#i was hoping it would just fit leaning against my bookshelf but its in the way kinda
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my mum got me a treadmill and we put it up today and I realised storing it in my room is gonna be such a pain like there's nowhere for it to go when it's not being used that's not really annoying 😭
#natchats#it can get folded down but its still massive#i was hoping it would just fit leaning against my bookshelf but its in the way kinda#UGHHJ#my mum also told me the weight capacity of it and i was lol idk if im small enough for that#so uh#if i use it and it falls apart then we know why#hopefully itll be fine#i just have so much shit in my room#all of which i actually need tho so i cant really grt rid of anything to make space#its also heavy so i want to store it somewhere thats eaay to get out and put away#anyways#im excited tho#i feel kinda embarrassed ngl#like i dont want my mum or dad to walk in on me usong it#bc i feel like theyll have some annoying reaction like oooooohhhh#and it just really puts me off#so first time using it is gonna be in a couple of hours when theyre not around#so i can get used to it on my own without fear of being barged in on
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Beautiful Disaster (7)
← Chapter 6 • series masterlist • Chapter 8 →
↳ 7 | No One Else
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader
Satoru takes you out for a conversation and dancing
words: 4.2k
cw: jealously, arguing, gojo being an ass
Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists
“What the fuck, Suguru?”
“Sorry, man. Thought she’d be gone before you got up.”
Satoru clicks his tongue, watching as Suguru shrugs before leaning against the counter and taking a bite of his toast.
It’s silent for a few moments before Satoru finally asks, “And she’s just in your sweatshirt because…?”
“We were up all night, she needed something to wear this morning.”
Suguru’s nonchalant attitude is pissing Satoru off even more. If there was one person who knew what Satoru’s thinking, and feeling, it is him.
And you - you know they’re best friends and still chose to come over, flirt with Suguru in front of him, and stay the night.
Satoru is seeing red and has a flurry of emotions running through his body right now that he’s not going to bother trying to sort out because fuck that.
While Satoru and Suguru were busy talking, you made your way back upstairs to Suguru’s room, which is the total opposite of Satoru’s - clean and organized.
Everything has its place rather than strewn around recklessly. Even the books on his bookshelf are arranged in alphabetical order.
After changing back into your clothes from the day before, you make your way back down the steps to leave, hoping to avoid an awkward interaction with Satoru.
You know what he must think. That you’ve distanced yourself from him only to hook up with his best friend.
But that’s not the case. You were hard at work on your diorama when Satoru left for his date, after making a show of it in front of you. When you and Suguru completed it, you wanted to relax while working on the research paper.
Suguru suggested moving up to his room, where he has a yoga mat and pillow in one corner set up for relaxing, along with a peppermint candle to help with focusing.
The two of you worked on that in his room for several hours until you fell asleep on his bed, and when you woke up this morning, Suguru was on the couch.
There was a small part of you that hoped Satoru would see you, and sure, be a little jealous.
But as soon as you saw his face when he walked into the kitchen those hopes immediately vanished and were replaced by an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.
When you come down the stairs, Satoru is leaning against the wall by the front door, the little round circular sunglasses you’ve seen him sport several times covering his eyes, and he’s changed too. Now in a black fitted tee with dark jeans.
“We’re going out.” He says coldly, opening the door as you look back at Suguru who just shrugs with an amused little smile.
“Okay… Can I go back to my room and change first?”
“Nope.”
The tall gangly bastard is walking out the door before you have a chance to argue about wanting to put on different clothes before going out.
You have half a mind to disregard him, walk back to your dorm, and go back to ignoring him. But the expression on his face, as he opens his passenger door and waits for you to get in tells you that maybe right now isn’t the time to do that.
The car ride is awkward and tense. Neither of you says anything as he speeds down the road, passing several cars in front of him before pulling into the parking lot of a local restaurant.
The place is nicer than you expected, and more intimate as well. Dim, yellow lighting and soft murmurs from other patrons, and clattering of plates and silverware fill the space as the two of you are seated at a small table for two.
You’re not sure what to say because you’re not entirely sure why he’s brought you here. The air is thick as you awkwardly look around the restaurant and watch the servers bring out food to the other guests.
“Pretty fucked up that you hooked up with Suguru.” Satoru finally says, breaking the silence between you, taking off his sunglasses and setting them on the table.
You purse your lips before sighing, “You’re the one who didn’t want to be exclusive.”
“Could have been with anyone, but fucking my best friend, really?”
“Ok, well, first of all, we didn’t sleep together and-”
“Hard to believe when you two were blatantly flirting in front of me.” Satoru seethes.
You stare at him shocked with wide eyes, “Satoru, we were working on our project, not flirting!”
“You know what I think? You ran off to Suguru, who just happens to look like your ex because you were jealous I went out on a date.”
Your brows are knitted, heart beating rapidly, wondering how the hell Satoru even found out that you have an ex, let alone what he looks like.
You scoff in disbelief before sucking on your teeth, “We’re not even together, it shouldn’t matter to you what I do.”
“Well, maybe we should be,” Satoru visibly relaxes, stern expression softening, a little fear in his eyes, “exclusive, I mean.”
You search his face looking for any sign of insincerity in what he just said but you don’t find anything, just a burning passion and maybe a little fear.
Your heart skips a beat, and there’s a smile threatening to break the stern expression you’re trying to maintain. There’s still a part of you that needs to know if he’s actually serious or if he’s just telling you what you want to hear.
“What’s changed? Why do you want to try now?”
Because when he sees you, and you smile at him, he can’t help but smile back. When you look at him, it feels like sunshine and sunflowers and warmth on a summer day, but instead of saying any of that cheesy shit he says,
“Because I’d probably beat the fuck out of whoever you try to get with.”
“God, that’s so… unhinged and scary.” Your brows are upturned and a chill runs down your spine, directly to the apex of your thighs at his words to your dismay.
He reaches across the table with his long arms, grabbing your hands so he can thread his fingers through yours before sighing, “I’m serious. I… want to give this a real shot. Might as well try right?”
“You know, when you say shit like that, it makes you seem so unserious.”
He just laughs, watching you while clenching his jaw waiting for an answer, “Fuck, fine, okay, we’ll try.”
You’re not sure how much you believe him, if he’s capable of being serious in a relationship, or if he’ll get bored and go back to what he was doing within a few weeks.
You know it’ll probably end spectacularly bad, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll surprise you.
November 2011
Since making things official with Satoru you’ve learned he’s a bit more aloof to relationships than you originally thought. It’s not totally surprising, and you had expected a bit of it, but it hasn’t stopped certain things from being incredibly annoying.
In the few weeks you’ve been together several girls have come by his place, stopped him on campus, and messaged him asking when they’d be going out next.
Satoru denies them, but he still looks at them just a little too long and smiles a little too widely at them for your liking.
And you glare at the women who come around asking for a good time, especially when he’s wearing his dark little sunglasses and you can’t see his eyes to tell how he’s looking at them.
With the way they glare back, scoff in your direction, and are ignored in group conversations, it feels like you’re the pariah of the female population on campus, but it’s not as bothersome as they probably think.
You have found yourself getting jealous at the amount of time Satoru has had to spend replying to messages and cutting off his usuals - they’re like gnats to a plant that just won’t go away no matter how hard you try.
But aside from that annoyance, Satoru’s a shockingly decent boyfriend. He likes to buy you things and show you off. Loves having an arm around your shoulders or waist, holding you close.
Just loves to touch you in general, loves to say the dirtiest things he can think of in your ear to rile you up and fuck your brains out every night he has the chance.
You tell him he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, and he says your eyes are prettier, especially when he makes them roll to the back of your head in pleasure.
Your relationship is very physical right now, Satoru’s insatiable, you’ve learned. He likes to be between your legs, and really likes when you’re riding him like your life depends on it.
But even then, it doesn’t stop you from learning new things about each other.
He’s so smart and so playful - you already knew that, but not to this extent. He thinks outside the box in amazing ways, it’s incredibly fascinating listening to him talk about his ideas whether for class or social issues.
None of your conversations have been too deep, or too personal. Neither opting to share much about your home lives, but that’s okay.
You’re trying to live in the now, with him, while it lasts.
There’s always a nagging thought in the back of your mind that he’ll get bored, break up with you, and go back to his old habits. What he’s comfortable with.
Primarily to Mei, who has been the biggest thorn in your side.
Always hanging around, always needing help with school work even though you know she doesn’t.
He just says they’re friends and she’s around a lot because of the shared friend groups, but it doesn’t stop you from sitting a little closer to Satoru, holding his hand and laying your head against his shoulder any time she’s around.
You’re trying not to think about any of that too much right now since you, Shoko, and Utahime successfully dragged Satoru and Suguru out to the clubs with you.
All of you spent the evening getting ready at Satoru’s place, listening to music, doing your hair and makeup, and pregaming.
After getting ready, you went up to Satoru’s room to slip into a small black dress that barely reaches the middle of your thighs and heels that make your legs and ass look great, but you barely made it back out.
As soon as Satoru saw you, he grinned and told you how great you look as he pushed you against the cool wall of his bedroom, kissing your neck.
“Satoru, you’re going to mess up my makeup.” You scold.
“Good,” his voice is rough, thick, and laced with lust as he playfully nips your ear, “wanna ruin this dress too.”
