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youngstarfishphilosopher · 2 years

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Smoke and Mirrors

Yandere Two-Face X Oblivious Spouse Reader

(This one shot is based off the song Smoke and Mirrors. Warning: Mentions of kidnapping, being held at gunpoint, implied murder, extremely unhealthy behavior. )

You had always been known to see the good in everyone. It was one of the many things that Harvey loved about you.

Even from a young age, you had always had a good heart and always thought the best of the world,which is hard when you live in the hellhole known a Gotham City.

Although Gotham had taken away some of the innocent ways you view the world, the city never completely got rid of your optimistic and loving personality.And Harvey loved it.

The older you and Harvey got, the more he was certain he wanted to marry you. The first time he ever asked you out he was a nervous wreak. But he was overjoyed when you said yes.

After a while of dating, you decided to make your relationship official and go married two years later. Although life wasn't perfect, the two of you were happy with each other.

You worked as a kindergarten teacher while Harvey was pretty big on politics,mayors,law, and all the really random boring stuff you didn't have any interest in. But it made Harvey happy, so you were more than accepting of his interests.

Everything felt perfect. . . until it wasn't.

That one fateful day were everything in your life changed. You had been just finishing up with your shift when you got a call from the hospital.

"Hello?" You asked raising the phone up to your ear.

"Hello, Is this Y/N Dent?"

"Yes, this is. Can I help you."

You were still in the middle of your shift. So you assume that the person on the phone was one of the children's gaurdian.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"I'm one of the doctors from ________ hospital. I am calling to inform you that you husband has been in an accident."

You froze all in hearing those words. An accident? What kind of accident? Is he hurt? Is he DEAD?

"Hello?"

You snapped out of your shock when you heard the woman speak again. "Are you still there?"

"Y-yeah." You respond, your voice full of worry. "I'm still here."

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Harvey hated how he looked now. He had never been the same since that mob boss splashed acid on his face. He thought that once you saw his face, you would leave him forever, disgusted by the man you had once married.

But you... Oh sweet and kind you, stayed.

Even when Twoface came along, even with the switching and colliding personalities, even with the violent outbursts, you never gave up on him.

They both started growing obsessed, possessive,unstable. They made sure to keep there criminal activities out of your knowledge and leave you oblivious to the fact that they had been making the other people closest to you drop like flies.

This included Twoface. In all honesty, you didn't actually know about Twoface. Harvey just always played it off as him just having a really bad day whenever Twoface came through.

Neither of them could stand how some people, especially your co-workers, would look at you. How you were oblivious to the fact that so many of them wanted you for themselves.

They Despised it. How you never knew how much you had been hurting them. How you always gave those good for nothing meat sacks your attention.

Just who do you think you are to go and do something like that? Don't you know that you belong to them? Your THEIR spouse!

They would always come home annoyed and angry at those co-workers of yours. And at you sometimes as well.But you would always start acting all innocent and concerned,so they couldn't really stay mad at you for long. Harvey would just brush you off and say he had a rough day.

Twoface wanted to confront you head on. Show you a little murder or two and put it into your sweet little head that you can't go around doing something like that.

Harvey was opposed to the idea at first. Until one day he couldn't take it anymore. Two-face's idea had begun to sound extremely appeasing.

Especially because of one co-worker you had seemed to become attached to. They decided that they would be the perfect person for your punishment.

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

Your head spun in a daze as you opened your eyes. You awoke finding yourself tied to a chair in a room you were unfamiliar with. As your eyesight started to clear up, you noticed two other figures in the room.

You soon recognized them. One of them was your husband, and the other one was your co-worker. The co-worker that was like a best friend to you.

You starred in horror as you watch your friend , who was bound, blindfolded and gagged immediately receive a slap across their face by your husband.

"Stop struggling!"

"H-harv..."

You were terrified as you watched the man you loved hurt your best friend. He had never acted this way before. It was almost as if he wasn't your husband at all.

He immediately turned to you with a scowl on his face once he heard the sound of your voice . "Well, Well, Well. look who finally decided to wake up frome their beauty rest."

Your fear soon turned into anger one you had came back to your senses.

"W-what... Just what the hell is wrong with you?! What on earth did you do to them!?"

"Harvey's" eyes darkened at your outburst. As he walked up to you , regret seeped through you.

"Harvey" roughly grabbed you by your shoulders and lifted you and the chair you were tied to slightly off the ground to reach his face, making you let out a small wimper.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me Y/N!" He snapped, holding your shoulders so hard that you started to think he was going to break them.

"Harv! S-stop it, your hurting me!" You wined. You then let out a small yelp as he immediately dropped you and almost made you fall over in your chair in the process.

"Hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but I ain't Harvey." Twoface said as he pulled out a pistol from its holder. That immediately shut you up. He took immediate notice of this.

Straddling himself onto your lap he raised the pistol to your chin and forced you to look up at him. Although his eyes were dark and bloodthirsty, they had a glint of amusement in them as well.

"Listen up darling." Twoface whispered into your ear. "Me and you are going to play a little game. And maybe, just maybe, I'll let that little home wreaker go free. How does that sound?"

You look past him to your friend. What other choice did you have? You couldn't just let your friend die.

Giving a satisfied smirk when you slowly nodded, Twoface put his pistol back into the holster. Now resting his arms on the top back of the chair, he sat there looking down on you.

"First things first, I want you to tell me that you love us."

"W-what?" You asked confused. "I don't un-"

"I know you heard me!" Twoface snaped. "Look me in my eyes and tell me that you love us!"

Flinching slightly from his out burst you took took a small pause before mumbling "I love you."

Twoface was getting aggravated at this point. "You and I both know that you can do better then that Y/N." He said now leaning even closer to you which made you extremely uncomfortable. "Lets try that again sweetheart, and this time, act like you mean it."

Taking a deep breath look looked up into the man's eyes and calmly stated the words that he so desperately wanted to hear. "I love you darling."

Twoface let out a small chuckle. "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

You didn't say anything.

"The next thing I want you to do." He states, getting even closer to your face."Is give us a kiss."

Wanting to get this whole game of his over with you immediately smashed your lips into his. Twoface responded by kissing back even harder as he roughly grabbed the sides of your head to bring you in closer.

He made sure that the kisses happened for as long as possible.

It soon got to the point were he would move away from your lips ,for your neck, and then move back to your lips again.

Once he was satisfied with all the hickeys he had given you, he pulled away slowly, leaving a taste of blood and copper on your lips.

He was able to quickly compose himself before going to the last part in his little "game".

Getting off your lap, Twoface reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny metal coin.

" You should know that this last little part of my game darling, is a game I like to call Heads or Tails."

Your heart sank into your chest. You had a feeling that you knew exactly where this was going.

"Here is how this is going to work. If The coin lands on the clean side, then I'll let your so-called friend go. If lands on the scratched side, then I pump them full of lead."

"W-wha-"

Before you could get a word in, he threw the coin into the air. As it gently fell back into his palm, he slapped the coin onto his other hand and reviled it to be . . .

Scratched.

Ignoring all of your begging and pleading, Twoface immediately pulled the pistol back out from its holster, and headed towards his hostage.

Ripping the gag off their mouth, you could hear small relived breaths.

Tears started to stream from your eyes as you kept on pleading to no avail. You then watched Twoface raise the gun to their forehead.

Then . . .

The sound of a gunshot fires.

You just sat there in shock. You tried to speak, but no words seemed to come out.

Harvey had now taken over as the two of them walked back over to you.

Sitting back onto your lap, he placked his head comfortably onto your shoulder.

You wanted to yell at him. Punch him. Kick him. Run away. But for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"Please don't be sad love." Harvey lovingly whispered into your ear. "We just couldn't take it anymore."

Sitting back upright, Harvey gently wiped the tear that had trickled down your face.

" Their not in the way anymore s-so just. . . " His voice now sounded desperate. "Please say that you'll stay with us. . . We love you so so much, darling. "

#harvey dent #dc x you #two face #harvey dent x reader #yandere #dc villains x reader #yandere dc villains #yandere batman villains #yandere x reader #yandere x you

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qcomicsy · 1 year

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Things about Peter Parker that warms my heart:

- He wakes up at Mary Jane's side everyday.

- He probably took many naps with Torch when they lived together.

- He definitely had/has a portifolio fill with photos of Spider-Man and random moments in new york, specially with the citizens;

- He canonically keeps photos of Gwen, the coffee bean gang and MJ with him;

- He's low profile and has to constantly update his knowledge about cyber security;

- He really enjoys the moments he gets to just sit and talk with the random team-up of the month;

- He used to wake up to the smell of aunt May's coffee;

- He's constantly under the effect of caffeine;

- He has a tired baby face. Meaning he always had a babyface, but the older he gets the more tired he looks and he hates it because the babyface it's still there. It's the John Mulaney effect of "Oh that tall child look terrible!";

- He looks like your random STEM nerdy guy, it gets him bitches and he has no idea of that;

- His best friend (torch) is pan so theres a huge probability that he attended pride as Peter Parker once or twice;

- He and others superheros always keep an eye at pride and others protests to make sure everyone it's safe;

- He doesn't trust cops, but tries to believe it must be good people out there (sweet poor summer child);

- His nature and nurture is kind and he fucking hates it. He's always like "Can't I let it go just this time? And no. He can't;

- Everyone loves him, he's just that guy. A lot people hate his guts because he's also that guy.

- Big brown doe eyes *sight*;

- Has no idea about how pretty he is, has a certa idea about how hot he is;

- "Yes my wife is hotter than me, yes I'm aware about how much cooler she is too but *I* got the funny bone in this relationship";

- Is unsufferable;

- cries at queer weddings;

- cries a lot how much a middle age man can cry, fuck he was supposed to stop that at highschool goddamit-

- Hate's men with passion will get annoying about how much he hates men;

- Easily makes friendship with woman, is the "I'll awkwardly wait them in front of the woman's bathroom" type of guy vibes;

- Bad dad jokes since he was fourteen;

- Was hated in highschool, slighted less hated in college, very well liked by his work colleges;

- "I don't have anxiety I don't have money to afford have anxiety I am currently undiagnosing myself as we speak";

- Hating men will not stopping him from flirting with them what? what are you homophobic or something???

- "Wdym my hair is a mess I just- *checks mirror* oh FOR FUCK SAKE-"

- He is that guy:

- That's him and Johnny and he is SO MAD about it;

- And he and johnny are that tiktok meme where those two friends are always on eachother instagram because they always take photos together.

- That's him and Deadpool when they finally got better at being friends with eachother:

Deadpool does takes pictures of him but they always end up being like that (hehateshimsomuch):

- That's how he knows deadpool is in new york because he sends him aligned with "this u" meme

- He also does that when they're text arguing "wade i WILL fuckig kill you";

- misspell when angry, misspell when sad, misspell regardless.

#peter parker #spider-man #spider-man headcannons #spider-man hc #spideypool #hell why not #peter parker headcannons #NOT MCU #DO NOT TAG AS MCU #long post

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steponmeinejghafa · 1 year

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Parental Preferences #1

Summary: What kind of parent I think each SaB character is.

Warnings: None, really.

Fem!child!reader

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Kaz Brekker:

Kaz is more of a paranoid parent, because he doesn’t want you to go through what he did as a child. However, he secretly enjoys teaching you little (unethical) tricks like picking locks, pickpocketing, and stealing. Magic, on the other hand, is something by you both enjoy learning.

He’s not very physically affectionate, but he will give you the occasional headpat or smile when he want to show you affection. He is, however, a strict parent, and that means you will come home at curfew, otherwise there will be consequences.

This man will protect you from anything potentially scarring till he thinks it’s okay for you to help or see him smash someone’s head in.

———————-

Inej Ghafa:

She’s pretty lenient as a parent, not gonna lie. She does enjoy a good run or workout with you, and genuinely wants you to be much more than just a smaller version of her.

However, there are rules. And you will follow the rules. This includes no stealing, no murder, and absolutely no taking Jesper as an example to do anything.

But, this woman will give you the world if she must. She is protective, yes, because she obviously doesn’t want you to go through what she did.

Inej is an affectionate parent, though. Hugs, head kisses, head pats, everything! Cuddling is kind of a tentative, though. That’s a bit too much of a close proximity.

———————-

Jesper Fahey

More than a parent, he is like an annoying older brother. While he is, indeed, a very lenient parent, he is also kind of irresponsible. Not like a ‘forgot-to-feed-mini-human’ irresponsible, more like ‘oh-shit-I-left-my-guns-in-child’s-reach’ irresponsible.

However, this man will protect you from everything bad in the world, and he’s very, very, very available. Like, “oh, you have girl problems? I will fix it.” Or “Well damn, looks like someone’s in a bad mood. Time for target practice.”

He’s not entirely controlling, but he’s a worrier, so naturally you have a curfew. If you don’t adhere to it, you’ll probably come home to your dad a crying, blubbering mess on the floor.

Affection is definitely his middle name. Kaz will 100% find Jesper not moving from the couch because you’re asleep in his lap, or Jesper will absolutely smother you with hugs and head kisses when he’s happy for you. He will, also, do the crazy dad thing where the father tosses his child up in the air and catches them.

This also happens to give Wylan a heart attack every single time.

Wylan Van Eck

This poor child has no clue what in the ten hells he’s supposed to do. But, he takes tips from everyone and gradually gets the hang of being a girl dad.

He’s hesitant with affection, yes, but there are moments where he does give you a lil headpat or head kiss.

Wylan’s more of a ‘do whatever you want but don’t die’ kind of parent, but he’s got a balance of ‘oh my god please don’t do that I will kill myself if you get hurt’ as well.

Wylan’s pretty fun, though. He’ll make your hair in different styles and teach you random chemistry stuff at the same time.

———————-

Nina Zenik

She’s a very chill parent, but if you cross a boundary or break a rule, she will definitely get mad at you. She’s got a really good intuition, so it’s difficult for you to hide anything from her.

Again, you have a curfew, you will stick to the damn curfew even if it kills you because otherwise she will go ballistic.

When it comes to affection, this woman will absolutely smother you in kisses and hugs and love at every given point in time. It increases hundredfold when she’s happy with something you’ve done, as well.

Nina definitely loves to teach you about people and the way human beings’ insides work, so by a pretty early age you’re aware of where there’s close to no blood when you stab someone, and what to hit hard enough to paralyse a bitch.

———————-

Aleksander Morozov

This man. He is not a strict parent, but he’s definitely stern when required. But he will spoil you with so many things like books, clothes, toys, and most of all: LOVE!!

But rules are simple: Do not disturb during a meeting, do not be rude, and don’t break anything.

Curfew…can be violated because you, are not allowed outside the grounds of the Little Palace unless you’re accompanied by another Grisha OR by a guard, OR by Aleksander himself. Sorry, hon <3

Not to forget, he will literally destroy whatever force decides to harm you. Aleksander is kind of a default girl dad, ngl, because he pretty much knows everything about women and girls thanks to Baghra.

———————-

Alina Starkov

To be honest, Alina’s more like an older sister than a mom. She’s fun to be with, and is forever teaching you how to make flower crowns, how to draw landscapes and animals, all sorts of things!

She’s not exactly strict, but will definitely tell you off if you don’t listen to an instruction or disobey a direct order.

Curfew. Everyone. Has. A. Curfew. You do not violate the curfew otherwise she will be very, very upset.

Alina is the most affectionate parent EVER. Like, there is not a single moment where this woman is not smothering you with love and affection. Hugs, head kisses, forehead kisses, head apts, you name it, she will give it to you.

She feels especially proud when you figure out how to do things yourself, like fix a broken toy, mend a fence, little odd jobs here and there. She definitely encourages you reading and spends a lot of her money on buying you books and more books! Not to forget art supplies <33

———————-

Zoya Nazyalensky

She is a mix of a ‘tough love’ mom and a ‘soft love’ mom. Like, yes she will encourage you to do what you want, but she will reprimand you for not doing as instructed. Hiding stuff from her is extremely difficult, and Zoya definitely is more curt sometimes than polite.

She is definitely strict about curfew and attire, so you always happen to be in the fittest attire everywhere.

She is, however, an excellent parent because she makes sure you’re well read, and well trained to defend yourself, and she also makes sure you’re amply loved.

Affection is not really Zoya’s thing, so she shows you her love in other ways like through quality time, or food, maybe even a random workout.

And god forbid if anything hurts you.

—————-

Expect a part two with more characters <333 until then!

#child reader #shadow and bone #fluff #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #wylan van eck #Alina starkov #Aleksander morozov #Zoya nazylensky #preference #parent #parental preferences

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evansbby · 5 months

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like when I lived in Pakistan I had NO CLUE the west hated us so much and thought we were some backwards people when really we’re not at all!//

Bestie we’re living the same life because I thought this as well!!! Like I moved to the UK from Morocco when I was around 8 or 9 and I never realized how much the west actually hated us. It only really dawned on me when my mum picked me up once from school and other parents were looking at her weird and LITERALLY pulling their kids to the side as if she had some disease. It broke my heart because she’s the nicest woman ever and to see people just blatantly have so much hatred for her because she’s wearing the hijab makes me so sad.

