#yes it's technically thursday i know

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 26

"Songs About Rain" by Gary Allan

[crazyw3irdo]

yknow, i’ve had a lot of ppl reblogging the out of touch thursday from me wondering what it’s from or what’s going on and lemme just tell you it makes even less sense in context <3

[blunderpuff]

average outfit, starring me:

fucking. closet cosplay of the grinch.

my audhd ass: "if all of my shirts are green, then deciding what to wear every day will be easy! all of my clothes will match!"

my audhd ass with a shitload of green shirts and green cardigans and green jackets: "not a single one-a these fucking things matches"

my audhd ass who also got green shoes and a green purse cuz i like green: "NOT A SINGLE ONE-A THESE FUCKING THINGS MATCHES!"

[wraithdance]

The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Synopsis: When your fiancé breaks up with you, you start to question your timeline; who needs a man when you can have a baby yourself? Who better to ask for help on creating one than your arch-nemesis Kyle Garrick?

Note: F!Reader, Fat/Plus sized Reader, Reader is implied to be Black but can be read as WoC, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use Content warning: none; besides a terrible grasp of british-isms

Chapter One: Piss off Kyle

It was while sitting beneath the awning of your favorite bistro that you’d come to a great realization. Hugo Montclair, your fiance of three years, was not just a bore but a bit of a jackass. 

Also, the lavender cake was no longer listed on Le Misa’s menu. So, technically two great realizations. As bad as it sounded, one concerned you more than the other.

Squinting you give the laminated sheet another thorough read to confirm your suspicions and… ah, yes. It’s not there. Where it should be between the ladies fingers and the lemon cake is an empty, discolored space. 

With a manicured finger you chip away at the corners to reveal the sloping letter ‘L’ beneath the meticulously placed correction tape. 

This was no good.

“Siggy, darling have you heard a word I said?”

You hum in reply, still deeply baffled with the current conundrum. Hugo calls your name again, not satisfied until you’ve given him your attention. 

He leans his head down to be in your line of sight. He’s a bit too blonde and polished for you not to focus your attention on. Like a shiny beacon. You try not to sigh deeply and instead plaster on a smile. 

“Yes, I heard you darling, you want to break up because you’re seeing Maddie from downstairs.”

Hugo extends his dainty manicured hands across the small table to cover yours above the menu. 

“I’m so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you this way.”

His eyes are carefully soft and his expression does that awkward stretch people do when attempting to project a facsimile of contriteness. In this case it just makes the skin around his mouth pucker oddly, displacing the filler he swears he gets for preventive measures.

You pat his hand politely with a smile “It’s fine, Hugo, really. Do you think I can borrow your menu? I think there's been a bit of a mistake.”

You are sliding the paper to your side of the table before you can finish the sentence. Hugo is a bit taken aback and blanches.

Another sweeping glance at Hugo’s menu reveals much of the same. 

There’s no lavender cake.

“Look, I know this is hard to take in but I want us to try to at least be amicable. We’ve been together for years and your parents and friends adore me.”

At this you snort but quickly cover it with a cough. Your parents tolerated him at best and your friends had made it well known they disapproved of Hugo. (Something about being a posh chihuahua enamored with its own self importance.)

You frown thinking of the dramatics his mother would put on inevitably, so sure you’d ruined the engagement to her son on purpose. 

But really what could you do? 

It wasn’t the most convenient thing to have your boss's beloved son kick you to the metaphorical curb, but technically you were the one who had been cheated on. Totally not your fault this time!

“I said I got it, you can’t help who you love and etcetera.” You give a cluck of your tongue before looking up once more hoping to catch the circling barista's eye. 

The mid afternoon lunch crowd at Le Misa’s is blessedly tame for a Thursday. The gloomy weather outside makes it easier to spot the jittery teen in a crimson red apron. The poor girl is glued to a corner, hunched over and clutching a notepad in white knuckle grip. 

She sees you shift in her periphery and snaps terrified eyes to your half raised arm. You do your best to smile sans teeth as you wave her over, coaxing her closer with small fluid movements. 

You hope you’re projecting calming vibes because she looks a bit green around the gills from the very thought of being needed by a customer. 

When she’s meters from your table you lean forward, your tits and belly squash a bit over the table causing your empty saucer to clatter before settling. Hugo, despite his offended chittering, stops long enough to stare at your chest. With a roll of your eyes you ignore his open panting. Typical.

“Hi darling,” you chirp in an octave higher than your usual. “I just had a quick question about the cakes? There used to be a lavender one here, I’ve been ordering it for years. Can you tell me what happened to it?”

“Um w-well.” The trembling girl blinks are twitchy and rapid, sputtering out um’s and oh’s.

‘Oh, no’ you think to yourself. 

You might have broken her. Still, you nod your head in support waiting for her to gather her wits. The poor thing was obviously a new employ with a bitch of a case of social anxiety.

Your efforts are for nothing in the end because a loud clearing throat causes you both to freeze, just as it’s seem she’d gotten up her courage.

Your cheek ticks as you watch the skittish girl clam up again. Hugo’s gaze has pried off your cleavage long enough to laser something disapproving and pointed at the side of your forehead. 

He’s even doing that thing with his face that you’ve always hated. His cheeks suck in like a goldfish and he does the eyebrow raise and head cock that screams ‘I am very displeased.’

“What? I just need to ask her something. I'll be just a sec.”

Hugo’s frown only deepens and he lets out the most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard from a thirty two year old man.

It causes you to roll your eyes. Really, why couldn’t he just break up with you through text? This whole kerfuffle was starting to drag on and ruin your already limited lunch hour.

What happened to just saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’ or ghosting like a normal person? 

You give the hovering teenager a tight smile and lift a single manicured finger to signify the need for a moment. She scurries back into the safety of the French doors into the cafe's interior before your hand has a chance to lower.

“Hugo darling,” Your tone is careful, neutral like the one you use to disarm your irate clients. 

“I’m really not upset I promise, we’d barely begun planning the wedding and we never got around to moving in with each other. Really there’s no harm-”

“She's pregnant.” he blurts out suddenly. 

A record scratches in your brain because, “What?”

Hugo grimaces. “She’s about three months pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

One blink. Two… before you’re sure there wasn’t a punchline coming. 

“Are you taking the piss right now?”

“Sweetheart,” His hands raise in defense “don’t get upset-”

“Oh what the actual FUCK Hugo? You told me you wanted to wait until marriage before considering children!” Your hiss is low and dark. 

More than a small part of you is satisfied with his flinch back to avoid your venom. You're slightly aware of the scene you’re causing but really! The man had kept his sperm under lock and key like his swimmers were precious jewels!

It’s the one thing he’d put his foot down about, content to let you drive the relationship otherwise.

‘I have to be considerate of my legacy as a Montclair, Siggy.’

‘We can talk about it after the wedding, Siggy.’ 

You didn’t understand the hang up because the Montclair clan were as distant from the crown as you were to Beyoncé! Still he’d been adamant about not having a child out of wedlock. 

You’re not very kind about reminding him of the fact either.

“I did mean that, I swear,” he ruffles his coiffed blonde hair, the pomade holding firm but is no match for the havoc his slender fingers trail. “It just happened and Madelyn and I decided it was a good thing.”

He huffs “I mean let’s be realistic Siggy, she’s different from you. She’s a bit more equipped to take care of a child than you are.”

Oh ho! Now that was rich. You were chomping at the bit to hear how the barely legal heiress was better equipped to birth a baby than you were!

“How so!” Your tone is one translating the utmost disbelief and sarcasm. 

Hugo waves a hand in the air, it’s so dismissive and you consider punching him in the nose for it. “She’s just much more flexible.” 

Well ouch?

There’s a Rolodex of adjectives your litany of exes used to describe you before they dumped you. 

Uptight, strict, aloof, intense. ‘Heartless harpy who feeds on the souls of innocent men’. 

The last one came from a starving poet who’d been freeloading on your nice suede green couch before you'd kicked him and his lute out. How you managed to find the one man in London with dreams of being a modern day bard, who knows.

(You did admire his ways with words and his tongue was capable of art). It had admittedly stung a bit more than the others and you needed an extra hen session with the girls to unpack the resulting feels. 

Nonetheless, you’ve never been called inflexible. 

Matter of fact, you were pretty fucking flexible! Your Pilates teacher had crowed about it several times during class, thank you very much.  (Maybe he was just trying to get you to put out but still, a compliment was a compliment.)

Momentarily you consider if that was actually supposed to be a dig at your weight but Hugo frantically rambles on as if reading your mind. 

“I just mean that you work long hours at Mum’s firm and you’ve told me yourself you wouldn’t stop working even if you were pregnant.”

“So what!”

“So, that’s an awful way to raise a child Siggy! Madelyn works for herself and has the time to dedicate to a baby that you don’t.”

“Of course she has the time!” you cry out in exasperation, ignoring Hugo’s shushing. If he wanted you to react better he shouldn’t have dropped this bomb in public!

“She teaches yoga to the elderly in her perfect fucking apartment! I’ve been a barrister for all of 2 seconds and I can’t just give up my position!”

Hugo rolls his eyes with the dramatic flare only an aristocrat could pull off. “I’ve been trying to work on our relationship for months; you’ve blown me off every time saying you were working or there was a crisis with your friends.”

“I thought proposing would change things but…” The sad look does make some guilt well up into your veins. 

Hugo’s shoulder drop and his blue eyes are a bit misty. It makes your throat close with panic. Hugo was prone to sobbing and you really needed to intercept that train before it derailed.

“Hugo-”

“It doesn’t even feel like you like me sometimes!” He’s hiccuping and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation before you know it. 

Oh for fucks sake!

“It’s like you view me as more of a convenience than a partner. I’ve only ever seen you truly happy over coupons or work or cakes!”

Fat tears roll down his face and you’re handing him your linen napkin with a sigh. He thanks you and blows his nose loudly enough for other tables to glance your way. Wonderful.

When he composes himself you try to refute him.

“Hugo, that's not true, I like you,” His gives you a look of complete disbelief that sets you on the defense. “Really I do! I just…”

Your brows furrow as words evade you. You really wish he would have just broken up with you via text.

“I show it differently that’s all.” Your shoulders sag in defeat.

Hugo gives you a sad smile. It’s watery and his face is still a bit splotchy.

“But not like Madelyn does. Be honest, did you ever love me?”

You feel like an absolute bitch because you can’t answer him. After a while you both accept that it was about as much as you could say.

It’s only when you’re halfway to the office that you realize you never did get an answer about the cake.

Kyle Garrick had a radar for when you were about to make a fool of yourself. The man had somehow been privy to every embarrassing moment you’ve had in your shared building. You couldn’t prove it, but he had to have some kind of sixth sense for your personal humiliation. 

There was no other explanation because the entire six years you’d lived across from him, he was always conveniently near when shit went awry.

Like that time you locked yourself out wearing only a ratty towel when reaching for a parcel. His stupidly pretty face only twitched in amusement seeing you hunched over and dripping wet. 

You’d been attempting to jimmy the cheap lock with a stray paper clip you found discarded nearby. It hadn’t gone well, as you’d been more focused on trying to keep your tits and thighs within the thin, cotton fabric.

(They really should make towels for bigger girls more accessible, honestly it was ridiculous!)

It hadn’t been your finest moment but he could have had the decency to look away. Instead, he leaned his broad shoulder against his doorway, content to watch you struggle. 

You’d snapped at him asking what his problem was and his only reply was ‘nippy in here, isn’t it?’ 

He did eventually help you break into your flat, but only after you’d called him as many names as you could think of. He’d waited out your tantrum without as much of a twitch. He’d simply taken the paper clip from you and sank to the floor in front of the doorknob.

His big hands were surprisingly much more dexterous than yours. You’d never admit to the lump in your throat or the shudder starting at your toes while staring at the long brown digits.

It didn’t help that his whiskey colored eyes bore into yours with an unspoken question when you made a panicked sound. The side of his head had grazed your breasts and the back of the hand holding your towel when he shifted on his knees. The light touch was clearly accidental, but still molten lava shot through you like a rocket on fire.

Intrusive thoughts of him kneeling before you in another context caused you to choke on your saliva. You tried so hard to clear your throat subtly but an embarrassing wheezing sound still managed to escape. Add insult to injury, the infuriating man had to pat your back when your body wracked with coughs.

You weren’t proud that you told him to fuck right off when he finally got the door open. You ignored his sarcastic ‘You’re welcome, luv” and slammed the door in his smug face. 

That was nearly two years ago and the start of your vendetta against the irritating neighbor.

Per usual, he finds you just outside your doorway causing a scene. This time, you’re being clung to by your now ex-fiancés mistress.

Madelyn’s wails are loud, keening things that are razor sharp against your eardrums. Her tearful pleading is loud enough for you to miss the ding of the elevator as it stops on your floor. 

Kyle strides from the lift like a living bronzed Adonis. 

With gritted teeth you curse every deity known to mankind.

Wonderful. Truly, amazing actually!

He’s clearly coming back from a run, His arms are comically large and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat on his brown skin. You’re able to make out the intricate tattooed shield containing the numbers ‘141’ on his bicep. It’s the first you’d seen of it (not that you were keeping an eye out for it before). 

His sleeveless jumper is damp and half zipped to show off a view of his firm pectorals and the first row of his 6-pack. You’re about to peek lower to his loose gym shorts when he catches your stray perusal and raises a singular brow.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Just peachy, Kyle, thank you.” you snipe in a clipped tone. “Please feel free to run along.”

Your snarky dismissal is prickly enough that most people would call you a cunt but would blessedly sod off. 

The disgustingly fit nuisance just removes his headphones from around the cartilage of his ears and continues to linger just outside his door with crossed arms. Behind Madelyn’s trembling back you make a harried shoo-ing gesture. It’s meant to somehow relay that you had everything under control. 

You did not of course, but the last thing you could stand right now is Kyle fucking Garrick in the mix of this shit-show. No matter how angelic the bastard looked in the dim lighting of the hallway, he had an uncanny ability to piss on all of your emotional reserves. 

“Siggy!” Madelyn’s blubbering cuts off Kyle's next words. “I’m so, SO sorry!” She immediately descends into another fit of sobs against your cleavage. 

There’s a bit of an awkward lull when Kyle snorts out a laugh.“You think she can breathe in there?”

With closed eyes you lean your head back to look at the ceiling, shooting a ‘fuck you very much’ to the universe. 

You’d come home 20 minutes prior with murderous miasma cloaking you like a second skin. After being publicly dumped (without even the comfort of sweets to soothe the humiliation) you’d gone straight back to work just to deal with piles upon piles of paperwork. 