He slips his hand up your thighs easily, moving your panties to the side to run his fingers through your already slippery folds while you gasp, letting out a shuttering breath.
“I want to go out,” you whine as he presses his body against yours. As much as you would love to stay, let him ruin your hair, makeup, dress, and even life, you want to go out. It’ll be the first time you guys have gone out with friends as a couple, rather than one on one.
Satoru groans before taking a deep breath, moving your panties back in place, giving you space to breathe again before obscenely licking his fingers clean of your arousal with a Cheshire grin.
“You’re gross,” you scrunch your nose before adjusting your hair and dress, opening the door to his bedroom again.
“Mhm,” he hums happily, smacking your ass, causing you to squeal before leading you down the stairs to his car.
Now he’s grinding his hips against your ass to the beat of the song that’s blasting in the club, red, blue, and green lights flashing around in a kaleidoscope of colors.
You’ve been here for a while now, hot and sweaty from all the bodies melded together on the dance floor, plenty of drinks from pregaming and from the bar running through your veins.
Satoru nuzzles into your hair before placing several small kisses on your neck, his cologne is expensive and intoxicating as you lean your head back onto his shoulder, breath hitching when he kisses a tender spot just below your ear.
He wraps a hand around your throat, holding you close while you moan so sweet and pretty into his ear, the other splayed on your stomach, pulling you further into him so you can feel his hard length pressed into your back.
With the way Satoru moves his hips while fucking into you, it’s really no surprise he knows how to dance too, even though he said he prefers not to.
What’s more impressive is the fact that he’s also able to lead your body to dance alongside his when the song switches to another with a faster tempo. All the while his hand is moving slowly down your sides to the hem of your dress, before sliding up your bare thigh, grazing his thumb over your panties.
Your skin heats immediately, a jolt of electricity running straight to the apex of your thighs before you move his hand away, threading your other into his hair, adjusting so he’ll kiss your lips as you continue grinding into one another.
Satoru continues a few more times, slipping his hand under your dress and panties until you pull away, pinching your eyebrows together, “Satoru, what the fuck?”
“What’s the problem?” He asks as you maneuver your way through the crowd to get to the bar.
“You’re basically trying to fuck on the dance floor!”
“Okay… what’s the problem with that?” He asks confused, pointing out to the sea of dancers, “We’d be far from the only ones.”
“Because I’m not into that?” You narrow your eyes at Satoru before leaning against the counter, waiting on the bartender. “Why does there have to be a reason other than I don’t want to?”
He rolls his eyes, “Didn’t stop you from fucking on the beach or us hooking up at parties.”
“We were alone on the beach and all we do is make out at parties in front of people. Big difference from being fingered in front of like, a billion people.”
“Okay, well I’m just trying to have a good time.”
His words sting; you stare at him for a moment chewing on the side of your cheek, “So, going out together, with our friends… that isn’t a good enough time for you?”
Satoru scoffs out an annoyed “whatever,” walking away. You close your eyes and huff before turning to the bartender and ordering a cocktail. While you wait for your drink, you lean your back against the counter and look around for your friends.
A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips when you spot Utahime and Shoko dancing together. They both look like they’re having a great time, all smiles and laughs in their slip dresses, Utahime grinding into Shoko.
“Hey girl, did you fall from heaven?”
You furrow your brows, turning to the man who came to stand next to you, laughing a little at his dumb pickup line while grabbing your drink from the counter, “Um, no, I didn’t actually.”
He gives a charming smile, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling, “could’ve fooled me. I’m Kei.”
You bite your lip and shake your head with a soft smile before introducing yourself. He asks if you came with friends and makes small talk about them when you point out to Shoko and Utahime dancing, spotting Suguru with a dance partner of his own.
“Mm. Let me get you another drink,” Kei offers, “I’m getting a toothache from how sweet you are, you know?”
You nod awkwardly, blinking at his lame jokes a few times before taking a deep breath, looking around the club, “You know I have a boy…friend.”
Your sentence trails off, lips parted, eyebrows raised when you spot Satoru dancing with another woman. His hands are on her waist, her hands are on his while she grinds into him.
“You sure about that?” Kei asks, looking in the same direction as you when he notices your expression.
You’re less sure about it now, heart sinking, feeling a lump in your throat watching as Satoru unmistakably moves his hips in time with a very enthusiastic person who isn’t you.
Satoru looks up but when your eyes connect you look down and away, heart beating rapidly in your chest trying to figure out if the fight you had was him ending things when he walked away or not.
“Yeah… yeah,” you lie, because there’s no way you’re going to tell this stranger using cheesy pickup lines on you about your tiny argument, “he’s just dancing- anyway, what were we talking about?”
He grins again, with more teeth than before, “I was just getting you this drink,” Kei says as he hands you a glass, letting the tips of his fingers graze lightly over yours. You smile and thank him while tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.
There’s a hand at your waist, pulling you into a hard body while another grabs the drink you just accepted from your hands before you’re able to take a sip.
“Ready to go, babe?” Satoru’s tone is clipped with annoyance as he places the glass back on the bar, sliding it towards Kei.
“Nope,” you pop the last syllable, “I’m talking to my new friend.”
His grip around your waist tightens, “do you even know who your new friend is?”
“I’m Kei,” the man next to you says, extending a hand out to Satoru who looks like he’d much rather rip it off.
“I know who you are. Kicked your ass in a fight last year, and I’m more than happy to do it again.”
“Satoru!” You scold, looking up at him with an appalled expression.
Kei laughs awkwardly, looking between the two of you before pursing his lips, nodding his head in your direction, and leaving.
“Ready to go now?” Satoru snaps as you roll your eyes, grabbing your phone to send a text to your friends letting them know where you went. You would go to them and hug them goodbye but you don’t want your newfound sour mood to spoil their night.
The ride back to Satoru’s place is quiet, and tense from your end. He seems perfectly content with his actions, but your heart still feels heavy, seeing how easily Satoru was able to find someone to replace you with.
“So, what do you wanna do?” Satoru asks curiously when the two of you go up to his room, closing the door behind him.
You sigh, grabbing one of his shirts to sleep in before running your hands down your face, walking into the bathroom, “I just… want to go to bed. I’m tired.”
You take your time, removing your makeup and getting ready for bed, all the while contemplating your night with Satoru. Something you were looking forward to was ruined because of a stupid argument.
You decided that right now, it’s probably best to just get some sleep, see how you feel in the morning, and talk to Satoru about things then. Maybe you’ll feel better about the things that were said, and seeing him dance with someone else. You are tired after all.
When you come out of the restroom, he’s changed into a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his waist, showing off his perfect abdominals. You don’t say much, just climb into his bed and he follows suit, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you in closer to him when you don’t scoot in closer to him yourself.
You lay with your eyes open for a while, listening to his breathing before whispering, “You’re an asshole.”
He chuckles before nuzzling his face into the back of your neck, feeling the warmth from his body envelop you, “I’ve been called worse.”
The two of you lay in silence for a while, eyelids growing heavier and heavier, and as soon as Satoru begins playing with your hair out of boredom, you’re asleep within seconds.
When your eyes flutter open they're heavy, blurry and Satoru’s room is still dark, but you’re cold. The blankets you had gone to sleep under and strewn across the bed and Satoru’s warmth is gone, because he’s not in bed next to you.
You rub your eyes, getting the little bits of sleep out of the corner as you stand and stretch, looking around his room to find it totally empty, including the bathroom.
When you open the door to his room, you can hear music and buzz from conversations being had in the living room.
Curiously, you make your way to the steps and slowly make your way down a few before you spot Satoru’s head of white hair leaning back on the couch, long legs spread out wide in front of him, one hand in his lap.
He’s laughing, talking to someone, and when you take another step down, you see his other arm draped around the back of the couch with Mei, leaning in so close she may as well have her head resting on his shoulder.
Your eyes flicker between the two of them, heart plummeting to the floor when Mei looks up and notices you, sharp eyes narrowing in satisfaction with a salacious smirk as she moves closer to Satoru who doesn’t stop her.
Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you swallow hard before turning back around, going back into Satoru’s room and quietly closing the door.
There’s a fine line to be danced when seeing something like this. You’re not really interested in running down the stairs and causing a scene; not after your argument and watching Satoru literally run off and dance with someone else, only to find him cuddled next to his ex-girlfriend later in the evening.
Instead, you quietly take the bag you packed to stay for the weekend and search around his room, grabbing the clothes that have been thrown around while getting ready to go out. When you walk into the bathroom to grab your toiletries, you hear his bedroom door open and close.
“What are you doing?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, looking you up and down when you step back into his room.
“You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“I mean, I like to think so too,” he smiles widely as he sits on the bed, grabbing your hand to stop you from throwing things into your bag.
You really don’t want to look at him, his big blue beautiful eyes. It hurts too much to think there’s a possibility of him lying to you, still seeing other women - Mei - and you’ve just been too oblivious to see it.
“Is there anything still going on with Mei?” You blurt out without really thinking about it, you close your eyes, running your free hand across your face, “Just… tell me now because I would rather not be made a fool of again.”
“No? We’re just friends. We’ve already talked about this.”
You yank your hand out of his grasp, “Right. And I’m just supposed to believe that after seeing you two cuddled together downstairs?”