When I still used to live in Morocco, I’d see tourists from the west sometimes, and I remember one woman who asked me for directions and she was so nice to me that I immediately thought that everyone must be this nice from the west….I was HORRIBLY wrong💀 I was more surprised that she could speak Amazigh so well instead of if she was wearing a hijab or not, because that’s literally the first thing western people see, a piece of cloth wrapped around my head.

Also about that magazine cover??? Wtf😭 How did they not think that shit was, I don’t know, maybe VERY islamphobic??? (also how did your teacher react to your essay? I know my friend also did something similar and she had to redo it because ‘University isn’t the place to discuss these matters’💀 the teacher is very ignorant and racist so it didn’t really surprise me tbh)

I can go on and on about how the west RUINED peoples views of muslims, because it actually makes me so mad and so sad that this is the world live in rn😕

That’s so awful and I feel so bad for you bc it’s genuinely such a shitty thing to go through 😭😭😭 For me it wasn’t as bad of an experience, bc as I said before I don’t wear hijab, so most people don’t even think I’m Muslim (and this is a different topic but I found that so strange, bc where I grew up in Pakistan, most everyone was Muslim and not many people wore hijab? But when I moved to the UK I saw many more hijabis than I ever did in Pakistan).

Anyways, bc I didn’t cover my hair, they’d treat me fine, but then I’d hear the way they spoke about Muslims and I’d be so disgusted… like they have this inner hatred and you get this helpless feeling as if you can’t do anything to change that bc it feels like it’s in their DNA to hate us 😭😭 it fucking sucks! It especially hurts when they pick out random crimes committed by random men who happen to be Muslim and they’re like “see!!! This is the so called religion of peace!1!1” bestie I HATE when they do that! They lump as all in as one and it’s like nothing we say or do can change that even thought all we’re doing is existing!!! (I say “we” but please understand that I know the plight is worse for hijabis and they are treated worse!)

My professor was actually a middle aged white man and he loved the essay bestie 😭😭😭 he gave me a first (A*) and I got very good feedback and it’s an essay I was very proud of bc I felt vindicated that this white man understood what I was saying 😭😭😭🤧🤧🤧

Also when I moved to the UK, the kids in my class thought Pakistan was a barren desert 💀💀💀 they literally don’t see anything outside of themselves bestie they don’t know shit 🤧🤧

#anon

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emlos · 3 months

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very long and detailed dream under cut

dream about an immigrant middle aged woman (wearing dark pink scarves) who asks me and my friend to buy her ice at a supermarket, then she asks if we can meet at 22 so i can hand it to her. friend im with says no but i say yes, so she leaves me and the woman to go to our rented apartment in a neighborhood similar to my grandparents (father side). the woman follows me after exiting the store (in the meantime i bump into something and the icebag rips a little, so an icecube falls onto the ground/floor). i keep getting uncomfortable by the woman who's kinda rude and doesnt seem to want to leave my side. its night.

at some point she decides to run somewhere so i take off in the opposite direction trying to lose her, and turn the corner left next to a building. sadly i see her (now wearing a yellow shirt or pants) going down darkened stairs in between two buildings and instead of running further (i was scared whatll happen if i dont manage to hide/outrun her) so i just say "hey [name]!!, there you are!!" (i know her name in the dream). she is indignant, huffing that i "cant make my running away better by just pretending as if i was looking for her" but apparently shes not that mad and i think we continue walking. we encounter something of an party in open space between commieblocks, where there are witchy teens. there is a raised stone structure with stairs leading to it a few metres away from the gathering. i dont really interact with anyone but for some reason im sure the stone structure is a portal that'l let me get home quicker (yeah magic). i move in to examine it and it looks like a small dead cells spawnpoint portal made of stone. the woman follows me after some seconds. on the back theres a rectangular plaque, also stone, and runes and a warning carved into it. i ask the woman (verbatim, i dont know which language) "hey can you read runes (apologetically) cause i dont and maybe you…" while shes trying to decipher them i manage to 'read' the warning and it says something to the effect of THIS EXIT IS SEALED (there are stone chains over the portal in a X shape) and ITS CURSED BECAUSE OF YOUR WAR "GO FIND A DIFFERENT SHORTCUT" (verbatim)

the woman is excited and reactivates the portal into glowing red? she tries to pressure me into going with her by pulling on my hand and talking to me and i think some of the teens are a bit scared in the bg, but i refuse. she shrugs and goes though the portal herself, and i decide to go home finally. next, the portal and the whole environment has disappeared, i am walking home alone, still buildings, no word from my friend from earlier, its still night

the dream shifts then into the perspective of the woman, now a wolf-like beast (i got that from growling and general behavior, i dont see her specifically anymore as its an 1st person pov), who starts stalking the streets of szczecin, specifically the place where i grew up with the long park, and attacking passersbys. now it gets funny here: i remember viewing the whole thing at this point as a metanarrative - i.e i dont feel emotions or myself anymore, its just as if i control the story events that "should happen" - ill explain:

i dont "control" the beast, but i remember trying to make sure she attacked a variety of people, from old grandmas, to random men, to children sitting in strollers while the mothers watched on. its daytime but for some reason theres no blood, just muted screams and horrified looks. the beast is definitely mauling them, but i dont see it from my pov. i remember trying to stagger the speed and amount of people that the beast attacked to make it "more realistic". during all that i remember being aware of something like corruption, and curse, and i think just before the "scene change" (yeah thats how i think about it) the people started transforming into some sort of zombie-like werewolf people, just standing up and walking behind the beast this keeps going and theres a shift, i see a character thats supposed to be me (i dont remember what they look like) thats almost at home, theres a dream-shadowy figure next to me, that was supposed to be someone heroical, like a friend of mine, from now on referred to as hero. things happen very like movie stills/sequences with different povs:

shot of the beast (looking inhumanly like a wolf) and the two legged wolf people behind it, shot of me and hero glancing behind and being scared, then running things get blurry after that. i think were in a city so we ("me" and the hero) push a comically sized metal lever that causes a big, like 5x5m hatch to open and the wolf people fall into it wilde e. coyote style (it isnt even that humorous, they just are pacified) they fall into some water becken at the bottom, and i remember thinking, what if the water gets infected? but they roll over the side of the becken and fall again into a deeper one. then i wished this was an incinerator. me and hero are relived but the scene changes, to us hearing something from the opened hatch, like a growl. we cautiously peek over the side, and dramatically, from the shadows, emerges a silhouette of an wolf human! they are in the sewers, is my first thought, but they leave the shadows and it turns out its some goofy looking homeless furry-human hybrid, which calms us, and then the dream kinda dissolves.

#rare cinematic dream for me #milos dream journal

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jofletch · 11 months

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[CIS WOMAN and SHE/HER] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [JOSELLE ‘JO’ FLETCHER ]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [SUKI WATERHOUSE]. You must be the [30] year old [OWNER OF DRIFTWOOD COFFEE SHOP]. Word is you’re [GOAL ORIENTED] but can also be a bit [STAND OFFISH] and your favorite song is [KILL BILL by SZA]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [SEABROOK QUARTER]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

@aurorabayaesthetic

Hello there friends, I’m Mads this is my little baby Jo, she’s a new charrie to me so bare with me in figuring her out. I’m working on a bio currently but in the meantime here is a quick little head cannon then some random tid-bits! I’m looking forward to plotting with you all :)

Headcannon:

-Jo grew up here in Aurora Bay

-She is most known for the little scandal that she got caught up in in High School, she was seeing an older guy when we was a senior (18) he was 25 and if you know all too well by Taylor Swift then you know where this is going..

-Basically she got screwed over, she was so innocent and gave her all to him yet that wasn’t enough. Just so happens he had a wife on the next town over.

-So she skipped town and went to NYC stayed there and did a little toxic stint where she experiemented with everything and anything then fell in love with this rockstart whom (you guessed it) did not have good intentions.

-After that Jo came back home and opened up the driftwood something she can put her time and effort into, and here we are.

-She’s pretty much sworn off men and women alike because she’s just not about the heartbreak however she can’t resist a good time.

GENERAL INFORMATION.

Full Name: Joselle Renee Fletcher

Nicknames: Jo, Jojo, Josie,

Age: Thirty

Date of Birth: November 4, 1994

Place of Birth: Cape May, NJ

Zodiac: Scorpio

Gender: Cis Woman

Nationality :American

Religion: Agnostic

Orientation: Bisexual

Relationship Status: Single

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.

face claim: Suki Waterhouse

height 5'0

weight 125 LBS

hair color: Dirty Blonde

eye color: Green

tattoos: Angel wings (right index finger )

dominant hand: Right

distinguishing marks : none

outfit/clothing : artsy,boho, street casual

hometown: Aurora Bay

current residence : Seabrook Quarter

spoken languages English.

financial status: Middle Class

education level Graduated from High School, (did online grad classes never finished them though)

occupation: Owner of Driftwood Coffee Shop

hobbies: traveling, film, going to art exhibits, being creative, getting tattoos, being a foodie, creating new experiences.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

FAMILIAL INFORMATION.

mother: Renee Fletcher,

father : Luke Fletcher

siblings (OPEN FOR CONNECTIONS)

cousins (OPEN FOR CONNECTION)

children: none (that he knows of as of currently- Ivy Amor’s baby is his lol)

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: determined, humble, daring, cultured, realist

negative traits: non-commital, dissmissive, self-sabotaging, contradictory

likes: the smell of a good perfume/cologne, mint gum, astrology, fireplaces, tennis, stargazing

dislikes: busses, being too hot,

EXTRAS.

FAVORITES

TV Show: Parks and Rec

Movie: Step Brothers

Book: 1984

Color: Seafoam

Flower: Orchid

Scent: (vanilla musk)

Food: Indian Food/ A Good Burger

Alcoholic Drink: Chardonnay

Music Artist(s)/Band(s): Greta Van Fleet, The Black Keys, The Neighborhood

Song: You're The one- Greta Van Fleet

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend

childhood friends

drinking buddies

neighbour

exes

new fling

protective friends

cousin

enemies

work friends

roommate

his new muse

tinder hookup?/ sneaky link/ fwb kinda thing?

literally anything <3

#aurorabay.intro #intro #idk what this is but wanted to get something up! come plot :)

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Mickey apologizes to one of their neighbours for something that clearly wasn't his fault just to make Ian(who's in his people pleaser mode) happy. Later, Ian realises how Mickey was right all along and feels bad about the whole thing and they talk. Basically them having a mature convo at the end

Ian heard the shouting as soon as he stepped out into the courtyard. Mickey had come down earlier to take a quick dip, and Ian was hoping to join him and relax together for a while.

But based on the way his husband and one of their neighbors were yelling right then, that clearly wasn't in the cards.

Ian sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. Was it really too much to ask that Mickey get along with the people in their building? He didn't even have to make friends, he just had to not be an asshole to everyone he met.

A particularly loud shout--something about children, and language, and have some common decency--forced Ian out of his reflections and toward the apparent catastrophe that was Mickey in public.

“Dammit, Mickey,” he muttered under his breath as he rounded the last corner and brought the pool into view.

Sure enough, Mickey was there. He stood at the edge of the shallow end of the pool, like he had just hoisted himself out, water droplets still lingering on his sculpted arms and chest. His arms were raised and held out to the side in challenge as he blustered on about public space, and freedom of speech, and I’ll do you one worse lady, just you watch just inches away from a middle-aged woman that looked like she had stepped out of a lululemon ad.

Ian was pretty sure it was the same woman who had stopped him at the elevators last week to ask him to “keep it down up there”. They really didn’t need to cause more trouble with her; Mickey had them on thin ice already when his response to Ian relaying that request was to play loud, bass-thumping music while riding Ian into the floor for effect.

She hadn't met his eyes since.

"What's going on here?" Ian interrupted, coming up behind Mickey and settling a hand on the back of his husband's neck.

"This lady was tryin to--" Mickey cut off when Ian squeezed and released that hand in warning. Mickey glowered at him, but shut his mouth.

"Your husband," the woman said with a glare at Mickey, "was setting a bad example for my nephew."

Looking around for the aforementioned child, Ian sighed when he saw a little boy staring at them all from a pool lounger with wide eyes.

"We're sorry, Mrs...," he trailed off, but she didn't bother to fill in the blank for him, instead just raising her eyebrows and tapping her sandaled foot expectantly.

"Uh, anyway, it won't happen again," Ian finished awkwardly. "Right, Mick?"

"Are you kidding me, Gallagher?" Mickey asked, incredulous.

"I expect a direct apology from your husband," the woman demanded at the same time.

Ian raised his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and gave Mickey a little shake when the other man didn't speak up.

"Come on, Mick, just do it," Ian muttered.

After a tense moment, Mickey did.

"Fucking fine," he hissed at Ian, ignoring their neighbor's sharp intake of breath at the curse. "I'm fucking sorry, alright?," he directed at her, before pulling out of Ian's hold to face him.

"You happy now?" he asked, before turning and stomping off to go inside.

The effect was dampened by the soft slapping sound of his bare feet hitting the pavement, leaving behind wet marks on the concrete. Ian and the woman watched him go with drastically different expressions: one with disgust, and one with concern.

"I do hope you'll keep your man in line better in the future," the woman groused at Ian, but he wasn't really listening.

"Yeah, sure," he answered absently. "Excuse me, I just gotta..."

And then he was scooping up the towel and shoes Mickey had left behind, and hurrying after his husband.

---

"Mickey?" Ian called out hesitantly as he entered their apartment. Other than a couple of damp patches on the floor, there was no sign of Mickey anywhere.

Then Ian heard the shower start, and set Mickey's things down next the door to follow the sound.

Mickey's wet trunks were pooled on the cold tile floor, the shower curtain pulled tight from wall to wall. The splash of water bouncing from flesh to the acrylic tub echoed through the room.

"Mickey?" Ian asked softly, taking a step past the open door. "Mick, you in here?"

He heard a snort over the sound of the water, the curtain moving as Mickey's arm jostled it from inside.

"No, it's your other husband, Sherlock," Mickey answered, an odd tone in his voice. "You know, the one you listen to before you take some random bitch's side."

Ian winced. Okay, Mickey was mad, then.

Moving further into the room, Ian closed the lid of the toilet and turned to sit on it, elbows on knees.

"Sorry," he offered briefly. "But she had a point Mick, there are kids here--"

The water stopped abruptly, and the curtain pulled back to reveal Mickey’s face. His hair flopped wetly over his forehead, water still sluicing down the middle of his face, and he scowled as he brushed it away with the back of a dripping hand.

“Kid, huh?” he questioned “So I need to go get my fucking tattoos removed because some random kid might see ‘em?”

Ian blinked.

“Wait,” he said slowly, mind trying to figure out what he was missing. “What?” then scoffed when Ian just watched him.

Mickey just scoffed.

“You don’t even know what she was yellin’ about, do you?” he asked rhetorically. “I didn’t say a damn word to her or that sniveling brat she brought with her,” he revealed. “They took one fucking look at me, saw the words on my knuckles, and off she went on her little fucking tirade.”

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian started, but Mickey wasn’t done.

“Don’t you act like it matters,” he growled. “You care more about playing nice than payin’ attention, and don’t pretend that after all these years you don’t still assume I’m always the fuckin’ problem.”

Fuck. Ian had really screwed this one up.

“Mickey,” he repeated, more firmly, standing and stepping closer to the shower. Ian took the shower curtain in one hand and tugged it further to the side. Mickey shivered in the influx of cool air, looking more like a disgruntled cat mid-bath than an angry man.

“Mickey,” Ian said again, softer, and stepped over the lip of the tub so that nothing was between them. He took Mickey into his arms, his husband putting up a token resistance before settling against him with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered into his wet hair, ignoring the patches of water soaking through his clothes. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mickey hummed into his chest, not looking up. “You kind of did, though,” he mutters. “Every time somebody’s got a problem with me, you act like it’s my fault.”

Silence, for just a moment.

“Yeah,” Ian finally agreed, stroking a hand down Mickey’s bare back. “Yeah, I need to work on that.”

He pulled back, made Mickey meet his eyes. Mickey was no longer glaring, and his eyes were dry, but there was still something off about the way he met Ian’s gaze.

“You know I don’t really think that, though, right?” Ian asked, disheartened when Mickey didn’t offer a response.

“I don’t, Mickey,” he said earnestly. “I love you, and you’ve been trying so hard--”

“Shouldn’t fuckin’ have to try,” Mickey murmured, and oh.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Ian rephrased. “And I’m sorry I’m always making you feel like you do, too.”

Mickey moved back farther, and Ian’s arms dropped loosely back to his sides. His fingers itched to reach out again, but he got the feeling Mickey needed some space.

