.

You send a text to your dad, asking if he knew what was going on, and he assures you he and Mr. Jones are looking into it.

Your can of Cola gets snatched up and you snap to attention, ready to argue back for your drink. But the sight of a grinning Jughead sitting across from you makes you relax and Sweet Pea straddling the bench right next to you makes you shake your head at them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Southside High is in chaos," Jughead says. He takes a sip of your soda before setting it back next to your books. "We were at the Wyrm when your dad asked us to collect you."

"Toni's been filling me in," you admit. "Does anyone know if the Mayor is for sure going through with this plan of hers?"

"It's such bullshit," Sweet Pea grumbles. "Yeah the school is shit ever since the Ghoulies started pushing Jingle Jangle on everyone, but it's ours."

"Don't worry, Sweets. Dad's on it. He'll figure something out."

He huffs. "Against Mayor McCoy? Doubt it."

You and Jughead share a knowing glance, and you bite back a grin. "My dad can be very.. persuasive."

"And scary," Jughead mumbles.

"Yes, let's not forget scary," you muse.

"What the hell is this?" The stern question is barked from somewhere behind you and you turn towards the voice. "Cooper dropped your sorry ass and now you're trying to lure in Y/N, Jones? I don't think so, you goddamn snake."

You roll your eyes at Reggie and his friends, and at the fact that the others sitting outside are now staring.

"Watch your mouth, you mangy mutt." Sweet Pea moves to stand, but you place a hand on his knee in order to silently tell him to stay put. He doesn't glance at you, but he does remain sitting.

Instead, you stand and step away from the bench in Reggie's direction. "What's your problem, Mantle? I know for a fact you don't care about me, so what is it about the Southsiders that has you so insecure?"

Reggie seems surprised that you've spoken back and it takes him a moment to school his expression back into one of anger. "Who the hell says I'm insecure?"

"Come on, Reggie," you grin. "You obviously have a hate boner going on for them." Jughead and Sweet Pea snort, and Reggie glares at them over your head. "So what is it? Is it because they're cooler than you? That they're so much more hotter than you and you know for a fact us Northside girls would willingly get on the back of their bikes than in the car mommy and daddy bought for you?"

Reggie sneers down at you. "Of course you'd be a Southside slut."

Jughead and Sweet Pea shout in your defense, rushing to their feet as you blink in surprise at the venom in his tone. But then anger quickly takes over and no one sees as your hand forms a fist at your side. When Reggie smirks at your silence, quick as lightning you change your stance so you can send your fist flying into his throat.

As Reggie stumbles back and gasps for air, Sweet Pea grabs you by the arm and then you're running. Sweet Pea and Jughead are laughing as they run for their bikes and you readily climb on behind Sweet Pea since he still had a hold of you. Two engines rumble to life simultaneously and you wrap your arms around Sweet Pea's waist, ducking your face behind his back so the wind doesn't sting your eyes.

When the three of you finally come to a stop, you're not in the Southside yet but you are well away from Riverdale High. The engines cut off and you finally pick up your head, and it's quiet for a few moments before Jughead starts to laugh once more.

"You actually punched Reggie in the throat." He shakes his head in amusement at you. "I did not think you were capable of ever hitting someone."

Sweet Pea chuckles. "You do know you left behind all your belongings. It's gonna be trashed by the time you go back for it."

You shrug. "The only thing worth saving was my phone and it's in my back pocket. A backpack can be replaced, and besides I think it's time Riverdale High and I take a break from one another."

Jughead and Sweet Pea's amusement slowly fades. "Wait. What?" Jughead asks. "You're dropping out?"

"No." You huff a laugh. "Transferring."

"Transferring to where?"

"Southside, you dimwits." You squeeze Sweet Pea when he scoffs at you calling him a name, letting him know you didn't actually think he was a dimwit. "I'm so over the drama of Riverdale High. I need a change. And if I want to go to Southside to be with my favorite people, do you really think my dad will let the school be closed down?"

"You really have that much faith in your old man, huh?" Sweet Pea asks.

"I do. And you should too." Jughead glances at you when you say that and you subtly shake your head at him. Soon, you mouth at him. "Now come on. Let's go see what my dad wants. I feel like going out tonight so I need to finish whatever task he has for me and make sure Toni is free."

The small gang of friends find themselves at Pop's diner once again, you being squished between Sweet Pea and Toni while Jughead and Fangs sit across from you. You and Toni share a plate of cheese fries, half of your burger having been stolen by Fangs and you steal sips of Cola from both Jughead and Sweet Pea since Sweets had finished your milkshake. When eating with them, you quickly learned extra food had to be ordered because once a plate was set down it was basically a free for all.

You're laughing at Fangs' affronted expression, from when he tried stealing cheese fries from you and Toni and you both had slapped his hand, when the bell above the door jingles. Your gaze is drawn to the group that enters, your mood souring just a tad when Archie, Betty, and Veronica enter. They glance around the diner for a booth and upon setting sights on your group, Archie chooses a booth not far from yours.

Toni nudges you to show you a message on her phone, lightening up the mood right away. But every now and then your attention is brought back to the Riverdale High group, and you can't help but notice the longing looks Betty keeps throwing at Jughead. And the fact that Jughead keeps glancing over his shoulder until he finally gets up, Betty following him seconds later to join him at a different booth.

"Did I miss something?" You ask when your friend is out of earshot.

Toni huffs. "They're doing that whole on again, off again thing. It's tiring," she says.

You frown as Jughead and Betty start talking, heads ducked close to one another, but then quickly avert your attention back to those sitting with you. You don't really have anything against Betty, but that girl attracts drama like crazy and you would rather not see her drag Jughead into it again.

The four of you left in the booth amuse yourselves while finishing off the remainder of your food, and you make sure that all your plates are stacked with the trash compiled on top so the busboy has little to no cleanup after you leave. But while you're still sitting there and waiting to see what Jughead is going to do, you can't help but overhear Veronica's obnoxious voice filling in her boyfriend Archie about all the great changes supposedly coming to Riverdale soon.

"I mean it's no longer a secret mommy and daddy are buying up property, Archiekins, but can you blame them?" Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs all tense, Fangs trying his hardest not to look in their direction. "The Northside is flourishing under their management and soon the Southside will too. We just have a few more hoops to jump through before we can start tearing down and rebuilding."

Having heard enough, you tap Sweet Pea's arm. "Move." Fangs widens his eyes at you and Toni giggles, she loving your more aggressive behavior. Sweet Pea stares at you for a moment before he grins, sliding out of his seat so you can follow right after him. Then taking a few steps towards Veronica and Archie's both, you stop and address the entitled teen. "Consider those hoops everlasting," you say. "Lodge Industries will no longer be buying up any property in Riverdale."

Veronica scoffs, smirking a second later. "And who the hell do you think you are to have any say so in my family's dealings?"

This time you smirk and you mentally cheer when you see her own falter. "Tell daddy dearest the Morningstars say hello. Lucifer will be in touch soon." You reach forward as Veronica's expression completely falls, stealing the cherry from her milkshake and catching the red, plump flesh behind your teeth and plucking the stem free. Letting the stem drop onto the table, you glance over your shoulder and gesture for your friends to follow. They do, chuckling all the while you walk towards the door. But before you walk out, you look over at Jughead and catch his attention. "Hey, JJ, we're heading out. Call me if you need a ride."

"Oh, uh, I'll come with." Betty quickly glances at him and for a split second you feel bad for her. "We're done here anyway." He slides out of the booth, ignoring Betty's frown as he makes his way towards you and his fellow Serpents.

Sweet Pea jostles Jughead, the two boys shoving each other lightly and laughing as the five of your exit. Everyone piles into your small SUV and it's not until Toni is comfortably seated in the passenger seat does she ask, "How serious were you with that threat back there? Can your dad really stop Lodge Industries?"

You slowly start to grin as you back out of your parking space. "Hiram Lodge is one of my dad's clients," you admit. "They have a.. contract of sorts, and Mr. Lodge is rich because of that. But my dad is starting to cut ties with some old clients of his and I'm pretty sure the Lodge's time up on that little pedestal of theirs is coming to an end."

"Sweet," Sweet Pea says from the back seat. "Hey, if your dad buys the school do you think you can ask him to put doors back on the bathroom stalls?"

You and Toni both snort, and you nod your head. "Sure, Sweets. I'll see what I can do."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

At the Whyte Wyrm, Sweet Pea and Fangs make a beeline for the pool table. Toni heads for the bar, her shift about twenty minutes from starting, and Jughead gets pulled into a conversation by some elder Serpents. Glancing around the bar, you don't see either man you want to speak with so you head for the hallway near the back wall where you know it leads to an office. A couple Serpents guarding the hall nod at you and let you pass without a word.

When you come upon the shut door to FP's office, you knock a couple of times and wait for confirmation to enter. A moment passes before his gruff voice is calling out that exact confirmation.

Opening the door, you walk right in and aren't surprised to see your dad in there as well. You smirk, happy to know he found a mortal he felt comfortable enough to share his identity with and that said mortal didn't go running for the hills. "FP. Dad," you greet. "Just the men I was looking for."

FP leans back in his chair as you take a seat across from him. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Well first, I need to know your opinion about Sweet Pea, Toni, and Fangs." You then turn to look at your dad. "And depending on FP's answer, I need to know-"

"Your first orgy," your dad coos. "I approve. Especially the tall one. He'd make an excellent consort."

"I'm sorry, what?" FP glances between you and your dad, disbelief in his features.

You sigh, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Dad, no. Just no," you say. When your eyes flutter back open, you say, "What did I tell you about speaking of orgies so freely in front of mortals? It's weird. Especially since you're my dad. You're not supposed to approve of these things."

"Well fine. Have it your way." Lucifer leans back in his seat, resting his right ankle atop his left knee and taking a sip of his drink. "Probably for the best anyway. Naamah will be upset if you deny her the chance to plan your first orgy."

"Oh my god."

FP finally laughs, shaking his head as if he can't believe what he's hearing. Your dad pouts and you give your attention to FP once more. "The baby snakes are a loyal bunch," he says. "I've had some older Serpents question you and your father's presence here within the Wyrm, but Jug and the others were quick to defend you. Why do you ask?"

Here you look back to your dad. "I want to come clean to them. Jughead knows about me and it's getting tough to censor what I say in front of the others when we all hang out."

Lucifer salutes you with his glass tumbler. "You're the Queen of Hell, darling. You can tell whoever you want."

"Good to know." You push up from your chair, smiling at both men. "Oh and I want Southside High. Veronica Lodge and her family are trying to tear the Southside down and rebuild, but I feel like throwing a wrench into their plans."

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at you. "And how do you suggest going about that?"

"By befriending Mayor McCoy, of course." FP snorts, but you continue on as if you didn't hear him. "She seems like a decent lady when the Lodge's aren't blackmailing her into doing their bidding. Give her a little taste of power, no strings attached and without letting her know your true identity, and show her you're an ally. I have a feeling she'll drop the Lodge's in a heartbeat."

FP grins, shaking his head. "You really are your father's daughter."

You glance at him and smirk. "Duh. Now carry on. I'm going to be with Toni behind the bar."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

The Whyte Wyrm is as busy as always and you happily find your place behind the bar with Toni. She serves up the drinks as you walk around, cleaning glasses and/or wiping down the bar top. Every now and then you catch your dad or FP's eye, and they signal for a round of drinks that Toni readily makes before walking a tray over to them. You then watch your boys from afar, laughing when Jughead catches your eye and purposefully makes Sweet Pea miss his shot while playing pool. Sweet Pea is apparently a very sore loser, but you can't help to think that he makes a really cute sore loser.

When Toni returns and sees where you're looking, she sidles up to your side while cleaning a glass in her hand. "So, uh, I think I should apologize."

You look at her. "For what?"

"Earlier at Pop's, when I told you Jughead and the Cooper girl were on again/off again, you looked like someone kicked your puppy for a moment there."

"Did I?" You chuckle, shrugging her words off. "It's fine. Jughead has become a really good friend to me and I'm not exactly Betty's biggest fan. They say southsiders are nothing but trouble, but those northsiders have caused a lot more trouble than any of you have. I don't want to see him be dragged into their messes again."

"Oh," she drawls. "Okay. I just thought that you were upset because she and Jughead were together again and you had missed your shot or something."

"No." You laugh. "And besides, I kind of have my eye on another Serpent, but I don't think he likes me that way."

Toni rolls her eyes. "I don't think FP is into jailbait. Sorry."

You snort, shaking your head in amusement. "A girl can dream."

Over the next couple of weeks, you get well acquainted with the power struggle between the Ghoulies and the Southside Serpents within the high school. The school is practically run down, there's no privacy within the graffitied walls of the bathrooms, and a little less than half the student population have no issue taking drugs out in the open while standing in the hallways. Not a single one of your favorite Serpents lets you out of their sight, and though you don't need their protection you welcome it. And their loyalty towards you is what leads you to take that final step in finally telling your other three friends the truth.