“You’re mad at me? After I caught you flirting with another guy earlier?”
“You are such a hypocrite you know that?” You roll your eyes, grabbing the zipper to your bag and closing it, “I was just making conversation while you were trying to fuck someone else on the dance floor because I wouldn’t!”
He scoffs, folding his arms over his chest, “And now you’re accusing me of cheating!”
“What else am I supposed to think, Satoru? You run off and dance with someone else and then we come home and you leave me in your room for Mei, again.”
“I’m sorry, okay! I just- fuck!” Satoru stands, running his hands in his hair before pulling on the roots a little, “I’m sorry I’m shitty at being a boyfriend, just… please don’t leave.”
He grabs your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You give an indignant huff, his cologne invading your senses until you slowly wrap your arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry for being a dick at the club and I wasn’t tired when we got back, so when you fell asleep I went to talk with Suguru. Manami and Mei were already over, I didn’t think anything of it.”
“I don’t like her, Satoru,” your voice is muffled in his chest.”
“I know. But I promise nothing is going on with her,” he places two fingers under your chin, turning your attention up to him, “You're the only girl I want.”
You roll your eyes, trying to bite back the smile threatening to spread across your cheeks before he leans down and places a tender kiss on your lips, easing your worries.
Satoru has been putting in a lot of effort to show he cares for you, and making a new norm for himself within your relationship. You’ve only been together a few weeks.
It’s only fair to give him more time.
@petalsrdead @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @kash2 @violetsapplejuice @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @s-witch-bitch @yogurttea @slut-jr @watyousayin @desthedemon @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @abba-simp @myabae @hvziers @etherealkakashi
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baby mine, don’t you cry
Summary: A quiet early morning moment between Reader and Deku and their newborn baby.
Pairing: Pro Hero Deku x Reader and newborn daughter
Warnings: None!
Tags: Just sheer baby fever fluff inspired by the movie A Beautiful Day. Aged Up Izuku Midoriya, Dad! Deku.
Notes: Short and sweet, I hope y’all enjoy! Not my best but I couldn’t get this beautiful little scene out of my head. Picture is not mine, it’s from Pinterest. I will be changing it, just wanted to get this up right away 😅
Links: AO3
Of all the things Izuku Midoriya thought he’d be doing at twenty-eight, being married to the love of his life and learning how to care for a newborn baby girl was not one of them. But here he was, exhausted, letting out a long-winded sigh through his lips as the baby fussed from the crib. You were blacked out next to him, thank god. You needed your sleep. He supposed he needed his too, but he had told the agency that he would only be coming in on an emergency basis for a little while. They had heartily agreed; the world was crazy and Pro Heroes needed love (maybe especially) too. It was only right that he got to be with his family at this crucial point.
Deku blearily looked over at the clock on his nightstand; the dimmed blue numbers read 3:53 AM. He tried to remain quiet, hoping for a bit that maybe the baby would go back to sleep but the minutes ticked by and her crying only grew louder and more frenzied. He pulled the quilt back from his body and sat up, bending over to let out a little groan. Everything in his body protested. The three of you had not gotten a whole lot of sleep recently while everyone acclimated to the new schedule. He carded his fingers through the curls atop his head and very nearly laid back down.
But then the baby let out a particularly strong wail and he rose on creaking knees to go to her crib. Even in the waning moonlight that ghosted through the window, he could see how red her cheeks were and with a lurching in his chest, he grabbed for her. Scooping her up into his arms and holding her against his bare chest. He walked back and forth for a moment before realizing she wasn’t quite done crying.
The wooden floor of the hallway shifted under his feet; it was spring and early mornings were still cold. His toes were a little frozen so he wiggled them as he walked. He rocked the baby, swaying his hips back and forth making little shshing sounds as he did but still, it was no use. Great crocodile tears etched paths down her chubby little cheeks and she drew in great hiccuping breaths.
“Oh, little one, ssh. It’s all right. Daddy’s here.” He resigned himself to no more sleep until his wife woke up for her “shift”. The rocking chair sat in the corner by the living room window. It looked very enticing right now; he was already dead on his feet. He turned on the little lighthouse night light that sat on a bookshelf near the chair and when the light bulb flickered to life, it cast a barely-there glow that just encompassed the chair. He sat, making himself as comfortable as possible, and brought his newborn daughter to his chest. She had just eaten an hour and a half ago; based on what he had learned so far, she wouldn’t be hungry just yet.
He rocked and hummed and hummed and rocked. She was so little, so tiny and he absently wondered if it was because of his own big shoulders or if all babies were like this. Tiny but willing to take on the world. And that’s what she sounded like as her crying gradually faded to whimpers, and then tiny little baby groans that matched her small fingers and toes. That she would take on the world if she had to had something cracking in his chest as he identified with that feeling. She nestled her face into his chest and his eyes near brimmed with tears of his own.
His life was nothing short of crazy. He was a Pro Hero. A Pro Hero mentored by All Might no less. A Pro Hero who had not been born with a quirk. A hero who had been a nobody. As his mind slowly edged between waking and sleeping, he realized that sometimes he still felt like a nobody. But with an unimaginable warmth seeping into his body from where his little girl lay against him, his heart skipped a beat.
Because he also realized that a nobody couldn’t make such a precious somebody as the little one he was holding in his arms.
---
You startled awake, the headache that had been threatening to hit from earlier finally gripping at the back of your neck. You had been sure you had heard the baby fussing a little while ago but now all was quiet. Deku’s side of the bed was empty, a ghosting of his scent and warmth still lingering on the sheets when your fingers brushed across them.
You sat up, squinting your eyes against the pain in your neck and shoulders. Ibuprofen would fix that but that was all the way in the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. Which really wasn’t all that far away but certainly felt like it at the moment. Deku must have gotten the baby but as your eyes blinked away sleep, you could see he wasn’t in the room. He must have gone out to the living room.
The pain in your neck radiated down your back and into your lower hips and lack of sleep made it feel near impossible to actually sit up and get out of bed. But your curiosity was piqued and the aches in your body were nearly growling. It was just 5:30 in the morning and you could hear the faint melody of birds chirping outside. You probably weren’t going to get any more sleep for a little while as it was.
You padded down the hallway, holding your hand against the small of your back, arching it in an attempt to eradicate some stiffness. The house was breathing all around you, making small noises as the world around you slowly awakened. It was still chilly; your feet protested the cold wood floor. A milky shaft of light flowed into the hallway from the kitchen. Another warmer light emanated from the living room. That must be where Deku was. Judging by the stillness in the air, he had accomplished what he came out to do.
You entered on a small gasped breath, placing your hand over your mouth as if that would help conceal the sound escaping your mouth. Deku was a stunning man. Even if he didn’t know it, you were always looking for chances to remind him and he was always doing things that just made himself a hundred times more attractive. Like the way his hair looked when he was straight out of the shower. Or the way he smirked when you told him a stupid joke. Or the way his hands looked when he was chopping vegetables for dinner. Or the way his smile looked when he caught you outside in the garden.
But he had never looked so good as he did right now and your heart bloomed on an almost painful balloon of happiness and love. The glow from the lighthouse night light was already weakening as the sun began its ascent but it was just enough to cast Deku’s face in a warm glow. He had a five o clock shadow now and was somewhere in between sleep and awareness; his foot propelled the rocking chair in a slow ambling rhythm but every once in a while it would stutter into stillness. You shook your head, a smile threatening to break across your face at the delightfully foolish man; he hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt so your baby girl was skin to skin with him. Her eyes were shut and her little mouth was open just a touch.
You must have made some noise because his eyes fluttered open. He didn’t say anything just gently lifted a hand to beckon you over. The muscle memory of sneaking around whenever she was asleep kicked in though and this time you made it to him without making a sound. He closed his eyes briefly again as he took your hand in his own. It felt magical really to hold his hand. It was large and warm and callused. You brought it to your lips, pressing gentle kisses to the scars that crisscrossed his skin before leaning into his ear.
“Why don’t we sit back on the couch,” you whispered. At least the three of you could fit on there together and you had a creeping suspicion he wouldn’t go back to bed even if you suggested it. He lazily nodded his head before cradling the baby in his arms and rising, the breath whooshing from his lips as he attempted to move without waking her. You knew what it felt like to be held by him so you weren’t surprised when she didn’t wake from her slumber. After grabbing the much-needed painkiller for your headache, you settled in next to him.
He opened his arms and now was cradling two human beings. He was an expert at it really. You curled into him and listened with delight as the baby nestled even farther into the crook of his arm and let out a breathless sigh, the kind that only babies can make. Deku was already drifting back to sleep. You could tell by the way his breath deepened with each movement of his chest as your arm rested over his abdomen.
“I love you,” you murmured into his skin. He whispered it back against the crown of your head as the two of you floated into sleep and the world felt whole and good.
Early morning sun craned through the window; outside the city came to life. Spring danced on a breeze through the trees outside. All was well.
#izuku midoriya x reader#deku x reader#izuku midoriya#midoriya izuku#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#aged up deku x reader#aged up izuku midoriya x reader#kaitsuki writes
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It’s Time | Family of Four
Title: It’s Time
Summary: The time everyone waited for has come.