“Okay,” Mickey said. “Get outa here so I can finish.”

Ina obeyed, stepping out of the tub and moving toward the door, but he turned back before he left the room.

“When you’re done, come into the bedroom, alright?” he asked quietly. “I’ve got an idea to get back at that asshole woman.”

“Apology or not,” Mickey said wryly, “I don’t think I’m on the mood to fuck you right now, Ian.”

Ian just smirked.

“Not what I had in mind,” he said. “Now hurry it up, I think you’re gonna like my plan.”

---

About twenty minutes later, after the shower had started and stopped again and Mickey had had a moment to gather himself and get dressed, Mickey walked into the bedroom and stopped still.

Ian was sitting on their bed, fully dressed, but that wasn’t what had Mickey startled. No, it was the fact that right in front of him was a huge stereo with old school speakers, the ones that used to be downstairs in the communal lounge area, with Ian’s phone sitting right on top.

“What’s all this?” Mickey asked, and Ian grinned.

“So she doesn’t like profanity, huh?” he said. “Well I found a favorite new song.”

Mickey started to grin himself as he caught on to the plan. Ian stood and pushed one of the speakers a little closer to the vents in their floor, angling it so the sound would bounce right down into the apartment below. Then he tapped a few things on his phone, cranked the volume, and let harsh base and more expletives than Mickey had ever heard in a piece of music fill the room.

Mickey laughed. Ian held out a hand, like he was asking for a dance, and turned the music up even louder.

Shaking his head at his husband’s antics, Mickey took the proffered hand, and let Ian spin him to the sound of their bitchy neighbor losing her mind below them.

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #misunderstandings #fight and make up

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ezgithechaotic · 3 years

Text

pushing up the dasies . peter parker

pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x female reader

summary: Someone has been stealing Y\N's flowers, and she is determined to find who it is.

warnings: she\ her pronouns (don't know if this one's a warning), mention of the death of a loved person, graveyard

author note: I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. But please let me know if you see anthing that doesn’t seem right. I really have no idea if this is good or trash. I’m getting mixed signs. So, please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

As a comic book nerd, I personally love both Andrew and Tom's Spiderman. Just thought this story fit Andrew's more, but feel free to imagine Peter as your favorite!

masterlist

The first time you realized a few flowers were picked from your garden, you didn't think much into it. The kids around the neighborhood liked to play hide and seek around your garden. You thought; it should be Thompson's girl, she likes flowers. It wasn't something that never happened before. You would simply plant new ones, it was no big deal, you could never get angry at children. But after some time, you started to realize the pattern. Every month on the same day, you found a handful of your daisies gone upon returning from your part-time job. Mrs. Thompson swore her daughter would never do such a thing without asking, and after the third time, you were sure somebody was stealing your flowers. Maybe it was that gruff man across the street that never got along with people. But you had a feeling if he had to do anything with your flowers, it would only be blowing them up.

Peter always wondered whom the pretty flowers and house belong to. The post box just outside the garden said Y\L\N, and he had always imagined an old sweet woman lived in the white-painted house with a green door. And Peter hoped he didn't make the poor woman too sad with missing flowers. Boy, was he wrong. You weren't old, and you were furious and determined to find the person who stole your beautiful daisies.

Your friends always wondered why you liked living in such an old neighborhood. The house was one of the few things your mother left you after she died, along with the considerable amount of money in your bank account. You could always sell the house, find an apartment downtown, so you can be closer to school that's what your friends told you every time you had them over. But you loved the house. You loved that the house held so many memories of your childhood, especially your garden. Even though your mother was a busy woman, she had always made time for you and her flowers. At the age of six, growing flowers with your mother quickly became one of your favorite pastimes. That week you did what everyone would do, changed your shift with Mary Jane to catch the flower thief.

So, no, selling the house or letting strangers steal your lovely flowers was not one of the many choices.

Now, Peter Parker was many things, but not a thief. Well, it depended on what you would call stealing. Surely picking a few flowers from a random garden couldn't count as stealing. And God knows he wouldn't do it if he weren't penniless. Trying to survive college and paying for an apartment didn't leave him much. The money The Daily Bugle paid was shit. He had been selling photos for the damn newspaper since high school, but it was no use, Peter had to find a job that paid more than The Daily Bugle. And there was no way he was going to ask Aunt May for money, even though she would be happy to give him some. But that was another day's concern, for now, the only thing he needed to do was be quick. Because he knew if you found out that it was him who was stealing, sorry picking, your flowers he sure wouldn't be able to swing away this time.

Peter honestly felt guilty about your flowers, they were lovely. And he knew this was a safe neighborhood, so he had no way of paying you back with saving you. He had been visiting Gwen every month since her death. It was one of the few things he could keep up with after he graduated high school. Daisies were Gwen's favorite. Peter knew he could easily find another place to pick the flowers, but he believed that there was something magical about the garden. He felt so much love around the house. Maybe it was a silly thing, but Peter thought Gwen would have loved that garden.

Y\N had been sitting on her porch, hiding behind the dark blue armchair, actually too anxious to face the flower thief. You felt childish after some time. It was just a few daisies, right? There was no need to act like a crazy woman. As you were getting ready to go back inside, you saw him. He had an average height, brown messy hair. He was wearing a black t-shirt and an unbuttoned baby blue shirt with a greenish-brown jacket. Y\N's anger turned back the minute she saw him touch the flowers.

"You, flower thief!"

A moment before, Peter felt like his whole body was on edge as if bells were ringing in his brain. But he was already late to realize she had been waiting for him and there was no way to run, he wasn't wearing his suit. Where were the damn spider-senses when he needed them the most? So, he just stood there, speechless, his hand hanged above the daisies. She was pretty, as pretty as the flowers before him. Guilt heating his face, Peter couldn't help but stare at you with his eyes wide open like a dumbstruck idiot. He felt like his lunch was climbing its way back up.

You were now, standing few steps away from him. "You've been stealing my flowers for months!"

Peter held his hands up in defense. "Look, I can explain."

Y\N put her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation. Your heart beating like crazy. Even though it was still bright and you were in the middle of a road, he was a man. A man taller and despite looking skinny, stronger than you. But you hold your face as still as you could.

"Go on then."

Peter couldn't find the words to explain. What was he going to say? Sorry, I thought my dead girlfriend would love your flowers so, I've been stealing them, I hope you don't try to kill me. No fucking way. His mouth opened and closed few times, making you sigh. You realized the boy wasn't going to give you any answer. He was probably taking them to his girlfriend or boyfriend.

"Are they pretty?" you asked, dropping your hands. Peter, very confused, kept on staring at her. You rolled your eyes at how silly he was. "The person you're taking my flowers to." Something at the back of your mind hoped he would say they were for his mother. Now that you were closer you could see the sweet hazel color of his eyes.

"Um-" His hand went up, scratching his neck. "She is."

She was.

He shuffled through his pants pockets. "I have a photo-"

"No." You stopped him. "I want to see if she is pretty enough for my daisies."

"What?" Peter tried to grasp his head around the idea.

"I want to see her and tell her that her boyfriend is a thief. C'mon."

"I don't think-" Peter was getting anxious, now. How was he supposed to tell you that her girlfriend was dead?

"Of course you don't think." You started walking. "C'mon, now. Take the flowers."

Peter didn't know what to do so he went with it. What could go wrong, right?

"I'm sorry," Peter said after some time. "I have no excuse for what I did."

His head hung low, watching his steps as he walked. He knew he would stutter if he looked at your face. Peter had a habit of getting tongue-tied around pretty girls. And, well, you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Mind you, he wasn't even thinking about Gwen anymore, which made him feel kinda guilty.

"It's okay." You had your hands in the pockets of your jacket. "My life's been boring lately. You were the only exciting thing, I guess."

"I'm sure you have more exciting things than me." Peter still didn't look at you but you could see him smiling.

"It's Y\N, by the way." You kept your eyes on him. "If you wanted to know the name of a woman you constantly robbed."

He laughed. "Peter, Peter Parker." His eyes finally met yours. It was ridiculous, how easy it was to just look at his face and feel safe even though he was a stranger. His smile grew even more. It was almost contagious, his smile. He had something about him that made you wanted to scream and purr like a cat at the same time. You felt yourself getting overwhelmed, he was making you weak at the knees. So, you pulled your eyes away from him.

Pull yourself together, woman! He has a girlfriend.

You were too distracted to realize where was Peter taking you until you arrived. It was the same route you took whenever you felt like talking to your mother. Peter and you were standing just outside of the graveyard. Your head whipped around, turning to Peter. He had a soft smile on his face.

"Peter, I-"

"It's okay."

"No, It's not okay." You took a deep breath, pressing your palms into your eyes. "I'm such a dick."

"No, you were just mad at me."

You slouched your shoulder, didn't know what to say. What would even one say in this situation?

"C'mon." Peter's warm hand was gently holding your arm, now. "Let's go see her."

You didn't talk until you arrived at the tombstone. Peter put the flowers in front of it.

"Daisies were her favorite." He had a sweet look on his face, he put his hands back into his pockets.

"They were my mother's favorite, too." You murmured, but Peter could hear you perfectly. "I think that's why I overreacted you picking the flowers. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, It's not stealing anymore, then?" He teased. "It's okay, honestly. She would've liked you. You have that fire in you like you could make the world better just with a gesture of your hand. She liked that kind of people, that can light the room with their smile."

"I think I would've liked her, too." You said, your eyes on the tombstone.

Gwen Stacy.

Her name was familiar to you. You didn't know where, but you were sure you had heard before. Still, you didn't ask Peter anything, assumed he wouldn't be comfortable talking about it. You didn't say anything until you were out of the graveyard. You knew you would come back tomorrow to see your mother, but with Gwen on your mind.

The more you looked at his face the more you could see him. Peter wore his heart on his sleeve, he was easy to read. "You blame yourself." You said, nodding your head slowly. You smiled after seeing the face he made. "It's okay, I know the feeling."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah."

Neither of you talked for a long time. Peter could tell you weren't ready to talk about it. He knew it wasn't easy to open up, especially to a stranger. It'd been years since he talked about Gwen, so, he knew the feeling, too.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was a message from Mary Jane. "Just arrived home, you owe me."

"That's it!" You exclaimed, remembering your talk with Mary Jane. "That's how I knew her name!"

Peter, looking very confused, asked you. "What?"

"Gwen, her name was very familiar." Pocketing your phone again. "I have a friend, Mary Jane, who went to the same high school with Gwen. I've seen her in the yearbook. That's where I recognized her name."

"You know MJ?"

"Oh, yeah," you laughed. "We met in Brooklyn, probably four years ago. I think it was very late, some guy was trying to get her number even though she said no, like five times. And I hadn't had the best day of my life. So, I punched the guy and told him to leave her alone. We have been friends ever since."

Peter was amazed. He didn't know how much cooler you could get.

"You know her, too?"

"Yeah, We've been friends for a long time. My aunt kinda tried to set us up."

You laughed. Peter and Mary Jane seemed like two opposite characters. You would never imagine them together. But again, maybe Peter's pretty face was affecting your judgment. You didn't know. He made your mind foggy. At last, you found yourselves at your front yard again. Your eyes wandered over the empty spots that daisies left.

"Would you like to get a coffee sometime?" Peter was leaning against white fences that surrounded your garden. He had that sweet smile on his face again. "So I can pay you back for daisies."

You bit your lips to stop yourself from smiling so much. "Gwen was pretty enough for them. You can have some once a month when I'm not looking." Peter was feeling like you were about to turn him down. Both of you knew this wasn't really about the damn flowers. But again, Peter was every so often wrong about these kinds of things. "But you know, maybe not Saturdays. I'm usually free for a cup of coffee on Saturdays." Peter was ready to feed himself with only pasta for a week if it meant he would get to see you again.

You could visibly see Peter's eyes liting up. "Just one cup?"

You shrugged. "Tea is fine, too."

"I didn't know MJ had friends like you." He said, intensely watching your every move.

"Like me?" You were so sure something bad was coming, he was simply too good to be true.

"You know, this beautiful. If I had known, I would have visited her more."

"Wow, you are hiding a monster under that pretty face, don't you?"

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x female reader #pter parker x f!reader #marvel #peter parker imagine #tom holland #andrew garfield #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

The Secret Of The Wish [Max Lord x F!Reader] SEX POLLEN

Summary: You’re a new intern for the Wall Street Journal, sent out to interview Maxwell Lord, a businessman who has suddenly found financial success in the oil drilling industry. When you ask him what does he owe his success to, he gives you a surprisingly honest answer: through the power of the wish. You make the mistake of humouring him, and playing along with his little story until he proves to you just how powerful wishing can be.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (sex pollen in the form of wish granting therefore there is automatic dub-con) unprotected p in v, male oral, handjob, tit play, butt play, spanking, cockwarming, creampie, degradation, praise kink, office sex, power-shift, dom/sub dynamic, implied age difference, mutual pining.

Word count: 4400>

Masterlist

REBLOGS appreciated! 🤍

Black Gold Cooperative was booming with business. Even the outside of the building was swamped with hundreds of people who were desperate to get inside and speak to Mr Lord himself. Luckily, you were a journalist for the esteemed Wall Street Journal and your position in the company had earned yourself an interview with the successful CEO. The entire world had thousands upon thousands of questions for Maxwell Lord, and you were the lucky intern who got to meet with him on this humid Wednesday afternoon.

A tall blonde woman who you assumed was his secretary, led you to his office. All his employees seemed to be young, attractive and wore only the best designer clothes. It was almost intimidating. You couldn’t mess this up. You were conducting an interview with one of the most successful people alive - this could actually be your big break in the industry. Taking a deep breath, you made an attempt to swallow away your nerves before making your way into his own private office.

It was extensive in size, with large plants and statues in every corner and on every surface. Honestly, you found his taste in furnishings to be quite tacky. You knew it was just his way of bragging about how wealthy he was without actually saying anything. He was neck deep in paperwork and he hadn’t even noticed you were just standing there, in his office. Your eyes flicked across his messy desk, taking in the sight of multiple opened bottles of vitamins, colourful smoothies and other supplements. You made a mental note, not exactly pinning the salesman as a health freak. You’d been standing there for longer than you’d anticipated and he still hadn’t looked up, so you cleared your throat and prepared to grab his attention.

“Mr Lord… I’m here on behalf of Wall Street Journal, we’re doing a segment on Company Sudden Search....” you began to introduce yourself but a roll of his eyes and a flimsy yet disapproving gesture of his hand cut you off.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he grumbled, taking a swing of his green juice before fastening the cap back on the bottle and pulling a face of disgust. If he thought it tasted so bad, why was he drinking it? Maxwell took a minute trying to compose himself for the interview. He’d waited his whole life to be interviewed by the Wall Street Journal and no matter how bad his migraine was… he couldn’t mess this up.

In fact… there was something about the way Maxwell Lord looked in this moment. His bottle blonde hair was sticking up in random places, probably due to the beads of sweat that laced his forehead. His tie was pulled open and his suit jacket was crinkled, yet he still made the effort to keep it on for whatever reason. He didn’t look like the persuasive, bright eyed salesman on the television, that’s for sure. You supposed all those studio lights could make anyone look different, but that didn’t necessarily mean he looked bad. He didn’t look sick as such, just a little disheveled. He kept rubbing his temples as if he had a killer headache. You considered asking him if he was okay, but that wasn’t why you were here.

The prolonged silence made Max Lord look up at you from the many papers on his desk. He was frowning, and if one thing was clear, it looked like he was having a bad day. It looked like he could do with some major stress relief. The first two buttons of his pinstripe shirt were open, and his collar was wonky, and honestly? You had to fight the urge to stalk over to him and help him out. You imagined running your fingers through his golden hair, caressing his face and letting your hands wander down his chest. You imagined whispering dirty little things into his ear until he ached for you. There was something about teasing a higher-up that you just couldn’t resist. Nevertheless, you cursed yourself for the inappropriate thoughts. You were a young intern for one of the most successful journalism companies… and shit, he was the CEO of what had suddenly become the richest organization in the world. He was a powerful man, more powerful than you knew. It would be foolish to mess around with a man like Maxwell Lord.

Maxwell took a shaky exhale and done what he could do best. Fake a smile. Feign confidence. Pretend like he was okay... like he had it together. He promised himself that he would not lose control of his power— he couldn’t— but this moment was only the start of his descent into madness. He never knew how hungry he could get... how satisfying his power could be, until he met you.

“Come here sweetheart,” his frown curled upwards into a smirk and his eyes began to gleam again, just like they did on his famous infomercials. His voice became a little louder, and a little more confident as he stood up and padded around his desk, pulling out a chair for you to sit down on. You hesitated, his change in attitude wasn't lost on you, but still, you obliged, and shuffled into the golden plush chair. The material was so soft and you struggled to suppress a moan. “Everything okay?” he asked you, placing a large ring clad hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah I just… I’ve never sat on anything so comfortable.” you confessed, shuffling around. Maxwell’s eyes lit up with desire at your comment and his gaze fixated on your face.