Walking up to the Jones' trailer, you stomp up the steps and pound on the door. A few seconds later the door opens and FP raises his eyebrows at you as he's pulling on a leather jacket.

"Y/N?"

"Hey, FP. Is JJ home?"

"Yeah. Come in." He opens the door wider and you step in, heading for the couch. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." You grin. You plop down in the corner of a couch, crossing one knee over the other. "I just finally decided to tell the others the truth and I wanted to see if Jughead would be there for me in case things go south."

A look of understanding passes over FP's features and he smiles kindly at you when he notices your bit of nerves. "It'll go fine. If Jug and I didn't run, neither will these three little shits." You grin at him. "Now I should get going. Will your dad and I be seeing you later?"

"Depends on how well my little bombshell is taken."

"Alright." FP heads towards the kitchen, calling down the only hallway in his trailer. "Hey Jug, Y/N is here so put some clothes on before you come out."

FP smiles at you one last time before he exits his trailer and it's not until his bike's engine outside roars to life does Jughead exit his bedroom from the back. "What's going on?"

"It's time to tell the other baby snakes about my heritage."

He blinks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You nod, momentarily second guessing yourself. "Yeah," you then say more confidently. "I think the longer I wait now, the higher the chance of them being pissed at the fact that I kept something like this from them."

"Okay. Where are we doing this?"

"Quarry?" You wonder. "We need privacy, but not too private that they feel trapped should they not take the news well."

Jughead exhales quietly. "Quarry it is. My bike or your car?"

"Your bike. Text Toni and the guys. I just need to grab my bag from my car."

Jughead is pulling on his jacket as he gestures for you to join him by the door, then pulling on his infamous crown beanie before pulling out his phone to text the others. He heads to his bike while you head for your car, opening the passenger door and pulling out your messenger bag. Draping the bag strap over your head and across your chest, you close the door and lock up before pocketing the keys.

When you sidle up to Jughead, he hands you his only helmet and you readily pull it on before climbing on behind him. He's not normally a crazy driver, so you loosely wrap your arms around his waist and enjoy the short ride to the quarry.

You and Jughead are the first to arrive, walking towards a spot that seems to have frequent visitors. Seats torn out from vehicles and a few crates form a half circle around an unlit barrel just off to the side of the water, and Jughead wastes no time in lighting up the barrel since it's a little chilly out.

Placing your bag on one of the seats, you walk towards the fire and hold your hands over it to warm up. Then about five minutes later, the rest of your friends show up.

"What's going on?" Sweet Pea asks as his gaze darts between you and Jug. As he sees you warming up, he stops by your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders to offer some of his warmth. Toni and Fangs stand on the other side of the barrel, warming themselves up briefly before taking a seat.

"I, uh, I have something I need to tell you guys. It's going to sound incredibly insane, but I need you to trust me when I say I am no threat to you." Sweet Pea frowns down at you and he only takes a seat when you nudge him towards the others. Jughead grabs your bag and hands it to you, and you smile faintly in thanks. Then opening the flap, you remove your crown and let your bag fall before hesitantly putting the crown on. Clearing your throat, you say, "When you guys first saw me, I was wearing this."

Fangs grins. "We thought you were just another spoiled little daddy's girl."

You grin back. "I mean I am," you shrug, "but the crown actually means something."

"Are you trying to tell us you're royalty or something?" Toni chuckles. At your neutral expression, her smile falters. "Y/N?"

You inhale shakily, glancing at Jughead who gives you an encouraging nod. "Whenever people meet my dad, I'm well aware that they think his given name is rather unfortunate." Sweet Pea snorts, grinning. A couple older Serpents at the Wyrm made it no secret when making fun of your dad's name. "But what if I told you that my dad really is the Lucifer Morningstar?" Your serious, yet nervous, expression makes the other three go still. "That I'm literally the daughter of the devil?"

The only sounds you can hear are the chirping crickets and crackling fire until, "You really buying this, man?" Sweet Pea scoffs. You briefly glance at him to see he's staring at Jughead who's still by your side.

Jughead nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "I am. My dad knew something was up with Lucifer before they outright told us the truth. He's known for years, but Lucifer wasn't a threat to him then or now so he didn't make a fuss about it."

Sweet Pea frowns. He doesn't look scared or pissed, but he doesn't look impressed either. "Why are you telling us this now?"

"That first night, my dad let FP and Jughead in on our secret because he saw how I trusted Jug and wasn't planning to leave Riverdale anytime soon. We trusted the Jones' and they now trust us. The circle of people in the know was meant to stay as small as possible, but then you three," you pause, huffing and smiling sadly as you meet each of their gazes, "wormed your way under my skin and I knew I couldn't keep a secret this big from you anymore."

"So your dad really is the devil?" Fangs asks. His gaze is set on the flames just barely dancing over the rim of the barrel, an expression on his face you can't quite decipher.

Sighing, you let your left hand wave back and forth over the flames. "My dad really is Lucifer Morningstar." You hold your hand still then, the flames engulfing your hand. Someone gasps, but you don't look up until you say, "And I'm the Queen of Hell."

"Oh fuck."

Fangs immediately shoots up, stumbling behind his seat. Sweet Pea's expression has completely shut down and Toni stares with wide eyes. Without having to look in a mirror, you already know your eyes have gone pure white and the picture you paint with the crown atop your head can look quite daunting.

"I'm still me- the same girl you've been hanging out with for a while now." You swallow down the hurt you feel at their speechlessness. "But.. I will understand if this is too much. All I ask is that this little revelation doesn't leave the circle." Still your friends say nothing and fight against the burn behind your eyes. "I'm sorry."

As quickly as you can, you bend over to pick up your bag. Shouldering the strap, you turn to walk away when Jughead calls out. "Y/N.."

"It's fine," you say and cast him a small smile. "I'll pick up my car later. I'm going home."

"Let me give you a ride home at least."

You shake your head. "I'll manage." And with that, you turn and walk away, letting a swirl of flames whisk you away.

Maybe you should have waited, dropping hints here and there to ease them in. But as you appear in your room, you drop onto your bed and let the sadness swallow you whole. What's done is done. All you can do is hope for the best now.

[vintagegoddess12]

The Ever After (3)

Relationship: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Agatha is getting thirsty for the reader.

Requested by: @adorkwithaplan

The 50s

The 60s

The 70s

Agatha was irritated, to say the least.

First, she can’t find a window to approach the Vision residence because of their instant pregnancy. Her synthezoid husband has been beside Wanda since the baby bump appeared. Second, she can’t…uhm...she can’t - she can’t even talk about it.

Seeing you made her revisit her feelings about you, the wonderful four years you two had. She can remember you bumping into her in the chicken aisle in the grocery. You were rushing and crashed into her cart. All your attention is placed on the chicken meat near her.

“Sorry,” you frantically reached for the pre-packed set of chicken, “I just really love myself some breasts.”

Agatha, taking in the view, was immediately in a playful mood. “I’m more of a leg person.”

You paused and looked at her for the first time. You can see her eyeing you hungrily, causing a blush to form on your cheek. You were only wearing your shorts and T-shirt, not exactly revealing but you feel so exposed under her gaze. Agatha didn’t need to read your mind to know you were hooked.

“I meant the chicken.”

The woman scanned you from head to toe, making you hold your breath, then replied, “I can’t say the same about the legs.”

You tried to hide your attraction with nervous laughter, which made Agatha more engaged.

“I’m really sorry. I was rushing too much. Were you hurt?”

“I’m not but I will be if you don’t invite me to taste those breasts.” She pointed her lips towards the meat still on your hands but you felt warmth spreading across your chest.

Still flustered with the conversation you replied, “you mean the chicken, right?”

Agathe stepped closer and you gulped in response, centering yourself. “I’m not really picky.”

Trying to reel yourself in, you breathily replied, “you’re very forward, aren’t you?”

“You would be if you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”

Back in Westview, Agatha can be seen smiling while reading her spellbooks. Meeting you was one of the highlights of her long life. It didn’t take long for her to reveal her true nature to you. While she was fearing you might leave her, you simply asked if she had ever thought about hurting you. The answer was of course no. You pulled her into a searing kiss. Long. Hard. Sweet. It comes with a promise that you are hers, no matter what she is.

Agatha had to put down her spellbook. This time it was her who has to center herself. The image of your lips on hers is sending heat straight to her core. She can remember how you would moan and writhe underneath her, begging to let you-

This is the second thing she can’t talk about.

Every time she sees you in this sitcom world, she can’t help but imagine you under her. That black lace dress, she can see herself taking it off of you. Kissing your shoulders while she removes it slowly. The real-life you would be aching, burning with need for her, moaning her name. When you were at the talent show, it took all her strength not to drag her fingers across your thighs under the table, wondering if it still feels the same after six years.

The witch’s hands traveled down her body, as she adjusted her position in the chair. She sat forward, leaning in the backrest, conjured a picture of you in her head while her finger grazed the sensitive bud below. The shocks it sent caused her to release a moan. Thank heavens she’s alone in the basement. She kept making circling motions, making her lose herself in the feeling and image of you. Blushing [y/n]. Submissive [y/n]. Fucking [y/n].

She was about to come undone when she heard loud knocks coming from her door.

Interrupted once again, she stood up to greet her guest at the door. Sometimes it can be hard playing the nosy neighbor. Earlier that day it was Mrs. Hart, setting up a luncheon. Few mins ago, Dottie was asking about her husband. Rumour has it that Phil practically ran away after his wife asked if her earrings make her look fat. She dismissed both ladies as nicely as she could so she could go back to thinking about you.

The pretending housewife was ready to shoo away her visitor when her eyes landed on a periwinkle pleated dress cinched at the waist. The dress stole her breath away just as much as the wearer. You always look amazing when you wear shades of her signature color. Or no dress at all.

“Hi, Agnes!” You offered a plate of quiche in her face.

“[y/n], sweetie, do we have any plans today?” The witch placed a handful of her hair in front of her face, trying to hide her flustered look from her recent activity. ‘

“No,” you pushed the plate again to her and this time she accepted, “I just have a lot of food dropped by the house. Apparently, that’s what you do to a widow. Make her fat.” Agatha snorted, which you found endearing.

“You’re still my sweetie even if you get fat,” she teased. That made you smile.

“That’s a relief. Consider that as my thank you for keeping me company these past few days.” You pointed at the plate on her hand with a bright smile on your face. “I hope you like quiche.”

Still in a flirty mood, your neighbor replied, “I do like something that sounds a lot like quiche.” She then pouted and made a loud kissing sound.

“Oh my god, Agnes! You’re so forward.” You said with a grin.

She stepped aside, “well, want to come inside?” She wouldn’t mind being interrupted if it was you.

Agatha watched you instinctively reach for the gold band on your finger, still bound to a marriage that isn’t even real. And for sure did not satisfy you, the way she could.

“I’ll pass,” you saw the fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes so you continued, “for now. I still have a lot of food to clear out.”

“If you ever need help disposing of them, just holler.”

“I will. There’s a lot of chicken casserole in that house.” You huffed as you placed your hands on your hips, making her see the full view of the dress.

“I do love chicken, dear.”

“I know.” You beamed.

Agatha was about to react when colors around her started glitching.

The episode rewinds.

[another-fantasy-world]

hi could you please make another alice cullen x fem!reader?? i really really love your last one you made, it was so beautiful <3

||AN|| Thank youuu! I'm happy you enjoyed my last one, also, thank you for requesting!

 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆      ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Pairing: Alice Cullen x Fem! Reader

Summary: Alice with a human girlfriend who’s more vampire-like than her.

Warnings: None? Fluff. Happy Couple.

Word Count: 2,084 words

GIF isn’t mine

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆      ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were always the night owl, lived off coffee and good books and you only wear dark colors. Your routine includes waking up at 10 pm, Cooking and eating your dinner at approximately 11:30 pm, Studying until 6 am, Taking a shower, Make your coffee, and be at school at 7:00 am where you meet up with you too-bright-and-jolly girlfriend, Alice Cullen. After school you then either head home to your own house, or to the Cullens household, either way you crash into anything soft and just ultimately pass out, and your cycle repeats. Sometimes your girlfriend would join you in studying even if she didn’t need it, Sometimes you’d do other things with your girlfriend, some of the things you do aren’t appropriate for a house full of vampires with super hearing, and not to mention her nosy brother who had the ability to read minds. 

“Get out of the way before I pummel you to the ground asshole.” You grumbled to the guy who’s blocking your way and was staring at your girlfriend like she’s a piece of meat. You hated that but you couldn’t do anything. One, pretty sure it’s illegal to kill someone even if you’re thinking about all the ways you could and Two, you miss you girlfriend’s cold hand holding yours.