Warning/s: Mentions of pain, a mention of a fatal disease, Ginny and George (probably) being the happiest of them all, George and Molly crying tears of joy
A/N: Finally the last installment, of the series. I might have cried a bit from the ending. But, I just wanted to thank you all for the support, likes and reblogs you have given this series. I never thought that this would reach this far. So, I hope you enjoy this last part and I might have a new series coming soon!
Series Masterlist
I never thought that Fred’s clinginess could reach its maximum level.
And it just did.
I was due to give birth anytime now, Fred had gone through the whole nine yards when it came to preparation.
“I just need to run to the shop quickly princess. You sure you’ll be okay here?” Fred asked as he put on his suit jacket.
I gave him a small smile, “I’ll be fine Freddie. Honestly love, relax.”
He chuckled, giving me a quick peck on the lips, “I know, it’s just you could give birth anytime soon. I want to be there when that happens.”
I giggled cupping his face as he hovered slightly above me, “And I assure you, you will be here when that happens. Now stop stressing and do what you need to do.”
He smiled, giving me another peck on the lips, “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“Just take your time love.” I said, giving him a reassuring smile.
He then apparated to the shop.
I got up from my seat, walking over to the bookshelf in hopes of finding another book to read.
In the whole period of my pregnancy, I had felt like that I had finished every single book that was lined up on the shelf.
I scanned the book spines before deciding to re-read my all-time favorite: Romeo and Juliet.
As I walked back to the couch, taking each step carefully, I felt a sudden flare of pain in my stomach causing me to drop the book I was holding.
I stood steady in my position for a few more minutes, it had been happening for the last few days so I just decided to brush it off.
Taking out my wand, I summoned the book to from the floor and made my way back to the couch.
Later that day, when I was on my way back to the comfort of the living room after using the bathroom, I felt a similar flare of pain in my stomach. Then I felt something dripping down my thighs. I looked down, my heart racing as I saw a puddle of water at my feet.
It was time.
I summoned the emergency bag that Fred had prepared from our bedroom, thank Merlin for magic.
That’s when I heard a familiar pop.
“Princess! I’m home!” I heard the familiar voice of my husband call from the living room.
“I’m here!” I called out, leaning against the wall for support.
His eyes widen when he saw me leaning against the wall, the emergency bag slung over my shoulder.
“Is it time?” He asked, frantically taking the bag from me and leading me towards the fireplace.
I nodded, “It’s time.”
He immediately threw some floo powder into the fireplace and said, “George! George! Are you there mate?”
“I am.” George’s voice answered clearly from the other side, “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Y/N’s going into labor and we’re heading to St. Mungo’s right now.” Fred said frantically.
“I’ll alert Mum and Dad!” George said as Fred dipped his hand in the bag of floo powder again, throwing it again towards the flames as we stepped in and got transported to St. Mungo’s.
Fortunately, enough, the moment we stepped into the hospital, we bumped into my doctor.
She took a single look at me and said, “She’s going into labor isn’t she.”
“Obviously.” I said as they placed me in a wheelchair and wheeled me over to the delivery room.
(Ginny’s POV)
It was normal Saturday afternoon, until George started banging on our door.
“George, what in the name of Merlin is so bloody urgent that it looks like that you want to break down the door so badly.” I said as I opened the door.
“Well, for your information dear sister, Y/N is going into labor. I already told Ron and Hermione and I’m about to head to mum and dad.” He said before apparating to the Burrow.
“What did he say?” Harry said coming out from the living room.
I looked at him as I only started to register what my brother just said, “Y/N is in labor! We have to head to St. Mungo’s now!”
Without a second thought, we apparated to St. Mungo’s where Ron and Hermione were already waiting.
Well, Ron was more relaxed as he sat down in one of the chairs while Hermione was pacing back and forth.
“Hey.” Hermione greeted, pulling me into a hug, “We came here as soon as George told us.”
I chuckled, “Us too. Any news from them?”
Hermione shook her head, “None.”
We heard another pop as we turned and saw that the rest of the family had arrived: Mum, dad, George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey, Bill and Fleur. Everyone was present.
“Are there any news yet?” Mum asked, pulling the four of us into a hug.
Harry gave her a small smile, “Not yet. But so far, Hermione is the only one acting like Y/N has a fatal disease when in reality she’s just in labor.”
The group laughed as Hermione gave Harry a playful glare.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m already excited to meet the twins.” George said, practically bouncing off the walls in excitement.
Percy gave a hearty laugh, “And why is that? So, you and Fred could pass on your pranking legacy?”
“This is the twins we’re talking about Perce, of course they’ll pass on their legacy.” Bill said.
Arthur chuckled, “I think that I’m starting to pity the load Mcgonagall would be having when the next generation attends Hogwarts.”
“I won’t even be surprised that if the day when this new generation attends Hogwarts will be the same day Mcgonagall resigns.” Molly said.
“Nah,” Ron joked with a small grin, “She loves us too much.”
Hermione and I playfully smacked him on the shoulder, “You wish.” We said in unison.
“Oh, come on,” Percy intervened, “We all know I’m Mcgonagall’s favorite.”
George snorted as Angelina smacked him on the shoulder, “Why? Because you were an ickle Prefect and a Bighead boy?”
Bill and Fleur laughed, “Please,” Bill joined in, “Save yourselves of the embarrassment because it’s pretty obvious that I’m Minnie’s favorite.”
All of us bursted into a fit of laughter before s voice spoke, “Don’t leave me hanging guys, what’s so funny?”
We all turned and saw Fred with a huge grin on his lips.
“How’s Y/N and the kids?” I asked.
“They’re fine.” He said, his voice quivering a little, obviously he had just finished crying.
“Do you wanna go see them?” He asked.
George smiled, “Though you’d never ask. Lead the way then.”
Fred led us to a room at the end of the hall and pushed the door open.
(Reader’s POV)
I couldn’t stop staring adoringly at the two babies that were I had just delivered.
Fred had bursted into tears the moment I handed him our son.
“Hello there kiddo.” He cooed, the tears gently falling down his cheeks, “I’m your dad, and I love you, your sister and your mum so much.” He continued, voice cracking slightly.
Even I couldn’t stop my tears from flowing as I looked at Fred with our son and our daughter that I was cradling slowly in my arms.
I scooted over a bit as Fred sat next to me on the hospital bed.
“I can’t believe they’re actually here, in our arms.” He said.
I smiled, “I can’t believe that we could make something this beautiful.”
Fred chuckled, placing a small kiss on my cheek as I looked at him, “I’m married to the most gorgeous woman in the whole wide world. So, it only makes sense that our children inherit that.”
I playfully rolled my eyes at him, “Ever so cheeky.”
--
Fred had already gone to pick up the rest of the family while the twins laid in my arms.
I looked up as the door opened and the rest of the Weasley clan piled into the room.
Ginny and George where the first ones by my side as they looked adoringly at the kids.
“Can I hold one of them?” Ginny asked, giving me her best puppy dog eyes.
I handed Ginny her niece which she took with a huge grin.
“Can I hold the other one?” George asked.
“Just make sure you don’t drop him.” Fred teased his twin as I handed him his nephew.
George and Ginny started parading the twins around the room, handing them to Molly and Arthur respectively after the former complained that “They should have a chance with their grandchildren.”
After a few moments of silence, Hermione asked the question that had been on everyone’s mind, “What’s their names?”
Fred and I exchanged a quick look as I said, “Freddie, if you may.”
He smiled at his twin, “The boy’s name is George Arthur Weasley.”
George stared at his twin as his eyes widened while Arthur had a huge grin on his face.
“You named your son after me?” George asked in disbelief.
Fred shrugged, “Of course I did. Is it so hard to believe?”
Angelina smiled as George bit his lip as he tried to keep his tears at bay, launching himself into Fred’s arms, pulling him into a tight hug.
“How about the girl?” Harry asked.
I took a deep breath, giving them a small smile as I answered, “Ginny Molly Weasley.”
Ginny gasped as she started jumping up and down, running forward and hugging me as tightly as she could, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
I chuckled, rubbing her back gently, “Anything for my favorite sister-in-law.”
She playfully scoffed, “Your only sister-in-law.”
We pulled away when we heard a small sniff to see Molly quietly crying as she lovingly stared at her three-hour old granddaughter.
“Hey mum, why are you crying?” Fred joked as he stood next to her.
She took another sniff, “It’s just. Out of every single name out there that you could’ve given your kids. You name them after your twin and your sister and your father and I.”
Fred chuckled, “Well, we would’ve named them after all of you already. But we have to reserve some for our other children.”
He then dodged the pillow I threw at him, “I just got those two out and now you’re planning some more?”
My husband laughed as he sat next to me, “There’s no harm in thinking ahead.”
We watched as the rest of family passed the twins among themselves.
I rested my head on Fred’s chest as I took in the sight of our perfect little family.
𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:
@lumosandnoxwriting @wand3ringr0s3 @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading (if your username is crossed out, that means I couldn’t tag you)
𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:
@the-romanian-is-bae @manuosorioh @lucymfer @lunylovelovegood
#fredweasley#fred weasley fanfiction#fredweasleyimagines#fredweasleyfanfic#fred weasley fluff#fred weasley smut#fred weasley angst#fredweasleyoneshots#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley x you#fred weasley series#dadfred#series#pregnancy#twins#hpimagines
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Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP
Din Djarin
53. Mutual pining, 41. First kiss, 6. Bookshop AU 👀
Hope this is enough of a distraction! ❤
First of all, how dare you make me think of how cute this little AU is, because now I'm yearning for modern Din and Grogu! Second, yes darling, this is going to distract me all night lmao
53. Mutual pining
41. First kiss
6. Bookshop AU
Din Djarin x Reader
Owning your own little bookshop had its pros and cons. Some of the cons, to name a few, was worrying about making enough to keep the store open, dealing with angry people when you shop didn't carry the book they wanted, the building you were in was old and leaked every time it rained, and just the entire business side of the bookstore bored you and made your anxiety raise just thinking about it. But the pros, those more then made up for the stress of counting each penny in order to order stock. And those pros came in the form of your two favorite customers, a young boy, always dressed in the cutest green frog sweater and his father who took your breath the first time he walked into you small store. Din Djarin was handsome in a way that was devastating. Not only was he physically handsome, with brown eyes that screamed of kindness, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, hands big enough to dwarf any book in your store, and scruff that was so patchy you couldn't help but find it cute, but Din was also handsome in the way that he acted, the way he would gently talk to his son as they picked out books or as he sat in the reading nook and read to Grogu, the way he would always ask about your day, how when he saw you struggling with boxes on more than one occasion he had stepped in and moved them for you not letting you lift another box. Din was sweet and kind to you, and with every small smile he gave you, you thought your heart would burst from your chest. And his son, Grogu, was obviously in the best hands. The boy was just as polite as his father, and just as devastatingly cute. The young boy, who you always joked about being your best customer, always ran into the store with an excites wave and a smile, and almost always ran and gave you the biggest hug he could. On occasion, the little cutie would bring you a present to add to a shelf you had cleared just for him. The presents were what you'd expect a kid to give, a dandelion, a colorful leaf, a shiny rock, and once a piece of candy that Din explained he had cried over for days after seeing it before Din went and bought it for him. You cared deeply for the two, and they brightened your weeks with each visit they made.
One week, it had been raining and storming every single day with no reprieve. You had all but written off seeing the two, knowing they always walked to your shop, but there you were shocked when a tiny frog rainbooted blur came dashing towards you and wrapped your legs in a hug, quickly followed by a hushed stern voice saying, "Stop it kid, you're gonna get them all wet!"
You could only giggle and lean down to give him a proper hug, looking over towards Din, saying, "If getting wet is the price I pay for my favorite and best customer's hug, then I'll gladly take it."
Din only shook his head and gave you his small smile, making you bite the inside of your lip feeling the rush of warmth in your chest and face. The two then disappeared into the children's section, you occasionally hearing Grogu's giggle, or Din's quiet rumbling voice, making you grin as you walked around organizing shelves. Eventually, you got lost in thought, humming quietly to yourself as you worked. You hadn't noticed the set of eyes watching you, and you barely caught the throat being cleared before you bumped into what you could have almost mistaken for a bookshelf with how solid it was. When you turned to look up, eyes wide and already apologizing, you found Din's soft eyes looking at you. Din took no time brushing your apology to the side, before furrowed his brows and saying, "There is a bucket full of water in the middle of the children's section."
You sighed painfully and nodded, before turning back to your work to both somewhat distract yourself from the way his eyes were boring into you, and to keep you hands busy from nervous fidgeting, as you said, "Yeah...it leaks back there whenever it rains super hard. I just... I havent been able to get it fixed yet."
Then Din shocked you completely, he grabbed your hand, stilling it and making you look into those soulful eyes before whispering, "I can fix that."
You had tried to argue with him, telling him you'd get to it eventually and making up reason why he shouldn't, but each time he shot you down, until he was paying for the stack of books Grogu had grabbed and he had set up a weekend day he could come over to do the job.
When the weekend finally came around, it was hot and muggy from all of the rain, and Din had shown up with everything he needed, and Grogu, who you agreed to watch while he worked, the least you could do considering he was trying to work without payment. But Din had also shown up in a white t-shirt that hugged his chest and showed off his softer middle, and jeans that fit right in all of the right places, and you couldn't help but feel your mouth go dry. You had closed the store for the day, and had made a lunch for the three of you the night before, so while Din made quick work with the roof, you and Grogu played games and read books in the little reading nook. Eventually, he got hungry so you let him eat, and shortly after he dozed off looking through a hidden images book. With a smile, you tucked him gently into a more comfortable position and draped a soft quilt around his shoulder. When you turned around though your heart stopped and you felt heat rush to your face. While you had been distraction, Din had snuck into the store and watched with an aching heart as you took care of his son, falling for the soft and loving smile that graced your features as you did. When you turned around completely, you took in his form, and felt a pang of guilt with how red his face was from working in the sun, but also a pang of something else entirely as your eyes soaked in the way Din's sweat shirt clung to his chest, leaving nothing to your imagination and how his hair curled so perfectly from the dampness of sweat and the humidity.
"I finished," his soft rumble broke you from you ogling, and the heat in your face spread to your chest as you cleared your throat. "Come sit down then, I made food last night and I imagine you're hungry so eat, and I will go get you some ice water to cool off."
You rushed away, as Din checked on Grogu before settling on the floor, and reaching for the plate that was on the coffee table. You appeared seconds later, setting a glass in front of him, before sitting beside him, grabbing your own plate.
"Sorry it isn't anything fancy, but I thought that the ravioli would be something Grogu and you both may like."
"It is perfect, thank you."
The two of you ate in silence after that, both of you stealing glances at the other while they weren't looking. When you finished, you took the plates and set them aside before shyly saying, "Thank you again, Din. You have helped me so much with this favor, and if I can repay you in anyway just tell me."
"It was nothing, and you owe me nothing, I promise."
You looked over at him, a soft and kind smile showing on your face, "I feel bad not doing anything for you or paying you. There has to be something?"
Din was quiet for a few minutes, his eyes taking in your earnest and open body language, taking in how your own eyes danced around his form, and before he could think twice about it, he said, "There is one thing..."
"Anything, you only have to ask."
Din took in how perked up you were, leaning towards him in the small space that separated the two of you. Taking a deep breath for courage, Din leaned in himself, and whispered, hot breath ghosting over your face, "A kiss?"
You swallowed thickly in shock, and met his gaze, finding no teasing look, only want so soft you thought you'd melt, so you replied by softly nodding and slowly drifting your eyes shut. Then you felt it, a soft brush of plush lips against your own, before they connected fully. The kiss was quick, and loving, and you followed his lips as he pulled away. Slowly, you both looked at eachother, taking in the other's reaction, before reaching out again. You buried one of your hands in Din's sinfully soft curls, as one of his broad palms cupped your cheek. This kiss was more passionate, but not pushing. The two of you finally just enjoying the feel of the other. The kiss expressed so much love and passion that it had you addicted and never wanting to pull away. But eventually the two of you needed to leave the other for air, and as your chests both heaved slightly, Din whispered while his forehead pressed against yours, "I also wouldn't say no to a date."
Send Me Tropes
#fanfic tropes ask game#din djarin x reader#din x reader#whoever points out the reference i made gets a big kiss and all of my love
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Question for Optimus and Megatron! Do you ever see yourselves reconciling in the future? At this point do you even want to?
The jagged edges of badly-healed scars and lines of age on the man’s face were thrown into clear relief by the soft blue glow of tablet in his hands as he studied the question proposed to him carefully. Unblinkingly.
It was two in the morning on a sleepless night amid a quiet week, and after a short prayer session and paperwork, an odd sense of melancholy had begun to creep in.
The rare moments of peace brought with them clarity to his thoughts that weren’t focused on missions, briefings and strategic discussions, and that clarity was, at times, a double-edged sword.
“Back when we used to meet each other at Maccadam’s every weekend, he would bring along this notebook filled with poetry and paragraphs of his thoughts about the state of the world. It wasn’t something he openly shared—miners wrote books yes, but mostly concerning their line of work,” Optimus finally spoke up after almost ten minutes of deliberating what he was going to say, and whether he should say it.
“On the day he left the Newham police station after being arrested for suspicion of inciting a riot, after he was brutalized by a rogue guard I had hired a few months ago... I found it.”
He had left the oak desk that was groaning under a stack of files, folders and documents that only increased as the days passed, long strides taking him to the bookshelf at the end of the room where the works of Thomas Aquinas were nestled carefully next to Imam Al-Bukhari’s. One book, much smaller than the rest, seemed out of place there however, and this was the one he pulled out.
“On the sidewalk.”
It was a woebegone-looking notebook, weathered by time with the edges of some pages crimped up by water damage, though it was clear that care had been taken to preserve it: The covers were wrapped in plastic, and not a single silverfish was to be seen scuttling away as Optimus opened it only to show the initials ‘M.T’ scribbled at the lower right corner of the first page.
“I thought he had dropped it and wanted to give it back to him. And with it, I wanted to apologize for everything—for not being there when it happened, for it happening in my station under my jurisdiction, for failing the promise I made to him twenty-eight years ago that I wanted to join law enforcement to protect everyone, not just those the system decided deserved protection—-but by the time I arrived at the mining community he worked at… they told me he’d been sent to Messatine.”
He closed the book before any demand for more of its contents could arise. They weren’t his to divulge.