“Really?” Never?” he chuckled lightly, brushing his thumb against his lower lip as he took in your appearance. Just the shape of your perfect body was enough to initiate something primal in him. The tightness of your blouse and the vision of your short pencil skirt that cut off mid-thigh already had his cock straining against his tailored suit pants. “I can think of at least one more comfortable thing in this office for you to sit on.”

You’d be lying if you said you were unfazed by his little flirtation. If any other middle aged man had said something so crude to you, you’d have snapped back with something witty to put them in their place. But Maxwell Lord wasn’t any man and his charm alone had cast you under a spell. Your knees were weak and you felt like putty under his touch. Even when he removed his hand from your shoulder, you felt completely and utterly submissive to him.

You cleared your throat and opened up your notepad. “I’m just here to ask you a few questions…” you told the businessman, biting your lip nervously. Maxwell nodded and sat on the edge of his desk, waiting patiently for you to get started. “So uhm, Forbes is reveling in the fact you’re self made… but not much is known about your past. We don’t know about your family or where you come from… is there anything relevant you’d like to share with the world?” you asked curiously.

And for the first time, Maxwell Lord broke his gaze with you and looked down at the carpeted floor. “There’s not much to say, really.” he said, but there was something in his tone of voice that indicated he wasn’t willing to provide any further details. Hoping you hadn’t struck a sensitive cord with him, you glanced back down at your notepad to ask him another question.

“I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but not much is known about your personal life. A handsome, wealthy man like yourself can’t be single, right?” you asked, even startling yourself over how over bearing you’d begun to sound. Maxwell let out a chuckle and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I’m single, yes. Tell me darling, is this Wall Street Journal or US Weekly?” he joked, and you felt a flush of heat radiate your cheeks. You knew better.

“I’m sorry. It was an unprofessional question,” you quickly backtracked. “Do you uhm… do you have a pen… I could borrow?” You asked awkwardly, feeling a little irked over how flustered his simple presence had made you. You'd been so nervous to actually meet with Max Lord, you'd even forgotten to bring something to write with. You were so embarassed. But Maxwell was hardly paying attention to your lack of organization, and instead he just smiled and grabbed a gold encrusted company pen from his desk. “Thank you.” you said timidly. “Can I ask you something?”

“That’s why you’re here… isn’t it?” he retorted playfully.

“The interview is about Company Sudden Search and for some reason there are no questions about your company… just you,” you frowned apologetically. You hadn't come up with the questions, one of your executives had. You were just there to look pretty and milk as much information out of him as you could. “I guess the world is curious about you, Mr Lord. More curious about your private life than this empire that you have created. But Black Gold Cooperative had been off the grid for many years only prior to this week and now suddenly you’re the wealthiest company in the world. You’re the richest man in the US. And data shows absolute no correlation towards that. Your purchased oil wells were dry until one day they just weren’t. It wasn’t gradual, but Mr Lord, we are living during the Cold War and oil is as scarce enough as it is. How… how did this happen? You must know something.”

As you rambled on, Maxwell stared dead into you. You hadn’t been asked to say this, this was coming from your own interest. You had done your own digging about this (just like any successful journalist would), snooping into Maxwell’s business and finding out exactly which oil fields he owned and how much oil was in them in the first place. This wasn’t coming from the Wall Street Journal. This was coming from you. Maxwell never expected to be confronted with such a question. You were practically trapping him, but the way you could swindle the truth out of him was an attractive quality of yours. Not many people could get the truth out of Max Lord.

Maxwell chuckled lightly. He could tell you. It wouldn't make much of a difference. Besides, you’d be foolish to believe the truth. You’d think he’d gone insane. Had he gone insane? These damn migraines… he was drunk on power… his mind had become corrupt with the idea of fortune and success. And he needed this interview to go well.

Maxwell grinned, as charming as ever, and took both of your hands. “I made a wish.” he told you, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You paused, unsure what to make of his comment. Was he making a joke? It didn’t sound like he was joking. In fact he sounded more serious than ever. “Like… upon a star?” you asked, giggling only slightly in attempt to make a judgement of whether or not he was just messing with you. Maxwell smirked and nodded his head. He’d expected that you wouldn’t believe him.

“On my journey to self fulfilment I locked into a secret, the secret of the wish. So I wished for it. Or, someone wished for it for me…” Maxwell explained, talking in tongue twisters. His fingers brushed over your knuckles. As you listened to him, he noticed the way your eyebrows knotted together in bewilderment. He was definitely serious about the wishing thing. But if he wasn’t going to be honest with you, then maybe this interview was more trouble than it was worth. Just as you were about to break away your contact with his hands, he continued. “Tell me what you wish for you and I will show you how it works.”

That was quite the proposal coming from him.

You blinked. “Uhm…” He stared at you, waiting for you to come up with some kind of answer. You supposed that you could always just humour him. “So you’re like a genie?”

“I’m Max Lord, sweetheart, and I can make your darkest fantasies come true as long as you just say the word.” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

The sexual tension between you both was undeniable, and it had been since you had entered his office. His already chocolate brown eyes had darkened considerably with lust. You pursed your lips together into a fine line and you tried your very best to ignore the fact that your lace panties were damp with arousal. You knew he was powerful. Strong… sexy. You’d been in his office for barely five minutes and he already had a hold on you.

“I suppose I’d want success in my career. It’s hard… being taken seriously, as a woman in journalism. It would be nice to just feel respected amongst my peers.” you confessed.

“The people at Wall Street don’t respect you?” Maxwell asked, and you swore that for a split second he sounded genuinely concerned.

“Uhm… I feel like I’m not really at liberty to discuss that. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place.” you scrunched up your nose.

“Because you deserve respect, miss Y/L/N.” Maxwell promised you, his hand sinking down to caress your thigh. You gasped under his touch and looked up at the ceiling. “Is this alright… me touching you like this?” he cooed, tracing circles over your pantyhose.

“Mm.” you mumbled in agreement, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dipped under the hem of your skirt.

“So if you could wish for one thing… one thing at this very moment in time, it would be for success in your career? Is that true?” Maxwell quizzed, eyeing you up with curiosity.

No.

It wasn’t true.

In fact your career— this interview— was the last thing on your mind.

Fuck.

Silently, you shook your head. “So darling, tell me, what would you wish for?”

You sighed in defeat, remembering that you’d just humour him. It wasn’t exactly professional but he wasn’t helping you out either. Just go along with it, you told yourself. You finally looked back down at him and saw that his lips were moist from where he’d hungrily licked at them, his eyes fixated on your breasts and the way he could just about see the lace print underneath the thin material.

“I’d wish for you…” you shakily exhaled. And that caught his attention. His gaze flicked up to meet yours and he waited for you to continue. “I’d wish for you to let me use you to get what I want. You’re rich… powerful… wealthy…” A gust of air distracted you and a breeze blew through your hair. The windows weren’t open, the fan wasn’t on, and Maxwell looked completely and utterly spent over your revelation. It had just came out of nowhere. There was a few beats of silence and Max looked you up and down.

“What do you want?” he croaked meekly. He removed his hand from your thigh and his whole demeanor changed in a split second.

When you noticed how stiff his manhood was, and the way his precum had already leaked out onto the grey material of his pants, it stirred something up inside of you. He wanted this too, that much was clear.

And now, the roles had reversed. You were no longer the shy intern interviewing the big name CEO, you were a sexy journalist who’s nipples had hardened significantly and you had this fresh yet welcoming air of power to you. There were two people in this office and yet suddenly, you were the one in control.

Maxwell’s perfect, plush lips had parted and his dark eyes followed you as you stood up from your seat. He looked down at the wet patch from where you were sitting and gulped, imagining just how great it would feel to slide his fingers through your folds and feel your arousal himself.

All for him.

“I think you know.” you replied softly, sitting him down in the golden chair that you had once made yourself comfortable in. You pulled off his crumpled suit jacket and discarded his tie, throwing it haphazardly onto his already messy desk, and then sunk down to your knees, spreading his legs apart.

You began to palm at his erection through his pants, involuntarily licking your lips as your fingers danced around his growing bulge. “Ngh- fucking tease.” he groaned, his eyes snapping shut the second he felt you begin to work at removing his belt. You pulled down his zipper and reached into his pants, pulling his cock free. He wasn’t enormous, but definitely above average, and thicker than you’d ever taken before.

“You just need someone to make you feel nice, don’t you?” you cooed gently before licking a stripe up the base of his cock. “All this stress from work… huh? From making people’s wishes come true.”

“You… you have no idea.” Maxwell grunted, his cock twitching in your hands as you pressed a sweet little kiss to his head. His slit was still leaking with precum and you were desperate to get a taste of the CEO. You gave him a small kitten lick, relishing the saltiness of his seed. He was delicious.

This shouldn’t have been happening. Sure, Maxwell was hard before you’d even made the wish, but holy crap, he didn’t expect for this to actually happen. And neither did you. You assumed he was lying, just like he lied about everything else in his life. Afterall, who was going to believe a man who told you his success was owed to wish granting?

“Mr Lord… you’re so big.” you sighed longingly before making an attempt to attach your lips around his cock. He looked down at you and let his hands grip the back of your head as you sucked on his sensitive tip.

Who would've guessed that a good blowjob was exactly what Max Lord needed to feel better about himself?

Max felt like he was in heaven. He was already seeing stars. He’d been granting peoples wishes left, right and centre. He wasn’t necessarily touch starved but it had been a good few weeks since he’d gone without sex; his only motivation being to find and harness the power of the dreamstone. But you were giving him the best head he’d ever had in his life. It was like everything was pent up inside of him. His balls were tight and he was achingly hard and in a moment of pure lust, he thrusted his hips deep into your mouth. The sudden movement had you gagging and a trail of saliva mixed with his precum dripped down your lips. You pulled off him, gasping for air but quickly wrapped your lips back around him and taking his length even further than before. If he filled your mouth this good, you wondered how he’d feel filling your pussy.

“Not gonna last… fuck!” Maxwell cried, his cum shamelessly spurting into your mouth. His load was massive and he doubled out of you, the remnants of his seed spilling against your lips and down your chin. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest as he took in the appearance of you, down on your knees, in between his legs, with his milky white cum all over your pretty face.

Despite his orgasm, Maxwell was still hard. He still craved more. More of a release from you. It must’ve been your wish that created this desperation that dwelled inside of him.

“More,” he pleaded, his eyes round and doe-like. “Please, I need more.”

“Say less.” you whispered, unbuttoning your blouse and pulling down your skirt and pantyhose so you were simply just standing there in your white lingerie set. You looked so pure and innocent, and yet you were in absolute full control of this situation. You were the one dominating him.

“You said you wish to use me, so use me.” Maxwell begged as he extended his arms and made grabby fists, desperate for you to come over and help him out.

He was right. This was your wish. You could play along with this for as long as you wanted. You removed your panties, unclipped your bra and discarded the garments, letting your breasts fall free. Maxwell’s jaw dropped at the sight of you and you stalked over to him. You straddled him and sat on his lap.

With one hand, you wrapped your fingers around his cock again and began to slowly jerk it, beginning a handjob which was more than pleasant for him. With your free hand, you grabbed onto his shoulder and steadied yourself, before stretching your body and pressing one of your breasts into his mouth. His lips latched around your tit immediately and he began to suck on your nipple as you continued to rub his cock. You moaned with pleasure, tossing your head back as his tongue worked at the hard little bud.

You subconsciously found yourself riding his thigh, dragging your dripping wet cunt along his expensive pants and making an absolute mess of them. He experimentally flexed the muscles in his thigh a few times, trying to gauge a reaction out of you and see how you liked it. His teeth grazed your breast and he let himself get a little too excited, peppering love bites all over your chest.

“Yes, that’s it,” Maxwell groaned. “Take what you need sweet girl.” he praised.

You whimpered when he flexed his thigh again and you felt yourself begin to reach your climax. You clenched around nothing and his cock was throbbing in your hand. You knew he needed more too.

You let go of him and he pulled his mouth off your tit with a ‘pop’. You cupped his face with both your hands and adjusted yourself slightly, this time so the tip of his cock was pressed against your entrance. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his stretch before sinking down onto his length, settling balls deep. “Fuck… Fuck fuck fuck,” you chanted, your eyes squeezing tight shut as he filled you.

“Move.” he gasped, biting down on your shoulder. You whimpered and tugged on his golden hair, sending him into an absolute frenzy.

“Fuck, Mr Lord… oh god please, you’re so fucking big.” you cried, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes. He wanted you to move, sure, but this was your wish, and you were more than happy to just sit on and warm his cock for a few minutes.

Your walls were tight and perfect around him, just like he’d imagined. You brought your finger down to your cunt and began to rub at your clit as his cock stretched you out. Your moans of gratification echoed throughout the extensively sized office and you felt your juices drip down his cock.

“So good,” he whispered. “Move, please.”

“Mmm,” you couldn’t even fumble out words, and your vision was nothing less than a haze.

He rubbed the pad of his finger against your puckered asshole before sliding it in. Your body tensed up at the intrusion but God did it feel good. “Fucking move.” he growled, biting down on your earlobe as he began to thrust his index finger in and out of you.

Maxwell brought a hand down to cup your ass and he gave you a rough spanking. “Move.” He repeated, this time his tone a lot more demanding and less polite than the first time.

And just like that— he was in control again.

You obliged, not wanting to irk him any more, and began to bounce on his cock. “Greedy bitch,” he grunted, spanking you again. “Fuck… thinking you can use my dick for your own pleasure, huh? Everything comes with a price.” he hissed as you rolled your hips over his manhood.

“Oh Mr Lord.” you sighed with every movement, as his cock pressed against that sweet spot inside of you.

“You just couldn’t resist it, could you?” Maxwell asked rhetorically, a villainous smirk crossing his lips. “One great wish and you wish to ride my fucking cock," He had a point. People had come to him wishing for Porsche's, political power,— and you, with your whole chest, had wished to be the one who could pleasure him. Help him let go. “Shit baby, you take me so well.”

Despite his growls of degradation you knew he wasn’t going to last long, if the way his cock throbbed inside of you was anything to go by. You didn’t mind though. He could disrespect you all he wanted. You were more than happy to be Maxwell Lord’s little cumslut. His little whore.

“G-gonna cum, oh fuck, please.” you screamed, pressing your fingernails into his back as you rode out your high.

“Yes,” he moaned wantonly. “Soak my cock.” And with those three words, you came undone, sat on top of the richest and most successful CEO in the world. “Are you safe?” he asked, his hips bucking up into your sensitive core.

“I am.” you confirmed, and without even asking for permission, he spilt his seed inside of you, ruthlessly painting your walls with his cum.

He kept his cock inside of you until it softened and slipped out, and you mumbled something incoherent at the loss of his fullness. Maxwell watched your chest as you heaved, making every attempt you could to catch your breath. He pressed a sweet kiss into your collar bone, and then up your neck and along your jaw. You relished the feeling of his lips against skin; post coital bliss fostering your every thought.

“You’re a good girl,” he whispered, rubbing the curve of his nose against your neck. “I grant you your wish, and in return, I give you the utmost success in your career.” he sighed, and for the very first time Maxwell Lord said something completely and utterly selfless. It was through no gain to him whatsoever. You didn’t deserve to be looked down upon by your peers and employers, he knew that much. And if he had the chance to change that, he sure as hell would.

“You will achieve things no journalist has achieved before, you will be rich, and be the first to seize every opportunity.” he said in between kisses.

To you, he was just whispering sweet nothings into your ear, humouring your larger-than-life dreams and ambitions. But if there was one thing that Maxwell Lord admired in a woman, it was her aspiration and goals. If you were brave enough to waltz into his office as let him cum all over you, you definitely deserve this. At that moment, you had no idea that Maxwell Lord would change your life forever...

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor

#Pedro Pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal smut #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord #max lord #max lord x reader #maxwell lord x reader #ww84

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hannie-dul-set · 3 years

Text

“i'll take your word for it and no one else's.” [lee jeno]

SUMMARY | maybe snooping through your friend’s phone wasn’t that much of a good idea. or maybe it was. either way, you didn’t regret it. PAIRING | lee jeno x reader GENRE | friends to something, fluff, lots of bickering JHDFJ WARNINGS | swearing, invasion of privacy (LMAO idk) WORD COUNT | 2.1k TAGLIST | @danishmiilk @lucyinthesunshinee @sehunniepot @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet

a/n: i didn’t think i’d turn another one of my dreams into a fic, but here we are HAHHAHA i tweaked a few bits and pieces to make it work (setting + added some dialogue + changed the ending because i WOKE UP before it could finish hmph) but please enjoy this unscheduled fic!! <3

early summer afternoons were warm.

bright rays of the sun were showering on your skin as you lounged on the park bench, hot enough to make you feel the season but not too hot to singe your skin. it was the perfect weather to waste the day outside, and your younger brother and cousin decided to haul you outside so they can play basketball at the park.

but you didn't know why your friend jeno decided to come along.