You see him shiver before grabbing his things and scrambling away, his goons hot on his tail. 

“You have the most creative mind I have ever come across. Really? Using his blood as paint after you use gamma rays to blow up his uhm. Yeah. Where would you even get gamma rays?” Edward scrunches his face as they all approach you.

“Pretty sure Carlisle would hook me up with some.” You smirked then kissed your girlfriend’s forehead, You held her hand in yours as she giggled, getting out of her trance like state.

“Carlisle denied.” She kissed your cheek before dragging you inside the school, where they all separated like the goddamn sea in that one bible story.

Safe to say, you were pretty feared in the whole town. Socially isolated, always has a cup of coffee in hand, dark marks under your eyes, a blank looks often settles on your face,always had earphones in, glared at people who made your family uncomfortable, scared people without trying and a student could’ve sworn he saw you drink someones blood which he says was inside your coffee cup. It was beetroot juice since you ran out of coffee but needed something hot to drink, so you made beetroot juice, with lots and lots of sugar. You were dubbed as a vampire or a witch, which was hilarious considering your girlfriend is a vampire. A bright, happy, sparkling vampire who doesn’t sleep in coffins whatsoever. 

“Have a good day baby, see you at lunch.” Alice kissed your cheek before bouncing in her classroom followed by Emmett who winked at you and Rosalie who raised her brows at you and told you to behave.

“I always behave!” You argued with a small pout on your lips, barely noticeable but Rosalie just smirks before walking gracefully into the room, sitting in between Emmett and Alice who just shooed you away. 

“It’s never a good day.” you whispered while walking away, fully knowing that they could hear you.

Lunch came so slow that by the time you sat at your usual spot, you already had thoughts on murdering your history teacher who ‘unintentionally’ spat at your face and drizzled her spit on your face like a waterfall.

“It’s only been half a day Y/LN, You’ll get through it.” Rosalie slides her tray of food over to you while petting your head.

“i don’t understand why you choose to go through this over and over again.” You groaned, laying your head on Alice’s shoulder. They just laughed and proceeded to talk about things that you don’t even bother to listen to.

“You’re coming over today right?” Alice asked you with that bell like voice that you so loved

“Hmm? Oh yeah, Cuddles?” You whispered to her, internally groaning at how soft you’ve become for your girlfriend. 

“Yes please. You’re warm.”

“And you are freezing cold.” You retorted, stealing some of her fries

“It comes with the package. Now come on, I’ll walk you to your room.” She pats you head while moving away, packing her things. Which low-key made you whine.

“But I always escort you to your room.” You complained

“That’s true, but I figured you wouldn’t be opposed to change.” She smiled, offering her hand which you took.

“Edward?” 

“Nope. Not telling you. I am not going on another shopping spree with that little devil of yours.” He sped walked away, dragging Bella with him

“I think you traumatized him real bad, Ali.” You chuckled

“Good.” She exclaimed

12 midnight, and you just woke up to Alice holding you while reading a book, She smiles at you before tapping her lips, asking for a kiss. You shook your head no, trying to get out of her arms to brush your teeth.

“Nope, kisses first before brushing.” She grips you tighter

“Eww. Morning breath. Alice please!” She just grins before showering your face with kisses.

“There. You can go now, Esme just finished your dinner.” She beamed at you, pushing you into the large bathroom that she has before sitting on the sink.

“Uhm...” You stare at her, confused

“What?” 

The both of you took an hour long shower, you didn’t even need to shower, Alice just persuaded you into doing so. Earning you different looks from different vampires the moment you walked down the stairs.

A suggestive smirk from Rosalie and a laughing Emmett A smirking Jasper A confused Bella with a disgusted looking Edward A smiling Esme holding a bowl of food  And lastly, A laughing Carlisle.

“Oh my God.” You groaned, walking to the dining room, thanking Esme for the food. 

“Really Y/N?” complained Edward who’s cuddling a still confused Bella

“What? Just because you decide to wait until marriage does not mean I have to.” You smirked, winking at Edward who would be blushing if he was human.

“Don’t talk while your mouth is full.” Scolded Esme who’s also trying to keep her laugh in

“Yes Mom. Anyways, Bella I love you, but you look like you’re about to shut down and ready to be pawned like an old computer.” You told her, biting into a chicken leg

“i’ll take her home.” Edward says, grabbing his keys and waits for Bella.

“Why is she here anyways” Grumbled Rosalie, who everyone ignored while you just tapped her head

“Let’s play chess when you get back!” You shouted after him

You finish your food quickly and washed your plates, much to the distaste of Esme, leading your giggling short girlfriend to the couch beside Jasper.

“Jasper~ Wanna watch documentaries of wars and judge everything they did wrong?” You ask Jasper who’s nodding at your request. Alice plopping herself on your lap as she stares at you laughing and smiling with her family.

She’s really happy to have found you the way she did, She reminisced the time when the two of you first met. You were browsing racks and racks of clothes, taking black colored blouses, shirts and button-ups that are your size before walking into a dressing room. While you were in the room, she started to have a vision about the two of you together, having dates and you carrying her shopping bags in this same store, making her all giddy. She was with Rosalie at that time, who just stared at her with a look of slight confusion as she basically bounced to you. You at first was taken aback that someone was actually talking to you, and it was a cute girl at that. Alice greeted you with a smile and a hello before handing you a green blazer and tie, telling you emerald green compliments your eyes and outfit before paying for what you were buying, writing her name and number on the receipt, leaving you dumbfounded at the store

At first she thought that the both of you wouldn’t work out, especially because of all the chaos that recently happened to her family and leaving forks. But you made the effort of always texting her little notes and telling her how your day was, even if she didn’t reply, slowly she felt herself fall more in love with you, letting herself reply and indulge in the visions that she had that involved you. Once she told her family about you, they were a bit skeptical, especially since Carlisle tended to your knuckle wounds one too many times. But upon seeing the love sick look on both your eyes and the loud complaining of Edward at how sickeningly cute your thoughts were of each other, they eventually accepted you as one of their own despite being human. 

And now she stares in awe as you spent about 2 hours criticizing documentaries with Jasper before Edward comes home, and when he did, you played a couple rounds of chess (You always lost, which made Edward laugh every time.) before she decided that she’s bored with you losing to her brother every round and just decided to pick you up and dash to her room. 

“What was that for love?” You ask her when she settled herself in your arms

“I just. I was bored and I realized that it’s been too long since we cuddled.”

“It’s literally been 4 hours since I woke up bumblebee.” You ran your hand through her hair

“I missed you. 4 hours is too long.”

“Awe. I missed you too. Want to pick up where we left off on How to Kill a Mockingbird?” You ask her

“Yes please, I love hearing your voice.” She puts her face on the crook of your neck as you read to her, one of your hand intertwined with hers.

Even though she can’t fall asleep anymore, she loves the way your voice sounds, it calms her down and she could easily compare the “peace” she feels right now to the “peace” she could remember feeling when she was asleep. She really did love you and she doesn’t hesitate to let you know. In multiple various ways. 

Like now, she cut off your reading when her soft lips touched yours. You immediately let go of the book to hold her face lovingly as you put all your feelings into the kiss like you always do. You always felt like your words are never enough, so you always try to express your feeling through physical affection.

As if remembering you need your air, she slowly pulls away, her forehead touching yours as you catch your breath.

“I love you” she whispers, kissing your nose

“I love you too.” You smiled, pecking her lips

Your moment was then ruined when Emmett started banging his fists on the door, loudly exclaiming that you all have to get ready for school. You growled lowly, rolling your eyes.

“Alright! Geez.” You grumpily picked up the book that was tossed to the floor before walking to Alice’s closet where you also keep some of your clothes in...

Only to see that they weren’t there.

“Uhm Alice? Darling? Where are my clothes?” You ask her

She walks to where you are, peeking in slightly before pecking your lips.

“Oops. Accidentally sent all them to your house. Guess you have to wear my clothes then.” She smirked at you, pulling out a lemon yellow trench coat, a rosy pink turtleneck and hot pink pants with a blue belt.

“Baby, Alice. Love. Darling. Bumblebee. Please don’t do this to me.” You pleaded but she just shook her head, handing you the clothes before threatening you with no kisses and cuddles for a week if you refuse.

Your shoulders sag with defeat as you change into the clothes Alice gave you, pouting while walking down the stairs of the Cullen Household. Alice smiles brightly as she hooked her arm around yours. Chuckles and giggles erupted the moment they saw you which made you grumble and murmur underneath your breath as you sip your cup of coffee made by Esme.

“You-” 

“Not a word.” You growled out, blushing furiously as you laughing girlfriend holds your hand while walking through the halls of Forks High school. 

Your girlfriend can be annoying at times, add that to her chaotic family, but you would never trade it for anything. Ever.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x reader) Chapter 2

Warnings: Swearing?

Word count : 2.1k 

This chapter was a little longer, I really get hooked on all of the details and before long the chapter keeps getting bigger and bigger. It’s gonna be a whole story so bare with <3 

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The night before starting at a new school you thought was supposed to be exciting, or you were meant to feel nervous, it was not supposed to be spent crying in Tara’s arms after explaining to her what had happened between you and the man you now believed to be your soulmate. You don’t know how long it had taken you to get to sleep in the end, all you knew is that you woke up as heartbroken as you were the night before. However, today is the first day to the rest of your fairy life, so brave face, and deal with the pain after hours.

Technically you didn’t have to go down to the courtyard to see everybody coming in, part of you was just interested, nosy, sick of being surrounded by only like 3 people for the last two months? Let’s just say you had your reasons. So there you were standing by yourself like an idiot, Tara was helping some of her friends move their things in, you noticed a girl with bright blonde hair, stunning, popular no doubt, she had the heir about her, not to mention there was already a group of Fairies crowded around her. Then you noticed another girl, flaming red hair, looking a little lost, part of you wanted to walk over to her, say hi or whatever, then you realised Sky had already clocked her too and was making his way over. Sometimes it was good to fade into the background, it just meant you could see everything happening without seeming too nosy. Like when you notice Blondie shoot daggers towards Sky and the girl he was speaking to, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Dramaaaaa. The conversation ended quickly when another guy, dressed in dark clothing with brown hair snuck up behind Sky interrupting. From the way they messed around you knew they were good friends. Maybe it was the guy River… no.. Riven, Sky had told you about. You looked away, starting to feel a little lonely as you watched friends re connect after time away. You only had one friend so far, and no doubt she had friends already here too, it was only a matter of time before you were on your own again. 

It wasn’t long before the final students had come through the gates and they began to close, you were one of the last ones outside, some stragglers lingering, when you felt someone come up behind you. You could tell instantly who it was, you wanted to be pissed off, but you couldn’t, his presence making you feel more at home than ever. He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning the back of you neck, but far enough away so that if anyone saw you both it would just look like a private conversation. 

“You should be mingling with others, not standing here on your own.” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was frowning. It angered you. He was the one that decided what you felt for each other ‘wouldn’t work’ and now he thought he had an opinion when it came to your social life? 

“Saul, I mean, Mr Silva, you made it pretty clear yesterday that what we have.. had, wouldn’t work, so why are you concerned about what I do.” You moved away from him as you heard him sigh. You could tell he was frustrated, you didn’t care. In the two months you’d got to know Silva, you realised that he was a pretty dominant figure, he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted, or having someone talk back to him. 

“Listen Y/N, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He gritted out, it was paining him that he couldn’t touch you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning to look at him, raising your eyebrow in a kind of ‘are you done?’ attitude. His jaw clenched. “Just stay out of the woods, there was another sighting of a burned one, it’s not safe to be out there at the moment.” With that he brushed past you, his skin brushing yours lightly enough to leave your whole body tingling, he faltered as he felt it too but carried on walking away. You headed off the the Fairy hall, looking back watching his re treating figure, you thought you had been the only two out there, but just before you rounded the corner you caught a glimpse of Headmistress Dowling, staring at the both of you from the top window of her office. 

The hallways were bustling, students squealing and hugging friends, luggage being hauled through the crowds, you had to push your way past, noticing on the way, a lot of people staring at you. You could hear people chattering, whispering, getting bits and pieces of sentences here and there like “Changeling” ‘Burned one” “multiple powers”.. You rolled your eyes, how the fuck did the news spread so quickly. You were grateful when you reached the door to your halls. You pushed the double doors open wide and took in your surroundings. Tara was there, sorting out all of her plants, she looked up and gave you a wide smile. 

“Oh Y/N there you are! I was just telling the girls all about you.” She rushed out and came to stand next to you. The noise attracted a few girls from the rooms off of the main dorm. Blondie from earlier sauntered out, you don’t know why it hadn’t clicked before that she was obviously the princess. Then followed a girl with headphones, a girl with funky looking hair, bits of blue were braided through it, and then the girl with the flaming red hair you’d seen in the courtyard. You stood awkwardly, your Doc Martens kicking the tiled floor. It was easy to see you all had different styles, you were no exception. There seemed to be a colour theme going on. 