Your only reprieve was Hugo’s mother canceling her standing appointment with you. You’d still been forced to work with the old woman’s assistant and to your disdain, he was just as persnickety as his employer.

By the time you’d made it home on aching feet and a splitting headache your thoughts were filled with the desire to stuff yourself with a big fat American cheeseburger. Specifically one from the shady shop around the corner that you suspect may be a mafia front. They made damn good cheeseburgers though. 

Your mind had then of course wondered to the possibility of being caught up in a police raid and if ‘wanting to support local business’ be a good enough excuse to get you off the hook.

It’s how you missed the pint sized ambush lying in wait for you.

Madelyn had been planted outside your door in electric pink spandex and light up sneakers. She’d spotted you coming out of the lift and attached herself onto you before you could make a proper run for it.

Since then you’d been stuck holding her instead of the greasy end of a heart attack masquerading as a sandwich. Fat tears continue to wet the collar of the fleece outer coat you’d nabbed at a bargain sale.

“How long has she been like this?” Kyle asks with a raised brow.

Ignoring him, you do your best to wrestle Madelyn’s stiff form back enough to meet her eyes. 

The younger girl’s face is red and splotchy, snot and mascara darkened tears stain her usually fair skin. Her mousy brown hair could use a wash as well but you aren’t unkind enough to point it out. Even though she did shag your husband to be, it was clear the girl was torturing herself with guilt.

It is a bit unfair that the smudged makeup does nothing to detract from her beauty, much to your petty disdain. 

She’d make gorgeous babies with Hugo…

The thought makes you scowl. It was time to make a retreat.

“Madelyn, I’d really like to get into my flat. I don’t want to speak to you to be honest and I need you to let me go.”

More helpless wailing comes out of the younger woman.

“P-Please Siggy, I just need you to know I never meant for this to happen! Hugo and I tried to keep away from each other and I don't want you to hate me or the b-baby!” By the end she’s blubbering herself into hyperventilation. 

From the corner of your eyes you can make out the door of your neighbor adjacent to you crack open. Whipping your neck to get a look at the nosy pissant gets the older woman to slam the door closed with a fearful squeak. 

This had gone on too long.

Forcibly you use your hip and extra weight to maneuver the hysterical woman from your person. You hold her flailing arms to prevent her from launching herself back to your front. When she whines you’ve finally reached your breaking point.

“For fucks sake, you’re making a bloody scene!” You bark out, “I don’t care about Hugo!”

Madelyn flinches.

“But you care that we’re having a baby, right?”

It’s only when Madelyn lets out a whine of pain that you notice you’d been holding her thin wrists in a vice-like grip.

A forgotten Kyle chooses that moment to slink closer, his hands cup Madelyn’s shoulder carefully, despite your death glare.

“Maddy, darling, why don’t you let go for me.”

The brunette woman startles having finally noticed his presence in the vicinity. 

“Oh, Kyle! I didn’t know you were here!” It’s insulting how quickly she wriggles from your hold to catapult herself into Kyle’s waiting arms. 

With disgust you watch Kyle pat the shorter woman’s hair much like one would do a pet. Something about watching him with her makes your hackles rise farther.

“Why don’t you come in and calm down, hm? I’ll make you that tea you like and we can watch something.” Kyle makes a humming noise meant to soothe. It pisses you off but seems to work like a charm.

Madelyn’s sniffles subside dramatically and she rubs her hand across her button nose.

“Yes, that does sound lovely, but I need to talk to Siggy...”

You flinch as the two turn towards you once more. Kyle must see the cornered look in your eyes because he rubs his hands along Madelyn’s shoulders and whispers something in her ear. 

Madelyn nods and enters Kyle’s flat without any further hesitation.

It’s like the nearly thirty minutes of being held hostage outside your own home means nothing against his soft words.

God, you hate this man with every fiber of your being.

With a scowl you rummage through your bag for your house keys. Why did you have so many gum wrappers inside? You really need to clean your bag out. 

It’s not until you hear a throat clear that you realize Kyle still watches you from the threshold of his home.

“What?” Your tone makes a muscle in his cheek twitch. You hate to say it but it satisfies you to know at least you have some effect on him.

“Are you alright, love?” 

That causes you to abandon your search. You squint at his open expression and the genuine concern you see there. It’s unexpected and makes you a bit uncomfortable. How pathetic did you look that even your enemies pity you?

“I’m fine. Not like you actually care anyways.”

The last part was said in a mumble but Kyle’s sharp ears catch it. 

“Oy, what is that supposed to mean?” He steps closer to you crowding your space. 

Your senses are bombarded by the heady scent of the bergamot and cedar wood notes in his cologne. Coupled with the tangy smell of his natural musk, your brain does that thing where it shuts off and reboots itself.

“Siggy.” Kyle reaches out to touch your arm sending an electric current between you two that causes you to jolt back. He frowns, stepping closer, crowding you before you wield your bag in front of you like a shield and sword. 

“Garrick, I really, really don’t want to talk right now.” 

“Sig-”

“No, no, no! I don’t want to hear it! I’ve had a shite day and the cause of it is currently waiting for tea and cakes in your flat! I’m the one that deserves bloody tea and cakes for fucks sake!”

Enraged, you shove your hand through your bag and come in contact with the puff ball attached to your keys. 

You’re frantically unlocking your door and shoving inside your home, refusing to give the universe another moment to make a mess of your ruined day.

You look at Kyle as he stands in utter confusion and give him the dirtiest look in your arsenal. 

“Cheers, I hope you enjoy your sweets with Madelyn but you can piss right off, Kyle!” 

You slam the door with finality.

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[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[obeymematches]

I saw your MC is a tease/Bully not so oblivious ask. But how do the brothers react to some one like me who literally cannot tell someone likes them unless they open their mouth and say it?

Like seriously, unless you smack me in the face with the info I am completely oblivious.

hahah i like this idea! Though these turned out so long i'll do a part2

Mc IS oblivious!

Lucifer:

● To demonstrate his eternal love, ardent obsession he expresses his feelings through gifting you not just one, but an entire boque of maroon roses. He grows them in his garden. If this doesn't impress you tell me, what will?

● "Ohh! How pretty! You're so sweet Lucifer you really didn't have to! Now where shall I put these-"

● Inside his mind: Okay MC likes them- but perhaps not me? I should've given them something more practical it seems. I must figure out what they prefer."

● His next attempt was much more simple; to your luck, he prefers not to make things more complicated than they need to be. Yes he invited you to a stroll through a nearby park. Yes you had no idea it was a date. Even though it was just you two and you walked around with you hand around his arms, his other hand gently caressing the hand you gave him. Nothing special just a regular Thursday, you thought.

"MC, I must confess, it was my pleasure to spend time with you today. I wish we could do this more often..."

"To tell you the truth I could get used to this, thanks for inviting me for a walk!"

"Was it just a walk to you, MC?"

At this point you felt like you needed to be careful about how you continue the conversation.

"Well- technically, wasn't it a walk?"

"It was. You are right. What I've neglected to tell you is that it was supposed to be a date. You are on my mind every day, in fact, I can hardly forget about you as I work. You are very dear to me despite not knowing you for a long time. I... I'm very fond of you MC. I just wanted you to know."

Mammon:

● As you are aware, he spends most of the day with you. You don't sleep together but besides that you are pretty much together all day.

● You are in your room, laying on your back, scrolling your phone to pass time.

● He enters your room casually, lays beside you without saying anything. With a swift motion he lifts your phone out of your hands, puts it on the bed next to you and lays his head on your chest.

"Mind givin' me attention?"

"I gave you attention all day Mams, whats going on?"

"How come ya always nice to me MC?"

"Uh- You are my first friend here, of course I'm nice-"

"Ya don't have to be so nice cuz of that though..."

"What do you mean Mammon?"

"Ugggh ya gonna make me say it? Cuz I'm not about to-"

"Say what? You're confusing me-"

"Nothin. It's nothin."

● That was it for that day. Same week you were minding your business in the kitchen when you overheard your best friend fight with Levi.

☆Don't ya dare tell MC!!

□ Or what? You'll draw me with a pencil?

☆ Ya piece of-

There you were on the doorstep, wondering what the hell is going on here.

Levi: MC! Did you know Mammon likes you??

You: Well- I sure hope he does, we are friends afterall-

Levi: nOOO he likes you more than a friend!

You: Uh... He is my best friend I guess?

Mammon: Levi ya idiot stop right here! Yes MC is my best friend now shut up!

● Life goes on as it is for a couple of days. One night Mams brings you a beer (0% if you don't drink) and sits down with you.

"MC... Imma ask you a question, be honest alright? An' don't laugh okay? So MC... am I really just ya best friend?"

"Yes you are. Why?"

"Listen MC ... I wouldn't be tellin ya this if it wasn't true alright- I like you a lot."

"And I like you a lot too!"

"MC, no. I'm... I... wanna be with ya. No, not just with ya, I just wanna be yours."

"As in....?"

"As in that stupid series you made me watch- "

"Mammon? Are you telling me you want to date me?"

"Uh-huh. I promise I'll give ya anything ya want. If ya'd let me-"

Leviathan:

● my boy is the definition of oblivious, unlucky for you

● Okay at this point it'll take ages for this conversation to happen....if it happens at all.

● By now sending each other hearts in the video game you play is a routine, but strictly IN GAME!

● He visits you in the Human World without complaining

● He doesn't spend much time with anyone but if you want to, he will!

● Very clingy for someone as oblivious as him.

● Both of you starts to give hints at some point and still nothing happens. "Yeah he's so nice." "Ah MC always thinks of me, how sweet." "Don't overthink, don't overthink, don't-"

● Okay I am actually struggling to think of a scenario when he confesses so blutly there is no doubt he means it. I think his plan B is to play it off as a joke so whatever the circumstances it's ambigious.

● So listen MC, Levi's only gonna do it once. If you miss it, you miss him out. That's it.

● Levi: So... MC... I was thinking... how funny it would be if we actually started dating- unless...

You: Funny? Why would that be funny?

Levi: Because you and I.... like great friends!

● Okay here is your chance MC he's nevee going to bring this up again-

[avocado-writing]

For nightingale, aziraphale, and Crowley, could you write something with them going on holiday or honeymoon to a museum or historical site, and remembering old times together? Maybe they discover one of them in the background of a historic photo or they’re mentioned in a piece of writing or turn up in a painting or a statue? I just need more of those 3 so whatever you feel like, dealers choice <3

aziraphale x reader x crowley (good omens)

third chapter of this. kissing you on the lips anon for requesting it.

rated M for light smut.

1.5k words.

if you like what I do, here’s my ko-fi!

Your marriage is a quiet little affair.

It has to be, really. Can’t have a big crowd wondering how three people are able to all wed each other. It’s hard enough miracling the registrar to not notice anything out of the ordinary, let alone worrying about having a bunch of guests second-guessing the technical legality of the thing. 

Luckily, it all goes reasonably smoothly. The registry office isn’t busy on a Thursday afternoon, it doesn’t take long to get in and out. Yes, all three of you sign these documents, that’s absolutely fine. Congratulations and I hope you have a happy future together.

Rings on fingers, plain gold wedding bands binding the three of you to each other. Chaste, meaningful kisses and wide smiles.

Being married to them doesn’t feel any different, but then again you suppose it wouldn’t. You’ve been together for longer than any human has ever been alive. You were all practically married anyway, getting the paperwork done was just… the cherry on top.

“Well, now what do we do?” you ask, stepping out onto the busy London street. Aziraphale and Crowley take a moment to consider this question, as if they hadn’t really thought about it either.

“Lunch?” the angel says, just as the demon replies “bed?”

You laugh, and the three of you end up doing one and then the other.

Crowley kisses you both hard the moment that the bookshop door shuts, pausing only to flip the sign firmly to ‘very closed’. You trap Aziraphale between your bodies, knowing how much he loves to be showered with attention, and strip off as you retreat through the nonfiction section to the well-loved sofa in the break room.

It feels like there isn’t time to go upstairs. It’s time to consummate this marriage here, now. 

“Come on, angel,” you hum as Crowley sheathes himself inside him, making Aziraphale’s eyes roll in pleasure, “like Geoff wrote, ‘In wyfhode I wol use myn instrument as frely as my Makere hath it sent’.”

Despite the overstimulation as you sink down on him, Aziraphale laughs. Crowley cocks an eyebrow.

“What on earth are you going on about?”

“Inside joke, I suppose,” you reply wickedly, before silencing any further questioning with a kiss across Aziraphale’s shoulder.

When you’re done breaking in the marriage bed - after you finish breaking in the marriage couch and then the marriage kitchen counter - the three of you lie together, limbs tangled, the two of them feeling you breathe. 

“You know what we should do?” you eventually pipe up, lost between twisting your fingers in Aziraphale’s curls and running your hand up the length of Crowley’s thigh.

“Look, I’m happy to go again, just give me ten minutes,” Crowley murmurs. You almost get caught up in it as the angel plants a kiss on your bare shoulder, but snap yourself back to reality before they can delay your train of thought further.

“No! - I mean, yes, but also, we should go on a honeymoon.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale says, lighting up, “That’s a wonderful idea. I can’t remember the last time the three of us took a holiday together. One where we didn’t have to also do some work, anyway.”

“It was Stockholm, nineteen-seventy-five,” Crowley states without missing a beat. The two of you both look at him, and it clicks.

“Oh god, it was, wasn’t it?” you laugh. Of course. Was it that long ago?

“The Eurovision final! Goodness, how on earth did we forget?”

“Repressing painful memories?” the demon suggests. It was one of those trips he’d clearly not been very pleased about, but insisted his chaperoning was better than the alternative of letting you and Aziraphale run wild around Sweden.

“I can’t believe you had a perm for that whole decade,” you say to Crowley, who just groans and slings his arm over his face to hide.

“I thought it was very fetching,” Aziraphale reassures, squeezing his husband’s - husband’s! - hand. 

“Well, why don’t we go somewhere a bit closer to home?” you suggest. “Somewhere like, I don’t know, Edinburgh?”

“I like Edinburgh. Well, apart from one statue, but we don’t have to go and see it I suppose,” Aziraphale agrees. The two of you look over to Crowley. He lifts his arm just enough for you to see the sparkle in his yellow eyes.

You set off a couple of days later in the Bentley, boot packed up tight with suitcases (none Crowley’s, one belonging to you, the rest Aziraphale’s; he insisted he needed to bring at least twenty books ‘just in case’). With Crowley’s driving the eight hour journey takes about five, and soon you’re at your little bnb planning how you’re going to spend the week.