“So I held on to this notebook for the better part of a decade. I memorized the words——some of them, I recited in front of the Senate the day I decided I was done being a part of their system. I hoped he would come home one day so I could return it to him in person. And he did!”
There was the ghost of a smile that crossed his features, which quickly shifted to a perplexed frown.
“But when I tried to give him back what was his, he told me to keep it or burn it—-he didn’t care for it any more. No point dwelling in the past, especially one he had grown beyond, was what he said. I took his words at face value back then… but when I think about it now? I wonder if it wasn’t him trying to bury what remained of the person he was before the Pits, before Messatine, before the night at my station. Before everything.”
The guilt was heavy in his tone as he sank down to the floor and leaned against the bookshelf; broad shoulders sagging under the weight of an invisible mantle and eyes glazed over in a thousand-yard stare for a moment.
“Do I want to reconcile our differences? Yes. More than anything. Because the boy I traded books with, the friend I shared a table with, and the man who wrote these words that opened my eyes ? I believe that man is still alive and that man is worth saving.”
He closed his own eyes for a moment and when they opened once more, the focus in his gaze seemed to have returned.
“Do I think it will happen? InsyaAllah, perhaps, but I would not stake the world on that reconciliation.”
___________________________________________________
The temperature in the empty war room felt like it had dropped several degrees as the Decepticon leader glared at the seeming-innocuous question as though it had come for his neck personally. Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare show of uncertainty and trepidation, he closed his eyes, steepled his fingers and exhaled harshly.
“I don’t… hate the man, if that is where the trajectory of your question is heading. He was my best friend, one of the few I would have trusted with my life. More heart than sense, foolish and naive and stubborn, but kind. To a fault,” Megatron uttered after a few minutes, his lips a thin and terse line as he thought about the matter a little deeper.
Another spell of silence fell upon the hall as he stood up and muttered an annoyed ‘tch’ at the part of him that saw it fit to indulge the inquiry at all before picking out a book from the glass-cased shelf in the back of the room.
“That is not to say the urge doesn’t arise from time to time. But every time that voice whispers venom and spite whenever I hear his name? I remember this.”
It landed on his paperwork with a dull thump; a hard-cover edition of ‘Umar Ibn Al-Khattab: His life and times’ which was, from first glance, well-kept save some light tatters on the book jacket.
A closer look at the book jacket however would reveal several brown specks which resembled dried blood.
“Thirty-two years ago, the sheltered child of a professor and a journalist threw this book over the fence dividing redlined districts to a nobody who simply voiced a fascination for what he was reading. Without prompt. ‘It’s a gift’ he said. A gift for someone he had spoken to for all of ten minutes. A gift for a new friend.”
The warlord who was greying earlier than most sank back into his seat with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling overhead.
“The nobody cherished it for approximately two days before the census team came by for an unannounced inspection, and lo behold they did find it, and the nobody was beaten within an inch of his life for the crime of possessing a book which wasn’t ‘approved’ for his class, and therefore could not belong to him.”
The scoffing disdain in his voice as he spoke of the abuse was replaced with a fierceness that would have made anyone listening take a step back, more so that his glare felt like it could burn right through the screen as he returned his attention to the person on the other end.
“But it did. Because it was a gift from a friend. And when that nobody became a rebel, and eventually a warlord who tore down the doors to the government’s archives for ‘Persons Of Interest’? He bled everybody in that basement like the stuck pigs they were until he found that little box with his name written on it, found this inside it, and then burned everything else to the ground.”
That would explain the drying blood on the cover of the book that he was now holding up, at the very least.
“This, and the books that were to come which that kind and foolish boy would toss over the fence, was when I realized how broken the system truly was, that I had to rely on this subterfuge for want of a better education. This was when I realized I wanted more than to live and die in the mines as my barcode dictated.”
The mounting anger in his tone seemed to suddenly cut off he opened his mouth only to close it swiftly, and when his tongue could finally form words again, they were noticeably softer than before.
“This was also when I realized that perhaps, I wasn’t alone in my outrage, in my boyhood fantasies for a better world. No one told that meddling idiot to make my fight his as well, but at eight-years-old, he decided he was going to do something about it to help me because he wanted to. And it’s hard to hate that earnestness.”
He closed his eyes for a moment before standing up with his hands clasped behind him, features obscured as he faced the wall with shoulders squared.
“Reconciliations are not out of the question. Truth be told, I do desire it. Whatever my past as a gladiator might have impressed upon you, believe me, I don’t enjoy the prospects of senselessy killing Autobots I have fought alongside for many years, back when we worked side by side against our common enemy. Terrible waste of genuinely good if not exceedingly foolish people, I would think.”
A curt professionalism had crept in now as he turned around and stroked his beard thoughtfully at the notion.
“However the matter should only be discussed after our movement’s primary objective has been achieved, and not a moment before. And if he and his merry men keep being an obstacle in my path?”
He smirked coldly.
“I can’t promise that the consequences won’t be dire.”
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Better than this→Prince!tom
parings→prince!tom x Princess!reader
Summary→ you and tom come from opposite kindgdoms. Both being young at the throne you despise each other and can barely stand each other. But when left in a room alone, everything builds up at once and all too quick
Warnings→smut, oral, enimies to lovers troupe,
A/n→this is for @rosyparkers writing challenge with the prompts “you wrap yourself in thrones and let no one touch you” and “”(y/n)” “yeah?” “I’m gonna kiss you now” “okay”” hope you all enjoy and yeah this is pure smut and will only be one part so BYE(also my laptop wouldnt let me add a gif or my moodboard! sorry!!!!)
A cold winter swept over london. You were back in the holland estates for a council meeting in which you always hated attending.
It was Tom Holland who you hated, none of his other family members. The throne was left to him at an early age just like you but your minds were far apart. Sometimes he made you wish your grandparents never formed the Allie with his kingdom. Ages ago now lead you to a modern day kingdom. One that tourists stared at from afar and only few got to be apart of.
“The meeting is downstairs, darling.” He leans against the doorframe of the library. His arms folded. A black button up loosened at the top. Black pants fit him perfectly and maybe it was the irrisatable look that made you hate him more. How easy it was for him, how he could get anything with the snap of his finger.
“The meeting is for higher council members.” You don’t look over your shoulder as you keep your stare out the window. Watching the snowfall and being able to see from a distance the people walking the streets. “Although I’m not surprised they let you in.” You mumble under your breath but he can hear. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he comes more into the library.
“Hmm,”he hums almost sweetly to himself. “Sounds like someone is a bit jealous.” He picks up a book from the nearest shelf. Flicking through the pages before tightly closing it.
“You mean jealous that you’re aging faster than me and only get your ways because of your looks? No Thomas, I don’t think I could ever be jealous of you.” You said bitterly. It was harsh, yes, But you weren’t in much of a mood for games.
“Ouch.” His face winces but it’s not taken personally. “You should just ask. I’m sure they’d let their smartest lady into the room.” He has a cheeky smile. A perfect, white cheeky smile that’s he bites down on as he stands next to you.
“And who would be the smartest man?” You look at him with your brows raised and he cocks his head a little before knowing it’s better not to pick a fight with you. Not when there were higher royal members downstairs, not when you both could easily make a fool out of yourselves.
“I never liked the name thomas.” He told you out of the blue before going over to the coffee table and picking up a book. “At least never from your mouth anyways.” He comments and you roll your eyes turning to him and watching what he was doing.
“So what should I call you?” You fold your arms and he lets his fingers run over the pages.
“Tom,” he knew you said Thomas out of spite. “Just tom.”
“Okay, Tom, why don’t you go downstairs and fuck your self back to the top and not make a fool out of your country.” You tell him and he stops at a word, frowning a bit. A mock at you.
“(Y/n),” your name was separated in syllables when he said it. “You’ve always wrapped yourself in thrones and never let anyone touch you. I wonder why.” He pouts before setting the book down. Your hands touched the bracelets on your wrists, pure gold, it matched the dress you wore today but you didn’t feel comfortable walking down into the meeting dressed like this.
“How I act is none of your business.” You tell him simply and he falls onto the sofa.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck someone in this room.” His voice confident with every word. You roll your eyes knowing his cockiness.
“You’ve seemed to fuck in every other place of this house With any girl you desire, So why not here?” You tease in a hateful way. Getting the book from the table and going to place it back in its proper spot. He walks you walk away. Even though he despised you, the way you act, how smart you were, how you managed to make royalty look so easy when he struggled, how you both degraded each other every time you saw each other.
“Guess I just haven’t found the right girl.” He looks over at the fire that flickers to warm the room. He knew every time you came over this was your spot.
Free moments away from everyone you seemed to resign here. He knew you liked to read, liked the view of the city, enjoyed the people. He knew this was your quiet safe haven, so that’s why before you came over he would have it cleaned. He’d have the dust wiped away, fresh wood, clean couch, and shiny floors. All for you. You never seemed to realize anyways, but all was done for you.
“Are we done here or do you need something from me?” You stand against the bookshelf. The emerald green you wore to support your kingdoms colors looked beautiful on you. The dress hugged your body perfectly and the sleeves looked like they were about to drop in a moment.
“I actually needed something from this room.” He got up from the couch. Walking over to you with his hands in his pockets. He walks right past you and bites his lip looking for what he needed. You watch his fingers trail the books, how long, crooked and thick they were. How rough his knuckles were from his boxing lessons, how you imagined his hand sliding up your thigh—
“It’s rude to stare, darling.” He clicks his tongue as he pulled the book right out of its home.