“You don’t have to be so worried you know, we don’t bite.” The voice came from the girl with the headphones dressed in purple. “I’m Musa, i’m a mind fairy, that’s how I know what you’re feeling, also the reason you’ll see me with these almost every single minute of the day” she said while holding up the bulky headphones that were around her neck. 

The girl with the braided hair was next to introduce herself as Aisha, Water Fairy, explained why she had the blue theme going on. Next was Bloom, the girl from the courtyard with the Fire like red hair, which was suiting considering she was a Fire fairy. She was the other girl from earth. 

Lastly was Princess Stella. A light fairy, her hair funnily enough as you mentioned earlier, a bright shade of blonde, her clothes weren’t yellow, matching the whole light theme, but you did clock that the majority of her room and clothing choices were shiny. She gave you a smug smile, you knew girls like her back home, you’d been friends with a girl like her back home, she gave off a vibe of “I’m better than everyone else” but it’s probably just so she can hide her own insecurities. There was hope for her yet so you gave Stella a smile, which shocked her. You looked down at yourself, taking in your appearance, heavy Doc Martin boots, black ripped skinny jeans, plain white top and black leather jacket, okay so if they all had colour themes yours would definitely be black. 

“You’ve obviously met Tara, she didn’t shut up about you since we all got here, interesting that you’re from earth too like Bloom, two earthlings in one year, how exciting, and you killed a burned one on your arrival, isn’t that something.” You glared a little at the girl dressed in Green as it seemed she had already spilled some details to the girls in your dorm. Stella mocked surprise, oopsing at the fact that she’d brought up what Tara had obviously babbled out. 

Tara mouthed a sorry from across the room, the earth fairy was harmless and you knew that anything she had said would have been accidental or came out in excitement. “Yup well, I’m Y/N as Tara has probably already told you, born in England, Silva found me, killed a burned one at the barrier in the woods, apparently I have multiple abilities andddd i’m a changeling. Any more questions? I thought not.” 

You laughed and walked over to your room. You shared the space with Musa, just like her mezzanine, you had one directly above, sort of like a bunk bed but it was more like a bunk room. You’d mastered the art of not falling over the railing when getting up in the night to pee which you were happy about. You heard the girls below all talking about what a changeling was, how you’d killed a burned one, what a burned one was, all riveting stuff. The only thing you could think about, the only person you could think about, Silva. Musa looked at you and gave you a side smile. You were going to have to get used to someone around you knowing how you felt all the time. 

“So Y/N, are you going to the party?” Your head peaked up, a party? You didn’t know there was going to be a party but you were sooo going. You needed to let off some steam, do some flirty flirting with the boys and for once be a normal teenager. “I say party, it’s not gonna be some total rave but it’s like a welcome party.” It surprised you that Stella asked. You flopped onto your stomach on your bed. 

“Count me in, i’m gonna go for a walk first though, clear my mind and get some air before. Anyone want to join?” You watched as 4 of the 5 girls shook their heads no, it was yet again Stella who surprised you saying yes. Maybe she wasn’t going to be awful after all. 

Stella was surprisingly easy to get along with and you could already tell she liked you, maybe you’d already become friends even, you didn’t want to push your luck. You found yourself walking by the pond near where the specialists train. You hadn’t realised that that’s where your feet had led you until Stella tugged on your arm a little. “See that guy there, the one with the blonde hair, that’s Sky, we used to date.” Stella linked arms with you. You nod your head and explained how you’d met Sky when you first arrived here. You tensed as you heard his voice, you heard him before you saw him. 

“So, after your classes, you’re all mine.” It made you choke on nothing but air and your cheeks flushed. A few heads turned to look at the interruption and you ducked before Silva saw your red face. He’d seen you though, hiding beside the Princess, he tried to conceal his grin of amusement and then went back to teaching. You looked to Stella, the awkward moment hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. Before you could explain you heard shouting, you and Stella sat down on a near by bench and watched as Silva roasted the living daylights out of a first year specialist for being disrespectful. You could pick up pieces of their conversation, Stella filling in the blanks you didn’t catch. 

“The shield is to protect us from the burned ones”….

“Have you ever seen a burned one.” Silva was pointing his sword at the students face. 

“That’s the thing no one my age has, isn’t that all over now?” The first year specialist didn’t seem so confident now and you scoffed. Wrong, you’d KILLED a burned one, without even knowing what a burned one was at the time. You still don’t remember how you did it, that moment blanked out completely in your mind, the only thing you remember, Silva finding you haunched over the body.

“That’s where you’re wrong, one of the fairies here, was attacked by one on the way in, luckily, something was in her powerful enough to kill it before it could kill her, so no, it’s not all over now.” You could tell Silva was gritting his teeth, stopping from going any further, sometimes his anger slipped away from him. A few people that had obviously heard the rumours turned and looked at you, shock crossing their faces as if they were all thinking the same thing… so it was true, not a rumour after all. You’d finally had enough of the stares, you jumped up, catching the attention of Silva, Stella following behind you as you walked away and towards the woods. 

The very place Saul had told you not to go to. 

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PART 3 ---- CLICK HERE 

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@kingunder221b

@anreeixcobra

[sharkbait77]

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Two: The Arrival

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Death of a parent, nosy neighbors, irritated feelings, lmk if I missed any

W/C: 3.2k

A/N: Welcome back! First of all, I want to thank each & every one of you that read & enjoyed the Ch.1! Your wonderful comments really set it in stone for me to continue this fic & I really hope I don't disappoint! Anyway, I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this one! I'm so nervous!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form

Chapter One || Chapter Three

~APRIL EIGHTEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

The days passed, the same as they always do, yet with no word on any boy or man willing to spare the help for the farm. You did your best to think rationally; the majority of the families around town were busy with their own affairs, their own shops and farms. It was only you and Pa, and while the majority of the townspeople were friendly, not a soul seemed to spare a second thought towards the two of you, outside of banding together for Ma’s funeral.

You were preparing to give up, once again, the hope that perhaps there was one – at the very least, one – man who would take pity on you and Pa. The more you reassessed the people of the town, the more it appeared they only ‘cared’ when it suited them, when whatever dilemma you and Pa were faced with was the opportunity for them to engage in hearsay.

Mrs. Williams, for example – although kind and respectful while you stood in front of her – immediately took it upon herself to, not only relay the information that help was needed to every man, woman, and child in town, but indefinitely began to spout words of pity regarding you and Pa. Of course, that got the whole of the town babbling about how awful, how unimaginable, it was to have to endure the tedious season by yourselves. Yet, no one desired to lift a pinky to help.

So, as you enter the town, you aren’t stunned when you hear whispers as you pass. It had been a brief few days prior that you had finally been overlooked, finally was not the cause of their speculations. And now, you grit your teeth with disdain and continue walking through, awaiting the moment you reach the haven of the shop and, hopefully, have a moment to collect your thoughts and set them in the icebox to cool.

One positive outcome of it, you gather, if you were to look on the other side of things, is that you have gained the ability to avert your ears from whatever nonsense the older women gossip about, not concerned so much of what they say, just that it was taking place at all.

However, as you make your way down the dirt road, you realize it isn’t just the typical gossip coming from the elderly ladies, and are even more shocked to learn that you are not the subject of the chatter. The whole town is seemingly buzzing like a hive of bumblebees, a hum carried through the air consisting of ‘Did you see him?’, ‘A visitor’, and ‘What a strange man’.

Even you acknowledge that it must be interesting news for the whole town to be churning with such fervor and animation over it. The town, collectively, has never been so excited about anything since the new sheriff was appointed and you find yourself turning your ears to the conversations to see if you hear anything of importance. Once you realize, though, that you're partaking in the exact avocation you so despise when it's directed toward you, the doors close inside your ears once again and you walk straight to the shop.

After you’ve had time to settle and display all the new wares, the bell rings and you hear behind you the whispers of the older ladies filling the atmosphere, conspiring against whatever – or, whomever – has attracted their attention so.

“Hello, dear!” One of them – Mrs. Foster, who is seen as the lead hen – yells out to you. You take a deep breath, summoning the companionable parts within you to the surface.

“Hello Mrs. Foster,” you greet while turning to face the group.

To her side, Mrs. McKenna and Mrs. Jones, along with her young daughter, Lucille. Lucille Jones must be the closest you have to an acquaintance in town, but her mother keeps her quiet and buried under her wing, grooming her to be exactly the respectable young lady that will surely attract a wealthy husband, therefore paying for luxuries his new mother-in-law would not be able to afford otherwise. That poor fool.

“Have you seen the latest traveler, dear?” Mrs. McKenna asks.

“I have not,” you reply simply. Tis the truth, after all, but something about this mysterious traveler, that has caused such an uproar, makes the curiosity seep into the lining of your veins. Though, you would not engage in their gossip just to find out more.

“He is most strange,” Mrs. Jones adds, answering a question you had not asked.

“To each his own,” you say, feeling the irritation at their simple minds grow in your belly.

Before another moment could be spared for this nonsense, you quickly distract them with your latest concoction: a complexion cream made from eggs, cream, oats, and lavender, a soothing blend that would help hide the blemishes on their faces. Not their consciences, unfortunately, but it excites them no less.

~APRIL NINETEENTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

You awaken before the sun today, the sky is still a dark cobalt and fading into sapphire behind the hills, indicating the orange ball of light will be presenting itself in moments. You sigh, stumped at the sudden feeling in the pit of your core that today will be unlike the others – somehow. You turn over on your other side, away from the window, in search of another wink of sleep. It is futile, and you accept the call for the day to begin.

You step lightly so as to not disturb Pa sleeping just below your floorboards, and begin washing your face, arms, and legs, dressing in your usual skirts, and meticulously perfecting the knot of your hair. You even go as far as braiding the length of it before pinning it around on the back of your head and the sight of it resembles a flower. You hum; a sincere hum of a song your mother used to sing. You ponder why it entered your head in this moment after not having heard it in over a year.

Once the sun begins to peek its rays across the fields, you step down the ladder softly, keeping your eyes to Pa’s bed on the other side of the rails to ensure you haven’t woken him. Only, he isn’t there. His bed is made with care so you know he hasn’t been resting on it for a while. As soon as your boots are planted on the wooden floors, you turn to face the rest of the house. He is nowhere; not in the kitchenette, not sitting at the table, nor sitting in his armchair in the corner of the house.

Confusion strikes you; he has not risen before you since Ma was still here. You grab the lockbox from the safe and your bonnet off the wooden hook in the wall, tying it around your neck and placing the box in your bag, stringing it over your shoulder before stepping outside. There is still a chill in the air from the night and you shiver slightly before cupping your hands around your mouth.

“Pa?!”

You yell into the air, the heat of your breath visible in front of you as you await an answer that doesn’t come. Your eyebrows wrinkle across your forehead, worry beginning to creep into your bloodstream. You walk down the steps from the house and turn towards the fields. As you look across them, the sun shining bright enough now to help your vision, you don’t see his figure anywhere. You walk towards the barn, cupping your hands around your mouth again to repeat your call.

“Here, child!”

You hear the rasp of your father’s voice respond from within the barn. You will your heart to rest from the fright that rushed through your veins, breathing right again knowing your Pa is well. You walk to the doors of the barn, the sun blinding you briefly before entering and you see Pa standing and chatting with a man.

He stands with a confident, yet humble posture, straight brown pants covering tall legs, suspenders attached at the waist and strapped over a bone-white shirt with a black coat resting across broad shoulders. In his hands, he fiddles with a wide brimmed, brown hat that, as you step closer, you can see has small tears & rips along the outer edges. He turns to look in your direction, a soft and friendly smile underneath a neat mustache, hair sparsely adorning his jaw.

“Daughter, this is Mr. Prospect,” Pa introduces.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prospect,” you give a small curtsy and bow your head.

“I assure the pleasure is mine, miss,” he replies, bowing his head. “Your father and I were only just discussing the season you will be faced with here. I am most obliged to be suited enough for work and I am at your service.”

You nod along to his words, finding it difficult to search inside your brain and pull something out of it that may continue the conversation. His voice is rich and decadent, finer than the most luxurious chocolate you might have the pleasure of introducing to the buds on your tongue. It sounds as if it comes from deep within his being as opposed to his throat, and you find it very pleasing to your ears.

“Mr. Prospect here will be our new farmhand for the season. He only just arrived moments before you rose,” Pa continues.

“Forgive me, Pa, I did not hear you wake-”

“Do not fret, little one,” he smiles and places a weathered hand gently on your shoulder and you smile in return. “Daughter, please show our new employee the farm; I have yet to do so, but the chickens need feeding now.”