And it’s lovely. You do all the touristy things, the guided tours, the hidden gems, and slowly making your way around what feels like every pub in the city. You and Aziraphale eat a quite astonishing number of lunchtime finger sandwiches, and Crowley takes you out dancing to a little hole-in-the-wall joint he had a hand in founding a couple of decades ago. Your heart is full and you realise over and over again just how lucky you are to be able to spend your life with the two people you love most in this universe.

On the last day, you finally do the big one: Edinburgh Castle. You’ve been in there but only once, and that was a couple of hundred years ago. It’s changed but not as much as you thought: it’s nice to see the conservation work people are doing in old places like these. Saving little pieces of the past.

You’re walking through one of the little side corridors - a place you’re probably not meant to actually be on the tour, but one of your husbands has a way of making locked doors open and the other is very good at getting people to forgive you if you’re found going through them.

Up ahead they’re bickering. About what you can’t say. You’ve learnt to tune it out unless it’s about something actually important. Despite that you almost miss it, walk right past the bloody thing - but then you catch the flash of paint out of the corner of your eye and do a double-take.

Your mouth drops open.

“Oh my god. You two, come here and take a look at this!”

Aziraphale and Crowley halt their quibbles and double back to stand at your side. They’re both as shocked as you are.

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasps.

“Huh,” Crowley mutters.

“It’s us,” you state.

It is. An oil painting, ancient. The only description is a tiny plaque which sits beneath it in tiny lettering: a portrait of a gentleman and two ladies, c 1665. No more information is given, which is clearly why it’s been delegated to a back room rather than hung in somewhere more important.

But there’s no mistaking it: Aziraphale in his white jerkin and doublet, Crowley in a black dress with his hair down, and you in the middle. Dressed in rich colours, heavy jewellery hanging off you. Your lovers hold either one of your hands in theirs, the three of you looking out serenely towards the viewer.

“We commissioned this for your birthday in sixteen-sixty-five. Do you remember, Nightingale?”

You nod. Yes, you remember the two of them trying to surreptitiously get you to pose while someone caught your likeness in a sketch to transfer later to canvas. Portrait sittings were an exhausting thing and there was no way they were going to trick you into believing anything else was going on.

“I thought it was destroyed,” you whisper, gobsmacked. The three of you had lived in a little London townhouse around the time, when your relationship was still young. And yes, a birthday present it was: right before the great fire of London had broken out. You’d had to evacuate the city as quickly as you could, no time to save anything as unwieldy as a painting.

But clearly it hadn’t burned. Someone had saved it - or nicked it, more likely, before the blaze got to it - and now it ended up here. In this corridor. Where the three of you had just happened to trespass to find it.

“Miraculous,” Aziraphale breathes, and you can only agree.

“Should we try to get it back?” Crowley asks. “I’m sure there’s someone I can blackmail in this castle.”

“No. No, let’s leave it. I quite like it here. A little piece of us somewhere, preserved in time, you know? It’s lovely. Besides,” you turn to your husbands, “I get to have the two of you every day now.”

The three of you take a moment to let the idea soak in; and then you kiss in the quiet of the castle corridor. Happy. Looking forward to the future you’re now allowed to live.

“Now,” you announce after a beat, “I think we’d better get some lunch and then I’m going to go and graffiti that statue of Gabriel. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Oh absolutely,” says Crowley just as Aziraphale tuts “certainly not!”

You talk him round though, and by that evening, he’s doodled a moustache on the smug archangel’s marble face with a sharpie.

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Student Becomes the Teacher

It was a familiar experience to me, getting in my car, going to class early, doing homework. Felt nice. Of course what was also familiar was the bullying. You see I had recently gotten fired and had a wake up call. I needed to do something better with my life. So what did I do? i, as someone so smart would do, joined a technical institute. I went into a more financial side though. This did not make me popular with my classmates who had been there longer, were usually older, and most of which were more hands on.

They would call me a nerd, a loser, and a geek. Of course I didn't care all too much about this. Harassment was just that, and quite frankly it was some annoying dumb ass adults who couldn't even think straight enough to get a job that was actually needed. This attitude also made me very unpopular. So unpopular a teacher complained. Why? Cause he had heard some of the stuff me and my field would say about the welders.

It was just stuff like how they're stupid, all have at least one DUI, won't amount to anything. Stuff like that. He went so far to complain to the head administrator of the school. Now he used to be an electrician so he knew how it was to be hands on. He loved hearing about all of this and hatched a plan. The workload for the welders had been pretty overwhelming for just one instructor...

It was only a few days before I heard murmurs of a new instructor coming on campus, of course it was some welder... not like my section could get anything. But that same week I was called into an office at campus. I expected nothing much, maybe an odd thing I lost, although what it was I could not imagine... what I didn't expect was the head administrator.

"Hello [Y/N], we just wanted to talk to you today." Oh god what was it about, he could see how nervous I was. It was humiliating but also I needed to try and keep cool. "We had received some complaints about your attitude towards the welders and electricians, I just wanted to go through a few questions with you, that ok?"

Without knowing what to do I nodded, "Y-yes sir." I gulped a bit.

"Good, so first... is it true you had said to Taylor that he was a... no good stoner with no future? Is that true?" I tried to shake my head no but it went the opposite way. "Ah, glad you were honest with me. Well... you know here we like to give second chances to anyone right?" I shook my head in agreement. "In that case, any felonies you have?"

What felonies? What kind of- "Yeah, actually I've had a dui or two, got arrested for a fight or two... or more." What was I saying?! What the hell?!

"I appreciate your honesty... Tom was it?" What kind of name was that? It wasn't my name at all? Wait why did I nod?! "Yeah, well that's gonna be tough but your students generally would relate. The head administrator smiled at me. "We can wave those away since your track record for your work is pretty good."

"Glad to hear that." I said again in that weird voice. What the hell was happening... why did I suddenly remember welding and shit... What the hell...

"Yeah... I think you'll fit right in, Tom." Why was he being so devilish right now?!

"Thanks man, really need this." I chuckled as I stood up and walked out of the room. "Startin next thursday right?"

"Yup! Just wear somethin like that when you come in! We'll get a shirt in your size soon!" He laughed as I walked out, the window in the door showing a new reflection.

My face was more dashing, a bit older as well. My hair was messy but in an almost purposeful way. My body had grown quite a bit of muscle now... hair as well. Tattoos had been put on my body frivolously! I looked like some typical douche bag!

I walked through the halls, trying to see on my phone what had happened. My background was a picture of a motorcycle. Jessie... what? Who the hell was Jessie? My contacts had some girls in there and some guys I had no clue who they were. Going through the messages they were my drinking buddies and some hookups.

I continued until the electrician teacher stopped to talk. "Hey are you..." I wanted to say my actual name but that didn't pop out.

"Yeah, name's Thomas Wylder. You can just call me Tom though." I smiled at her... it was like my body moved on it's own. "New teacher here, welding." Wait...

We started to talk in the hall for a bit, just about staff in the school and how the welders were. She described them as younger than me and rowdy. I would make douchey comments or state shit about my life. Where I now lived, how many years I had been a welder and in the union. It was like I wasn't even me anymore. Eventually I cut it short, needing to go do some "tasks" at my home.

I went outside to find it... the same motorcycle from the picture. Jessie. I put on a leather jacket and no helmet... I could ride it with no issue though. I was still wondering how or why this happened. It was as if I was... no... the head administrator wouldn't do that would he?

I eventually got back to wherever my home was. Beaten up shithole kinda... not in a good neighborhood either. I waved to a neighbor and went in. Smelt like shit, I reached in my pocket and took out a cig and started smoking... no... I was the worst kind of person. The kind I hated. Dumb, arrogant, douchey, and toxic! It was awful!

2 MONTHS HAD GONE BY

I was now regularly teaching the class, about two weeks into this hellish experience I had started to regain full control of my life. While I tried to actually stop these worse traits, I couldn't. By that point they were ingrained into me. Now I acted like a douchey teacher, the kinds you hate. The ones that will just tease or make fun of nerdy kids. Of course I was well loved by the staff and my students.

I worked as a welder and taught the trade now. I hated it... but it gave me money to pay the lifestyle I never wanted. I don't think I deserved this but... I'm slowly coming around to it. I feel more confident and hey, I even hang out with some of the douchebags I had teach me when I went here... god I sound so old now... I hope someday I can reverse this before it's way too late.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Prompt: You'll get even... This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 25: I’ll Get Even With You

Thursday, November 25th, 1976

The boys had walked you through their plan step by step, it wasn’t going to be easy, and it required a lot of technical skill to be performed, but it wasn’t impossible. You gave them a few suggestions here and there, you yourself had already been pondering different revenge ideas in your head and together you managed to come up with a rather elaborate but hopefully foolproof plan. 

Remus and you would work on the potions since you were best at them, and you would prepare them that very night, since, as Sirius said “There is no time to lose, we need to strike and we need to strike fast. They must know it’s retaliation for what they did.” 

James and Sirius would be in charge of charms, spells and hexes, and Peter would do recognizance, making sure the coasts were clear before you snuck inside the Slytherin common room to prepare every single one of the things you had in store. 

The planning job they had executed so far was truly astounding, and if this level of meticulous preparation was standard for all their pranks, it was no wonder they were renowned for their incredible feats. Clearly, this wasn't just some fleeting idea that had occurred to them in the shower; it had been meticulously crafted. It bordered on madness and teetered on the edge of hazardous. The exhaustive list of steps might have deterred even the bravest Gryffindor, and yet, despite all these elements, there was an undeniable thrill to it, an unmistakable, electrifying excitement that pulsed through every aspect of the plan. 

As you looked at the list of steps, you marked all the things that you’d be doing, you had to memorise it and burn the page after. You had to leave “no evidence,” Peter had whispered. 

One time he had been caught with one of the plans and everyone had been put in detention for an entire month, from that moment on, they had made one of the key steps of all of their plans to memorise everything. You thought it made sense and started to drill all the steps in your mind, even the ones that didn’t concern you, just in case. 

By midday, and as you were walking alongside the boys towards Magical Theory, you had already memorised and burned the parchment the boys had given you. James, Sirius and Remus had their heads so close together as they were whispering about. Peter was right in front of them, he decided he’d walk all the way to your class even if he had to be late to his own.  And you? You were right in the middle of them all. Sirius had grabbed you by your good arm and pulled you in closer gently so you could be part of the conversation. 

It was weird, to be in the planning rather than just a spectator from the side, giving them enough space to discuss their things as you always had. But not anymore, even Peter had been welcoming and willing to let you in on absolutely every single detail of the plan. Yes, it might have been a little different, but it was definitely the good kind of different, you liked being a part of it. Even more now, since it was your own little revenge. 

Of course, you wouldn’t do something that would really harm the Slytherins, not like they had done to you at least. You were aware neither of them knew about Remus, so when they threw you in the Shrieking Shack, they really had attempted nothing more than to give you the hell scare of your life. “The most haunted house in England”, one of them had said. 

The only person that actually knew about Moony was Severus, and even if he had been a total asshole, he had also gone and told Lily about it, which had ultimately saved your life, since she had been the one to tell the boys. Either way, he could have also stopped them from being stupid and suggested a different thing, but he did not, so the fact that you had almost gotten bitten by Moony was also his fault. Which was exactly why he wouldn’t get scot-free either.

Even if the Shrieking Shack had actually just been a haunted house, the worst thing they had done, would have been the fact that they pushed you around, hexed you a couple of times, manhandled and threatened you, which is nothing they wouldn’t have done in the school, so you all had to carefully plan something that held the perfect balance. 

The prank couldn’t be too dark or harmful, just enough to teach them a lesson, so that they learned that throwing people in haunted houses and attempting to scare this shit out of one of them was a dreadful thing to do.  Which is why your prank had mainly consisted of something of the same nature. 

“So you’ll talk to him about it?” Peter asked. 

“Yes, I think I can convince him.” 

“You sure?” James asked, “It’s pivotal for the plan that we get help from one of the–” 

“–Yes, I’m sure. Most of them already know what happened, Myrtle ran her mouth through their own little circle.” 

“Thought you were friends with her,” Peter said. 

“I’m as much of her friend as you can be,” you said with a shrug “but only the close circle knows, and I asked her earlier today to give him a message, I’ll meet him later near the Perfect Bathrooms, I’ve heard they’re empty rather often.” 

“You can meet him inside if you want, I’ll give you the password,” Remus offered. 

“She can’t meet him inside the bathrooms, it’d be inappropriate!” Peter argued. 

“How would it be inappropriate Wormmy?”

“Well you know, people might talk and…” 

“As if Myrtle didn’t spend half the time there too,” Remus huffed.

“But that’s–“ 

“Hold up! How do you know Myrtle spends half the time there?” you asked, looking at Remus in disbelief. 

“Well, I’ve seen her there, plenty of times, logically.” 

“While… bathing?” you asked again, rather hesitant. 

“She can be very meddlesome, yeah.” 

“And she’s never told me?!” 

“Didn’t you say you weren’t that close?” Sirius said, arching an eyebrow. 

You weren’t really listening “Oh Godric! The gossip she must have seen in those bathrooms.” 

Remus turned to you now “What do you think happens in those bathrooms?” 

“What do you think doesn’t? Unsupervised, private bathrooms the older students have access to?” 

“Oh…” Remus said in realisation. 

Sirius nodded “Yeah, I can confirm things happen there,” he said casually. You gasped and swatted him in the side, it was as if he had forgotten he was talking to his girlfriend with whom he had not gone to the bathrooms… yet. “From hearing about it,” he clarified, at least an octave higher as he rubbed the section you had hit him on. Drama queen, you thought, didn’t even hit him half hard. 

“So… you want the password?”

You thought about it for a second “Yeah… I guess it comes in handy, just in case…” you said. Sirius gave you a suggestive look. 

“Ugh mate, at least try and keep it in your pants!” James said, pushing Sirius to the side, causing you to tumble against Remus’ chest, who held you in place and arched an eyebrow as he looked at you from his higher stance, he seemed amused. 

“For the prank!” you clarified as if it were obvious. 

Remus nodded, the same amused look as earlier, Godric was it fun to tease you, even if the reason you were getting red for was Sirius and not himself. You were blushing, becoming shyer the wider he smirked. You pushed yourself off him, which had his little smile falter even if it was just for a second. “If you boys keep being gross about this whole thing I’ll just go hang out with Lily instead.” 