"your brother messaged me," he grinned at you, plopping down beside you with a long, refreshed sigh. a towel was slung around his neck and he used it to wipe the sweat on his face. "what? why are you staring at me like that?"

"since when were you close with my brother?"

"am i not allowed to be friends with the little guy?" he joked, but apparently he took the unamused look on your face completely the wrong way. "oh my god, are you afraid that he'll take all my attention away from you?" to further tease, he brought his smug face closer to yours that was dumbfounded in shock, his stupidly irritating smile moving in closer.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

but you loved him nonetheless.

"like hell i want your attention," you sneered, lightly shoving him away with a glare. he only laughed at your display of annoyance. "go back to playing with the kids or something, you goof."

the never leaving grin in his face seemed brighter against the sun, and he playfully ruffled your hair before running off to disappear into the court.

"as you wish, m'lady."

you let out a huff of air, rolling your eyes as your cheeks were involuntary tugged upwards, prompting a smile to form on your lips. you brought your hands to your hair, fixing the mess that jeno left with, and your gaze landed on the phone he left beside you. the screen flashed on. someone was calling him.

brows knitted together, you picked up the ringing phone, unable to recognize the caller id. you brought the device to your ear, standing up walking towards the court— you figured that you'd just answer whoever that was now and just pass it on to jeno once he was at reach.

"hello?"

"oh, hello there!" there was a pause from the caller "is lee jeno around, miss? would you mind giving the phone to him?"

the voice was that of a middle aged woman's, but it wasn't someone that you recognized. you assumed it was a relative of his or something because you'd know that this was his mom if it were her. "ah, give me a moment! i'll just look for him."

your feet stopped at the edge of the court, the sound of a ball bouncing into the concrete jarring against your ears. not bothering to look at the scene in front if you, you covered the mic with your hand before deciding to shout.

"jeno! someone's calling you!"

there was no usual prompt answer from your friend.

"he's not here!"

the loud voice of your brother answered instead, causing you to narrow your eyes into the court scene with a tinge of confusion masking your expression. there was indeed no mop of blue hair within the area, and you were only confused even further.

"where did he— aish, nevermind."

scratching your head, you swiveled your heels and decided to just head back to the bench. "hi, sorry. i'm not sure where he is right now. so if it's fine with you, can you call him again later? or maybe i could just tell him to call you back when he returns?"

"oh, then can you just relay this to him? it won't take that long, i promise."

you inwardly sighed, but agreed nevertheless. oh, you were definitely gonna ask him to treat you and the kids dinner later. why the fuck did he just disappear like that? now you were responsible for memorizing whatever this woman was telling you (apparently it was about an architecture summer program he was interested in— the lady was a head from his department and she was just calling to tell him that he was accepted. she says she'll be forwarding more details later through text).

"alright, thank you! i'll be sure to inform him when he gets back."

the call ended, and you groaned. you were about to close the phone, but then all of a sudden a notification appeared with a quiet ding!

[haechan 🌟 liked your retweet.]

ding!

[ohhh shit why do i feel like i know who this is.]

"huh."

you knew that you shouldn't be snooping inside your friend's phone. you knew that you shouldn't be invading his privacy no matter how enticingly juicy the bait was. you knew that it was flat out wrong. but—

"ah, just a peek," you clicked on the notification. "payback for making me deal with his stuff."

a hint of excitement rushed through you. jeno never told you his twitter. actually, you didn't even know he had one. he was always buried with studies, sports, and friends so you didn't expect him to keep up with social media— this fact enough was surprising, but the moment the screen finally loaded the tweet

you were even more surprised than you were a few seconds ago.

[@markly tweeted: "it's kind of funny how sometimes we just meet random people at the most random of moments and you don't expect it but they just end up sticking by your side until now"]

[@leejeno quoted: "yeah. a few years back, i saw this girl while i was walking. it wasn't the usual path that i took to school. i saw her having trouble crossing the street because there was a dog hanging around (she's scared of them) so i decided to help her. she couldn't even look at my face back then out of embarrassment but earlier we were calling until four in the morning. if i took a different path that day or if i didn't help her, i don't know how i'd be like right now because she's become one of the most important people in my life."]

your heart skipped a beat. two beats. three. it was running a mile a minute and you could barely even breathe to catch up.

[@do0 replied: how are you two right now?]

[@leejeno replied: "we're good haha. i'm going with her and her brother to the park later. we're still really good friends.]

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"hey, sorry for running off there. i went to get some— whoa. whats up?"

oh my fucking god.

you shot up, eyes wide, and you automatically turned off the phone. broken stutters left your lips, as the leaping of your heart to your throat prevented you from saying even a semblance of a coherent sentence. all you could think of when you met his worried gaze, the way he rushed to your side to check on you, was the last thing you read. your grip on his phone tightened.

but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there

you were gonna fucking lose it.

"hey, are you okay?"

quick, gentle hands landed on your cheeks, fingers brushing against your skin like a match igniting a flame. you nearly got lost and tongue-tied all over again, but you quickly slapped his hands away in a scolding fit. "jesus christ, i'm fine. you just surprised me. are you a ghost or something?" you glared at jeno, but it only lasted one second because you couldn't bear to look at him without your insides going crazy. because of that, your eyes flicked to the plastic bag he dropped onto the bench. he brought you something to eat.

"a-and before you ask—" you defended yourself indignantly when he didn't even accuse you of anything. "i wasn't snooping. the school called. it was about your summer program. you got in."

"oh? they called already?" you nodded. "ah, let's talk while walking— the kids are mad because i only got you food. they're asking me to buy the entire store for them to compensate," he released an airy laugh. you mentally scolded yourself.

keep it cool. you repeated the mantra inside your head as you strided beside jeno, your brother and cousin racing ahead of you. street lights were lighting up and the sky was fading into the night. cool cool cool cool cool. keep it cool.

the walk to the store felt way too gruelling than it normally would. it wasn't even that far. you told jeno everything the lady had told you, including the more detailed texts that she'd be sending later on. you thought that he'd be a lot more excited after hearing— he was interested, after all. but to you, he just seemed dismissive. "should i go?" he mindlessly asked.

"what are you talking about?" your brows furrowed. "yeah, of course. you wanted to, right?"

"but it's gonna last an entire month this summer," he yawed, stretching out his arms and hooking you by the neck, causing you to halt and stumble into him. you held back a squeak, and he looked at you, eyes gleaming with curious anticipation. a car sped by. "you still want me to go?"

those damned words that you read echoed inside your head again. you wondered if it resonated into the fucking nerves of your heart, as well.

"i—i mean," you stammered. "it's only one month. and it would also help you a lot in the future, right? you'd make a lot of connections during the camp. so yeah, i do want you to go."

he blinked at you. a hum sounded from his closed lips. he let go of you and resumed walking. you gaped when he left you behind.

was this karma?

"hey, what the hell?" quickly, you caught up to him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt so that you could hang on to him. "why are you being sulky? i didn't do anything wrong!" technically you did do something wrong, but he didn't have to know that.

"you said you wanted me to go."

"you're a baby," you scrunched your nose is disapproval. "i only said that because you said you wanted to go."

jeno abruptly stopped. maybe you were causing a scene in front of all the passersby, but you really didn't give a fuck anymore when your head was in a looped up mess. all thanks to your extremely difficult friend who apparently doesn't want to just be your friend. you swore that he was driving you insane on purpose.

he pulled out his phone and faced the screen to you. your sweat dropped.

[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]

"even after reading this," he started. "you still want me to go?"

"w-well."

he just had to be so fucking sharp. well, you weren't exactly slick either. maybe he saw a glimpse of the screen before you got to turn it off earlier. heat started to rise from your neck into your face, a grinding mixture of embarrassment and desire to be hit by a moving truck afflicting your nerves. why were you the one suffering? shouldn't it be him?

"no."

he hummed, turning off his phone and shoving the device into his pocket. arms crossed, he leaned in to your face, bearing a look of feigned innocence. "but you said i'd make a lot of useful connections."

"you can make those anywhere."

"and it's only a month, right?"

"that's thirty days too long."

"and—"

"oh, come on!" you exclaimed, balling your fists in vexation. another car sped by with an accompanied honk. jeno simply wore a look of faint amusement at your little outburst. "i don't want you to join your stupid summer program. happy now?"

"well, if you say so."

you stared at him. he patted your head, eyes disappearing into a pair of crescents with a smile.

"i'll take your word for it and no one else's."

you were left frozen and dumbfounded in the middle of the sidewalk as jeno brazenly spun his heels to chase after the runaway kids that went before you— literally leaving you behind. letting a curse slip past your breath, you also went after them. he was definitely driving you insane on purpose.

sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.

this was one of those times.

"you said you weren't gonna go, you asshole!"

"payback for snooping through my phone!"

but you could still love him nonetheless.

#NCT-WRITERS #czennet #neowritingsnet #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno scenarios #jeno scenarios #jeno fluff #lee jeno fanfic #jeno fanfic #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Finally another oneshot, after forever and a day. I’m weak for soulmate AUs. I think most of you know that already.

SO WHY NOT ANOTHER?! WOO!

This one is based on a prompt given to me a hella long time ago, idk who sent it to me. Tell me who you are so I can credit you! I wrote down the prompt for me to remember, it’s something like; “You can write letters to your soulmate, and they travel through time either to a moment your soulmate needs the letter most or to a random point in time to them.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dear Myself.

I’m doing this for school. We have to write letters to our future self. I am nine years old right now, the year is 2009. I hope you found a cool job! I don’t know what to do yet. I like drawing though! Science is icky, so I hope you’re not a scientist. But if you are, and if it makes us happy, then I guess it’s okay. Be the best scientist you can! If you are all moved out, did you ever get a pet hamster? Hamsters are so cute!

Oh, but most important. Yesterday, I was bullied by my Arch Enemy. You know who. Yeah. Anyway, she said some mean things and it just reminded me that sometimes life hurts, and people can hurt you real bad. But life is still pretty. A family of robins made a nest on my terrace outside my room, and I saw them after I was done crying. They are so cute, and made me happy again. So, always look for your family of robins to keep you happy, I guess. Life isn’t bad, even if some things and people are. I hope you remember that. Keep believing in yourself, and in others!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past).

Do not open this letter before 2020! Pretty please!

Shaking hands held the letter. It was written two years ago, but he only could have gotten it now. It just appeared on his desk out of nowhere. At first, he thought it was some sick joke. He had just moved to Gotham again, and none of his—

None of them knew he was back. But he recognized this handwriting. He had gotten exactly one letter from them before, written by an older version of this woman and received by him when he was ten. Not long after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The letter back then had been short, precise. Comforting.

Hello there.

I am writing this in the year 2018. You see, I found out quite a while ago that my soulmate bond is unique. It sends letters to you that I write, from all across time. I can get your letters, too, so don’t hesitate to write to me if you need to vent. My letters might not always reach you in time to feel like a normal response, but I’ll keep writing if you do. I know your life isn’t easy, if the letters I’ve already gotten mean anything. But keep fighting. I know what it’s like to be the underdog. But I’m rooting for you.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, New Adult.

Jason’s hands crumpled the two pieces of paper in them, the older of the two already close to crumbling away. They had buried him with it, resurrected him with it. It had seen hell and back just like him, but he still kept it. Even with blurring ink and ripped edges and blood stains. The writing and names matched, even if his newer letter was written in the clumsy scrawl of a child. The nuances in the handwriting were still the same.

She would still be writing to him. This new letter he got was clearly the first, before she knew about her soulmate or how her letters would disappear after she wrote them just like his did. But 2009? It just sank into him, that she was younger than he was. By seven years.

But her words still kept him afloat better than any lecture from that asshole Bruce.

He couldn’t see her yet. Not any time soon, really. He was already eighteen, dead and resurrected, and she was barely eleven. He could wait.

She didn’t need somebody as screwed and dark as him right now, anyway. A murderer, a budding crime boss. If she needed someone killed for her, or someone to save her, he’d be there. Otherwise?

Jason took out the receipt from his last visit to a gas station for cigarettes, grabbed a sharpie from his desk, and began to write.

Yo, Mari.

I’m writing this in 2011. I got your first letter. Thanks. It reminded me of some good times. I’m sorry I didn’t write anything for five years. Stuff happened. I won’t write often. Not until I’m in a better place. But if you need it, you can vent to me too. Also, don’t look at the back of this receipt. This was the only paper I could find.

Jason T., Your Soulmate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette, nine years old, stared down at the receipt that had taken the place of her letter to herself. She recognized that it was written in English, but she couldn’t read it yet. But that was okay, her Papan and Maman could read English!

She ran down, holding it in her hands tightly. She didn’t want the mystery letter to disappear! She handed it to her parents, who were in the middle of making croissants and stared at her for a moment. And then they broke into a flurry of movement.

“Why do you have a receipt for cigarettes, Marinette?!” Sabine yelled, confused more than angry. How would her daughter get a receipt written in English? And after giving her parents a confused head tilt, Marinette explained.

“It just appeared, like, poof!” She moved her hands to illustrate her point. “I was writing my letter to my future self for school, which is gone now oh no! Mlle. is going to be so mad!”

“Mari, focus,” Tom prodded gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You were writing your letter, and then what?”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Well, I finished it and put it in a little envelope. But as soon as I put it down and was all done, it shimmered red and faded away! This showed up in the same place my letter had been, like they were traded!”

Tom and Sabine shared a glance, and her mom held out her hand. “Can I read it, Marinette? I promise I won’t take it away. Your father and I just want to see what it says. We’ll read it to you.”

Marinette nodded eagerly, and after making sure their dough was put away the family of bakers moved to their living room and the little girl sat on her father’s lap as her mother held the note for them to see and read it aloud.

The parents shared another glance.

“Wow!” Marinette exclaimed happily, bouncing in place. “He sounds so cool! He is my soulmate? Really? I wonder what he looks like!” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she began to daydream. “I bet he’s super handsome! And nice and strong and—“

“Mari,” Tom said gently, tugging one pigtail playfully to get his daughter’s attention. She turned her large blue eyes to him, rapt with attentiveness. “I know this is exciting, but you know that not all soulmates are romantic, right?”

Marinette instantly calmed down, eyebrows pinching together. “But— but Nino said that soulmates are people you will marry in the future. Your perfect person. Like you and Maman,” she argued, incredibly confused. Her Maman chuckled, handing Marinette her receipt-letter back.

“Yes, but sometimes a person doesn’t need romance the most. Sometimes, what a person needs most is a friend or another family member. So sometimes, a soulmate is a big sister or brother instead, or another Maman or Papan. And we think that your soulmate might be the big brother kind,” she explained patiently. Marinette’s confusion instantly changed to excitement again, eyes sparkling with starry amazement.

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Well,” Tom took over, tapping the receipt with one finger. This receipt is from America. Over there, you have to be eighteen to buy cigarettes. Which means that, two years from now, your soulmate is already eighteen.”

“Or he better be, anyway,” Sabine growled, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“But even if he isn’t,” Tom nervously glanced over at his wife and back to his daughter. “The way he writes is too grown up for someone close to your age. He is probably several years older than you—“

“At least seven, if he knows what’s good for him,” Sabine interrupted again. Tom just chuckled and shook his head.

“But still. Are you okay with him not being a romantic soulmate, Nettie?”

Marinette jumped off of her dad’s lap, hugging her note to her chest with one of the biggest smiles either of her parents had ever seen on her face.

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a big brother! I bet he’s so cool, and rides a motorcycle and beats up bad guys! And when we meet, we’ll go out for ice cream and he’ll ruffle my hair, and let me ride on his shoulders, and it’ll be so awesome!”

Sabine finally lost her threatening aura, laughing along with her daughter. “Well, I don’t know about the whole beating up bad guys thing. But it sounds like he might need some cheering up, so you should write him letters pretty often. You never know when he might need one the most.”

Marinette nodded seriously, eyes shining with determination now. “That’s right! I have to be the best soulmate-sister ever! I’ll start writing him another letter right now!” She instantly turned to run back up to her room, but her dad’s voice followed her:

“Marinette! You haven’t eaten dinner yet!”

—*—*—*—*—*

The next day, Jason came back to his base to see another letter. It was on special scrapbook paper, a pretty white with a heart-and-stars border. He found himself snorting despite himself, shaking his head and picking up the girly letter.

Hello, Jason!

I just got your letter! It’s still 2009, and my parents were worried about the cigarats. I wanted to learn English first, but Maman and Papan reminded me that you have to be able to read French if you were able to read my past letters (I wonder what I wrote you! My future self must be real smart). Maman says you better be 18, or else she’ll kick your butt. She didn’t say that exactly, but I could tell.

Jason snickered at that. She must have a pretty fun family.