“Yes, Pa.”

Pa exits the barn with a stomping of his boots as his heavy and tired legs carry him, turning the smile on your face into a small frown. You exhale through your nose and turn to the man, noticing a small tuft of white locks at the beginning of his hairline, fading into a rough cut of shaggy, brown hair. You avert your gaze so as not to be impolite with your stare and look into the mahogany irises of his eyes.

“Well, Mr. Prospect, I do apologize for you having to lodge with the cattle,” you say as you gesture to the black and white beasts resting in their stables.

“It is quite alright, miss. I’m sure they will be most interesting to converse with,” he smiles, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth and his jest pulls a giggle from your throat as you smile.

“Just up there –” you point to the ladder leading to a platform above the cows. “– is a bed of hay. It may stick you, but we will provide plenty of blankets to soothe the irritation and keep you warm.”

His gaze meets the platform, exposing his elongated neck and strong jaw, his profile revealing his aquiline nose and you find your gaze fixated on him once again. What an intriguing man. You realize he must be the new traveler the town was so preoccupied with yesterday, but you find nothing strange about him at all. Quite the opposite. He seems to be the purest and gentlest man that has ever passed through this town. He looks back down to you, the soft, good-natured smile reaching his eyes, the same smile on his face from the moment you met.

“Follow me, please.” You lead him out of the barn and to the fields on the other side and he places his hat back on his head as he walks.

“This is the field the corn will grow, and just on the other side of the barn will be the potatoes. I must divulge that it is quite strenuous. I am thankful to you for accepting the work; it will help my Pa and I tremendously.”

“I respectfully deny your thanks; I’m afraid it is I who should be thankful to you and your father for welcoming me with such friendliness,” he replies and you look up into his eyes. Such beautiful orbs, as brown and majestic as the mountains that surround you, the likes of which you’ve never seen.

“This way,” you say, a light tremble in your voice from momentarily having the ground swept from under your feet. You lead him to the house, stepping up the stairs and opening the door. You take a step inside, but the man does not enter, rather staying still on the porch, fiddling with his hat in his hands once again.

“It is quaint; I’m not sure where you are from, Mr. Prospect. Perhaps you are familiar with more lavish dwellings,” he looks around the room as much as he is able from where he stands and smiles.

“Not in the slightest, dear Sunflower. The home you reside in is lovely and most would be envious to have such to call their own,” he says kindly and you smile genuinely in return, a warmth reaching the apples of your cheeks from his endearment.

“You are welcome to our table for meals and coffee, if you’d like. And we have wash basins you are free to use as well.”

“Many thanks, miss. I am very grateful to have been blessed with hospitality such as this.”

You nod your head, lowering it slightly as you walk out and back onto the porch, the man waiting for you to step down into the dirt before he follows suit. You smooth out your dress and turn to look back at him, his eyes having not left you once.

“What is your name?”

“Ezra,” he replies, reaching his hand out to shake yours. You offer your hand politely and return your name, the greeting between you holding firm, yet gentle; his hand is warm and soft, slightly calloused from farm work.

“Ezra,” you repeat, letting each letter of his name roll from the back of your throat, over your tongue and through your teeth. It was as smooth as the butter you had churned this past monotonous week. “What a unique and beautiful name; very pleasing on the tongue.”

He blushes lightly, a small, shy smile forming on his lips as he averts his gaze to his dirt covered boots.

“Did you see the notice at the post?” You ask, smiling fondly at the bashful man in front of you and he faces you again, nodding his answer. “Yes, I assumed so. There was one at the shop, too, but you had not walked in while I was there.”

“Yes, once I saw the notice and inquired about the position, I spent some time familiarizing myself with the town before heading here to see your father. He had been preoccupied yesterday and requested I return early this morning.”

“That’s strange. He didn’t mention it to me,” you ponder. Then again, it wasn’t unusual for Pa to not trouble you with these affairs until it was time to deal with them. “And you only just arrived yesterday, correct?”

“Yes, miss. To be frank, I am slightly unnerved at the commotion my arrival has stirred; it seems the people here are not accustomed to travelers.”

“Unfortunately, no,” you reply with a contrite look on your face. “I apologize for the welcome not being so friendly. Do not take it to heart. I have grown up here and still feel like an outsider,” you add, the sudden remark escaping you naturally. You have a strange feeling that you may be able to open your mind and thoughts to this man who exudes comfort and compassion. Maybe someday.

“Well, Ezra,” you enunciate again. “I’m afraid I must go now. Pa will have you busy with work in no time, I guarantee. If you ever need anything from me and I am not here, our shop is in town, right after the bank. Please do not hesitate to come by and ask.”

Ezra looks at you again, the tender smile that had budded on his unconventionally attractive face blooming into a full fledged, teeth baring grin. The sight of it makes your heart skip a beat, sparking a dull fire in the furnace within your belly that had long been barren, full of the ashes of any past flame that ceased to exist as quickly as it had lit.

At first glance, it may have been easy to overlook his features, but as you gaze at him before you, it is not difficult to see that he is, in fact, very handsome. You smile in return, adjusting your bonnet to sit atop your head and turning on your heels to walk toward the town.

Of course, the people are still buzzing with the recent arrival of Ezra Prospect. Even worse now, word has reached that he is to be your new farmhand. Mrs. Williams, of course, heard from her husband that Mr. Prospect had shown intrigue in the position, and later that night while they ate dinner, Mr. Williams shared the news with his wife. It truly is doubtful that anyone would be able to survive one, single daybreak without having something or someone to talk about.

The main three hens, Mrs. Foster, Mrs. McKenna, and Mrs. Jones all swarm your personal environment before you even make it inside the shop and they are just about bouncing in their heeled boots, awaiting any sort of information you can give them about Mr. Prospect.

“I hear he’s your new farmhand.”

“Is he as strange as he looks?”

“He seems dangerous; best keep your distance, dear.”

They will not stop; one question rolling into the next from each of their beaks. You have a right mind to lay out some feed on the ground for them so as to keep their mouths busy with other matters. The irritation courses through you, a dull tightness forming at the base of your skull.

“What is his name?”

“Perhaps if he did not feel so unwelcome by the whispers of the town, he may be more inclined to tell you himself,” you say harshly before having a moment to think twice.

They gape at you; the audacity, their expressions seem to say. You don’t seem to care for it, though. To have them whisper about you was one thing; you could manage just fine, however bothersome it is. But Mr. Prospect seemed friendly and gentle enough to make you relinquish any passiveness to these women, unwilling to keep cordial when they’re so unpleasant of anyone new introduced to this town. It’s unusual, this feeling. Protective. Over a man you only spoke to for no more than fifteen minutes.

The women scoff under their breaths, very obviously offended by your response and denial of amusing them. They whisper amongst themselves as they walk away, not trying to hide their second glances at you from over their shoulders as they continue down the road. Surely, the word will spread that you did not wish to speak to them about the traveler, and they will conspire on which hen to send next to continue the digging.

You feel some relief, however, knowing now the conversation will be turned back to you instead of Mr. Prospect. He did not deserve to be treated as such during his stay and you would make sure of that.

Chapter One || Chapter Three

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[forasecondtherewedwon]

hey I loved what you wrote for sarahbucky! You are so talented. I was wondering if you are comfortable writing any NSFW content or smut related content for this pairing? If you are I would love you to write something, anything of the sort. If you're not comfortable that's absolutely fine!!

Chasing Water Pumps

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: E Word Count: 5288

Summary: After banishing Sam, Sarah gets Bucky's help reinstalling the boat's water pump.

The water pump sits there on the dock through the morning. It sits there at midday. In the late afternoon, Bucky laughs when Sam almost falls over it as he walks backwards, waving his hands to guide a reversing pickup truck into position. A neighbour bringing spare lumber so they can replace a few rotting boards on the Wilsons’ boat.

Bucky can see—has been able to see all day—that Sam’s itching to just fix the damn pump back into position. Sam’s conscientious, neat, completing one job before moving on to the next, replacing pliers in the toolbox after rewiring the radio, coiling up the cord of a borrowed drill so no one can trip over it. Leaving a hulking piece of machinery just sitting there is killing him. All because Sarah won’t let him touch it.

For Bucky, watching this claim-staking over an old water pump is hilarious. It’s also something he takes absolutely seriously, backing away from the thing the minute Sarah ordered the two of them to quit tinkering and just leave it alone. He’s got no issue ceding to her authority. Oh, he’ll argue with Sam about other parts of the project, but he’s not gonna push back against Sarah. He’s only here for a couple days and she already won his loyalty by letting him bunk on her couch last night. They might be repairing a boat, but Bucky’s not making any waves.

When the sun starts going down and the helpers from the community start heading home to their suppers, almost as many of them shake Bucky’s hand as Sam’s. Bucky feels really good about that. He likes that they’ve become comfortable with him—many of them slapping his Vibranium shoulder as they take his right hand, like it’s just an arm. He likes the lingering warmth of the day and how it’s dried the back of his shirt where he sweat through it. He likes squinting into the sun to watch the vehicles pull away and seeing Sarah standing there, smiling at him. Cupping a hand above his eyes, he smiles back.

“Alright,” Sam says, taking a big step to bring him from boat to land. “Let’s get this water pump back in place.”

Immediately, Sarah comes forward.

“Uh uh, no. That’s not your job.”

“This whole thing is my job,” her brother protests.

Bucky stands on the sidelines, content to witness Sam lose this argument. Getting to study the way the sinking, burning glow of the sun catches on Sarah’s earrings is the equivalent of being handed an ice cream. The breeze that blows her open button-down against her to show him the intimate dip of her waist is the cherry on top of that ice cream. His gaze trails unhurriedly back up to her face and he sees that she’s been watching him admire her. Normally, staring is his default expression, but now his heart hammers with giddy yearning as he holds her eye. She smiles fleetingly before looking back to Sam. Oh right, Sam’s talking. Bucky had kinda tuned him out.

“It won’t take long.”

“No it won’t,” Sarah agrees. “Not if I do it. You’ve messed around with that pump enough for one day.”

“Sarah, come on. Be practical,” Sam pleads. “You can’t do it by yourself.”

“I won’t do it by myself. Bucky here can do the heavy lifting.”

Ok, he’s surprised about that, but when she glances to him, he nods readily. He refuses to meet Sam’s side-eye. He’s sure the message is ‘You traitor.’ Ignoring him, Bucky beams at Sarah.

“That’s what I’m here for,” he tells her.

“And what am I supposed to do?” Sam demands. “Watch?”

“Since you asked,” Sarah informs him, “you’re supposed to go pick your nephews up from AJ’s friend Marco’s house. If they haven’t eaten yet, feed them.”

“But—”

Sam motions indignantly towards Bucky, but Sarah waves away his complaint.

“You asked what I need from you and I told you. Let us get on with what we’ve gotta do here. We’re losing daylight.”

“You heard her, Samuel,” Bucky says, striding to the pump.

The wrench he and Sam passed back and forth while unbolting it is in the top tray of the toolbox when he flips it open. Tucking the wrench into his back pocket, Bucky turns and heaves the pump off the ground. Sarah’s watching. He throws her a smile with a little upward jerk of his chin. She rolls her lips together like she’s hiding her own smile but stands firm until Sam gives up and stalks off across the boatyard.

“You think it’d be cruel to yell after him not to wait up?” Sarah asks Bucky nonchalantly, hand on her hip as the two of them observe her brother’s retreat.

Bucky almost drops the pump before hugging it to himself too tightly, stopping when he hears the metal creak. But he tries to be cool.

“Only if you mean it,” he says.

She spares him a glance that doesn’t tell him either way and walks past, stepping onto the boat.

“You got it?” she asks.

“Yep,” Bucky assures her, adjusting his grip and jumping down onto the deck. Coulda stepped. Wanted to show off. Story of his life since he met Sarah Wilson maybe 36 hours ago.

He follows her into the cabin and she digs through a box of supplies, grabbing a flashlight.

“Might need this soon.”

Her explanation’s unnecessary (the sky’s darkening above them) and Bucky can see the nervousness in it, how she self-consciously plays with the hem of her t-shirt and twists her earring now that they’re together in a semi-enclosed space.

“Unless that arm of yours glows in the dark,” she adds.

“Unfortunately not,” he says with a smile as they duck below deck. His feet clomp sturdily down the steps, but Sarah still looks up at him from the bottom like he might teeter. “You shoulda been there while they were deciding on the specs.”

Sarah laughs, navigating the protruding inner workings of the boat more smoothly than movie spies crossing rooms streaked with red lasers. (Stupidest fucking scenes Bucky’s ever seen.)

“That was in Wakanda, right?”

“Sam told you?”

“He did. I guess you’ve seen a lot. Been a lot of places,” Sarah amends.