“You can’t, we’ve got class together,” James said, placing his arm over your shoulder “and whether you like it or not, you’re my partner.” You gave an exaggerated groan in response, tilting your head back just a little to make it seem more dramatic. “Oi! I’m not that bad!” 

“You talk about Lily all the time, and since your date is on Saturday I can’t imagine how much you will–“ 

“–Righ! you need to help me with the planning of that too!” He said taking his arm off your shoulder and turning to you excitedly. 

“But that plan is already done…” 

“But what will I say if–“ 

Sirius came over now, placing his arms over your shoulder “Mate, if you need her to tell you what to do in every single situation, why not let her go on the date with Lily instead?” 

“She’s your girlfriend!” James said scandalised. 

“Wouldn’t mind sharing her with Evans,” Sirius responded with a shrug which had you laughing, “she’s nice, they’d make a hot couple, actually,” the boy added, just to see James’ reaction. 

“Don’t you dare come seduce my future wife!” he said, turning to you with a threatening finger and in a playful tone. 

“As much as I’m into redheads, Lilly is most definitely just a friend,” you responded. 

“What do you mean you’re into redheads?” Sirius asked, turning to you a little shocked. 

You just shugged, “Red hair is really pretty…” 

“But I… I thought that… You said I was your type!” 

You shook your head with a teasing smile “You said you were my type Puppy.” 

Sirius seemed taken aback, but that was right, he really had been the one to say that Remus wasn’t your type because he was, you could practically see the gears turning in his head as his confident expression faltered, which had you suppress a giggle “So you like redheads then?” he said a little defensively “next thing I know you’ll come around telling me you’re also into sexy werewolves.” 

Remus almost choked on the piece of chocolate he was munching, but he played it off with a cough, you just gave Sirius a diverted look “Puppy,” you said with a raised eyebrow “Are you jealous ‘cause I said I’m into redheads?” 

“Of course not,” he said, “Why don’t you go and flirt with one of the Weaslys then?” 

You just laughed, you had no idea who the hell he was talking about since Arthur had graduated a couple of years before you even got into the school, and his younger brother was in 2nd (you had yet to meet him). “Sirius,” you said, calling his attention by leaning in to whisper in his ear “I might be into redheads, but I still like you better than any of ‘em.” 

Sirius almost went red, for a second, but got back on his feet faster than he faltered, and turned to you with a smirk “Well of course you do Starshine,” he said cockily, “After all you’ve got the hottest boyfriend in the entire school.” 

You, along with the boys, laughed at Sirius’ antiques. But she really does, Remus thought as he chuckled and extended his hand with the chocolate towards you, you took a square and bit half of it off before feeding the rest to Sirius. Remus swallowed, wondering if he could be happy with this. With just being a part of it by sticking to the two of you like he was doing then. He wondered if he would be able to survive the heartache whenever he was consumed by greed and desire to have one of you. Whenever he felt like he had to stop being a spectator and take part in the story instead. He shook that thought off his head, he had to focus on the prank now, that was the priority. 

Once near the classroom, Peter waved goodbye, walking to his class while you entered yours. You and James sat behind Sirius and Remus, and while you did attempt to work on your project, in the end, you had spent most of the time going over the plan with James. He had it all perfectly memorised, and he was now telling you how Remus and Sirius would sneak into the library to get the book with the charms they’d be practising all night while you and Remus prepared the special potions you’d be using later that day. 

“So they’ll use the map to sneak in and…” 

“What map?” you asked “Did Remus make more maps for the rest of the passages?”

“Oh well…” James seemed at a loss of words, then leaned down to talk to the boys, you arched an eyebrow, but watched as they whispered about. “Can we tell Vixen about the map?” 

“Yeah, she’ll see it when we go make the potions anyway,” Remus said. 

“I trust her,” Sirius said with a shrug. 

“Of course you do tosser, she’s your girlfriend,” James said with an eye roll “I trust her too, but what about Peter?” 

“I don’t think he’ll mind…” Remus said. 

“You don’t?!” Sirius asked, “He can be touchy as hell sometimes.” 

“But he likes her,” James added, more convincing himself than the rest, “I’ll tell her about it.” 

Finally, you leaned in, having your head almost bump into Remus’ who was sitting in front of you “Tell me about what?” you asked teasingly. 

Remus smiled, “Oh you’ll see,” he responded mischievously “I’ll tell you all about it later.” 

“Mr. Potter, and company,” you heard the voice of the teacher booming in your direction. “Would you mind telling me what’s so important that Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black have to say that you’re not focusing on your work instead?” 

“Sorry Professor,” you apologised. “I was just asking Remus about a particular charm he’s really good at, and we need to use it for our project. James was trying to listen in since both of us will be performing it and Sirius was just trying to help us out as well,” then you flashed the most charming and apologetic smile you could muster. 

“Well then, you should have told me earlier,” he said “Why don’t you guys move your chairs around so you can focus on your conversation better, instead of leaning down over your desks like that?” 

“That would be delightful! Thank you, Professor,” you said with another smile as motioned for Remus and Sirius to stand up as you flicked your want to move their chairs towards you.

“Ugh, you really need to teach me your ways,” Sirius said as he stared at you “I swear I’m charming but… he would’ve eaten me up had I tried something like that.” 

You looked over at the Professor, at the way he held himself “Nah, I’m sure you would’ve convinced him with one of those flashy smiles of yours,” you said with a shrug, “Even James would have convinced him.” 

“Way to leave Moony out,” the boy said with a low whistle that earned him a kick from Sirius, for making so much noise. 

“Thought it was obvious, Remus would’ve convinced him before I even attempted to do it, Professors love him to dеath.” 

“What?! that’s not–“ Remus started. 

Sirius and James interrupted him “Yes it is!” 

In the end, you went over the steps of the plan one more time before you went back to working on your actual class projects. You and James ended up working on the night vision glasses and because of how useful they could be, both of you started digging through books to try and figure out if you could actually finish them before the prank. 

Eventually, you did find a spell that could work, and while you were drawing a bunch of runes on the wooden table, James was writing down a copy of the spell on a piece of paper so the two of you could enchant the object at the same time. 

Both Remus and Sirius were impressed with how fast and in tandem you were working, as if you really had known each other for longer than you had. It was easy to forget how freaking brilliant James was while he was cracking jokes half the time, but he was as much of a genius as the rest of the boys, even if each of them had their thing. The class finished, and since you had lunch, neither you nor the boys worried too much about leaving the classroom as you continued working on your spell. 

That was until Lily showed up near the door “There you are!” She said once she spotted you “I was looking for you, time to change your bandages!” She said pulling a roll-out of her bag “We’ve got like 30 minutes before Defence Against the Dark Arts–” 

Your eyes opened wide, “–30 minutes?!” you asked shocked and turned to the clock “fuck, I’m supposed to be in the bathrooms with Richie,” you said as you stood up and placed your robes around your shoulders to then start unbuttoning the shirt, your back facing the boys.

Lilly took off her own robes and levitated them around you to give you more room to move around as her robes covered you while you took off your shirt, “Why do you need to see Richard near the bathrooms?” She asked. 

“It’s confidential!” James said before you even had a chance to open your mouth. 

“Yeah darling, don’t tell the beautiful redhead, no matter how tempting,” Sirius teased right after. 

You rolled your eyes and Lily arched one of her eyebrows “What’s that about?” She asked as she opened the roll and took out a small pot with her cream, you were unwrapping the older bandages while at it so that you could both end faster and you could run off to see Richie before he got too angry. 

“I accidentally told Sirius I was into redheads,” you said with a shrug “he probably won’t stop teasing me about it.”

“Oh,” she said surprised, taking the bandage you were unrolling with her own hands and helping you with it “Didn’t know you were into redheads…” she said casually “Would you mind if I tease Sirius about it?” 

“Not at all,” you said, “be my guest,” you smiled complicitly. 

“Oh wow,” she said as she looked at your injury “You heal fast,” she said surprised. 

You turned towards it, and she was right, while the wound wasn’t completely healed, it was significantly better than it had been the day before, let alone today in the morning when you were crying as you tried to cure it in the Room of Requirements. Perhaps the piercing paste you had somehow mustered up in the morning did something good in the end, even if it had hurt a hell lot while doing it. Either that or it was something else, either way, you were just happy it was looking better, if it went on like that, you might just be able to convince James to let you play on Sunday. 

“Ready for your date on Saturday?” you whispered, you could tell there was a slight blush creeping up her neck.

“That bastard is lucky I said yes, I don’t even know how exactly he convinced me,” she muttered. 

I do, you thought as you remembered the glass of punch she had in her hands at the party, “No idea, perhaps you just were really happy,” either way, it’s not like the euphoria potion made you do anything you didn’t want to, in fact, I’d go as far as to say it was like liquid courage. Of course, Remus wouldn’t agree with that opinion, or perhaps it did give him some courage, for the first five minutes or something.

“Yeah, I did feel quite happy,” Lily agreed. “It was really nice to hang out with James while taking the pictures, I guess I really hadn’t given him a chance before that.” She said as she dabbed the wound with her much more reliving paste. You would have cried from relief if it wasn’t because she’d asked you why you were crying. 

You were taking deep, slow breaths when you heard Sirius’ voice from behind Lily’s cloak “Hey luv, we’ll pick up some lunch for you so you can take your time with Richie, all right?” 

You nodded and then shook your head when you remembered he couldn’t see you “Yes, save me some sausages, will you?” 

“Whose sausages?” James teased. 

“Ugh, don’t be so gross Potter!” Lily responded “And to think I agreed to go on a date with him,” she muttered to herself. 

“I’m sorry my love,” he said in return “did not mean to upset you.” 

Lily just rolled her eyes “Get the poor girl her sausages and stop being annoying then.” You snickered as you heard Lily’s bickering and she gave you a look, you raised your free hand in surrender. A couple of minutes later she was done wrapping the bandage. “There you are darling,” she said with a smile. 

“Thanks,” you said with a smile “You’re the best.” 

Lily just smiled “Want me to come with?” she asked as she motioned to the door and you rushed to put your shirt and sweater on. 

You shook your head “It’s all right, I can deal with him. Besides, it’s kind of confidential.” 

Lily arched her eyebrows “Really? You’re not telling me what this is all about?” 

“Trust me, you’re better off like this, you’ll have plausible deniability,” you said with a smile as you finished accommodating your shirt. 

Lily was staring at you shocked as you walked to the door “What do you– (Y/N)! You can’t be working on a prank with them–“ she said as she followed behind, pulling her own robe that was still suspended in the air as she picked up her pace. “(Y/N)!” She whined when she realised just how far down one of the halls you already were. 

“Plausible deniability Lily,” you shouted from the end of the hall “Plausible deniability, trust me!” you repeated with a smile before turning in one of the corners, speeding through the halls to reach all the way to the outside of the Prefect Bathrooms, thankfully they weren’t that far off. 

After some more running you finally made it to the bathrooms, Richard Jackdaw was already there, looking a little annoyed as stared at you, as if you had him wait for too long. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, panting. “I got stuck in a class and then they had to change my bandages because, well, Myrtle mentioned it, didn’t she?” 

“That Barty and his gang threw you into the Shrieking Shack because you invited us to the Halloween Party?” he asked, “yeah I’ve heard… You know I had never been invited to a party before, at least not since I became a ghost a couple hundred years ago, and Myrtle, well, I’m sure she hadn’t been invited to one even when she was alive.”  

You tried not to cringe at his words, Richard could sometimes be a little bit of a boastful prick, but he was nice enough to hang around, and he had lots of interesting stories to tell, which is probably why you enjoyed hanging out with him and some of the other ghosts as much as you did. And you couldn’t blame him for his impression of Myrtle, since you had a very similar impression of her. 

“So… why am I here? Revenge, I assume.” 

You smiled, it was nice to know Richie and you were on the same page, you nodded “I want to pay them back in equal proportion,” you said with a smile. 

Richie arched an eyebrow, floating a little closer to the floor to see you eye to eye “Did ghosts really scare you in the Shack?” he asked with what you could only classify as curiosity “I know of no ghosts in there… And you aren’t particularly scared by us either…” 

You shook your head “There are no ghosts in the shack,” you confirmed, “but it is haunted by something else.” 

Richard pulled back, clearly interested in the story that you had to tell, the only thing was, that you wouldn’t tell any story, not today, possibly not ever… “And..?” he asked. 

“And nothing, the thing there did give me a hell of a scare, I almost died and everything,” you said casually “Got scratched up too–“ 

“–Yeah, Myrtle mentioned that one, she also said something about Mulciber being bedridden because of you.” 

You smiled proudly at that “Yeah, so I’ve been told,” you said “It was just Oppugno, but I guessed something funny must have gotten to him,”  you said with a shrug. 

“Aren’t you in 6th? Oppugno is a 7th year spell, I believe…” 

“It is, I’ve been reading ahead a good bit,” you said cockily “but talking about my small little success there, is not why I’ve requested to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he said haughtily “So then, tell me, what’s the plan?” 

“Well, I know you’re a member of the Headless Hunt,” you started, Richard arched an eyebrow as he leaned in one of the statues, “And I did mention payback in the same propor–“ 

“–Shhh…” he said as he placed a transparent hand close to your mouth and looked around “fuck,” he added as he fixated his head on one of the corners “Quick, rub the head of the toad!” he pointed at a statue. 

“Excuse me?” you asked with a frown. 

“Someone’s approaching, hurry!” He added you did as told, leaning closer to the statue and passing your hand over the large toad’s head. In a matter of seconds, the mouth of the frog opened wide and swallowed you whole. You ended up rolling on the floor and coughing a couple of times as you tried to figure out where you had ended up. 

Seconds later you saw Richard float through the wall “You all right?” he asked you “Didn’t hurt your arm, did it?” 

You shook your head, almost surprised at his concern, most of the time Richard was too stuck up to care for anyone else but his ghostly self, or perhaps that was merely a façade and you were finally looking at the real Richard Jackdow, either way, you already knew he was friendly enough to be willing to talk to the new girl, so you held him in relatively high regards. 

You nodded, he offered you his hand to get up but quickly pulled it back, as if it was hard for him to remember he wasn’t alive anymore. It was a rather interesting phenomenon, you thought since most ghosts still had a hard time remembering their capabilities as dеad people even if they had been ghosts for far longer than they had been alive. Myrtle, for example, hated it when books were thrown in her direction, even if she actually couldn’t feel them. 

You gave him a tight apologetic smile as you stood up, dusting your robes as you looked around “You’ve brought me to your Secret hideout, then… Who was outside?”

“Spellman and Nightshade,” he said “We don’t want them to think we’re plotting something, do we?”  