Maman and Papan also said that you’re probably a Big Brother soulmate. That’s super cool! I’ve always wanted an older brother, but it’s just me. I get lonely sometimes. And Maman thinks I have a big imagination, so help me prove her wrong! I bet her that you’re suuuuuuper cool, and have a motorcycle and beat up criminals! She doesn’t think my soulmate would be a hero, but I think you are. I don’t even know you yet, but I just feel it. And even if you don’t beat up bad guys, that’s fine. You’ll still protect me like a big brother should, right? And we’ll go and eat ice cream and talk about the stuff we like when we finally meet. And I’ll protect you too. I know little sisters aren’t supposed to, but I will totally protect you anyway. If you’re sad, I’ll make you macaroons and read you a bedtime story. That always makes me happy.

Please write back soon!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past still!)

Jason couldn’t help it, and maybe the Lazarus magic had a bit of sway on him still, but he laughed raucously. A deep, belly-shaking bellow. His soulmate sure was a character! And scarily intuitive. How did she guess such accurate things about him? It was hilarious.

But he wouldn’t write back today. Not yet. He held no illusions; he wasn’t brother material. Not now, and probably not for a while if ever. Which reminded him, he had a replacement to kill.

—*—*—*—*—*

The Replacement lived, but at least Batman had gotten the message. Meanwhile, letters from Little Mari, as he had started calling her in his head, had started piling up. He read every single one, but didn’t respond to any. It was all the usual stuff. Talking about her day, asking stuff about him, spouting advice that seemed way too insightful for a nine-year-old.

He kept every single one. Soon, 2009 letters turned into 2010 letters. She switched from writing almost every day to once a week.

By then, Jason had reconciled with Bruce for the most part. After a few attempts on his life, but that wasn’t important. It was then, as he sat down in the living room watching Tim, Dick, Bruce, and the newest hellion Damian, all talking with and teasing one another that he finally got the urge to write again. So he asked for paper, and Alfred brought him a notepad and a plain ballpoint pen. And, for the first time in over a year, he started writing.

Dick and Bruce noticed first, stopping their banter to stare. Dick smiled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he let himself slump over the sofa’s arm a bit. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, and Damian frowned.

“What are you doing, Todd?” The young hellion asked, but Jason barely heard him.

“Nonya business, squirt,” he replied absently. Bruce chuckled fondly, beckoning to his two youngest sons. They both came a bit closer, and Bruce smiled at them conspiratorially. He leaned forward and whispered:

“Jason’s soulbond allows any letters that he writes to travel through time to his Bonded, and vice versa. Back before… everything, he used to write a letter to her almost every day.”

“It’s really sweet. We lined up the dates, and we think that she’s around your age Damian,” Dick added in equally softly. “Probably a familial bond. It’s good that he’s writing to her again.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette was twelve the next time she got a letter from Jason. But, unlike the last one, this one came from the past. And it was written in French.

Hi, Marinette!

I guess I’m your soulmate. I got your letter from 2018. It’s 2005 when I’m writing this. I’m twelve years old right now, but that shouldn’t matter. It was a little surprising when I got a letter written in French out of nowhere! Luckily, I speak a lot of languages. I love learning languages, and reading is probably my favorite thing to do. Don’t tell anyone though! I have my bad-boy image to keep up. I think our soulbond is really cool actually, and maybe we can teach each other stuff if we do this right. I know the whole time-traveling-letters thing makes it hard to reply to each other like normal. From now on, I’ll write you these letters in English and translate them in French on the back. That way, you can read it whenever you want and also learn English if you don’t already know it when you get this letter.

Oh, and I think I’m older than you? In real time, I mean. If you’re a “new adult” in 2018, then you’re probably a few years younger than me. I was born in 1993. You can do the math, since I don’t know when you were born. Anyway! I’ll keep writing you as often as I can and hope that you get these letters when you need them most.

Jason T., Excited Tween.

Marinette laughed, running down to show her mom. She was only writing Jason once a month now, but in the midst of this first letter she had received in three years, her determination was relit. It was just the letters being dumb when they flew through time! No way he was done writing to her. Right?

“Maman! Maman, he really was eighteen when he wrote that first letter! You don’t have to kill him!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette stared at the pile of letters on her desk, sighing. She ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to read them yet, but she knew they were each dated from 2005. Apparently they had both decided to write daily when they had first discovered their Bond.

“Marinette,” the familiar voice of Tikki spoke you, the little Kwami floating over to land on her holder’s shoulder. “You should read them. Your bond wouldn’t give you letters you don’t need.”

Marinette took a deep breath, rubbing her already sore and red eyes. “I know. But what if—“

Tikki grabbed the letter at the bottom of the pile, flying over and handing it to the pigtailed girl. She smiled gently. “Read it. No what-ifs. Just read for now, Marinette.”

The newest Ladybug sighed, but acquiesced. She sat down at her desk, and began to read. Only two months as Ladybug, and already the pressure was becoming too much.

Two hours later, she had caught up and her mood was considerably better. Jason’s life was definitely no cake walk, but his humor bled through the more concerning details and helped bring light to Marinette’s day. Slowly, one by one, she folded the letters and put them in her special locked box inside her “diary”. She tried to keep a real diary once, but quickly stopped when she realized that even “dear diary” counted as a letter and sent itself to Jason.

She pulled out one of her special pieces of stationary paper and her favorite pink gel pen. For a while she stared at the paper, out of practice after a few months of not writing to him, but eventually she was able to begin again.

Hey Jason.

It’s 2013. I’m 13. I’m pretty sure you got the point by now, it’s not hard to figure out what year I was born. I haven’t responded to any of your letters in a while, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It’s not like I know if you’re gonna get this right away anyway.

So. Uh. Things have changed. I’m only thirteen, but I feel so old you know? On the bright side, your letters really did help me learn English. I mean, you probably guessed that since I’m writing this whole thing in English.

I guess I should explain. A little. A lot has happened. I suddenly have so many responsibilities, and it’s really hard to keep up with it all. So much has changed in just a few months, I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m keeping secrets from Maman and Papan now, which hurts the most. I can’t tell them, I can’t even tell you, but I’m not used to this. I don’t like lying. I don’t even know why any of this happened in the first place, I want answers and I’m getting radio silence. It sucks. But your letters from 2005 really helped, so thanks. I just got them this past year, which is really weird because I remember that our letters time travel and I feel crazy again. But this is real. Our Bond is real, and maybe writing you will help me remember that. Help me focus a bit.

Anyway, that’s all I can think of right now. I’ll try to write you again sometime this week if I have time. We’ll see.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Unsure Teenager.

—*—*—*—*—*

As soon as Jason finished his letter, pretending he couldn’t feel Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all spying on him from their own spots around the living room, the papers he wrote on shimmered red and vanished. In their place, a piece of tea-colored scrapbook paper with a decorative robin-and-egg border (he would never know how she could be so obliviously on point with the designs she chose), popped into existence. He blinked, snatching it up and looking it over. His eyes widened.

“It’s only from next year,” he said aloud, for the benefit of the nosy assholes sharing the room with him. “That’s the closest any of our letters have been to one another,” and then Jason’s eyes promptly went serious as she actually read what the paper said.

“Jay?” Dick asked after the man had been silent too long. Jason grunted, his eyes briefly shimmering green before he shook it away. He took a few deep breaths, and finally responded by standing up and handing the paper over to them.

“Something happens next year that fucks with her. All of the letters I’ve gotten from her, besides that first one back when I was still Robin, were from before this. 2009 to 2010. I even got a few from last year, not that long ago. She’s always upbeat and happy and never said anything about any concerning things besides some schoolyard bullying. This isn’t at all like her. The tone is off.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve actually met her yet Jason,” Tim tried to console him, rereading the paper to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “This could be something mundane. A new school, or an issue with friends or something.”

Jason grit his teeth. “It isn’t. I don’t know how I know, but my gut is telling me it’s more than that. B, I want us to keep an eye on Paris. Something big happens next year, I know it.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Funnily enough, I agree with you. Alfred, can you get up a monitoring system? we’ll keep it automatic until next year actually hits, and then I want someone personally checking up on Paris news at least once a month. Just in case.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was a year into HawkMoth. Marinette hadn’t written a single letter to Jason, but she kept getting the ones he wrote in 2005. When those ran out, she only had two from 2006 before they suddenly leapt to 2012. She guessed that that was because of the five year gap he had mentioned in his first letter, the infamous cigarette receipt.

She sat in her chair, reading the only two 2012 letters so far, the second of which had conveniently landed on her desk that morning. The first had arrived months ago, but she gave it a reread anyway.

yo, Mari.

I’m sorry I haven't written anything else after that horrible receipt, I was getting my life sorted out. things are better now. I have three annoying brothers, by the way. I told you about Dick, I think, in my early letters. Now I have two younger brothers too, Tim and Damian. Damian is a little shit, but oddly enough I think you’d like him. Oh yeah, I’m writing this in 2012 by the way. And yes, this small notepad paper was all I had. Don’t judge me. I guess I’ll answer some questions, to make up for my lack of letters lately. More up to date than what I told you back when I was a naive little kid anyway.

Yes, I have a motorcycle. It is my baby, and I have no idea how nine-year-old you was able to guess stuff about me so accurately. I am most definitely a bad boy, and I have five different leather jackets that I love to death. I’m trying to quit smoking. It’s bad for your lungs kid, don’t follow my example there. Also, I am so fucking proud of your taste in music. I know I had no sway in it, but the fact that Jagged Stone is your favorite musician instills so much older brother pride in me you don’t even know. My dad (You remember how I said I’m adopted, right? yeah that asshole. Don’t tell him I actually love him, but he’s still an asshole), he grew up with Jagged actually. He still refers to him as Jared, it’s surreal. I will definitely let you ride on my shoulders, even if you’re an adult when we meet. I give no shits. And ice cream is mandatory. Officially. I’m making it mandatory right now.

I hope you’re doing okay when this gets to you, Mari. And keep designing, the sketches you sent me were awesome! That’s some real talent. Don’t let it go to waste if it’s something you love.

Alright, the Doofuses are still staring at me so I better go before one of them snoops and sees the sappy stuff I wrote about them. You are sworn to secrecy about it too, Cupcake. No blabbing.

Jason Todd, Finally Kinda Okay.

Marinette chuckled at that, then put it aside to read the new one from that morning. It was shorter.

Marinette!

I just read your letter from 2013, holy shit let this reach you not long after that. You remember that 2012 letter where I was sappy about my family and shit? I hope you got that one first or else this is gonna be confusing. Anyway, this was written that same day. Are You Okay? If shit gets too bad, for whatever reason, you can always contact me. I know this damn letter thing won’t let me give you a specific way to contact me, not for lack of trying damn it, but I’ll say this: Bruce Wayne isn’t hard to get a hold of. Find a way to contact him if you need my help, and I will be close behind. He knows how to contact me. No matter what, Cupcake. I don’t care if you think you’re being stupid or dramatic or whatever lies run through your head. Contact him if you need it, and I will come to help you. I promise. Being thirteen sucks, trust me I know, so let me help you.

Jason Todd, Worried As Hell.

Marinette huffed, shaking her head. She wanted to take him up on that offer, but she couldn’t. She had just met the Guardian not too long ago, and he had made it clear that she couldn’t tell anybody about being Ladybug. Not even Jason. She needed to deal with this alone.

Scenes of bloated bodies filled her mind, all the people who had died just the previous day because of Siren. She had had to swim through so many corpses. So many dead, of all ages.

She rushed out onto her balcony, taking in deep breaths of fresh air and letting the sun’s rays warm her up and slowly bring her out of the haze of burning memory. She was fourteen already. She could handle this. Her childhood had died the moment she had been given the Earrings, ripped away from her too early. Her old self had died. Now she was Ladybug, she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was responsible for the fate of even more than just Paris. She couldn’t let herself fall. Not now, not ever.

The loud roaring of a motorcycle made her jump, and she ran to her railing just in time to see a gorgeous black and red bike come to a tire-screeching halt on the street right under her. The biker, she could tell he was large and covered head to toe in corded muscle even from her spot high above his head, slowly took off his helmet. Black hair with stark white bangs came into view, and startlingly deep blue eyes met hers. Marinette’s breath hitched; it was him. She could tell, his mere eye contact made her feel safe and warm and like… like home had found her. He gave her a roguish grin.

“Come on, Cupcake! I believe I promised you a shoulder ride and ice cream. And you gotta keep me from beating a certain old man into a bloody pulp!”

He knew. Marinette smiled widely, a laugh tearing itself from her throat. Hysteric, overjoyed, free. He knew, and it was okay. She didn’t even have to tell him. She took a few steps back, and then vaulted straight over her railing.

“Catch!”

Jason threw his helmet to the side, running forward just in time for her to land safely in his arms. He glared down at her, but his eyes held no heat. “That was incredibly reckless. I shouldn't be proud, but I am. Don’t do that ever again.”

Marinette giggled. “No promises.”

Jason set her down, picking up his helmet before opening the storage on his bike and tossing her a smaller, pink one. “Sorry it took so long. I wanted to come last year, as soon as I figured out what had made you send that concerning letter, but I was told that I would be an instant Akuma. But after what happened yesterday…” Jason shook his head solemnly. “I knew you’d need a break. Come on, Gotham actually has some amazing ice cream.”

“How are we gonna get to Gotham right away? how did you..?”

Marinette paused, Jason keeping his motorcycle’s storage open just long enough for her to see his Red Hood helmet.

“We got portals for that,” he responded nonchalantly, nobody was nearby to overhear anyway. Marinette looked up when he closed the storage compartment, putting her helmet on.

“Well. Then I’m glad you actually took my rant on the Gotham vigilantes to heart and used my designs, because your old mask was disgustingly ugly.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and waited until she was behind him on the bike before revving it and replying;

“Trust me, I know your feelings on it. Demon Spawn and Replacement teamed up to steal that letter and made copies. Now one is pinned to the fridge and I spent another several hours cleaning up the ones they posted over every inch of my apartment walls.”

“... I approve.”

#ml x dc #maribat #marinette #jasonette #platonic jasonette #mlb x dc #marinette dupain cheng #soulmate au #oneshot #Maribat 2020

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discontinuedwritingaccount765 · 3 years

Text

Speaking terms l Five hargreeves l ✲ ♡

ALL THE IMAGINES I WRITE ARE WRITTEN WITH THE INTENTION THAT THE CHARACTER IS OVER THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN, IT WILL STAY THAT WAY UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE.

SUMMERY - You make a deal with the handler and as you’d guess, Five gets pissed at you for it. You both weren’t on speaking terms up until you show up at almost three in the morning throwing stones at his bedroom window.

You’d done something pretty damn terrible. The handler was to blame but you rather wouldn’t go into detail about what happened, to say the least, she screwed you over the same way she did Five. The woman was not to be trusted and your friend told you that. Maybe he was mad you hadn’t gone to him first, perhaps that you had gone against what you promised and not waited for another option. maybe it was something else entirely. yet again you weren’t going to be finding out any time soon seeing as the boy refused to have a conversation with you. You and Five Hargreeves were certainly not on speaking terms.

Yet here you were throwing small pebbles at his bedroom window at almost three in the morning because you couldn’t sleep. The small stones bounced off the glass and then made a small thud as they hit the ground again. Sighing, you reached into your pocket and pulled out another stone, aiming it at the window. However this time the window slid open and there was silence as you presumed he was adjusting to the darkness. A tired Five huffed and looked down at you as the lamp illuminated your face.

“It’s three in the morning.” He stated, he frowned and looked down with a tired but disappointed look. You looked down at your wrist and rolled up your sleeve revealing a watch. “Two-thirty actually.” You replied. There wasn’t any need to shout, the streets were empty at this time of night, you could probably have whispered and had him still hear you.

“What the hell are you doing here Y/N?” He muttered, he was obviously still upset with your little stunt back at the old warehouse you’d been cornered by the commision in. “Can I come up?” You said rather bluntly. Five furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t think you’ve noticed. I don’t want to have this conversation at two thirty-eight in the morning, go home.” You sighed. debating throwing the pebble in your hand at his face. You’d probably hit him. that would be a good thing.

So you decided to lie. “I’m locked out.” you shrugged. Five stayed quiet. within about ten seconds of a frustrating silence, you got desperate. “Please?” Your best friend closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t about the leave you outside in the rain. You were wearing nothing but a T-shirt and some shorts, he always hated that, how you dressed for summer during the middle of a cold winter besides how many of his hoodies he gave you. So he let out a breath and nodded. “Fine.”

You smiled, Climbing up the ladder and stopping in front of his bedroom window. He pulled it up more so that you could climb in, grabbing your wrists and pulling you inside. Once your shoes finally hit stable ground he turned around and walked back towards his closet. You looked towards his desk. The lamp was switched on and piles of random equations were scribbled down on pieces of paper. He hadn’t been sleeping, you betted on the fact that he probably knew it was you at the window and was waiting for you to get bored and leave. Obviously, his patience wore fin and he gave up on the waiting part.