For a minute, his throat’s thick. She corrected herself to make sure he knew she wasn’t being nosy about his past. He wouldn’t mind. It’d be fair of her to bring up any worries she had, what with the two of them being alone here. But then, maybe he doesn’t make her nervous in that way. She’s the one who asked him to stay. (Or just told him he was staying more than asked, really.)

“So has Sam,” Bucky points out.

“Yeah, but Sam has to come back here to avoid getting an earful over the phone. Why would you wanna be here? Right here,” she adds, motioning to the spot where the water pump sat until early this morning. Bucky was one of the people who removed it, plus there’s a clear silhouette where the side rests against the boat, inside of which shape the wood’s less weathered, but he’ll be as clueless as Sarah wants if it results in more of this—her hand on his back as she trades places with him to guide him in ahead of her.

“It’s nice here,” he says simply. “Like a holiday.”

The instant he says it, he wants to backtrack. None of this is a holiday for the Wilsons; in spite of the block party atmosphere of the community coming together to restore the boat, they’re doing all this to ensure their livelihood. A good future for Sarah and her boys. She shoots him a benevolent smile like she knows he knows he just put his foot in his mouth. He can only shake his head at himself and carry on.

Squatting, Bucky aligns the holes in the pump’s base with those in the plate it has to mount back onto. They’re a little rusty, but the old blue paint’s just flaking, no problems with the actual integrity of the metal.

“You always do volunteer manual labour on your holidays?” Sarah jokes, putting a hand on his shoulder as she maneuvers around him. She drops to a crouch at his side and directs the beam of the flashlight down onto the pump.

“I like to be busy. I sleep better that way.”

“Until your host’s kids wake you up.”

“Aw, that was no problem.”

“Wrench?” she asks.

“Back pocket.”

Bucky could pass it to her. He could take one hand off the pump, retrieve the wrench, and hold it out for Sarah to grab. Hell, he could take both hands off the pump. The thing’s just sitting here. But he’s selfish, trying to make it look like he has to keep the pump from shifting out of the position he’s put it in, because he wants to find out what Sarah wants. He hasn’t completely thought this through, but some part of him’s saying a good way to find out what Sarah wants is to see if she’ll take the wrench from his back pocket while he’s squatting, jeans hugging his ass.

She laughs softly, looking at the floor.

She slides the wrench out of his pocket.

Now, there’s no actual contact required there, but she has touched him a couple times, so when she asks, “Bolts?” he looks at her in the dim light—flashlight still tilted towards the floor—and tells her, “Front pocket.”

When Sarah elects to maintain the angle of the light by holding the end of the flashlight in her mouth, Bucky thinks she might be capable of cruelty after all; he feels his face go slack at the sight of her lips around a fucking plastic cylinder. The choice leaves her hands free though, which is perfect because she apparently needs to grasp his knee with one for balance while the other goes to his hip, feeling out the line of his pocket. Bucky tries to breathe deep and even. This has gotta be it, the scenario Sam was most worried about when he left them here together.

Mercifully, when Sarah gets her fingers hooked into Bucky’s front pocket, she removes her other hand from his knee and uses it to hold the flashlight. He shifts forward onto his knees so his pocket isn’t pulled so tight and she can get her hand in there. Clearly a bad, terrifying plan now that his dick’s started to stiffen from the lingering image of the flashlight in her mouth and the proximity of her fingers to his crotch. It’s dark. Maybe she won’t see.

“Bolts,” Sarah says, wiggling her fingers deeper. “Nuts too?”

Their eyes meet and she pulls her hand back. Not too fast. Not like she embarrassed herself, saying something she didn’t mean to. Just like she did her bit and now the plan is to see what he’ll do. All he’s really capable of doing for the moment is extracting the nuts and bolts himself, dropping one of each into the raised palm she offers. He takes over with the flashlight and purposely doesn’t touch the end. It’ll drive him crazy if the plastic’s still wet.

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

He spends three bolts being awkward, just pinching the head of each between his Vibranium fingers to hold them steady while Sarah tightens the nuts with the wrench from underneath the mounting plate. His other hand shines the light right where she needs it. They’re a different team than he and Sam are. Somehow, they can do two parts of the same job in the smallest scale, their hands practically on top of each other without either of them getting in the way. Bucky tries to think about that rather than her leg pressing against his or the fact that the gentle rock of the docked boat reminds him of rocking his hips forward when he… well. Does something he’s trying not to think about.

The wrench is old and though Sarah flicks the adjustment with her thumb to make it grip each nut in turn, it loosens and slips. It makes the task take longer and Sarah have to work harder. With two bolts to go, she sits back and pulls her button-down off, draping it over a pipe. Her t-shirt only catches Bucky’s eye because, even in here, the yellow’s so bright. It’s just the shirt. Absolutely not the shape of Sarah in it.

She leans back in, dropping the second last bolt through the hole. She feels beneath the plate to start the nut up the bolt’s threads with her fingers. With a soft noise of effort, Sarah simultaneously applies the wrench and reawakens Bucky’s erection.

“Sorry for keeping you from dinner,” she says, still tightening in the circle of light he provides. “You must be starving.”

“You have no idea.”

Bucky doesn’t mean for the words to sound the way they do, or maybe he does. Sarah falters, then finishes, but when she leans forward to fit the final bolt in place, the side of her breast presses his arm, and that’s the beginning of the end. Or possibly the end of the middle. Anyway, Bucky lets go of the flashlight and wraps his hand around Sarah’s waist instead. The flashlight must land on its button because the boat goes pitch-black. Why didn’t either of them think to turn the overhead light on? He hears the nut fall from her hand. It’s not one of the nuts he’s concerned with at the moment, so he tells himself they’ll look for it later and focuses on Sarah leaning in to find his lips in the dark.

Kissing her is… Hell, it’s something he’s been thinking about since they met yesterday. When she marched straight over to the boat and then changed her posture the second she spotted him. Bucky appreciates clear body language—it’s something he can do a quick read of and understand. If they’d had more time at that first meeting, of course he would’ve talked to her, flirted with more than a smile, but the smiles they swapped were an effective stopgap until they could end up right here. His mouth on hers. Being careful not to trap her braids under his fingers when he skims them up the back of her neck.

“Um,” Sarah says, breaking away with a shy laugh.

He keeps his hand on her lightly and feels her tilt her head forward like she’s avoiding his eye, even in the dark. Before he can worry that something is wrong, that he’s done something wrong, she lifts her head again and her braids flick, pattering across his forearm like rain.

“You should know,” she says, “since my husband passed, I haven’t really had a lot of time or inclination for this kinda thing, but...”

“That’s ok,” Bucky quickly assures her. “This doesn’t have to be anything. I didn’t mean to push.”

“And you didn’t.”

They sit in silence for a minute before he clears his throat.

“I’ve never… I’ve never had anybody special to me in that way, like your husband was to you, nobody to lose like that. But I do understand… uh, the sort of, um, momentousness… when it’s been a while.”

“You do?”

He can hear humour in her voice. This wasn’t supposed to be a funny conversation. Is he making it that weird?

“Sure. You know about me,” Bucky says quietly. He knows she must. She never asked who he was to Sam to be showing up here, being offered their couch for the night. Never asked about the arm, though he hasn’t tried to hide it. (He can’t remember the last time he just lived like this and the relief is enormous.)

“Tell me about the momentousness.”

He’d like to be able to see her better, but it’s also nice to know she has no idea the way he’s blushing over her request. It’s his own damn fault. Trying to be tactful and generous. Trying to say he knew how she felt, only for Sarah to call him on that. He’s gotta learn that this is not a woman who lets a man speak for her and, if he blunders into doing just that, she doesn’t let him off the hook. And she has a fish business. Who woulda thought.

“Well, it’s, uh…” Bucky rubs the back of his neck with the hand not cupping hers. “It feels like a big deal. Almost like being young all over again.”

“Hey,” she interjects, “some of us are still young.”

He laughs.

“Sorry. I just mean it’s… exciting. You know, thrilling. You wanna do everything at once but you’re also so scared to just…”

“Just…?”

“To just touch her,” he breathes out.

Sarah leans her head back so his hand’s not only touching her neck but holding it up. He laughs again as she straightens. He gets the point; he’s already touching her. So maybe it’s easier than even he thinks it is. Touch. Intimacy. Defiling the belly of a fishing boat with somebody who turned his head so fast he’s the one who needs something bolted back into place. Maybe one on either side of his neck, like Frankenstein’s monster. He sure does feel alive.

“I said I haven’t done this a lot lately,” Sarah says, loosely grasping his wrist. Bucky slips his hand off her neck to line it up with hers, lacing their fingers. “Not that it’s necessarily been that long since the last time I went on a date that ended with more than a kiss at the door.” Abruptly, she laughs. “I’m trying to tell you there’s a condom in the pocket of that shirt I threw over… wherever it got to. If you want this to keep going in a direction where you’d need to use it.”

“Yeah. Yes. I want that.”

“And not just to annoy Sam?”

“Not just.” Bucky smirks in the dark.

“Ok then.”

“I like you, Sarah,” he says as her fingers play with his. He shifts to face her better. “You don’t make things complicated.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of that.”

He can only make a noise of agreement as he comes close enough to feel out her mouth. He’s wishing he’d shaved his face smooth for this—obviously not as certain this encounter was going to happen today, or at all, as the woman who’s been carrying a condom in her pocket—but with a rough tilt of his head as he takes Sarah’s mouth harder, his cheek rubs against hers and she makes a sound into his mouth. A positive sound. An arousing sound. Bucky does something he never does and holds her face in both his hands, metal and skin. Sarah’s go to his hips, hooking into his beltloops, and they both rise up on their knees to press closer.

But she says, “Ouch, kneeled on the wrench,” and Bucky’s only being helpful when he moves his hands to the back of her thighs, running up over her ass as he urges her to her feet with him.

His hands behave themselves a little better when they’re both standing; he keeps them on the small of her back, scrunching her t-shirt in his fingers when she bows into him. He could kiss Sarah for a long time. It’s something he’s always enjoyed, got a lot of practice at when he was young, kissing in the back row of a theatre or savouring every moment until a girl’s curfew with some feverish necking in the alley around the corner from her family’s apartment. Nobody’s counting down the minutes on Bucky’s time with Sarah, so it’s looking like he might be able to just keep dragging his lips across hers for ages, stroking his tongue into her mouth. The geography decides otherwise.

He hears the speedboat’s motor approaching long before he really makes sense of the noise. That happens when the choppy wake hits Sarah’s docked boat, tossing her forward against him.

Alright, tossing him forward. He’s the one whose sea legs are for shit.

It’s evident that she feels his erection against her stomach. She’d have to be really unfamiliar with how this dance went not to notice with the way he’s swelling for her.

“Yeah?” Bucky checks when Sarah digs her fingers into his hips to hold him to her body.

“Yeah.”

He pulls out of her embrace to hunt down that shirt.

“You know, I’ve done this before.”

“I know. I’ve met your kids.” His voice says he’s joking even as his hands move desperately, caressing the boat’s innards in search of soft cotton.

“I mean specifically on this boat,” Sarah confesses, laughing.

Bucky hears a pair of thumps he determines to have been her shoes hitting the floor after the next sound he hears is her unzipping her pants. Wildly, he snatches her shirt from the pipe and dumps the condom out of the pocket and into his hand. He forces himself to calmly replace the shirt where he got it from so she can find it after—just the thought of there being an after has him hardening further.

“It’s startin’ to feel like I’m not so special,” he teases, lurching back to her when the speedboat seemingly swings around upriver and makes a second pass, causing the ground to slope once more.

“You might be,” she teases back. While his legs are tensed to keep his balance, Sarah has to be stretching up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “We’re gonna see about that.”

Her hands curl around the back of his neck as she presses up into the kiss. Bucky groans and gropes for her hips, condom caught between two fingers. His hands run over the sides of her underwear, but it’s mostly skin he touches. Warm and smooth. Kissing Sarah deeply, he traces the soft grooves of stretchmarks, signs of her body’s endurance. She’s given birth twice, lost her partner, come through the Blip and out the other side. This is a survivor’s body. Although she didn’t remove her shirt along with her pants, Bucky breaks the kiss to strip off his. With trembling fingers, he guides her hand from his neck to his shoulder, letting her feel the scars.

Sarah grazes her palm over him. It isn’t hesitant and it isn’t harsh. She touches the place where metal and skin converge the same way she’s touched his neck, his knee. Her other hand strokes over his chest, dawdling to outline his dog tags, then sliding lower. Her fingertips are so light on his abdomen that they almost tickle. The river flows around and against the boat in faint slaps. Sarah’s hand falls to fondle his erection and he gasps into the stillness.

He crowds into her and she presses back against the wall of the boat.

“Is it too cold?” he wonders.