You smiled and shook your head, looking at the small table in the centre of the room, placing your hands on it and leaning in just a little to test if it was sturdy enough to hold your weight, naturally you used your good arm to avoid hurting the other one further. When it proved it was, you turned around and gave a small jump to sit over it, legs dangling a little as you stared at the boy, ghost with a smile “We certainly don’t, thanks for the heads up…” you said, trailing off at the end, realising how it could’ve been offensive only after you had spoken. Richie gave you an amused look, “sorry…” 

He just laughed, “You’re probably the only living person I’d let make head-related jokes without retaliation,” he informed. “But don’t you dare tell anyone about it!” 

“I would never…” you said with a smile “Consider it our little tête-à-tête secret.” 

Richard chuckled, shaking his head as he did, you were certainly a funny one, no wonder the entire school was so fascinated with the new girl “Don’t push your luck…” 

You just smiled, and leaned your head to the side “Will you ever tell me the story of how it happened?” you asked, since you’d been rather curious about it, but knew most ghosts didn’t really enjoy talking about their last moments alive. 

“I told someone once a few hundreds of years ago, they finished what I started,” he said “But that’s a story for another day, all thought they remind me of you a little.” 

You raised an eyebrow with a small grin “Did you also let them make head puns?” 

Richard hummed and shook his head “Privilege is reserved for you sweetheart,” he said with a wink. 

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you retorted with a smile. 

“You don’t mind when Remus does it.” 

“Well that’s–“ 

“You’re wasting my time luv,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “What do you need me to do?” 

“The headless hunt,” you said. He hummed. “I need you to talk to them, and convince them to help us out.” 

He tilted his head “Won’t be an easy feat.”

“That’s the reason I came to you Ricchie, I know you can be very convincing.” 

He hummed again, leaning back a little as he stared at you “And then what? I doubt the Slytherins would be much too scared by the headless hunt, most of them are pure-bIood wizards anyway.” 

You started explaining all the details of the plan to him, his grin grew wider as you went through the potions and charms you’d be using, “You could add some spider venom essence to increase the sensation of crawling skin,” he offered, it had you raise your eyebrows and turn to him with newfound interest, he smirked “I was brilliant in potions when I was alive, that’s how I ended up working with Olivanders, helped whim with the extraction of ingredients.” 

“So now I know who to bother when I need potion-related advice,” you teased. 

He chuckled “Don’t make it a habit,” he retorted “By the way, do you not have class now?”

You looked around to try and find a clock in the old room, but there was none “Shit… I– Do you happen to know the time?” 

He laughed, “I’m dеad, not all-knowing.” 

You rolled your eyes, but nodded, finally jumping off the table “Thanks for helping me out with this, and for showing me your secret little hideout, clearly no one has been here in years.” 

“They haven’t indeed, I used to bring Anne and Apollonia to hook up here,” he said with a shrug. 

“You brought me to your hook-up hiding spot?!” you asked with a gasp.

He chuckled “Why? You bothered?” 

You looked around, aside from the dust and spiderwebs, it seemed clean enough “No… Can I use it?” you said casually, turning back to him. 

He raised an eyebrow “Which of your boyfriends will you bring here?” he asked. 

“I’ve only got one of those,” you dеadpanned. 

He smirked, “You keep telling yourself that, little one.” 

You rolled your eyes “So.. Can I?” 

He shrugged, “Leave a sock by the door at least.” 

You scoffed, diverted “It’s not going to be to hook up! it’s a perfect hideout to plan things… or even to prepare potions…” 

“Oh you’re definitely bringing one of your boyfriends here,” he said “Just don’t forget the socks.” 

“I swear, one can’t have close friends these days without everyone assuming shit.” 

“Or maybe you’re just that oblivious,” he whispered as he started to leave through a wall. 

“Hey! Wait! how the hell do I get out?” you asked. 

“You’re clever enough to figure it out,” he said with a laugh before disappearing. Freakin Richie! He left you locked up in the damn hook-up room. You looked around, the walls were wrapped with large thick bookshelves and a couple hundred books and other trinkets. There was a cauldron near the corner, along with some crystal vases, and a small cupboard with what looked like dried potion ingredients. It really was the perfect place to brew the potions once you’d gotten the ingredients from Slughorn’s office. The only issue left was getting out of it. 

There was no door, or anything that resembled one either. There wasn’t another identical statue either, so leaving the exact same way you had gotten in, was not an option. You took a deep breath and continued to look around, analysing the entire place again. There were more and more books, everywhere you looked. Some of them were in fact potion books, and they had some of the library symbols, which meant either Richie or someone before him had been the one to take them there. You grabbed one of them and started flipping through the pages when something caught your eye, there was a small frog carved into the side of one of the bookshelves. 

You left the book on the table without sparing it a second glance and reached the bookshelf in two strides, leaning down, you realised that there was a section that you could press, you smiled, leaning into the wall to try and hear if there was anyone outside. When you were sure there wasn’t you took a deep breath, brazing yourself for what was to come. 

Finally, you pressed the head of the frog, in a matter of seconds you were outside, this time you managed to land on your knees and quickly pretended you were tying your shoelaces as you looked around, trying to make sure no one had seen you. When you were sure the coast was clear, you stood up, and turned to the clock at the end of the hallway. You were fucking late. 

You didn’t think twice, speed walking towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom. The door was open and lots of people were gathered around two long tables, you instantly knew what was happening, you knew the arrangement, you’d seen it before… in the duelling club.

You took a deep breath and waited till most people had turned around to sneak inside as fast as possible, you were walking straight towards the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder “Lovely to see you decided to grace us with your presence darling,” you froze dеad in your tracks, that was Professor Nightshade's melodic voice.

You turned around with an apologetic smile, ignoring the pang on your arm as she accidentally brushed your shoulder wound. “I’m sorry Professor,” you said “I’ve been feeling a little off lately, I’m aware I’ve missed a couple of classes, and duelling club but I–”

“–don’t need to hear your explanations,” she said with a smile, you weren’t exactly sure if she was being kind or hostile about it “We were just about to start a new duel, we were looking for a second volunteer, would you care to do it?” Remus, who was standing a couple of metres behind tensed up, trying to give you a warning, but you didn’t notice, you were too enthralled by Nightshade’s stare. 

“Uhh… yeah sure,” you said as you dug your pockets to bring your wand out. Finally, you noticed Lily facepalming herself on the side which had you frown. You turned around, to look at the spot on the table to which you’d have to climb to, and you instantly knew why she had done it. 

On the other side of the long table, looking as pleased with himself as it gets, was Evan Rosier. You looked at him, keeping your expression as neutral as you could. And walked over to the table, Professor Nightshade elegantly offered you her hand so you could lean on it as you gave the rather tall jump, and you took it with a small smile, even if you were gritting your teeth as you got backlash from leaning on your wounded arm. 

Seraphina had no idea you were hurt, so even if she was hurting you she was doing it unwittingly. You saw James cringe as she grabbed onto your arm to help you up, but neither he nor anyone else could interfere. Once you were up there, you tightened your grip on your wand as you stared ahead. Last time you’d faced the boy he’d been in advantage, he had gotten you from behind, by surprise and he was a lot stronger than you were. That without even mentioning how it had been a 4 against one situation. 

This time it was different, there was no room to play dirty,  Nightshade was there and she wouldn’t allow it, you wouldn’t say you were particularly in advantage. Evan was a very talented wizard, you knew that much, but you were even, and that was enough for you to feel the adrenaline start pulsing through your veins. You’d get the chance to redeem yourself. You’d prove that you weren’t actually weak.  

“Backs to each other,” you heard Nightshade order, both you and Evan did as told, “I’ll count to five, and you’ll step away from each other that same amount of steps, when I’m done, you may turn around and start the duel, Understood?” 

You nodded and noticed from the corner of your eyes that Lily was gripping James’ arm with a nervous grip, the boy himself seemed tense, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the way Lily was clinging onto him or because he was just as worried for you as she was, probably both. 

“One,” NIghtshade said, both you and Evan gave a step in the opposite direction, you realised Peter had a tight grip on his own wand, and was darting his eyes rapidly between you and just behind you, he was looking at Evan, you realised. “Two.” You took another step. 

Remus could see Sirius tensing up, the boy was breathing slow and steady and had his eyes glued to Evan. He took a step towards his friend, and placed a hand over his shoulder, attempting to make it look like a friendly gesture as if not to call too much attention. Not that people were staring, no, they were all too busy staring at you and Evan. It’s not that the entire class knew of the rivalry between the two, but most people knew about the time you had hit Barty with the quaffle and they knew Barty and Evan were best friends. They had also seen your hostile behaviour towards each other, and with all the attention you were getting because of quidditch, you weren’t exactly one to blend in the back. 

Even if not everyone in the classroom knew how far the rivalry went, they knew the duel they were about to witness would be one to remember. Especially since both you and Evan, were just as talented in charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts as each other. Had Nightshade paid a little closer attention, and not believed Slughorn when he said that you were on friendly terms with each other and made a fantastic team, maybe she would have realised what a terrible idea this was.  

“Three,” She said, you both took another step, widening the distance between the other. You took a deep breath, tightening your grip around your wand, Evan was most likely going to go straight for an attack, so you’d have to be ready to block it, “Four,” she said, and you took another step, you could feel the tension building, the entire class was silent. So silent it was as if they were holding their breath. 

Remus felt Sirius inch forward and he instantly tightened his grip on the other boy’s shoulder. Inching closer so that his chest was almost touching Sirius’ back. While Remus was just as tense as your boyfriend, he also knew how much more impulsive Sirius was, so he started to rub soft circles with his thumb near the boy’s shoulder blade, “She can take him,” he whispered reassuringly, his eyes glued on you as he spoke. 

Another moment of silence and then “Five.”

In a matter of seconds both you and Evan were facing each other, “stupefy,” he spat. 

“Protego,” you said just before his spell reached you, casting a light blue force field around you that instantly blocked his spell. Once the two spells crashed against each other you spoke again “expelliarmus.” 

“Excellent wand work, the both of you,” Seraphina said “Pay attention to her shield charm, she cast it right before Evan’s spell reached her, which makes the spell even stronger.” 

While she spoke, you and Evan continued launching spells at each other, but you both had wicked-fast reflexes and managed to counter most of them, which meant you were both increasingly using stronger and more complex charms and jinxes to try and get to the other. 

“Serpensortia,” the blond said, you paused for a moment to look at him while a very big snake approached you, it was a very basic spell, and you weren’t sure why Evan would use something like that against you, perhaps it’s a Slytherin thing, you thought.

“Flipendo,” you said pointing towards the snake, effectively pushing it back towards the boy, the snake had flown so fast, that it fell right over his shoulders. He hissed and pushed it to the side, having it fall over the head of a couple of other students. 

“Keep the spells on the table!” Nightshade reprimanded as several students sprung back, trying to get out of the way.

You turned to the side and pointed your wand at the snake “deletrious,” you said, the snake rolled on itself and disappeared, but the little distraction had given Evan an advantage.

“Diffindo,” the boy spat, you ducked, but the curse got your cheek either way, causing a small slash on it. You heard some people hiss, Remus had to basically glue Sirius to his chest to warn him not to step in. He knew the teacher would reprimand him, but even worse, he knew you’d be pissed if anyone stepped in at that point. 

You touched your face, with your free hand, seeing the bIood on your fingers as you turned your wand back to him, or more precisely to a point in the ground near his feet, “reducto,” you said, causing a small explosion on the table that caused Evan to jump back, giving you enough time to get back your own footing. 

Evan seemed to panic as you got up and pointed his wand at you “Confringo!” he said, you somehow managed to block the spell. 

“Rosier!” Nightshade reprimanded “That’s not a spell we–” 

“-Avis!” you responded, causing a swarm of birds to fly in Evan’s direction.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She started as well, but neither of you was paying much attention to her words at that point. 

“Expulso!” he spat, the birds all exploded into thin air “Incarcerus!” You blocked. 

“Petrificus totalus!” you said, but he jumped to the side, “Incarcerus!” 

“Impedimenta!” This time, you both got each other. 

You were moving in slow motion as he fought with chains that wrapped around his feet and arms. “Fini…” This was going to take a while, you realised. Evan was working around the ropes pretty fast. “…te incantatem…” you managed to say and got back on your feet only seconds before he shot another jinx that you managed to counter by a hair. 

He pointed his wand at your face “Reducto!” 

You blocked and shot the same spell, he blocked, “stupefy!” He blocked. “Exoelliarmus!” he blocked. He was blocking everything, you’d need something stronger to get him even as he was blocking. “Confringo!” you spat again, but Evan had been distracted by Nightshade who was still trying to end the duel and it got him. You gasped as the boy was shot back by a fiery explosion. You’d been expecting him to block, so you weren’t measuring the strength of the spell. 

Evan barely managed to sit as he reached the floor and started trying to put the fire on his robes off. “Relashio,” you said, launching a good deal of water over him. You had already won, he was on the floor, not on the table anymore, but he was pissed, everything stung and on top of that you had made him look like a wet rat with your stupid water spell. 

Evan pointed his wand at you “Furnu-“ he started.

“Expeliarmus!” Nightshade interrupted, taking Evan’s hand away from his hand “That’s enough!” she said sternly “The two of you are way out of line!” You swallowed, still looking at her. “Diffindo?! Confringo?! Are you two out of your damned minds?!” 

“Evan was the first one to–“ 

“–Silence!” she uttered, you bit your tongue, “I’ll take Mr. Rosier to the infirmary,” she informed “But we’ll be having a talk after dinner Miss (Y/L/N), not only because of the duel,” she added, and then turned to the rest of people “Class is cancelled everyone, you may go back to your daily tasks.” She then dragged Evan out of the classroom. 

There was a series of whispers and people started leaving the classroom, you were still standing over the table, slightly frozen when Lily reached for your hand and helped you down, she took a look at you, placing both hands on the sides of your head to check the cheek that Evan’s spell had gotten cut. James was there, looking at it over Lily’s shoulder, and he winced as the girl moved your head to the side to give it a closer look. The rest of your friends were fast approaching, you still hadn’t said a word.  

Sirius came to you with a huge smile, Remus trailing close behind you “Starshine!” your boyfriend said, trying to get your attention. Since your head was still being held by Lily’s hands, you just focused your eyes on him, he had a huge grin on his face “That was incredible luv!” he started. You didn’t have much of a reaction. “The way that you–“ 

“–Sirius,” Remus said, calmly, trying to get the boys’ attention, he had somehow gotten just in front of the longer-haired boy in a matter of seconds. 