He turned around with a clean shirt in hand. “You weren’t sleeping?” You asked. Five didn’t answer immediately but shoved the fabric into your hand. “Lost track of time.” He replied, you frowned. “That's not like you.” The boy dismissed it and hummed in response, changing the subject back to the shirt he gave you. “You can borrow that.” He stated, he walked out of the room to get some fresh blankets for you to use, assuming you’d be staying the night.

While he was gone you decided to change out of your wet shirt and into the one he gave you. The rain had drenched it wouldn’t dry fast enough to be able to put it back on during the night. You stood up straight and turned around to the window, trying to rinse the water out of the cloth, once you did you hanged it on the side to dry just as five entered the room with a blanket in his grasp. He laid it on the bed and breathed in. “Come on.” He said, pulling you towards the bed. You sighed and sat down. He laid down before you, pulling the blanket over himself and facing away from you. You turned your head and put your head on the pillow.

You couldn’t sleep, the cold draft from the window and the sound of the rain kept you awake and you couldn’t be bothered to wake up Five to complain to him, he wouldn’t comfort you like he usually did. You rolled over and five stirred. Then you decided to wake him. “Five?” He didn’t wake. You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “I’ll do It then.” You muttered, pulling off the covers and hopping out of the bed.

By the time you shut the window Five was already awake. “Thanks.” He muttered, you turned around startled by his voice. “You’re welcome. It was bloody cold anyway..” You walked back to your side of the bed. Pulling the covers over you. You’d almost slipped into sleep before Five spoke. “Why’d you do it?” He asked. “You could have waited for another way, why?” You frowned. “I wanted to help.” You replied. “It just made things worse, I am sorry.”

“It's alright. “ He replied. You fessed up. “I lied by the way.” He rolled over to look at you. “About the whole being locked out thing.” He took a deep breath and chuckled. You stared back at him confused. He smiled. “I noticed..” You scoffed, “How?” He laughed at you. “You’re a shit liar Y/N.” You laughed and laid back down on the bed. “Good night Five.” He hummed and rolled over, falling asleep before you. soon enough you followed.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #fluff #minorfluff #angst #number five #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagines

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hornedsimp · 3 years

Note

Ayeee its ya boi, schlatt addict-

So last year I got my foot caught in a bear trap, and I was just thinking about if the reader got hurt during a fight with another mc youtuber (in game ofc) and schlatt finds them really badly hurt, and he has to take care of them. Bc they can't walk and ya know ✨b l o o d✨

So yeah thats my idea, peace ✌

Oh dear god, I hope that everything it’s alright with your leg now!

Thanks for taking the time to request this, it’s so soft and I love it so much!

I hope you like it!

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Jschlatt x Reader (Fluff)

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Warnings: Cursing, mention of alcohool, light level of violence at the beggining.

That's what I got, but if you see anything that you want me to put in the warnings please let me know

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You had gotten into a pretty bad fight with Willbur after Schlatt had announced the festival, you were walking around the city, to make sure everything was fine when you had spotted him at the top of a tree, his eyes once so caring filled with rage.

You knew that wasn't the Willbur you met long ago, and since you were on Schlatt's side now, you went to confront him, it didn't end up well for you.

No one was expecting to fight on the day of the announcement, for that reason you weren't with your netherite armor, only wearing the black suit you liked so much to seem more serious.

It was a pretty suit, yes, but it didn't work well against arrows and a diamond sword, granted, you couldn't even imagine how Willbur got his hands on a diamond sword when he was wearing the dirtiest outfit you've seen in ages.

Nonetheless, the fight dragged through the forest, as both of you were screaming at each other, Willbur trying to make you see how he was the victim of the system, trying to get back to the country he loved so much, while you were trying to explain why the rules were made to keep him away.

When he stopped trying to convince you that he wasn't doing anything bad, and started to attack you with more rage than before, you knew you were right since the beginning, Willbur had gone mad in his exile.

He shouted curses at you, throwing punches in your direction until he could trip you and hold you down on the ground, he got his sword with hands trembling, a dangerous smile on his face as he put the sword at the top of your chest, you tried to move, tears forming in your eyes as you screamed trying to get him to lose his balance so you could escape.

It was to no avail, you could feel the sword slowly making contact with your skin, the pain running through your skin slowly, almost taunting you to do something to stop it.

You bit hard on the inside of your cheeks, tasting your own blood trying to not focus on the pain, it would only get worst and worst, you closed your eyes waiting for the blackness to swallow you whole right after Wilbur pierced through your chest, but the void never came to take you out.

What came instead was another sudden wave of pain, this time concentrating on your leg, as you opened your eyes, you could see the blood running through your chest, but what got your attention, was the sword impelled at your leg, there was blood everywhere, your clothes ripped in many places where Willbur had attacked you.

And thinking about the devil, he was gone, no words or apologies, no shadow lurking behind the trees to see if you would survive, simply gone.

As the adrenaline in your body started to go down, and the pain got bigger, your eyes started to close, they felt too heavy, but you knew deep down you couldn't pass out from the pain in the middle of the forest, so you did the only thing you could think of.

You called Schlatt for help, since your arms weren't too damaged to move, you grasp on the small string of consciousness to open the message board everyone could use as a sort of direct link to each other.

Typing out your coordinates you pressed sent, letting your hands fall limp close to your body, and finally letting yourself crave the dark embrace that awaited for you, telling yourself that it would be fine once schlatt found you, your vision turned dark, and you blacked out.

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When you woke up again, you were in a large room, in a massive bed, with lots of blankets organized messily around you, there was an enormous window from where you could see Manberg in all of its glory, as you were trying to get a better view by moving, the door of the room opened, revealing schlatt, with a tired expression carrying a small plate with what seemed to be mushroom soup.

"What the fuck you think you're doing woman?" He asked with his loud voice practically running to your side.

"Trying to get up?" You asked still trying to move your body to at least sit on the bed more comfortably.

"Yeah that's the fucking problem dumb bitch, you can't move or else the stitches can get worst." Schlatt argued putting the plate on the bed table at your side.

He pulled the blankets off of you so you could see the white bandages covering your leg, quickly you pulled your shirt a little so you could peek at your chest, there was also white bandages firmly wrapped in your torso, you looked at schlatt, feeling your face get hot as you pieced together the pieces of what probably had happened after you blacked out alone in the forest.

Before you could say anything about the whole situation though, Schlatt let out a sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Don't ever think about that, I asked Nikki to help with the bandages, and she is the one that dresses you up on some spare clothes she had with her."

You could feel yourself relax at that, nodding your head slightly Schlatt approached you, moving his hands so he could support your torso and pull you up, making you sit on the bed, after making sure you were comfortable enough the hybrid handed you the small plate with the soup.

"Nikki thinks you're going to be able to walk in two weeks, but if you have any problem with the wound, it can take three weeks or more, you can stay here while you're healing." Schlatt says before leaving the room.

You blink a few after he leaves, your face still a little hot as you think about how careful he held you to help you move your body, deciding to not give yourself a headache thinking about it, you start to eat the soup, only to be interrupted again by Schallat entering the room.

He was carrying a shit ton of magazines and random books, the hybrid crossed the room to come to the other side of the bed and let all of the magazines down at your side, he sat right beside you and moved the magazines around so you could see all of the titles.

" I also thought... you could get bored, so I got some shit for you to read if you want to." Schlatt said with a proud smile.

You could only smile in return and offer a quiet "thanks" as you went back to eat the soup, after you finished Schlatt quickly took the place and went out to the kitchen as you moved around a little, picking a random magazine you moved the others away so there could be more space for the president in the bed.

You knew he wouldn't leave your side, not until you were completely okay again, he was just looking out for you in his way, standing close and making sure you wouldn't have any problem in your recovery.

Just as you expected, he came back soon after leaving the plate at the sink, he sat once again beside you, putting his head at your shoulder you hummed quietly, moving your hand so you could caress the side of his face.

You had learned long ago that the ram hybrid was pretty touch starved, although he kept the charade of a tough guy that doesn't need anything else other than his whiskey, you've been on his side for what seemed like forever now.

Schlatt took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your wrist before moving his head, headbutting you lightly to gain your attention, you moved your gaze from the current magazine on your lap to his face.

"Don't ever do this again to me alright?" He said in a more serious tone, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand.

"Okay, I'll make sure to not get hurt again to take up your bed." You snorted with a small smile forming on your face.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't give me another heart attack like this one, I thought I lost you when you sent the coordinates and didn't answer when I asked what was happening." He held your hands more firmly, afraid that you would suddenly vanish right in front of his eyes.

Placing a small kiss on his temples you smiled with confidence, headbutting him lightly like how he had done moments ago.

"Don't worry, I promise to do my best to not get stabbed again."

That got Schlatt to laugh as he gave you some more space, squeezing your hand he moved on the bed, sticking his legs out and pushing a blanket over himself.

"You better do your fucking best alright, now, let's talk shit about those magazine people, and how they look so uncomfortable in the covers."

#dream smp #IGDSMP #c!schlatt #c!schlatt x reader #imagine

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avidoro · 3 years

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Edit: Guess I’ll put this in here since everyone is just glossing it over to look for the negative parts. I never said you couldn’t ship SessRin. I never said I was anti-SessRin. I know I tagged it as such, but it isn’t because of my opinion. I have friends who ship SessRin. I love those friends. What I mean by these statements is that the community in general is toxic because of the people in it who have caused problems for others. Like, for example, the person who felt the need to jump me about my personal ship because it wasn’t with Rin when I wasn’t even talking about a ship. Or the people who harassed the English voice cast to the point that even they were calling the SessRin community toxic. Or the people who are fighting to have any Sesshoumaru shipping blog deleted if Rin isn’t involved. I am capable of peacefully sharing Sesshoumaru with other shippers if they could be civilized. But since they aren’t, then I feel like I have the right to speak my mind. And those of you who feel the need to fight me about it are just proving my point because you’re so worked up that anyone could have a different opinion that you absolutely have to argue. That being said, I also stated that I would never have said a word about this if it weren’t for the fact that Rin is underage in Yashahime. Sunrise is trying to lie about how much time passed. They clearly didn’t do their own math. And while I’m fine with SessRin shippers who ship her as an adult, I will not tolerate the people who justify her being underage in Yashahime. Also to those trying to argue about Yashahime being canon, I would love to provide the evidence to the statement I saw, but it’s gotten lost in the sea of people arguing about the show being canon. It was something along the lines of her saying the story wasn’t canon or wasn’t hers but the three girls were and that she was washing her hands of InuYasha and other’s could do what they wanted with it. Which kind of implies it’s not canon but she doesn’t care. If I find it again I will definitely share it. But if Rumiko steps up and actually says the show is canon, then I’ll accept it as canon. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with Rin being underage. But go ahead and continue to comment with your ridiculous arguments. New edit: @tiny-foots It’s not what I saw but I was provided this where Rumiko stated InuYasha was complete within herself meaning the story was done. She left it up to Mr. Sumisawa to write. Take it as you will, but I see that as her giving the okay for a fanfic to be officiated. But I don’t see it as canon. I suppose that can be left up to interpretation. But my personal belief is that it’s not canon. Even before all this I never even saw the original anime as canon.

I am going to start off by saying that I always said I would never be anti-ship. But if this is what it's come to then I am completely against what is happening right now.

Let's just pretend my OTP isn't actually my OTP right now. What I ship has nothing to do with this. In fact I am a multi-shipper, so don't even think about that. This is beyond more than my personal shipping opinions. InuYasha was my comfort series during a very rough time and Sesshoumaru is my favorite character because of his massive character development and redemption arc. He is an astounding character.

The fact that Sunrise has "officially" (I refuse to say canon because it's not canon. Rumiko said so. Fight me!) paired him with Rin is the most disturbing and disgusting thing they could have possibly done. Again, I am not against people who do ship them. If that's what they enjoy then that's fine.

HOWEVER!

The SessRin community is toxic AF! They have been for a long time and now they've been given a reason to really be horrible people. And that's only one reason why I'm disgusted by this entire thing. And mind you, since Yashahime isn't canon anyway, I wouldn't have cared as much if they hadn't done it the way they had. Let me break this down for you. I'm going to list why SessRin is unhealthy, toxic, and morally wrong and I'll even list some of the justifying arguments shippers have tried to use to support it and explain why they're wrong too.

Pairing Sesshoumaru with Rin destroyed his character development and redemption.

Sesshoumaru's father had a strong desire to see his son learn compassion. Toward everyone! Humans and youkai alike. He learned that lesson through both a human and a youkai. Rin and Kagura. These were the characters who were meant to teach him to be compassionate toward others. By pairing him with Rin you have taken away that compassion that he learned. It's like sticking a giant middle finger up to all the humans he was supposed to learn to respect and say he only tolerates Rin and no one else. There goes his redemption! Way to go, Sunrise!

SessRin was never meant to become a thing.

Rumiko went out of her way to create a bond between Kagura and Sesshoumaru as well as Kohaku and Rin. It's clear who we were meant to ship them with. These characters were placed as a barrier between Rin and Sesshoumaru to avoid an improper ship. SessKagu is the ONLY canon Sesshoumaru ship.

No child in their right mind grows up to fall in love with the man who raised them from childhood.

And if they do then they need to seek counseling because that's not healthy. A normal child would grow up to view that man as her father.

And how about these lame and unjustifiable arguments that SessRinners are throwing out.

"He waited until she was an adult! She's 18!"

Do some research. She is not 18! Look at the the facts that have been compiled. She is 15 MAX. She's underage!

"This was normal back then!"

No it was not! Again, do your research! Nobility groomed children to be wives, yes, but it wasn't normal. Even then the girl wasn't bedded until she was an adult. Also, would you portray a black person, in media, as an abused slave in 1800s America by your story's "good guy" and say it's okay because it was normal back then? I don't think so!

"They were meant to be together! It was a given! It was clear!"

Again, no it wasn't! Kagura was placed in the story for this purpose! She was in love with Sesshoumaru and he was falling in love with her. They are the ONLY canon Sess ship!

"Well, you're forgetting about the original series being about a 15-year-old girl getting with a 50+ year old man!"

There are so many reasons why this is an illogical statement. - InuYasha and Kagome met when they were mentally the same age. Sess and Rin met with he was mentally a young adult and she was EIGHT! - Kagome and InuYasha didn't have an official relationship until she returned from her time after three years... WHEN SHE WAS 18! - Every moment in the original story where Kagome was in an inappropriate situation she got mad and did something about it! She didn't just giggle and let the men around her ogle or touch her! - And my personal opinion, I also believe InuYasha and Kagome’s relationship was toxic anyway, so don’t try to hold that one over me. There’s a reason I’m a multi-shipper.

And one of my favorites, even from pre-Yashahime

"NO ONE is shipping child Rin with Sesshoumaru!"

Yeah? Go do a Google image search, you sickos. Edited to include this little treasure in the comments:

Who’s putting words in her mouth? She stated, in an interview plain as day, that Yashahime was not canon! She didn’t write it. An official publication does not canon make! Not to mention “the woman who changed him” is such an incredibly vague statement. If it was meant to be Rin, she’d have just said Rin. As mentioned before, she was very adamant about pushing the Kagura x Sesshoumaru ship. And Kagura definitely changed him. Was it not his compassion toward her specifically that regained his arm and gave him a sword? I’m pretty sure “the woman who changed him” was meant to be a vague statement because the canonical intention was just to leave it open to interpretation and is probably meant to be some random village woman who bonded with Sesshoumaru and ultimately completed his change.

And if, by chance, she did mean Rin, she didn’t say it was canon. Just that she was his wife meaning that is who Sunrise set as his wife in the show. Think about it? She was answering the question of “who had his children in Yashahime.” If she meant Rin, she was avoiding spoilers and giving a hint to who Sunrise chose as his wife. That’s not saying she would have picked Rin, herself. She didn’t write it. So it seems to me that you are the one putting words in her mouth.

Now tell me, if your best friend from grade school who was adopted told you when she was a teen or even an adult, "My dad's hot. We decided to sleep together." would you not find that disturbing? That's SessRin right now.

Also:

HANYOU NO YASHAHIME IS NOT CANON! THIS IS PER RUMIKO TAKAHASHI HERSELF! DO NOT TRY TO JUSTIFY THAT SESSRIN IS CANON NOW BECAUSE IT ISN'T! IT'S JUST AN OVERGLORIFIED AND POORLY WRITTEN FANFICTION!

ONLY THE MANGA IS CANON! OG SESSHOUMARU IS THE ONLY SESSHOUMARU!! That being said, I still say if you do happen to be a SessRin shipper, then you do you. Enjoy what you want. But what is happening right now does not give you a right to justify any toxic behavior that your community is expressing. Again, I wouldn’t even be mad if Sunrise hadn’t portrayed Rin as still being underage. I won’t stand to see people justify this!