“Cold?” she asks distractedly, popping open the button of his jeans. “No, I’m good.”

Smiling to himself, Bucky ducks his head until they’re almost kissing.

“Ok,” he says. “Well, you let me know.”

His hand wanders from her hip, down, then up her inner thigh. Sarah shivers but doesn’t say anything about being cold, so, breathing harder, Bucky touches his fingers to her underwear between her legs. He can tell she finds his tentativeness a little funny—she exhales a soft laugh—but he needs this short pause to stop him from getting too eager. Though he didn’t want to clarify, he’s figuring that Sarah probably had sex on this boat during her teenage years, and he really doesn’t want his touch to remind her of some adolescent boy’s horny fumblings. Not when the setting’s already bringing up memories for her.

“No heckling,” he jokingly protests.

“I’m not, I swear I’m not.”

He can hear the humour in her voice and he likes the way her words hitch into a panted breath when he relocates his hand to her stomach and nudges his fingers under the band of her underwear.

“Second thoughts?” Bucky asks before he touches her anywhere too interesting.

“Nope. Just a lotta thoughts about you lifting heavy loads off trucks and workin’ a wrench.”

“Yeah?” He pushes his face up under her jaw, kisses there while she tilts her chin to give him room. “You been thinkin’ I might be good with my hands, Sarah?”

He hears her shaky breath when he says her name and thinks there’s a chance he’s not too bad at this. Even now. Not with somebody he seemed to emotionally fall right into step with the instant they clapped eyes on each other.

“No might about it. I’ve been watching you for two days. I know you’re good with your hands.”

Pressing his mouth hard to hers, Bucky slides his fingers down towards warmth and, it turns out, wetness. He groans against her mouth and she jerks his zipper down with demanding fingers. Wedging her hands between his skin and his clothes, Sarah begins forcing his jeans and underwear off together. Even as he’s aching for her to get him naked, he’s gathering her body against his, arm wrapped securely around her back as his fingers slip through her arousal. He curls two fingers inside her and her hips jolt in an apparently automatic attempt to get him deeper. She tries to widen her legs for him, but his hand’s intrusion has stretched her underwear across her upper thighs, so he plucks at them hastily until they fall and she kicks them aside. His own bottom layers are hanging on around his knees. Bucky can’t be fucked to deal with that. He’s punched through a lot of walls rather than going through doors; he knows what is and isn’t a serious obstacle.

Sarah lifts her thigh to his hip and their mouths part with a ragged, shared breath. The Vibranium arm around her supports her—metal fingers clamped tight on the condom between them—as his other hand works her with more pressure when she asks for it in a moan.

“Can I get you off like this, or you want me some other way?” he pants.

It’s like Steve used to say about damn near everything—Bucky could do this all day. He withdraws his fingers from inside her to scrub his fingertips up and down over her clit.

“I’m sure you can,” Sarah says, chest heaving as her hips sway in response to his touch, “but…”

Her hands, which had climbed to his arms after undressing his bottom half, creep lower. The grip of one hand catches in his elbow, thumb to his pulse. The other wraps around his straining cock.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But.”

Insistent on putting on the condom himself, he does it with one arm still encircling Sarah. While he’s tearing it open, he drops his face to her neck again. She sighs as he kisses down her throat and goes mmm when he licks along her collarbone. She’s sweaty, like him.

Though Bucky’s just dying to sink into her, holding her this close is a whole other kind of satisfying. He flicks the condom wrapper away and dips his head, taking hold of the front of Sarah’s yellow t-shirt with his teeth.

“Bucky! What…?”

But her hand pats the back of his head in time with her laughter as he drags the material up until it stays put above her breasts. Tragically, the ghost of Sarah’s horny teenage encounter on this boat possesses him and he’s compelled to mash his face into her cleavage as soon as it’s exposed. He rubs his lips over her breast and she takes the condom from him, reaching between them to roll it down his cock. The feel of her fist makes him grunt into her chest.

“You ready?” Sarah asks him.

Bucky lifts his head and looks at her. It’s dark, but not too dark to judge by her expression that she’s not just asking casually. This isn’t a carefree, youthful hookup—a couple teenagers sneaking onto a parent’s boat or perfecting their hickey-making technique in an alley. Is he ready? He hasn’t been. Not for the occasional assessing stare of a stranger on the sidewalk, or for dating apps and the staggeringly forward pictures people send in response to a simple ‘hi,’ or even for the low-stakes combo of beers and Battleship. But now? For Sarah?

“Yeah,” Bucky states, loud and clear, angling his hips forward when she takes her hands away.

“Alright,” she says, “so am I.”

He kisses her. He believes her.

He grips the underside of her raised thigh with one hand and his dick with the other, bending his knees slightly before pressing up into her. Heat slinks up his chest and twines around his neck like a scarf. Despite the tripping hazard of his pants around his legs, Bucky shuffles forward, holding Sarah so close. She doesn’t make a sound as he fills her, but when he pulls out and thrusts again, an uuuh catches in her throat. God, it feels good to be back in business.

Fingers digging into her leg and her ass, Bucky rocks his hips steadily, huffing sharply through his nose. Sarah’s hands move all over him. They’re on his shoulders, then squeezing his arms; grabbing his hips to encourage him to drive into her harder, then seizing his ass to hold him deep. When he does something good, he feels her tighten on his cock, a quick clutch and release. When he does something really good, she moans so loud the back of his neck tingles and he has to summon every bit of discipline he has not to just let go now.

The feel of the muscles in Sarah’s leg and ass flexing to sync the rhythm of their hips when things get rougher makes Bucky’s eyes roll back. He lifts her off the ground, thighs in his hands as he slings his hips sharply forward. Sarah curls into him, nipping one shoulder as she cups her hand over the metal of the other one. Her breasts bounce against his chest. He pins her between his groin and the boat and feels (and hears) it the second the motion of his hips drags at her clit.

“Bucky!” she gasps. “Don’t—”

“Stop?” he guesses, grinning even as he pants, even as he shifts his feet to make sure they’re gonna stay under him until this is over and he can set her down gently.

Sarah nods rapidly and Bucky keeps the closeness but progresses to fast, shallow thrusts. They should hum, like a machine, like a piston, like a pump, because that’s what it feels like, fucking her and falling for her, doing their dance with just the right friction. How it really sounds is wet, filthy, oh, but her smile is beautiful as she strives, fingers tangled in his dog tags. She comes calling his name. He’s right here, right there with her. She’s clenching so firmly around him that the pleasure might not end and he’ll just have to stay here on this boat, with her, and be Bucky, and get used to the luxury of it making sense again, his name in the mouth of somebody who needs him and wants him and could know him, after a few more nights on her couch and mornings with her kids. He could stand the sound of her name leaving his mouth every single goddamn day, but he’s gonna start with one day, this day, right now.

He says, “Sarah,” and wraps his arms around her, and hopes those arms feel strong.

[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift Part 9 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Your first night at Frankies, yearning mostly . . . no hanky panky! (yet 👀)

Warnings: Talk of abuse, talk of death of loved ones

W/C: 2.2k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 10

Frankie was buzzing with adrenaline as he drove you and Manny back to the restaurant. His hand hurt slightly, but he couldn’t stop think about how damn goodit felt to punch Kurt in the face, how when he heard the fear in your voice, everything turned red. How it took everything not to crush the vermin under his boot. But, he would unpack those feelings later, preferably over a case of beer with the boys. They, of all people, would understand.

You got out of the truck to say goodbye to Manny, and Frankie didn’t miss how you rubbed your lower back, how even from where he sat, he could see the ring of a bruise blossoming around your wrist.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said, climbing back into the truck. Frankie glanced at the clock on the dash – barely five minutes had passed. “Are you completely sure it’s okay I stay with you?”

“I want you to stay,” Frankie said. “Please, don’t get it in your head that you’re an inconvenience. I know you well enough by now to see that’s exactly where you’re heading.”

You laughed weakly. “I hate that you’re right,” you said, “I’m just not used to having extra help.” Frankie nodded, and waited for you to continue. “For a second in there, before you and Manny came in . . .I was terrified. I forgot I wasn’t alone and I – thank you, for what you did in there. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come in when you did.”

You slumped back in your seat and closed your eyes.

“I think this whole thing got rid of my hangover, though,” you joked.

“You’re young enough that you can bounce back quickly from hangovers,” Frankie said, taking the obvious hint for a change in the subject.

“Please, you’re barely older than me,” you said. “You’re like, what? Thirty?”

“Thirty-two,” Frankie corrected.

“Oh my apologies, you’re ancient,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Frankie grinned and shook his head. It amazed him how easily you could still make a joke, despite everything you had been through today alone.

It was almost sunset when he pulled up to his home. Golden light splayed across your features, making you glow. Stunning. The thought was in Frankie’s mind before he could stop it. You turned to smile at him.

“Nice gnomes,” you said gesturing to the dozens of gnomes of varying sizes that were scattered around Frankie’s front garden. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced.

“Thanks. My Abuelo used to give me one every Christmas, right up until he died last year.”

“I’m sorry,” you said your voice sincere, “I know how hard that is.”

Frankie shrugged, not wanting to talk about how after his Abuelo died, he made himself sick with grief. Instead, he chose to share something happier. “He used to hide things in them, since they’re all hollow. Sometimes it would be candy, or money. Once he hid my first iPod in one.”

“Sounds like he was a cool dude,” you said and Frankie nodded.

“He was the coolest,” Frankie agreed.

You were quiet for a few moments, holding your arms across your chest. The toll of the day was written plainly on your face, weariness lending itself to the dark circles under your eyes, to the way your shoulders curled inwards. Without thinking about it, Frankie wrapped his arms around you. You leant into the hug, burying your face into his neck. He rubbed your back gently, careful to avoid the spot he knew you were still hurting. You stood like that for a while, warmth leeching into him, and when you finally pulled away, you were almost quick enough to hide your damp eyes.

“Wanna go in?” Frankie asked, already feeling colder without you. He wanted to tug you back, hold you to him and not let go. You nodded, still not looking directly at him.

Inside, the house was cool and dark. Frankie tugged his cap off and placed it on a hook by the door, running a hand through his curls to fluff them up. He was suddenly more self-conscious than he had ever been before. He very rarely brought women back here, and when he did, he never liked them as much as he liked you.

He tried to imagine what you were thinking – were you grossed out at his unwashed breakfast plate sitting in the sink? Was the number of photos of family and friends that hung up on the walls and sat framed on every surface excessive? He didn’t remember seeing any photos like that at your apartment. But then, he also hadn’t been looking.

“It’s uh, not much,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

“It suits you,” you said. Was it a compliment? Frankie wasn’t sure, until you continued. “Like, at first, it seems a little understated, but the more I look the more I see how you it all is.” You wandered over to a shelf stuffed with books and records, most of them coming from his old room at his parents when they had cleaned out their home a few years back.

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being nosy,” you said, tilting your head to read the spines. Most of the books were well loved classics – stuff that Frankie had read over and over until the covers became loose and pages began to fall out.

“Just don’t search the drawers in my bedroom, that’s where I keep all my vintage Playboys and a spare bag of mushrooms.”

You snorted with laughter and turned to face him properly. Your eyes were still puffy and red, but no longer teary. Frankie counted that as a victory. “You always struck me as more of an acid guy. Just like you’re striking me as a fan of Thai food?”

“Big fan, actually.”

“Excellent, I know this great place that delivers, I’ll pay.” When Frankie opens his mouth to protest, you hold a hand up silencing him. “Please, let me pay. I owe you big time for doing this, all of this, for me.”

Frankie eventually conceded, sensing that you were infinitely more stubborn than him. Thai food was ordered and delivered, the scent of the panang curry made Frankie’s mouth water. You sat across from him at the table, eyeing him. It took a few moment for Frankie to realise you had put one of his albums on – Erykah Badu, he quickly identified.

“Can I ask you something?” you said after swallowing a mouthful of pad Thai.

“Anything,” he said. Just don’t ask me how long I’ve wanted to fuck you.

“What’d you mean today, when you said it’s not my fault?”

Frankie wasn’t expecting that. “Well, all that stuff Kurt did – like trying to kill himself, that’s not your fault.” You shrugged, clearly unconvinced, so Frankie ploughed on. “It’s just a form of emotional manipulation. Do you remember Benny, the guy your friend went home with last night? His sister, Eve, kind of went through something similar. Her partner would threaten to hurt himself and her if she tried to leave. It wasn’t until she ended up in hospital that she told Benny and Will what was happening.”

You looked horrified. “Is she okay?”

Frankie made a wavering motion in the air with his hand. “Some – most days are better than others. She moved to Portland, met a really nice lady, they’re getting married in the summer.”

“Good for her,” you murmured.

“But like I said, it’s not your fault. None of it is. He’s the one to blame, if he tries anything. He’s in control of his actions, you aren’t.” Frankie’s voice was firm, and he refused to look away from you as he spoke. He needed, more than anything, for you to understand that.