“And then how you–“ 

“Sirius,” he called again. The boy finally turned to him, and saw the way Remus shook his head slowly. Sirius frowned, not quite getting what Moony wanted to say.

“He didn’t block,” you muttered. 

“What was that luv?” Lily asked, the boys’ attention all on you now. 

“I– I was expecting him to block… I didn’t mean to…” 

Sirius frowned “What?! But after the things they did–“ 

“What did they do?” Beth, who had just gotten there, asked. 

Sirius swallowed. “They threw them off their brooms while they were broom surfing,” Remus intervened. 

“You went broom surfing again?” James asked, in shock, Lily almost kicked him in the shin, “Because I thought–“ 

“He’s in the infirmary because of me,” you muttered again. That was not the plan, that was not how you’d get back at them. 

Yeah, you almost died because of him, I’d say you’re even, Sirius thought, but he didn’t voice it, the rest of your friends were gathering around. 

“Should we put something on your–“ Lily started. 

You shook your head “I’m fine.” 

The girl nodded, understanding that you needed some space to process everything that had gone down, especially because of how fast it had been.

“We should go to the common room,” Remus voiced from beside you, and then leaned a little closer, placing one of his hands on your back, a soft reassuring smile “We still have the food you asked for earlier.”

You looked at him, eyes a little unfocused at first, but eventually you nodded.  You all walked back to the common room together. Sirius had taken your hand in his, to try and give a reassuring squeeze, even if he wasn’t quite sure why you were so perturbed, since he thought the way Evan had ended up was well deserved. He’d seen the marks of his fingers on your neck and jaw, he’d seen the sheer stress you had been put into when they matched you with him in potions, in fact, he’d go as far as to say confringo, hadn’t been enough, but that might just be the Black in him. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST:  @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @northernstvr @voteforintensedreams @aremuslupinsimp

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A/N: So now we know exactly what they were looking at... Can we talk about those wolfstar interactions getting better and better? Gosh I love them so much I swear. Thoughts? Comments? What exactly could the prank be? Also, can you tell I really liked Richie from Hogwarts Legacy?

Raead more Marauders Fiction

[bigtreefest]

Hello, sweet Essie!! So we’ve met bartender!Curtis 🫠

Any thoughts (or thots) on bartender!Ari meeting a gal that’s interested in more than just his fruity drinks or getting in his pants? 😏

Hehehe, hello! Bartender!Curtis was a secret sweetie, just like his best friend.

Why, of course we can hear about Bartender!Ari!! I think he has really seen it all, so something super out of the ordinary would catch his eye. Someone who isn’t interested in him. At least not on the surface.

Here’s what I’m thinking. This…got away from me🫣 so it continues under the cut:

It’s a Thursday night, so the bar is buzzing a little, but not so much that it’s impossible to find a seat. As Ari’s topping off a beer, he sees you walk in, but when you make eye contact with him, there’s no smile, no nervous, bashful giggle. You don’t light up like most do when they see the Adonis. Instead, you just continue to drag your feet to a bar stool in between two regulars. Both hardly spare you a glance and Ari bars Curtis from walking over since you’re technically in Curtis’s section.

He makes his way over, setting a glass in front of you.

“On the house. You look like you need it”

But the thing is, you’re in no mood to accept his handout. Your voice is sharp when it comes back at him.

“What’s up with men and them thinking they know better than me!?”

You can see the shock on his face as he’s taken aback. His eyes widen, showing just how blue and surprisingly soft they are. There’s no hint of cockiness in them, at least not anymore. And that’s when you realize that you just snapped and feel terrible about it. The two big men on either side of you were startled, too.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I really appreciate this, I’ll pay to make up for that. It’s just…*sigh* never mind. I’m not gonna burden you with that”

Ari’s brow furrows. You’re a little dressed up, maybe for a casual date, but your face doesn’t show the excitement he knows Curtis had for his last one.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile as he spots someone else come up to the bar out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, no worries. But you should know it’s literally in my job description to listen if you need it. I’ll let you have a second and then I’ll come back, okay?”

You just nodded, looking down into the double shot of whiskey over the rocks he had given you. You weren’t normally one for hard liquor straight, but after tonight, you might need something to match the bitter taste in your mouth, and you applauded the bartender for recognizing it.

You skeptically took a sip out of the glass, expecting it to burn, but it was surprisingly smooth and pleasant. The corner of your lip upturned at his gesture and you looked up to see his longer hair swaying with the breeze as he walked back over to you.

He gave a tentative smile, seeing you had calmed some and you returned it. He reached out his hand over the table.

“I’m Ari, this is my place. Well, mine and my buddy’s at least.”

You shook his large hand and introduced yourself, mind stuck on the feeling of his warm, callused palms. His firm, strong, yet gentle hold.

He leaned over his elbows on the counter.

“So penny for your thoughts?”

You scoffed as your finger danced over the rim of your glass.

“I’m not sure if you want them. They’re mostly about my disdain for men. Are they all so terrible?”

He blew out a breath and pushed back off the counter.

“Well, in what sense? Because as I guy, I want to say no, but as a guy who considers himself pretty reasonable, the answer is probably yes.”

You shrugged and shook your head. “Bad date.”

You talk with Ari about it the rest of the night until he walks you to your car. But the thing is, you keep coming back. Bad date, after bad date, and he’s always there to make you feel better.

Ari is doing everything to make the time to talk to you. He’s making Curtis save your seat, he’s hasty with everyone else who comes up to him. As much as he hates seeing you torn up over guys, he’s desperate for your visits. He tries to deny it, but Curtis isn’t blind. So he finally convinces Ari to ask you out. And oh man does Ari get an earful of “see? Not so easy when you’re on this side of it, buddy.”

Ari builds up his courage, and another Thursday night rolls around, and you’re nowhere to be seen. And then another one, and another one. Before he knows it, it’s been a month. Ari thinks he lost his chance. He’s devastated. He doesn’t want to bounce back with another girl he knows he could easily get. He just wants you.

On a Sunday afternoon, he’s doing inventory in the bar while they’re closed. He hears a knock on the front door and just thinks Curtis locked himself up on the roof again, so he had to climb down the ladder and come in the front. When it swings open, though, there’s no broad guy with a beanie on. It’s you.

EEK!! Do I need to make this into an actual fic? A clueless pining Ari?🫣

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles

[ghost-proofbaby]

EDDIE MUNSON - OURS

😭😭😭

ours (eddie’s version)

warnings: none. just tooth-rotting fluff &lt;3

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: i got a little carried away. but i wish i had an eddie munson to go home to each night and just kiss and cuddle goddamn it

“Oh, is that your boyfriend?”

“He’s… interesting.”

“I guess when you said you had a boyfriend, I never envisioned someone like him.”

“You two are such… opposites! I mean- no! No, not a… bad thing, I suppose. Just… interesting.”

You were growing tired of it. You know people didn’t mean for their incessant questions or comments to get under your skin so badly, but they did. Any time someone at your new job caught sight of your phone’s lock screen – a joyous selfie of you and a sunburnt Eddie at the lake – or your work computer’s screen saver – a photo taken at dusk of Eddie on your couch, strumming on his guitar completely unaware – they had something to say. Something to point out. Whether it be the way you two didn’t seem to fit in their minds, or how rough around the edges he seemed to be. Some coworkers even pressed on how long you two had been together, pulling out the marriage card at a completely inappropriate time. One coworker had even made a snide remark on his long hair, saying “oh, I thought that was a girl! What a relief!”. It just…. It dug beneath your skin every time without fail, making you uncomfortable and irritated all in the same breath. 

You don’t understand why they cared so much. It wasn’t their relationship – they didn’t know you. You’d only started the job a few months prior. They could eat shit, for all you care.

Today had been a bad day. Maurice, one of the elderly women who worked at the front reception desk, had just been awful. She was always talking of you going on a date with her grandson, each time conveniently forgetting that you were already happily in a relationship, but today she’d crossed a line. She’d had her grandson physically come into the office at lunch time, and caught you just as you were on your way out the door to try and pick up something to hold you over until five o’clock would finally arrive. 

The one day you didn’t pack your own lunch. Go figure. 

“Oh! Dear! Over here!” she called  to you as you tried to scurry past her desk. You had held out the hope that the young man standing beside her would have occupied her, but no. No such luck for you on this wicked Thursday.

You took a deep breath before you turned slowly, forcing a polite smile as you faced the elderly woman, “What can I do for you, Maurice?”

“This is my grandson!” she animatedly motioned to the blonde boy at her side, and as he looked up, your stomach dropped, “Jason! The one I was telling you about!” 

Jason fucking Carver.

“Oh,” you tried to keep kind in your tone, but you were already feeling hatred prickle at the back of your neck. You knew all about Jason — he’d made Eddie’s life living Hell too many times to count. He was nothing like the angel Maurice had tried to paint, “I… It’s nice to meet you, Jason, but I really should get going. I’m on my lunch.” 

Jason didn’t take the social cue, stepping forward and stretching out his hand towards you, “Pleasure to finally meet the beautiful coworker my grandmother has been going on and on about. Words really didn’t do you justice.”

Gag. “You’re too kind. I do hope she also mentioned I’m already spoken for.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up, glancing at Maurice for a second. “You’re taken?” 

You opened your mouth to say, yes, I am happily taken, but Maurice was already waving her hands about as if that fact of the matter was nothing more than trivial smoke. “Technicalities. She has a fling with that Munson boy-“

“It’s not a fling,” you stressed, your patience meeting its end, “We’ve been together for years. We live together. I’m really sorry, Jacob,” you purposefully say the wrong name as you turn to Jason, exasperated and not sorry in the slightest, “But I’m not interested. I’ll see you after lunch, Maurice.” 

You think you heard Jason call out a correction of his name from behind you, but you paid him no mind. Fuck him.

You ended up taking a longer lunch, not even caring for the consequences just so you could sit in your car and call Eddie. You described each person who walked into the building that you caught sight of, completely forgetting to scavenge a snack, too wrapped up in giggling at every ridiculous joke or story he makes up for the strangers.

He made it feel better. Maurice and Jason and everyone’s incessant comments forgotten. Their judgments never took this into consideration — this tranquility and Eddie’s ability to make you laugh until your ribs ached. They never considered the love that carried you home each night.

Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

You practically speed the entire way home, forgetting to watch for any police cars half the time. Your poor front door cries out on its hinges as you barrel through it with only one thing on your mind: Eddie.

“Hey baby-“ Eddie tries to greet you, but he hardly has the time to set his guitar to the side before you’re falling into his lap where he sits on the couch. “Oof, bad day?” 

Your thighs bracket his hips and your nose is already nuzzling into his neck, his soft laughter shaking his shoulders slightly as your arms wind themselves around him to the best of your abilities. He returns the favor without hesitation; arms hold you close to his chest and you can feel his nose dip to graze along your temple.

“The absolute worst,” your voice is muffled by his neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, so you continue, “I swear to God, if I had know this office was full of such judgmental assholes I would have never-“

“Woah, woah, woah,” he pulls you back slightly, bringing his hands up to hold both cheeks between his palms as his thumb trails softly against your cheek bone, “Are they being mean to you? Because if they are, just say the word – I’m not afraid to kick a couple of grandmas’ asses.” 

You laugh, sniffling a bit, still on the verge of tears out of relief of being home with him finally, “No, no. You don’t need to go and kick any elderly ass – today.” 

“What about tomorrow?” 

You pretend to think about it as you finally slide off his lap, sitting to his side as your legs remain draped on his lap. He’s quick to reach down and let his calloused fingertips graze a trail down your thigh, ending at your ankle before he wraps them around it and squeezes softly, “Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.”

“Yeah?” he questions, leaning his face down to your shoulder, peppering kisses there, eyes still attempting to glance up at you in adoration through thick lashes, “So not a no. Got it. I’ll have my boxing gloves at the ready.” 

You both laugh as Eddie continues his short assault of kisses. 

Your coworkers can say whatever they want. They can judge the two of you based on short snapshots all they please – they can’t take this from you. Not as his lips brush your collarbones, not as his palms massage your calves, and certainly not as he murmurs soft declarations of how much he missed you all day against your skin. 

“Say, you wanna play a song for me on that guitar, rockstar?” you say as you thread your fingers through his curls, noting the way they’re extra soft, as if he’d done a hair mask like you always pestered him to. 

He lifts his head and leans back casually against the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded as he smiles at you like you hold his entire world in the palm of your hand, “Maybe later. Right now, I just wanna spend some time with my baby.” 

“Oh, I see,” you snort, “You’re gonna break out sweetheart instead? No more dragon-slaying for today?” you joke, referencing his nicknames for his two guitars. 

He only shakes his head and rolls his eyes at you, surging forward and capturing your lips against his, teeth clashing a bit due to both of your wild grins. He has you falling backwards into the couch cushions in an instant and lets his weight settle between your thighs, enveloping you in smells of home. Just him, just you, just the love that you two have gardened here. No opinions of others ever needed.

“Shut up. I love you.” 

“and it’s not theirs to speculate if it’s wrong. and your hand’s a tough but they are where mine belong.”

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: Language, fluff.

Part 3: Contact

As it turned out, your life started to get better after you missed that shift at the coffee shop.

Oh, you still got fired. But the experience of nearly getting splattered on the pavement by an oncoming truck gave you some unexpected clarity about your life.

Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career. And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.

Maybe one day, you could dare to hope, but from now on, you wouldn’t let it rule your thoughts. You wouldn’t hope too hard either.

It could save you from the disappointment of never hearing anyone’s thoughts but your own.

So you decided to check the University of South Dakota’s career board for jobs, and you discovered an opening in the history department! A research assistant for one of your favorite professors, who was writing their dissertation on the strange, superstitious, and sometimes down-right disgusting social practices of the Ancient Greeks (including bottling up the sweat of their best athletes, because they thought their musky body oils contained magical properties).

Since you were already majoring in history, you were a shoe-in for the job. And working directly with your professor gave you a great resource for future classes.

Four years later, you had earned your bachelor’s degree in History. You even decided to further your education when you were able to get a scholarship for graduate school.

Now you were just one semester away from finishing your master’s. You still worked in the history department, but you had been able to upgrade—to Executive Secretary to the Dean of Ancient Studies.

It sounded fancy, but really, you were a glorified slave. Or at least, your boss seemed to think so.

“I need you to cancel my meeting at two,” said Dr. Birch. She breezed into your tiny office without knocking, startling you from where you were hunched over your laptop.