You want to punish yourself for letting your mind drift off to such dirty thoughts about the man you hated the most. How stupid you’d look if you let yourself fall for him. How all the years of teasing, rude glares, rolled eyes would be traded for some stupid love. Some quick romance because you were too busy to go out on the town.
“I would rather stick my own thumbs in my eyes than stare at you.” You fold your arms looking at the book he chose. England’s history, his family's history.
“I have to do a little reading homework.” He taps his finger on the book and catches your eyes staring at it. “We’re in a little quarrel with France right now over some trade so I guess I have to get myself out of that hole that we dug.” He shares and you nod.
“Hm,” you hum. He walks over and stops right in front of you. His chest is close to yours and you can smell the ocean breeze Cologne from his body. The smell is strong and sweet, making you want to pull him closer.
“You’re in my way.” He says in more of a whisper. “Move.” The words that fall out of your mouth next surprise you more than it surprises him.
“Make me.” You nearly bite back. He looks at your red lipstick the way you spoke the words. His hand is swift as it goes around your waist to pick you up and place you next to him. You’re shocked at his actions and hit his chest.
“Asshole!” You shout and the room echoes a little bit. He grabs the next book that you were once standing in front of and adds it to his collection starting in his arms. He lets out a lower laugh as he turns to you.
“Your wish was my command. After all, shouldn't the Princess always get what she wants?” He teases and you let out a loud huff.
“I hate you. I truly fucking hate you.” You let out a lower rumble and he only looks up to reach for a third book.
“Such harsh words. But the words are the same for you.” He winks and you brush off his touch and turn to walk away. As you start to walk away you trip over a loose wood flooring piece. He’s quick to grab you, holding you by your stomach and now your back is pressed against him. You can almost feel each individual divot of muscle. Feel how built he is, how he’s not that much taller than you but how small he makes you feel in this moment. His breathing is uneven as this position even took him by surprise.
“Tom,” you turn around and look at him. He still holds the books in one hand, the other hand is occupied with your waist.
His breath is slower now, he looks down and sees your lips, your chest, if he moved his eyes just a little he could see right down your dress but he wasn’t going to do that. As much as he says he hates you, he respects you.
“Like a little doe.” He almost whispers and you feel like putty in his arms. Does he do this with his other woman he brings into the house? Tease them until they feel so weak against his touch they would do anything to get him undressed. How could you fall into his trap too. Was this a trap?
“Lost for words?” His lips curl into a smirk and you want to say something but you can’t. You simply let him have his way with you at this moment.
“I’m not lost for anything.” You finally say. You intend to have a harsh tone but it comes out weak. Your begging your mind not to let him do this, not to be so weak to him. Fucking your enimie, your ally, was that all really worth it? How ashamed you’d be if you let your hormones take over and let him fuck you. How you haven’t been properly bedded in over a month and maybe something quick, something so quick could be forgettable.
“Hmm,” he hums coming in closer and take a deep breath. Smelling the perfume you chose this morning that you spray right under your ear. “I always like this scent on you. What is it? Chanel?” You don’t even realize you’ve moved your head to the side. Giving him access to kiss if he wanted. “Maybe I’m wrong. Gucci? Estée Lauder? No…” you almost whimper. “It’s something local isn’t it?” He lets out a soft chuckle just against your neck. You swallow hard feeling your core already throbbing wanting him to just break and touch you.
“What I wear is none of your business.” You still try to remain strong. Act like you hate his guts. Act like you do in meetings. Smack him in the face and remind him you’re in change.
“No, it isn’t.” He comes up from your neck and looks down at you. “But I think if you were mine you could wear whatever perfume you wanted and I’d still want to fuck you until you couldn’t walk.” He whispers harshly so close to your lips.
“And why don’t you do that?” You say back and his hand now going lower down your back, so much lower that it’s gripping you gently.
“Are you asking?” He lets his lips gaze over yours before bringing them away. That time you did whimper, a whimper left your lips.
He chuckles softly, takes one last breath before looking you in the eyes.
“(Y/n)?” His eyes softer than what you’ve ever seen.
“Yes?” You respond.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” He brings his lips closer to yours.
“Okay.” Was all you said and just like that you were his. Your arms go around his neck and bring him in. The books he once held crash on the floor and make you jump slightly. His hand went from your ass to your thighs in a matter of moments lifting your one leg around him. His lips hungry, not caring about the perfect red lipstick now smudged against his. How it would be such a mess to leave here. He wasn’t thinking about that right now, he was just thinking about you.
“I still hate you.” It comes out as more of a moan than actual words. Reminding him this means nothing to you. That you simply need to get it out of your system.
He grunts as he goes to your neck, kissing down it and letting the straps of the dress fall right down your shoulder. His hand quickly goes to your nipple. Pinching with his finger and then taking it into his mouth making you loudly moan. You hope no one is around to hear you. You hope no one will open the doors to find you two.
He’s quick to have you picked up around him. Part of you wants him to just take you against the bookshelf, another part wants the couch, there’s a small part of you that needs him to cancel his whole day to be with you.
His hands quickly get down the rest of the dress. Dropping it and bringing you over to the couch that was made typically to fit one person but he would make it fit two.
“Please I need you.” You whine and he’s already making his way down your body.
“Do I hear the princess…begging?” His head in between your legs, biting your thigh gently. Your hand is weak but goes to grab his hair.
“Shut. up.” You arch your back as he takes his first taste of you. Maybe there was a good reason why he had such a playboy idea behind him. Maybe some rumors you managed to search up once were true, he really was able to keep up to his standards.
You’re quick to reach your high, soft moans leave your mouth which only motivates him to do more, give you more. He holds your thighs tightly and when you squirm too much he smacks them to make you stay still.
It’s only moments until you’re catching your breath. Eyes closed not believing what you just did. Your hands go to push back any hair that fell into your face and wipe off some sweat as well. It was going to be hard just walking back into your room when your lipstick was smudged and you were drenched in sweat. Your legs shaking did not help as well.
He comes up to your face, you pull him in for a kiss which takes him by surprise.
“What?” You look at him in this moment and think maybe he’s good, maybe he’s not everything bad you’ve wanted him to be just to be Safe.
“It’s just…you...nevermind. Girls typically don’t kiss me after I do that.” He’s still in his pants, but the way his chest glistens bare, you can’t look away.
“Oh.” You let your eyes flicker down to his pants. Reaching for him but he quickly grabs your hand.
“Another time.” He winks and you feel your body go stiff. Another time. There would be another time?
“A-Are you sure?” You flicker your eyes a few times and he kisses above your brow.
“Mmmh,” he places his finger under your chin. “Look at you getting soft for me.” He teases and you grab him a little too tightly and he winces.
“Knock it off.” You tell him. He likes it, he likes it when women take control over him. It was rare it ever happened but he gets tired of being in control all day and needs a little of that control unleashed on him.
Bells ring outside. Signaling another hour has passed the day and that made you sigh. He gets up from where he was and goes over to the area where he dropped your dress and comes back with it at the edge of his fingers waving it in a teasing way.
You quickly take it from him and slide it over your head. Letting the fabric situate itself against your body before trying to stand up. Your legs weak and give out for a moment before he catches you and pulls you back up.
“Woah, woah, i've got you darling.” He holds you and then laughs. “Oh don’t give me those eyes. Not everytime I’m going to catch you is going to be a time I’ll fuck you.” He winks and you roll your eyes.
“I have a meeting with some locals. I have to give a speech at six.” You tell him and he turns you around to zip up your dress.
“And when will you be back?” He asks, kissing your shoulder in a teasing way.
“I don’t know, maybe someone will catch my eyes in the crowd—“ you start to tease more playfully but he’s not so light about it. He turns you around and pulls you tight against his body. You’ve never seen him with these eyes. Angry you’ve seen? Yes. Mad? Sad? Hurt? But never so ferral. Like you were his and he didn’t want to share.
“Anyone ever teach you it’s not so nice to talk about other men right after one just ate you like you were his last meal.” He looks down at your lips and for a moment you swore you left your body. You swallow hard before blinking a few times and opening your mouth to say.
“Eight. I’ll be back at eight.” You feel so weak and powerless but protected in his touch. He lets his grip on your waist loose and lets you regain balance.
“Alright. I’ll tell the chefs to hold dinner until you get back. And it will just be you and I and i will fuck you on that table when we’re done eating and then I will bring you to my room and fuck you until you can’t walk. Don’t think I’m not making up for all those years you said you hated me so much.” He kisses right below your ear before buttoning his shirt up and going to the door. You watch him leave and try to recall what just happened. You place your hand on your forehead wondering how’d you get out of here without anyone questioning you.
You didn’t know who you hated more. Tom or yourself. You were hooking up with the man you swore you hated up and down. You felt good too. You hated that he made you feel so, so good.
You truly hated tom holland, but he was about to make you wish you never left his side
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#royal!tom#prince!tom#tom holland imagine#tom holland smut#tom holland x reader#imagine tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fan fic#tom holland fics#tom holland au#tom holland royal au#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n
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Jeremy Meets Helpy
Chapter 2: Helpy Visits Jeremy Again
Jeremy wakes up one day to Helpy being not only alive and well, but even homeless. So Jeremy takes the little bear under his wing and keeps the bear as a child-like friend.