The next few hours passed quietly, sitting next to each other on his worn couch, Netflix half forgotten while you drifted in and out of sleep. Eventually, when the sky turned from black to grey to pink, Frankie showed you the spare room and gave you some privacy, knowing you probably needed some time to yourself after the gruelling day. He knew that sometimes all a person needed was some time alone to process. He sat on the couch and pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket.

Andi, the waitress, had given him her number, followed by three x’s and a winky face. Once, Frankie would have opened his messenger app and texted her, asking her out. But now. . . he found he wasn’t at all interested. He crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash.

~*~

How long is too long to spend in someone else’s shower? Five minutes? Ten? Until the hot water runs out? Vanilla and honey body wash? Oh, shit that smells delicious.

You kept your thoughts light, avoiding the darkness that brewed in the forefront of your mind. You felt like you were going through a billion crisis’s, so instead of focusing on any, you decided to focus on none.

You thought back to Frankie’s intense gaze as he spoke to you at dinner, how incredibly sexy it had been. You were shocked you could think something like that after the day you’d had, but the thoughts had entered unwelcome into your mind. You tucked them away for later, when you weren’t so close to him and wouldn’t feel burning shame if you looked at him.

Stepping out of the shower, you took a deep breath and decided to truly inspect the . . . damage that was done today. Your wrist was already bruising and ached slightly when you thought too much about it. You faced your back to the mirror and twisted, grimacing at the sight of the damage Kurt had caused. Your lower back, like your wrist, was bruised black and purple. You quickly wrapped a towel around yourself, hiding the damage.

Deep breath, Spud, you’re stronger than you think.

Your grandfathers voice echoed in your ears. It was what he would say to you whenever you were hurt – just fallen out of a tree and fractured your ankle, sliced your finger open cutting onions, sobbing because the boy you had convinced yourself was your soulmate at fifteen just dumped you the day after you lost your virginity to him, it was always your grandfathers voice saying those words. Your heart ached with missing him.

The room Frankie had showed you was more of a home gym with a bed shoved into the corner than anything else. There was still a scattering of things that were undeniably Frankie in the room: a pile of old boots with holes in the canvas, a greasy looking toolbox, a poster for the Brooklyn Nets with players that looked like they had wandered out of the 90s. You didn’t know much about basketball but decided to at least keep an eye on when the Nets lost so you could rag on Frankie about it.

You grabbed your bags, assessing what Manny had grabbed. God, he’s good, you thought, realising he had packed you everything you needed. You dressed and grabbed your phone, breathing a sigh of relief when it was free of messages from Kurt. You typed out a quick message to Manny.

You are truly the most amazing friend anyone can ask for <3 thanks for packing my stuff.

Then, after a few moments, you sent one to Sara.

I broke up with Kurt, should I be sadder about it?

It was 7 in the morning, but within a minute your phone was buzzing with a call from her.

“Tell me you’re not lying to me,” her voice was hushed. You could hear her moving, a door clicking shut.

“I’m not lying. It’s done.” You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. “It was a fucking nightmare to do though.”

“Spill, what happened? Are you okay?” Sara’s voice was louder now. You gave her the rundown of everything that had happened, from the lunchtime confession to the actual breakup to how you were now sleeping in Frankie’s spare room.

“Wait – Frankie? Benny’s friend?”

“Are you still with Benny?” This was different: Sara had a policy of one night only – anything more and she claimed they’d fall in love with her.

“Of course, he has a massive dick. But back to you missy, you’re staying with Frankie?”

You sighed. “Yeah, just until I get the keys to my new place.”

“Are you gonna fuck him?” Sara sounded hopeful.

“Oh, my god! No!”

“Aw, c’mon, rebound sex is good for the soul.”

“Maybe with strangers in seedy bars who have half a chance of giving me the clap. Not with someone I-”

“-Have a huge thing for. Please, I saw it the moment you spotted him at fight night. You’re so hung up on this guy and Benny says-”

“This conversation is over, it’s my bedtime. I love you and you’re wrong.” You hung up quickly, cheeks burning with the lie. Did you want to have sex with Frankie? Desperately. At the most inappropriate of times, like when you heard the rumble of his voice through the window at work, like when you caught a glimpse of his beautiful, unique side profile, like when you were alone and allowed your thoughts to wander to what could be under his jeans.

You sighed, frustrated with yourself and rolled onto your side. If you were braver, more sure that his attraction matched yours, you would have gone to his room, crawled into bed beside him, let whatever was meant to be, be. But right now, you weren’t brave. You felt like you had used up all your courage quota for the year in a single day, which was a ridiculous sentiment.

So instead of going to Frankie’s room, like the pulsing in your underwear desperately wanted you to, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki

[tobiosmilktea]

the love club — miya atsumu

ten: eye for an eye

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i haven’t written anything in ages so my writing is trash rn, but hopefully atsumu and y/n being cute will make up for not updating two days ago 👉🏻👈🏻

you could’ve sworn you had told atsumu to come exactly at 6:30 pm, sharp. any later, you would’ve left the cafe the moment your shift ended without a single text to inform him that your patience was waning. you figured that was most likely going to happen considering a little birdy told you that inarizaki’s volleyball team was going through their hell week as nationals was just around the corner.

at least, that’s what you thought was going to happen.

if anything, miya atsumu himself arrived thirty minutes before the time given to him. it was enough to cease your stirring suspicions of him being late and a good enough excuse not to see his smug face, but the unfortunate tides have come across and drenched you in ill-fate—all gross and a bit powdery too at this point.

“there’s a handsome boy waiting outside for you, (y/n).” matsui-sensei, the owner and head baker of pink elephant cafe, not to mention your boss announced as he barged into the kitchen, all loud and boisterous.

despite being nearing his thirties, your boss still acted childish from time to time as there was an notion of implicate suspicions in his tone with that smirk he wore on his lips, his imagination running wild as a boy never really asked for one of his best bakers (not to mention the prettiest) attention before.

you swiftly hid your phone in the back pocket of your jeans as you let out a sigh, “tell him i’m not here.”

“it’s a bit too late for that,” says matsui, adjusting the red bandanna tied around his forehead to pull back his growing black curls and to catch his sweat. “he told me that your meeting with him was important so i said him that i’m letting you off your shift early.”

“why the hell would you do that?” your voice raised a few octaves, but hopefully not enough to travel through the kitchen doors and into the bakery.

matsui held his hands up in defensive and he throw you a playful smile, “listen, i think i’m doing  you a favor, kid, considering that i’m pretty sure you haven’t even had a boyfriend yet.”

your eyebrows furrow in annoyance as you threw the rag you were using to clean the tables at your boss, yet he caught it before it could slap him straight on the face. “what makes you think this guy’s gonna ask me out, we’re literally just working on a project together.”

“trust me, (y/n), my intuition’s ringing.”

“unbelievable,” you scoff and you roll your eyes again.

“seriously though,” he continues as you make your way towards one of the blast ovens. the sweet aroma of blueberry muffins swiftly greeted your senses as you pulled it out with your mitted-hand, “you literally run a love advice hotline and never been in a relationship. don’t you think that’s a bit weird?”

you let the question simmer a bit as you didn’t bother to let the tray of muffins cool the full five minutes and you immediately attempted to pull them out of their metal molds. “not as weird as a grown ass man asking a couple of teenagers love advice.” you shot back, recalling how just over a year ago matsui had found out your other job.

the story was quite the funny one, actually, but long story short—you had forgotten to turn off the love club notifications during work and being the nosy boss he was, he ended up seeing his instagram handle right on your phone screen. there was certainly no way of excusing yourself from it as you ended up telling him everything. in the end, he didn’t mind as he was now engaged.

“hey!” his exclaimed, distracting you from carefully pulling out the muffins as you hissed out in pain. the tips of your fingers burned from the scorching heat of the freshly baked tray, appearing crimson and sore to the touch. matsui was too caught up in making a snarky comeback to even notice your quiet yelp of pain. “we don’t allow slander in this establishment, kid, now go before i fire you.”

you snort playfully at his words and you untied your flour-coated apron, hanging it up on one of the hooks near the doors before leaving the kitchen and into the bakery.

a deep sigh left your lips as you gently apologized for almost bumping into one of your coworkers who was making their way to get a customers order. the cafe wasn’t too busy, but was lively enough to certainly keep the employees on their toes. you almost felt bad for leaving your shift so early.

your eyes scanned the array of tables and chairs with slight fatigue before they landed on a familiar boy’s obnoxious blonde.

his broad back was towards you as he was slightly hunched over, probably from texting. you made your way over to him as you spoke over his shoulder, “you’re here early.” your tone was flat and uninterested as you watched his eyes widened the moment he met your gaze.

“hi,” was all he could say as you sat across from him.

you let out a huff as there was a stupid look on his face to which filled you with the urge to just deck him right on the nose to wipe that expression off his face, and yet, the feeling was suddenly replaced with a feeling too foreign for you to identify as he smiled a toothy grin at you.

oh god, help me now.

in the end, you and atsumu had actually gotten a lot of work done in two hours. considering that you were just a conclusion away from finishing, you were genuinely surprised you only had three urges to fight this man the entire time.

you supposed it was the way atsumu almost seemed like he was in a rush, a mere kick in his step as he started typing away at his document in speed. it almost left your mouth gaping and your eyebrows furrowing in confusion how well this man multi-tasked from doing his work while maintaining a conversation with you. granted, they were quite the strange topics from who would die in a zombie apocalypse first (to which you said that you’d feed atsumu to the zombies in a heart beat) then jumping straight into both of your plans in the future after graduation.

as you two took in each other’s entertaining quips of stories and random tidbits that for once, you found yourself enjoying atsumu’s company rather than hating each waking moment of it.

but, you were obviously known for not being the most talkative in terms of your lack of wanting to overshare information about yourself that would most likely turn into some kind of self-imposed altercation. you simply sat there, adding small grunts of agreements, surprised gestures, and the occasional witty retort to match atsumu’s playful behavior.

some time along those two hours, matsui came by and dropped off a bowl of berries by your table that atsumu liked to steal. he would think that his quick hands would go unnoticed as he swiftly snatched at your snacks, but unfortunately for him, it’s as if he hadn’t known that you did in fact notice.

there was only two berries left in the bowl and knowing atsumu’s greedy ass, you gently placed your hand to rest on the brim of the bowl, waiting a few beats to past for atsumu to reach his hand out again only for you reach out at the same time.

“dude!” the setter exclaimed as you grabbed the last ones, “not fair, (y/n).”

you could only hold yourself back from a melting smirk as you only popped one of them in your mouth, “stealing the majority of the food is rude, miya.”

“as if getting them before i could is any better,” he retaliated. 

a breathy chuckle had escaped your lips as you held out to last berry for him to take. it was the one time you were actually going to be nice to this guy and yet he hesitated to even take it the moment his gaze fell upon your extended hand.

“are you gonna take it or not?” you say with a bit more authority.

however, you were immediately taken aback and atsumu grabbed your wrist and pulled it closer. the berry in the palm of your hand had fallen back into the bowl below as the boy before you looked at your red fingers. “did you burn yourself?” he asked gently, slight worry washing over his eyes as his gaze flickered back towards you.

you snatched your hand back from him as you shook your head, “it’s nothing.” you answer, taking your attention back towards the project in attempt to ignore the fact that your heart was suddenly racing much faster than before. you literally refused to meet atsumu’s eyes as you could feel the heat rushing towards your cheeks. having him see your slightly burned fingers was already embarrassing enough, seeing your tinted red cheeks wouldn’t have helped either.

your gaze that was locked onto your assignment swiftly flickered back towards him as you heard atsumu shuffle through his backpack to pull out a couple bandages. “i know it’s not much to help burns, but these bandages should at least protect them for the time being.”

three strips were slipped towards you as his a saccharine-sweet smile melted upon his visage. taking his offer, you took and placed one bandage at a time, slightly struggling with each finger until atsumu took the pleasure of helping you on the last one.

you felt your breath hitch in your throat as you noticed how his hands were great in size compared to yours. and despite being a volleyball player and assuming his hands would be rough and a bit calloused, they were much softer than you could’ve imagined.

perhaps you hated the way your urge to punch the living daylights out of atsumu suddenly morphed into a heart beat punching the living daylights out of your ribcage.

“thanks for the last berry, (y/n).” he muttered as his hands left yours and popped the last piece of fruit in his mouth.

oh god, please help me now.

fun facts! —

matsui is a family friend so he had known y/n since she was a kid. he ended up hiring her the moment she turned 15 (they even have a handshake cause they’re homies)

akaashi, kenma, and tanaka have never actually been to pink elephant cafe and they’ve been trying to visit for the longest time

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