“Good morning!” came your reflexive greeting, though it was a bit too loud and sharp. You internally winced at yourself and relaxed your posture, like a bird unruffling its feathers. “Cancel your meeting with Dr. Wells?”

Dr. Wells was a nice man, and an important one. He was the Head Dean of the entire History department. Technically, he was above Dr. Birch. It wasn’t a good look to blow him off, but you weren’t about to say so.

“Yes, I have an important lunch, and I already know it’s going to go overtime. Gary will understand,” she replied. She was looking at her phone rather than at you. For all she cared, you were just a calendar with hands.

Dr. Helen Birch was a brilliant woman. She’d published no less than five books, had won awards for her peer-reviewed articles, and she had been your academic advisor all through graduate school.

She could also rival Meryl Streep for “bitchy-ass boss” in The Devil Wears Prada.

“I also need you to grade the final exams for one of my classes,” she said. “Greek Studies this time.”

You held back a sigh. Again? I’ll never finish my own finals at this rate.

But what you said was, “Sure, I can do that. And I’ll email Dr. Wells to reschedule.”

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.”

“That’s fun,” you chatted while you revised Dr. Birch’s calendar on your computer (and sent an apology email to Dr. Wells). “Where to?”

“Oh, I have this tedious conference in Chicago. But then my boyfriend is taking me skiing in Breckenridge.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I simply can’t wait. This semester has been a drain on my psyche, and just terrible for my migraines.”

With the email sent, you took a little breath and gathered some courage as you got up from your desk and gathered a handful of papers you had stapled together. It was a rough draft of your thesis, which was only a bit worse for wear (including a suspect coffee stain that you didn’t remember accidentally putting there).

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you got my email about my thesis. I just wanted to go over some of the feedback you gave me on the draft,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Dr. Birch raised a brow. “What of it?”

“Well.” You showed her the front page, which was covered in red ink. “Mainly the part where you crossed out the first three pages and commented, ‘Missing the point.’”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid I have nothing to add about that.”

Well, that didn’t exactly help you. The first three pages was your entire introduction to your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.”

You must’ve had a pitiful, lost look on your face, because Dr. Birch finally took pity on you. She sighed.

“You are a creative girl. I’ll give you that, but your degree is not in cinematography. You are a historian,” she said. “And while the ‘Well of Souls’ in Raiders of the Lost Ark may be based on a real historical place in Jerusalem, that does not mean Indiana Jones can, or should be described as a ‘religious experience.’”

My ten-year-old self would bed to differ, you wanted to retort, but you kept your mouth shut and lowered your eyes. Dr. Birch nodded to herself and was about to leave your office, until she stopped short and gave you her Amex card.

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?”      

The moment your day ended and you were able to get into your car, you let out a long sigh of relief. While you waited for your car to warm up, you massaged your hand, aching from grading papers for Dr. Birch’s class.

You rubbed your hands together, this time to warm them as the frigid air draining from the car still bit into your skin. A shudder tingled through your body, and not in a pleasant way. Honest to God, I hate the winter.

On reflex, you toyed with the silver ring on your right hand—your mom’s ring. It usually comforted you, but today, remembering her made your heart heavy. Because today was the anniversary. 

You still remembered that snowy day when you were fourteen, could picture it so clearly, like a scene painted on glass.

With one last sigh, you fished out your phone to call your dad. It rang for a few seconds (it always took him an eternity to answer his phone, and it drove you crazy).

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” you said.

“Hey. Just got off work?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to Sioux Falls. Want to meet at home and go together, or do you just want to meet me at the cemetery?”

The other line was silent for a moment. Longer than you would’ve liked.

“You’re coming, right?” you pressed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to work late tonight,” Jack said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?”

“I told you I’m working a case.” He sounded annoyed. You didn’t care.

You were pissed.

“Whatever,” you dismissed. But then, you realized you weren’t willing to let it go just yet. “You know, I just find it interesting. On her birthday, Christmas, today, somehow you just can’t be bothered to visit your wife.”

“Hey, drop it, all right?” your dad snapped back.

“Sure. It’s none of my business, I guess.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm either.”

You silently fumed, but you weren’t willing to hang up the phone first. You didn’t want to look petty, and apparently, neither did he. You both could be stubborn like that, sitting in a tense stretch of silence instead of just…

Instead of just, I don’t know what, you could admit, if only to yourself. Eventually, his voice reached your ears.

“I’ll go when I can,” he said.

“Fine.”

And you really did hang up this time.

What should’ve been an hour drive back into your hometown took almost two with the traffic.

Oh yeah, you still lived at home with your dad. It wasn’t ideal, especially with a long-ass commute every day. But unfortunately, being a full-time student with a part-time job didn’t give you the budget to have your own life.   

At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday. You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands. You did see Bobby around town sometimes, and occasionally shared a beer with him when your demanding schedule allowed.

Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.

That seemed to work out better for both of you.

In fact…

You reached for your phone again and found your uncle’s number.

“Stop badgering me, Rufus. I’m busy.”

Your lips curved into a grin. “Uncle Bobby?”

“Oh. Hi, darlin’. Sorry, thought you were some riff raff that keeps spammin’ me.”

“What did Rufus do now?” you asked.

“He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.

“What’re you doing later? Up for a beer?”

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.”

You scoffed. “You have people? What people?”

“You’re not the only number in my cell, you know,” he said dryly.

“What, you mean Rufus?” you teased.

“All right, now you’re just runnin’ up my minutes,” he said. “If you really want that beer, you’re welcome to swing by, if you want. I’ve got a stocked fridge full of cold ones.”

You laughed, then you considered his offer. Did you really want to go home and deal with your dad (whenever he bothered to come home)?

“Well, I’m going to the cemetery first, but I could maybe swing by after,” you replied.

“Right, that’s today, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Give your mom my respects.”

A more genuine smile grew on your lips. “Thanks. Will do.”

You hung up with him just as you got to the cemetery. It was hard not to feel melancholy here, especially in the winter. All the graves were lightly dusted with snow, and it felt like the world came to a quiet stillness here.

You bundled up with your scarf and gloves as you braced yourself for the cold, stepping out of the car. On your way in, you heard the rumble of a car going by. It was loud enough to make you turn your head and see a flash of black speeding away.

You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.

You were about to continue on your way towards your mom’s grave, when you finally heard it.

Say goodbyeee…never say goodbye-y-aaayy. Holdin’ on we gotta try, holdin’ on to never sayyy goodbyeee.~

Someone was warbling a Bon Jovi song in your mind, and it certainly wasn’t you.

But you did come to a dead stop in your path. Your eyes widened as shock claimed your heart and your brain. Soon enough though, your heart warmed as you became aware of something new. It was like a low hum at first, reverberating inside your chest.

You and me and my old friends, hopin’ it would neeever end. Say goodbye—

The singing continued, but all you could focus on was the thrumming in your skull, the thread of connection you could sense and feel inexplicably. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt warmth trickling down your cold cheeks. Sniffling, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and smiled tremulously.

You were finally feeling your soulmate.

Which meant, he was close by…and with that realization came an important question:

What the hell do I do now?

They were in South Dakota again.

Dean knew coming back here was…potentially dangerous. He hadn’t heard his soulmate’s thoughts in four years, since the last time he was in this state.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come here. After the last hunt though, he could use some R&R at Bobby’s for a couple of days.

This time Dean had his brother with him, albeit the circumstances weren’t…great. Their dad was missing, and Sam had lost his girlfriend in the process of trying to find him.

Sometimes, Dean really regretted going to find his brother at Stanford. Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.

A more selfish part of him (one he wouldn’t name) was glad to have Sam with him. Dean was actually having fun hunting with him. And maybe, Dean was having to get to know him again too.

“You think Bobby will have any intel on Dad?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. They were about five minutes away from Singer Salvage, the old man’s tow business (and his house).

“Doubt it,” Dean replied, changing the radio station once Bon Jovi turned to REO Speedwagon. He could get down with some pop rock from Jovi, but REO was pushing it.

“Then why are we here?” Sam turned to him with a frown. “We just ganked a poltergeist in our old house and…we saw Mom. You think we should be wasting time right now?”

Dean’s lips pursed. Leaving their old house behind in Lawrence, Kansas was exactly why he needed a minute before jumping into the next case. As much as he wanted to find John, Dean just…he needed a minute to breathe.

Revisiting those old (painful) memories wasn’t easy for him. He wasn’t sure that Sam completely got that.

“Bobby’s got a stack of lore books to Kingdom Come. Who knows, he might have a way to help us find Dad,” he said.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “And if he doesn’t?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He got why Sam was so fired up. Really. The fact that the kid was having weird…premonition dreams about the near future was concerning. And he wanted to find the thing that killed Jess, that killed their mom, but this was clearly going to be a marathon. Not a sprint.

“In the meantime, we crack open a couple beers,” Dean said, “get one or two of free nights on actual beds, and then we’re on our way to the next gig. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a sigh through his nose and faced the road ahead. They both knew he wasn’t happy. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, the old man greeted them with a casual wave, beckoning them inside. He offered them the contents of his fridge—a few beers and a frozen lasagna defrosting in the fridge. Dean scoped it out while Sam dropped off his bag in the upstairs guest room.

“That for us?” Dean pointed to the lasagna with a grin. “Didn’t know we merited the red-carpet treatment.”

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.”

Dean raised his brows in curiosity. “Didn’t know you had a niece.”

Or any family, for that matter. He knew the old man had a wife, once upon a time, but he assumed she’d passed away. No kids. Bobby had never talked about having an extended family. He didn’t have pictures on the walls, and the shelves only had books and locked boxes.

Bobby took a long sip of his beer after opening a bottle each for himself and Dean. He had one ready on the counter for Sam, who came into the kitchen looking tired. The kid hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, to say the least. Dean handed him the beer.

“I don’t see her much,” Bobby conceded.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

It took a moment for the other man to answer. Eventually, he was honest. “Well, she's grown. Going to school, got a job. But you could say I had a fallin’ out with her dad, a while back.”

“You have a brother?” Sam said.

“Brother-in-law,” Bobby corrected. He didn’t say anything more about it though. Sam and Dean shared a look that said they agreed: There’s something off there, but I’m not gonna pry.

“You still see her though?” Dean asked.

“Every now and then,” Bobby said, sipping at his beer again. “It’s a small town.”

That kind of pissed Dean off. Bobby was a good guy. He’d watched Sam and Dean a lot when they were kids, their dad on a hunt. He’d made sure they had decent food to eat, good movies to watch, and even played catch with Dean a time or two.

So what kind of assholes did Bobby have for family, that they couldn’t be bothered to check in on the old man every now and then? They must’ve been off living their lives, in their own little world. Must be nice.

Dean brought the bottle of Heineken to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Couldn’t have that, could we?

He went to the fridge and opened the cap, only to jump as the beer fizzed and leaked over his hands.

Damn it!

Bobby sighed. “And I just mopped the damn floor.”

“All right, Martha Stewart. Keep your slippers on,” Dean teased. “Sam, get me a paper towel.”

Bobby tried to get by him to get the mop, but beer was still dripping down Dean’s arm.

“Would you move to the sink, already?”

Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”

Damn it.

You heard him again. And this time, you could hear his voice, so you knew the thought belonged to a him. The voice was pleasantly deep, and annoyed. You actually felt his irritation and were able to recognize that the emotion didn’t belong to you.

Excitement bubbled in your throat, almost making it hard to breathe as you drove your car down the road. You had been too worked up to go see your mom, and technically you were supposed to head to your Uncle Bobby’s house, but this was too important.

You needed to figure out how to talk to him—your soulmate.

So you pulled over on the side of the road, and even turned the radio off. Okay, now what?

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. They taught about this subject in school, sure, but that had been years ago! You’d spent the past six years filling your head with college and work and learning how to be an adult.

Okay, just breathe. You calmed down a bit with some deep breaths, and you closed your eyes. When you first heard your soulmate’s singing in your head, you remembered feeling warmth spread through your body, emanating from your chest. Then in your mind, you’d noticed a…a thread, of what could only be described as energy.

You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.

You thought of what you wanted to say, and you tried it—sending your thoughts and your will through the connection.

Having a rough day?

Dean was still wiping beer off the floor in Bobby’s kitchen when he heard your voice ring through his mind.

Having a rough day?

His entire body tensed, and he paused with a ball of wet paper towel in his hand. Sam had taken the mop from Bobby and was about to finish off the floor, until he noticed Dean blanking.

“Dean?” he asked.

It shook Dean out of his shock, enough for him to look up at his brother. “Hmm?”

“What’s up? You were staring off into space.”

Dean feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Sam’s brow rose, but he didn’t press the issue and went back to mopping. Dean took the opportunity to toss the wet paper towel in the garbage.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, and made his swift exit to the bathroom upstairs, so quickly that he didn’t see Bobby watching Dean curiously from the living room.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Sam called after him.

Once again, Dean found himself locking the bathroom door and staring at himself in the mirror. His green eyes were conflicted as he tried to calm down. Maybe his heart was starting to beat a tick faster. Maybe a trickle of nervous sweat was making its way down his spine. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell to do.

His dad’s warning was still clear as a bell in his mind.

“Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean knew why John had said it, and even agreed with him…at least, logically he did. His life was complicated, and insane, and bloody. How could he put someone else through what he went through? What he still went through every day? It wasn’t right.

But his chest was aching. He rubbed at it absently.

He could feel your worry again, he realized. You were anxious, probably waiting for him to respond. Dean could feel you. Having a rough day? you’d asked him.

So as usual, he made an impulsive choice.

You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.

Your relief hit him in a slow, but powerful wave. It almost made him feel guilty for taking so long to answer.

Well, it’s not every day you hear someone else in your head. Maybe you’re going crazy.

She was teasing him. You were teasing him.

It brought an incredulous smile to Dean’s face. You’re one to talk. Maybe you’re just talkin’ to yourself right now.

Hmm. I don’t usually warble to Bon Jovi, but maybe you’re right.  

A beat of surprise, another to remember what he and Sam had been listening to in the car earlier, and then embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck.

You heard that, huh? he asked wryly.

Maybe, you giggled. It was a cute sound, and it cut through some of his embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being put back a step by women. He was good at reading people’s body language, and usually it didn’t take him more than one look to figure out what a woman thought about him, and what they wanted to do with him.

So the fact that he couldn’t see you was a challenge. With that realization, a slow smile spread across his face. He was game for a challenge.

Well, I’m likin’ your voice so far, he said. Think I could get you to sing for me?

He felt you pause, a flutter of warmth through a tendril of shyness. I’ll leave the performing to you, Romeo.   

Come on, it’s only fair.