#InuYasha #Yashahime #Anti Yashahime #AntiYashahime #Sesshoumaru #Sesshomaru #pedomaru #loliconmaru #antisessrin #Anti sessrin #Yashahime is not canon #anti sunrise #sessrin is toxic #sessrin is unhealthy #grooming is toxic #I would sooner ship Sesshoumaru with an actual dog than I would with Rin #Sesshoumaru is Rin's father

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george-fabian-weasley · 3 years

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Bill Weasley — Intoxicating

Summary: Bill Weasley had picked up a habit of smoking from his peers in Egypt. When he came back to Britain for summer, he met you in a fancy restaurant, as his barista.

Words: 3,415

Warnings ⚠ : Floofy Stuff, Cute, Sexual Tension, I Don't Write Smut so None of Them, Bill Weasley being Deviously Charming

Disclaimer: Domhnall Gleeson can run me over and I would thank him this man is sO FINE

"William, you're home!" Molly's voice echoed around the Burrow and Bill laughed as he engulfed the small woman, "Missed you, Mum."

The rumbles of stairs indicated his other family members running down to see him. Upon knowing them for years, he could predict the one who comes down first would be-

"Ah, Ickle Billiekins!" Two grown men engulfed him in a bro hug, and Bill chuckled, "Fred. George. How's the shop going?"

Fred smiled in triumph, "Splendid! We're planning to open our second franchise soon in London!

"Bill!" Ginny pushed away from the twins and hugged him, the complaints of the twins were visible. "Ginny! How are you, lil sis?"

Being the only sister he had, Ginny has a special place in his heart. Everybody knows how spoiled she is with him. The ten-year difference between them doesn't help either.

After catching up with the rest of the family, The Weasleys had a celebratory dinner to celebrate Bill being home for the summer. Ginny and Ron even invited Harry and Hermione, whom Bill knew pretty well because of the war a few years ago.

Molly being the lovable mum she is, kept adding food to his plate, Bill had to ask help from Arthur with pleading eyes. "Now, now, Molly dear, we don't want Bill to have indigestion now, do we?"

"But he's so thin now! Oh, what have they been feeding you at Egypt?"

Bill chuckled, "Mum, I've been like this since Hogwarts."

Molly gave him a motherly smile, "Oh alright. How's Egypt?" She changed the topic, and Bill had never been more grateful, his stomach almost exploded.

Hours after dinner ended, Bill stepped out of the Burrow to puff out a smoke or two. He heard someone opening the door and closing it, footsteps nearing him and Bill was pleasantly surprised to see Harry Potter, the hero a few years ago who defeated the bloody wizard Voldemort.

"You smoke?" He asked in bewilderment. Bill inhaled and kept it in, feeling the nicotine in his system for as long as he could before exhaling the white semi-dense smoke. He kept his views to the tall grass field in front of him, "Got it from my peers back in Egypt. Thought it's a good distraction, and it is."

"Distraction from what?"

"Thinking. So many thoughts and not all of them are pretty. Especially if you have 6 younger siblings and two aging parents." Bill confessed, finally looking at Harry with a small smile, "And now two troublesome future in-laws."

Harry chuckled and diverted his eyes from Bill, a heavy blush at the nickname, "Maybe later, I reckon. Ginny's focusing on her career first and I as an Auror. We have no time for a wedding."

Bill snorted, "Why are you acting like we didn't have Charlie's wedding in the middle of chaos 3 years ago?"

The two men burst into laughter. Looking back, it was amusing to have a wedding ceremony out of nowhere, especially if the night before someone just died- ehem, mad-eye, ehem- anyway. The laughter died down, and comfortable silence began. Harry was looking up to the stars, sighing, "We sure do have a lot of adventures here."

Bill shrugged, "I've been having adventures since I was born, Harry. Adding you into the family isn't that special," He teased and Harry rolled his eyes playfully.

Bill took a final puff and exhaled loudly, dropping the almost finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it a few times, no one wants a random fire in the middle of the night.

Harry walked back in first, but then he turned back and said, "Maybe you're not the only one getting an in-law soon."

Bill snorted, Harry was referring to Bill about marriage, "Maybe," He said, didn't really want to jinx anything if he says no. Harry smiled at him and entered the Burrow, leaving him alone.

Bill sighed, looking down to the dead roll of cigarette on the ground, "Maybe," He whispered, even when he knew it's not likely.

A few days after that night, Bill got an owl from his peers from Egypt. They invited him to a fancy party in a muggle restaurant in London, something about celebrating their 10th year working in Egypt.

He sighed quietly, he really doesn't want to go, something about being in a crowd exhausts him. But alas, he figured it would be worthwhile to catch up with his friends and enjoy a drink or two.

Who knows, maybe he could find someone there, although that's nearly impossible. Not that Bill cared about blood status, it's more to the scar on his face from Greyback a few years ago.

Who would date a scar-face?

Bill smiled bitterly, this thought kinda hurt him a little bit, but he let it tear down his mood no further. He has a party tonight to attend anyway. A fancy one.

That evening, Bill had whipped out the fanciest suit he could find and had Transfigured his hair into the color of dark brown, for fun. Molly, of course, had her disagreement as ginger hair has become a trademark of a Weasley for so long, but Bill had reassured her it's only for the night.

"Looking fancy, eh? Have a date somewhere?" George teased his older brother, the eldest just chuckled and shook his head, "Got a party at a fancy restaurant in London, had to dress my best."

"Ouch Billie, already forgetting to be a Weasley?" Fred chimed in, faking a hurt expression with his hand on his left chest. Bill rolled his eyes playfully, his dark brown hair sure did look weird after years having ginger as the hue of his hair, "Sod off, Freddie."

"Well, I think you look handsome, Bill," Ginny said suddenly, walking towards her older brother to fix his tie. Bill looked at her in triumph and glared at the twins, "Finally, someone on my side,"

Ginny chuckled and patted his chest when she was done, "I'll always be on your side. Just don't wear it too long, don't want you to forget you're a Weasley."

Bill chuckled and kissed her forehead, "Yes, ma'am."

Apparating to the alley behind the bar, Bill walked in the party looking ravishingly stunning, although he sort of regretting the new color on his head.

"William!" Shouts from his peers made him smile ear to ear. The night was celebrated with a few drinks here and there, Bill had a wonderful time catching up with his friends.

But a few hours later, the said friends had separated into different corners with their partners, leaving Bill, the only one who doesn't have a partner, to be alone.

Bill clicked his tongue, the sudden feeling of wanting to smoke was strong. He hadn't associated himself with this many muggles before. Nevertheless, they're all human beings in the end, magic or not. He checked his watch, it's a quarter past 10, the night is still young.

And so Bill went to the bar section of the restaurant, wanting some alone time from many people. He fished out the cigarette box from his pocket and took one, placing it in between his lips.

Bill inwardly groaned as he remembered he couldn't use magic to light up his cigarette, there are way too many muggles to witness and honestly, he doesn't want to go to Court, especially when the government is still corrupted even after years of Voldemort gone.

He patted around his suit, hoping there is somehow a box of matches resting inside one of his many pockets. The cigarette between his lips was starting to get wet.

Suddenly he heard a flicker, and Bill was met face to face with a tiny light of fire.

Strange, the fire was resting on top of a metallic box with a lid. Bill blinked, and that's when he properly see you.

His eyes met yours, and for the first time in years, Bill Weasley was speechless. It was only when you shook the tiny fire on your hand slightly that he realized that he was staring.

He quickly leaned into the fire to light up his cigarette, nodding to you in gratitude. He took a long inhale, relaxing as the toxic substance entered his system. He exhaled and looked at you with a smile, "Thank you."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "Did you forgot to bring your lighter or something?" You said, and Bill was slightly surprised at how easily you sparked up a conversation with him.

"I beg your pardon?" He said, and you nudged to the metallic box in your hand, flickering the light up once again, "A lighter. You forgot to bring it?"

So it's called a lighter. Fascinating. Bill thought as he chuckled, "Sort of," he said, not really wanting to say his 'lighter' is a spell.

"Anything you want to drink?" You asked, and that's when Bill realized you were over the other side of the counter, and you were wearing a white blouse and a patterned dark red vest over it. Ah, you're a barista.

Your hair was put on a low ponytail, and Bill suddenly missed his long red hair. Curse this brown short hair.

Bill hold his cigarette in between his index and middle finger, "Just water, please." You raised an eyebrow, "Water? Really?"

Bill chuckled at your teasing demeanor, and you were surprised at how he wasn't offended by your jokes. Your usual customers would usually tell you to shut the fuck up and bring them drinks quietly.

"Home was quite far from here. Don't want to drive home dead drunk now, do we?" Bill chimed, a genuine smile was on his lips. He wasn't this friendly around strangers, but there was this vibe around you that tells him to loosen up and enjoy his time.

You smiled at his remark, he was the friendliest customer of the night so far. "Oh c'mon, you're sitting on a bar! Surely you'll drink something." You said with a playful toothy grin. Once again, Bill chuckled, "Alright then. A glass of wine please."

"Atta boy," You quietly cheered and got to work. Bill watched you silently, occasionally bringing his cigarette onto his lips, somehow the nicotine wasn't as strong as before, now that you're here.

He couldn't pinpoint what was it, but you were... Charming.

"I've never seen you before," You struck up a conversation with Bill again once you delivered his glass of wine. This man before you was ravishingly stunning, would be quite a waste if you just watch this masterpiece from afar.

You could say he was the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. Even with that scar on his face. The long trailing scar from his temple to his cheek was intimidating at first sight, but when you look at it longer, it's only a scar, nothing more.

If anything, it makes this man before you look more mysterious than he should be.

"I'm from Devon, actually. My friends thought it would be a good idea to have a party here for our 10th-year celebration working at our workplace." You widened your eyes in, letting out a surprised laugh, "Blimey, 3-hour drive for a party?"

Bill shrugged his eyebrows, 'Huh, 3 hours.'

He sipped on his wine and gestured at the bar with his chin, "How long have you been working here... Y/N?" He asked, his eyes lingering on your name tag before coming in contact with your eyes.

You blinked, oh lord give me strength.

The way he said your name was beyond lovely, as if he's saying such poetic words. And the way he looked at you isn't really that much of a help. You felt heat rushing in your cheeks as you turned around to the alcohol collection, not letting this fine man before you see your blush.

"About 3 years already? Got to make money somehow to live," You said nonchalantly, when another customer ordered a drink. You got to it right away fast, wanting to talk more with the mysterious man whose name you didn't even know.

As if reading your thoughts, he said, "I'm William, but my friends and family call me Bill."

You chuckled and throw him a playful look, "Where did Bill come from out of William?" The remark made him laugh, the sides of his eyes crinkled. You smiled in triumph at the successful attempt of making Bill laugh.

"I honestly have no idea," Bill chuckled and inhaled more of the cigarette between his fingers, the nicotine felt less effective by now.

You stood in front of him, with the wooden bar table between you, biting your lip, "And what should I call you? William," You trailed off, feeling the energy between you shifted from light to somehow heavy.

"Or Bill?" You muttered loudly, giving him a slight smirk.

Bill felt it, the energy shift. And for the first time, he didn't mind. "Well," He started, putting the cigarette onto the ash box, killing it instantly. He took the glass wine, swirling it slightly to make the wine well mixed, and right before he sipped the dark liquid, he looked at you, "Surprise me."

You watched him drink the wine with his eyes on you the whole time, and the action made the butterflies in your stomach came alive.

"Y/L/N! No flirting with customers!" The shout from your manager made you flinch in surprise. You looked to the side, your manager looking at you sternly with his hands at his waist.

You smiled mischievously, "But boss, I don't think we're flirting!" You said with fake innocence, batting your eyelashes innocently. You turned to Bill, smiling in a way Bill was reminded of his cheeky twin brothers at home, "Were we flirting, Bill?"

Bill smiled widely with his front teeth on his lower lip, you're something else, Y/N.

"Were we? I can't remember," He chimed in, giving your boss the same innocent smile, making your own smile widen. The boss rolled his eyes and left, leaving you both by yourselves.

A moment of silence before laughter erupted from both of you. "What time does your shift end?" Bill asked as soon as he calmed down, a genuine smile on his lips.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, "At 12," You voiced out, trying so hard to contain your smile. Bill's smile got wider at the sight of your blushed cheeks, "Alright, I'll be here till 12."

"You sure we're not flirting, Bill?" You said playfully. Bill bit his lower lip and looked up at you, "I don't know, Y/N. You tell me,"

"Oh, you're good at this," You breathed out and nodded, impressed by his flirting skills. Bill chuckled and shook his head, "Sometimes. There's just something about you that makes it easier."

The entire two hours were filled with conversations and laughter, some occasionally constantly flirting here and there, but needless to say, Bill was having a great time with you.

You were charming, funny, witty, and absolutely gorgeous in his eyes. He forgot for a moment, that you can see his scar on the side of his face.

Not that you minded it. Bill was everything. He's a gentleman with a beautiful smile and an amazing sense of humor, mysteriously alluring.

By the time the clock starked 12, Bill stood up from his seat and then you realized how tall he was from you. If before he was looking up to you, now it's completely the opposite. Bill had an amused expression over your sudden realization of his height.

"I'll wait for you outside," He said and you nodded with a smile, already tearing off your vest.

The party was long forgotten, some of his friends had already gone home before he even realized it. Once he was outside, he took out another cigarette and snapped his finger, instantly lighting it up. He took a long inhale, warming his system up to fight off the cold air of London. He exhaled and sighed, the cold mist now mixed with the smoke, making it denser than it should be.

Bill then realized he was supposed to be with you later, and a guy with a bad breath is the last impression he wanted you to have of him. And so he reluctantly threw away the barely finished cigarette, crushing it with the bottom of his shoe.

Just then, you came out and walked to him, looking casual with a beanie on top of your head and hair let down from the ponytail before. "Hello, handsome." You said cheekily with a smile.

He smiled at the sight of you, and with his cold hands, he held yours softly. You halted your movement altogether, now looking eye-to-eye to this beautiful man before you. "I couldn't do this to you before because you're working, but," He said softly, and met your knuckles with his lips, kissing it gently.

"Hi."

The blush in your cheeks was prominent, and you felt like a high-school girl all over again, "Hi," You said shyly.

You suddenly felt some sort of courage running through your veins, because without thinking, you grabbed his tie and pulled it towards you, making him closer to you.

"I may have a few shots before coming out here so please don't mind me," You muttered quickly as you pulled him into a kiss. Bill was pleasantly surprised and kissed you back. The makeout turned heated quickly, Bill had to contain himself as he suddenly found a new hunger for your taste.

Whiskey, and smoke.

It was intoxicating. When you pulled away, you were both panting. You later giggled at the sudden courage before, and your laugh being contagious, he started chuckling on his own. Bill was holding your waist tightly, touching as much skin as he could while you had your arms wrapped around his neck.

Never would he thought a few minutes later that he would be running while holding your hand, laughing with each other as you dragged him to your apartment.

Bill had already loosened his tie and tossed his suit around somewhere by the time you're opening the door. He turned you around suddenly from the door and gave you another hungry kiss. You were pressed between the door and him, and you didn't mind.

Reluctantly pulling away giggling, you opened the door sloppily, your mind still hazy by Bill's kiss.

He was a bloody excellent kisser, holy fuck.

The door slammed shut behind you two, and the kissing continued. It was safe to say, Bill Weasley didn't come home that night.

By the time morning came along, you woke up being wrapped around Bill. His naked arms wrapping around your waist and his leg around yours. You smiled and looked up to him, and was surprised at his long red hair.

You chuckled, shaking your head. You trailed kissed from his freckled chest to his neck, making him humming in content. "Good morning, sweetheart," He said groggily. You giggled at his sleepy attempt of kissing your nose.

You reached your hand to caress his long hair and sighed in content, "You know, you could've told me your real hair is ginger."

He hummed sleepily, "Mmm, yeah-wait, what?" He snapped his eyes open and reached for his hair. Indeed, ginger and shoulder length.

He sat up suddenly, looking everywhere but at you, "I-I can explain." He stuttered.

I knew it was a bad idea, he groaned.

He stopped when he saw you looking up to him with amusement, your arm supporting your head, and your hair falling slightly to the side you're leaning on.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" He asked. You smiled, "I know you're a wizard, Bill. Or should I say, Bill Weasley?"

Bill scoffed in surprise, his tense shoulder relaxed, "Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

You sat up, revealing your naked upper body that you had presented to Bill the night before, and kissed him on the cheek, "I figured it wouldn't be fun if I let you know so soon, so I figured I should play along."

Bill was supposed to feel offended, you did lie to him after all. But all he could find in his heart was warmth. He smiled gently, cupping your face and kissing your lips softly.

"You're something else, you know that?" He stifled a laugh as he said it. You joined his laughter and caress his cheek, leaning your forehead together.

"I know."

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