Who said life is fair?

Dean sobered a bit at that. Ain’t that the truth.

Hmm, so you were having a rough day.

Make it a week, he said.

Yeah, I know the feeling…I wasn’t having a good day today either.

Dean sensed your melancholy and didn’t like the feeling. Well, now you’re talkin’ to me. So it should be smooth sailin’ from now on.

He could feel you brighten at that. It made warmth bloom once again inside his chest, especially because he sensed you were smiling—a bit shy, but genuine.  

…What’s your name? he asked.

It took you a beat, but eventually you gave him your name. It wasn’t what he expected, but he liked it. Your name rolled through his thoughts, and he tested on his tongue.

What’s yours? you asked predictably. Somehow, Dean didn’t anticipate the follow-up.

Suddenly he realized exactly what he was doing: he was talking to you. (Something he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do.) Not to mention, he’d been locked in the bathroom for about ten minutes and hadn’t even showered yet. Pretty soon either Sam or Bobby was going to come knocking to see what the hell he was doing, so he might as well shower for real.

He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.

Dean felt your shock, so he let you think as he stepped into the shower. Eventually you came back, annoyance coloring your emotions and your voice.

That’s stupid.

Dean smiled. Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.

For you!

Don’t you know, sometimes the best things in life come after some delayed gratification.

You paused for a moment, in which Dean didn’t know if you were in shock again, or just pissed. Maybe a combination of both.

Great, I got a comedian, you deadpanned. …You’re not a comedian, are you?

Sweetheart, I’m hilarious, Dean replied. But no. Good guess, though.

He sensed the equivalent of you rolling your eyes.

Just then, Sam knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey, you better not use up all the hot water!”

“Twenty minutes of peace, Sammy. That’s all I ask,” Dean shot back. Sam made a sound of annoyance, but he went away, leaving Dean almost alone with his thoughts.

Look, I gotta go, he said regretfully. But I expect you to have some guesses cooked up by the time I get back from work.

You were still annoyed, but you begrudgingly agreed to his terms.

Fine. Just…don’t wander too far off. I can’t win the game if I can’t hear you.

Dean sensed your underlying worry, and your fear. You were afraid he was going to leave.

His heart softened. As a result, he ended up promising things he didn’t know if he meant.

Don’t worry. I’m not leaving town until you win, he said.

He felt your warm smile, along with your excitement.

Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.

Okay…goodnight.

He hung onto the feeling of your presence for a few seconds longer, before he let go of the connection. For now.

Dean caught himself smiling, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody.”

When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone. He leaned against the cool bathroom wall and pressed his forehead against the tile, while lukewarm water beat the side of his face and body.

Shit.

AN: Oh, Dean. What're we gonna do with you? lol

I hope you enjoyed Part 3! I promise they'll finally meet soon lol. What did you think of their first conversation?

To keep reading: Part 4

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[dira333]

Bitter coffee - sweet words

Shinsou x reader, for my follower Celebration - @alienaiver

this is only a little thing, but I hope you still love it.

“Sweet, sweet nectar of the gods!” Shinsou sighs and watches as thirst drops of coffee trickle down into his cup. The smell is intoxicating and if his head hadn’t been spinning before, it would surely do so now.

Someone giggles behind him and he turns, a little too slow for Hero that’s technically on patrol right now.

“Tough night?” You ask, mop in hand. 

“Uh, yeah.” He blinks owlishly. Did he die? Are you an angel?

He blinks again and the neon sign behind you flickers, crashing the illusion of a halo around your head. 

“Not a lot of customers this time of the night.” You tell him with the air of someone who wouldn’t mind a conversation. “And our coffee isn’t the best, I’m afraid.”

He takes a sip and silently agrees. It’s way too bitter and he knows his stomach is going to make him regret this in a few hours.

“It’s fine.” He huffs over his slightly burnt tongue. “I like it strong.”

You smile as if he’d complimented you instead of the coffee. You’ve got a cute smile. It lights up your face in a way that makes his knee wobbly - but that could also stem from the fact that he hasn’t slept more than half an hour in the last two days.

“Have you eaten?” You ask. “We’re not famous for the coffee but we do sell some fresh snacks. The summer rolls are my favorite.”

He’s not hungry, but he follows you over to the snack bar. You explain every item in great detail, so obviously happy that someone’s got the time to talk to you. It’s cute.

His head rests heavy on his palm as he watches you talk, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier…

-

When he wakes up, you’re nowhere to be seen. His face is mushed against the countertop. Directly in front of him is the paper cup of coffee, the beverage cold.

He blinks himself awake and stretches awkwardly, checks his phone anxiously but no one seems to have needed him in the almost two hours he’d slept.

“Hello?” He calls out. There’s the shuffling of feet followed by your face appearing between the isle of cold drinks and the isle of cleaning products.

“Yes?”

“I’m… I didn’t want to fall asleep during your explanation.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Your smile is timid now. “I know I talk a lot. You were probably very tired anyway.”

“No, no… I…” He blinks down at the snacks in front of him. “Could you explain again? I promise I will stay awake this time. I remember that you said the summer rolls were your favorite.”

You’re still a little shy as you come closer, but you start talking again. This time, he’s able to listen, to snort at the right moments, roll his eyes when you make an overly smart comment… If he didn’t know better he’d say you’re flirting with him.

“Here.” You hand him the summer roll he’d picked. “This one is on the house since you didn’t get to drink your coffee.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to pay for my coffee.” He points out. You shrug.

“It’s fine. We don’t get customers at night anyway. I have to eat most of the rolls myself anyway. Do you want some for later?”

His phone vibrates, automatically switching on the patrol radio. 

“Oh…” He curses quietly when he understands. “I have to go now.”

Your face falls and, as if possessed by Kaminari’s ghost of self-confidence, he leans forward and squeezes your hand that’s on the counter.

“I’ll be back! I promise!”

-

It takes him three more days to get back into this part of town.

It’s a Thursday night, as slow going as the last night patrol. He’s a little more awake this time around 

When he pushes the door to the convenience store open, you spin around behind the till, your face alight with eagerness. Your eyes light up at his sight only for you to fail at trying to hide your excitement.

“Ah…” You say with the air of someone who sells diamonds, not bitter coffee. “You’ve come back for the coffee, I suppose?”

He smiles, his lips a little unused to the movement. “No, actually, I came back for you.”

When you smile, it lights up the room, no neon sign needed.

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[beansricejc]

Hello 👋 can I pls request boyfriend headcanons for John Constantine? Both sfw and nsfw if you're not uncomfortable? Thanks ❤️

of course nonnie!

cw: possessive behavior, p in v, cursing, smoking

the thing is, i cannot physically imagine this man as a boyfriend. he hates labels. he doesn’t want to over complicate his life and potentially put you in danger by giving you the title of his girlfriend.

“she’s not my girlfriend.” he’d grit his teeth, denying it all together. “i just fuck her, that’s it. well, and we go out, and have dinner at her’s occasionally, and i may have accidentally met her grandma. but she’s not my god damn girlfriend.”

“yeah,” chas would roll his eyes and pass constantine a beer. “whatever you say, dude.”

you two met on somewhat normal of circumstances. that’s why he’s stayed as long as he has, he doesn’t associate his first impression of you with any sort of shitty job. no demons, no half angels, no anything.

i said somewhat.

it was some club that he had been to before in his younger years. he wanted some pussy and to get drunk while doing it. so fuck it. some shit head, a 5’6 dumbass knocked into him and cussed him out in front of the whole bar. turns out, that the short asshole, was your date that night.

the last time he saw that little shit, the dude had walked in on constantine holding you up in the men’s bathroom. his nails dug into the flesh of your ass while he thrusted into your sopping cunt. and the eye contact you two made in that dingy restroom? with his hot breath smelling of gin and cigarettes, you relished in it’s scent while being fucked by constantine, with your date finding himself cucked in the doorway.

what’s a better way to get back at an asshole than fucking his date?

just because you two technically aren’t a couple, doesn’t mean Constantine isn’t a jealous SOB. he doesn’t have much in this world, so anything close to him, he’s stupidly possessive over.

“so, I saw your car at that new bar on Thursday.” constantine would grumble, lighting a cigarette in his weird excuse of an apartment.

“yeah, and? what about it?” you’d reply, changing the channel on the tv to the bachelorette. (he claims he can’t stand that show but will comment his varying opinions on the drama, classic)

“well, what the hell were you up to?” his tone agitated, frowning over at you.

you’d sigh, rolling your eyes. “i was on a date, john.” you ripped the band aid clean off. he’s a grown man, he can handle it.

well, that’s what you assumed.

that’s until your face is pressed into one of his cheap pillows on his bed, his bony hips slapping against the cusp of your ass, as he spanks it over, and over, and over again. the stirring in your core repeats, just on the brink of a blood curdling orgasm. constantine has been denying you of the satisfaction of cumming, he grabs a fistful of your sweaty locks by the base, yanking your head back so you’re forced to look up at him.

“bet he can’t fuck you like me. can he? nah, I’m the only one who knows just how you like it, fuckin’ brat. you don’t deserve my cock, i should have just given you the tip and let you suffer.”

your loud moans and other sinful noises bounce off of the unkempt walls of his dwelling. constantine would pry your mouth open, spitting directly into it, his saliva landing right onto your tongue. yet another power play he can pull, just to humiliate you.

“you’re fuckin’ mine, these tits are mine,” his calloused hands pawing at your bosom. “this ass is mine.” SMACK! you shriek in pain, while he hammers his length deeper into you. “this cunt? yeah, that’s mine, and you got the best baby. so tight, so god damn warm, all for me, right?” his grip on the roots of your hair tightens, shooting pain down your scalp.

“yeah! yes yes yes, john, it’s all yours! f-f-fuck!”

constantine would snicker, grabbing his still lit cigarette from the ash tray on the bedside table and taking a long drag. he blew the smoke right back into your face, which makes you cough and wheeze.

“that’s what I thought. no one else’s, just mine.”

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

headcannon for all the batfam members

there’s so many.

Helena Wayne

she’s currently nonexistent in the comics, but she’s the daughter of Bruce and Selena. I’m going to put her age as like near Damien’s age as in 10 or 11, let Helena exist she’s cool.

Helena and Damien constantly squabble, but they are pretty close. Jason taught her how to use a bow, because he’s actually a really good marksman and wanted his little sister to you know not be completely useless in a fight. Dick and Tim kinda don’t know what to do, because she just kinda doesn’t like them as much. But they practice gymnastics together and Tim is trying to teach her coding she does not understand it.

She also was taught loads of skills by Selena who is beyond proud of her, yes Selena may be retired from the theft business but she still helps Bruce all the time with break-ins and stuff.

Bizzarro

He’s here, he’s 100% Jason’s adopted son.

He would literally cry if anything happened to him, everyone is incredibly confused by who the fuck this guy is (I’m taking from current cannon and making him a Superman clone) Jason does not explain.

he rocks up to dinner one day with this guy and everyone is fucking confused, Jason stares at them and they all eat together like every Thursday night.

Conner and bizzarro hit it off and become good brothers, since they were both force grown to their age and Luther is their father. Eventually Superman/clark meets bizarro and is like “who the fuck are you” Jason also is there and stares at him and makes sure he plays nice.

Bizzaro helps out in Gotham but he mostly just vibes.

Jarro

Jarro is a piece of the alien evil guy starro, who Batman straight up adopted.

everyone loves this guy, he’s adorable, he’s one of the fill in robins, he mostly just vibes with everyone, starro lost visitation rights, he’s just a cutie.

Tim, and Jarro are the closest no one knows why but Jarro kinda just adores Tim.

Athanasia Al Ghul

Since she and the other Al Ghul kids are from alternate universes, I’m just going to throw them in.

Athanasia Al Ghul Is very similar to Damien except she has a great appreciation for music, she’s an extremely classical composer and composes whole ass ballads so proper that she releases the songs to choirs and singing schools.

Yeah she’s an assassin and yeah she’s kinda evil, but she’s not THAT evil. Red hood manages to punch some sense into her along with Dick and Damian, I’m putting her age as a a year younger than Damien and they manage to get through to her and convince her to not kill them all.

she’s actually from an alternate universe though I’m shoving her in my fanon/canon universe. She, Helena, and Damien are all dicks to each other seeing as they are the youngest of all of them, they gang up on Dick, Jason and Tim and beg them to listen to their stories and music and art.

she’s more of Bruce’s kid, since she literally does not leave his side and kinda adores the positive attention. She becomes well idk what her vigilante name is, but it’d be something incredibly distracting and punny.

Anita Jean

The first robin, technically.

she has 9 Red Robin’s, and loves them all.

had a murderous streak and kinda adores being scary.

Jason after the events of the “robins” run found her and took her in, yeah maybe they don’t know each other but they went through the same shit.

Her vigilante name is “Wren” and is basically Red Hood’s robin, she and penguin are sworn enemies because she loves birds so much and penguin is a dick to them.

Jason, and Anita/Jane kinda just vibe. Yeah we made mistakes we both kinda suck, but we are chill now. They became close siblings.

she kinda loathes Dick, for replacing her and all that but she let go over it after a screaming match.

and uh, that’s all I got!

yay

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #10] Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it’s within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna;  blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does. 

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days - to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts - then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices. 

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head - again - overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night - three days since Seokjin's last message - she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now. 

You shrug as you let the ruby red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling. 

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do. 

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two - but for long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not - but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it. 

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend. 

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules. 

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in. 

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes. 

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now. 

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon. 

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror. 

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return. 

After all, if you can't go back? 

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare. 

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there. 

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.  

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary. 

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees Celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots. 

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process. 

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jeongguk, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction. 

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror - lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jeongguk's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jeongguk, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead. 

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you. 

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening. 

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does. 

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him. 

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now. 

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit - and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet. 

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real. 

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin. 

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool. 

When his story pops up - a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus - you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. 

It's a simple message - hey - and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decided that 'I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead' probably won't be Jeongguk's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are <3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jeongguk. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK:  Missing their mother. 

JustJK:  Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK:  Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness <3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom. 

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks </3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK:  You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK:  Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You:  You've got full custody!!!

JustJK:  And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK:  smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'. 

You:  They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You:  Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK:  I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party - you coming?

You:  Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says. 

It's actually quite quiet at the club - Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jeongguk's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again. 

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jeongguk's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jeongguk reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that - after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jeongguk's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this. 

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jeongguk trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs - and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK:  Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK:  I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jeongguk doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered. 

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jeongguk groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines. 

"Don't fuck this up, Jeongguk."

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