Jeremy waited patiently for Helpy to return. He worked, came home, and grew a little disappointed everyday that Helpy didn’t come. Tonight was another one of those nights. Helpy didn’t return and Jeremy, again, felt hurt by it. It’s been 3 weeks since Helpy left him. And every day felt more and more sad. Jeremy decided to just hop into bed and sleep his sadness away. He wanted Helpy back really badly, but he knew he was probably very busy.
So...he slept the day away...waiting for Helpy to return...
[The next morning]
Jeremy groaned and slowly started to wake up. The sun had woken him more than he expected.
“Mornin’ Jemy!” something said to him.
Wait...Jemy?!
WAIT A SECOND-
“HELPY?!” Jeremy got up, pulled his covers off and ran to the kitchen. But…
The kitchen was empty.
“Mmmmph! Mmm mmmph!” something said all muffled.
Jeremy turned around and immediately noticed that the blankets were moving. The blankets were flopping around and...shaking like a dog?
Jeremy walked up to the pile of blankets that he just threw off himself, and removed the covers.
The purple bear that was standing there, threw his arms up. “JEMY!”
“HELPY!” Jeremy picked up the bear and spun around with the bear up in the air. Helpy let out little cheers and whooos of excitement as the bear flew around in Jeremy’s arms. Then, Jeremy brought Helpy into a BIG bear hug. “I missed you so much!” Jeremy told him. Jeremy removed him from his arms. “Don’t ever leave like that again! I didn’t know when you were gonna come back! I didn’t know what happened to you, or if you were broken, lost, hurt-” Jeremy was tearing up and starting to cry. “Don’t do that again...please.” Jeremy begged.
“Helpy okay. Helpy here.” The bear told him, placing both its hands onto Jeremy’s. “Helpy miss you.” The bear admitted.
Jeremy smiled through his tears. “Jemy missed you too…a lot.” Jeremy admitted back.
“Helpy home. for ever.” Helpy told him.
“Really?” Jeremy asked, not fully believing it.
“Yeah! Helpy stay now for ever!” Helpy declared.
Jeremy looked at him with some hope in his eyes. “Are you sure? Don’t you...have a home?” Jeremy asked.
“Jemy home. Henry friend.” Helpy said.
Henry? As in…
“Henry Emily?” Jeremy asked.
Helpy looked at him with his eyebrows raised in...sadness. Then, the bear looked down. “Henry…”
Jeremy blinked and realized that Helpy was feeling more than just sad...he was distressed!
Jeremy quickly grabbed this week’s newspaper from the table and opened it to look for some clues on the matter. Anything to tell him what he was sad for. But all he could find was an article on...a building fire that killed two people and...roughly 50 animatronics?!
Jeremy gasped and covered his mouth...Henry was one of the deaths…
And Helpy was mourning him!
“Oh Helpy…” Jeremy wrapped his arms around Helpy and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Henry...Henry dead...Helpy sad…” Helpy told him.
Jeremy held onto him and cuddled him as he mourned for a while. Helpy was holding onto Helpy for a while, looking sad. Jeremy wasn’t sure if Helpy was actually feeling sadness, or whether his sadness was simulated. But that didn’t matter to Jeremy. He knew that Helpy was experiencing sadness and needed time to mourn.
“Okay. Helpy better. Home with Jemy!” Helpy declared.
“I...Really? You’re actually over it now?” Jeremy reacted.
“Helpy better. Play play play!” Helpy declared happily.
“Play?! Already? I need to eat some breakfast first, little man!” He reacted.
“Picky ups?” Helpy asked.
Jeremy giggled and nodded. “Okay.” Jeremy picked up Helpy, carried him to the kitchen and grabbed a banana for breakfast.
“Nana!” Helpy reacted.
“Yup...a banana.” Jeremy replied.
Jeremy carried Helpy around while he ate the banana bit by bit. The banana was a little soft and brown, but it was at its best state: with spotted brown on the yellow peel.
As soon as the spotted peel was thrown into the garbage, Jeremy lifted Helpy up, and cuddled him into his arms like a baby. While being held, Jeremy tickled the animatronics little belly. “Tickle time for Helpy!” Jeremy declared.
“Tihihihihicklehehes fohohor hehehelpyhyhy!” He reacted, covering his mouth with both his hands.
“Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo!” Jeremy teased him.
Belly giggled and rolled all around like a little panda bear. He looked so happy to be tickled like this! It was evident on Helpy’s little cheeky grin. Helpy looked to Jeremy with appreciation in his eyes.
Then, he got up. “Oh oh oh! Cuddle tickles!” He declared. “Cuddle tickles cuddle tickles!”
“Oookaaay!” Jeremy grabbed Helpy into his arms and started skittering his fingers all over Helpy’s sides and belly. Helpy squealed and giggled loudly. He wiggled and clapped his arms around while kicking his feet like a wild animal.
Oh…wait…he’s supposed to be modeled after a bear.
Riiiiight.
Jeremy booped Helpy’s little nose, and jumped in surprise the moment his little nose made a squeak! Helpy’s nose squeaks too?! What a surprise! Helpy was seriously an entire package of cute created to fit one being! And it was such a joy!
Jeremy resumed tickling Helpy for a little bit longer. He went for his sides like he usually did, and even went for his armpits for a few minutes.
“EEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! JEHEHEHEMYYY!” Helpy laughed.
“What? Ticklish much?” Jeremy teased.
“YEHEHEHEHES! VEHERY TIHIHICKLIHIHISH!” Helpy laughed.
Jeremy nodded and moved down to Helpy’s rib area. “Here. Is that better?” Helpy asked.
Helpy nodded and leaned his head against Jeremy’s chest. “Yehehehah. Behehetter.” He replied calmly.
Jeremy held onto Helpy for a little while and started singing a little tune he remembered from when he was younger. He was so happy and thankful to have Helpy back with him. It was like a big brick fell right off his shoulders and into the abyss. Any sign of the brick had fallen away. He felt like a feather...He felt like he could maybe even fly with Helpy around him.
Helpy was more than just a companion for him. Helpy was like the best friend he’s been yearning for since he was younger. It was a big blessing to have such a complicated robot as a best friend. You wouldn’t be able to tell if any of the feelings were true or simulated. So, you’d just handle them like you’d handle any human emotion: With love and understanding.
“Hehehehelpy tihihicklehed ohohout nohohow.” Helpy told him.
Jeremy snapped out of his thoughts and very quickly stopped tickling him.
“My turn to tickle!” Helpy moved to Jeremy’s belly, lifted the shirt up, and blew a BIG raspberry onto his belly.
“eeEEEEEK!” Jeremy squealed, falling flat onto his back.
“Tickles tickles tickles!” Helpy fluttered his left hand fingers on Jeremy’s sensitive tummy and squeezed his left side with his right hand.
“OHOHOHO MAHAHAHAN! YOHOHOU GOHOHOT MEHEHEHE!” Jeremy declared.
“I gotcha! You my tickle me Jemy!” Helpy told him.
Jeremy laughed even more at that. Did he just reference those Tickle Me Elmo’s?!
“Oh, I’m your tickle me elmo now?” Jeremy asked.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Helpy declared, tickling his belly again.
“EEEhehehehehahahahahahaha! Yohohou’re juhuhust mahahakihing uhup for lost tihihime!” Jeremy reacted.
Helpy nodded and took in a deep breath. He blew a big raspberry onto Jeremy’s belly, defying all the laws of animatronic logic in 5 seconds or less.
“EEEEAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEHEY! HOHOHOW AHAHARE YOHOHOHOU-” Jeremy yelped as he fell to the floor from all the tickles.
“Surprise!” Helpy yelled happily, standing in front of Jeremy’s face. “Lost time tickles! Jemy tickles!” Helpy shoved his hand into Jeremy’s armpit and skittered all over.
Jeremy was a cackling, wiggling mess…
Indeed, Jeremy was a big wig-waggling mess…
And we all know Jeremy was a wabble-jabbling mess of a being then…
[That night:]
Jeremy was groaning and covering his ears. There were so many people honking their horns in the middle of the street that night...
Wait...Where was Helpy?
Jeremy took off his eye cover and looked around for the bear. “Helpy?”
He looked around the room while more beeping sounds went off on the road from the living room window. He groaned and slowly covered his ears again. The beeping sounds were getting louder and closer to his room…
Wait…
Jeremy looked up and noticed the bear standing at the door. “Oh...Hi Helpy.”
Another honk went off from the window.
{HONK HONK} Helpy’s horn went.
Jeremy groaned and covered his eyes. “What are you doing honking this time a night?”
Another honk went off.
{HOOOOOONK!}
Jeremy growled and held his head. “Stop honking at the cars!”
“They honk first!”
“They’re-...They’re honking at the cars to go faster. They’re not honking at you-”
{HONK HOOOONK!}
*Honk!*
Helpy laughed. “Hahahaha! I honk first!”
Jeremy growled and walked up. “Come on Helpy. Off to bed.”
“No!” Helpy honked his horn in his face.
“OOW! MY EARS!” Jeremy yelled, dropping the bear.
Helpy fell onto the ground with a loud crack sound filling the room for only a second…
Jeremy sighed. His neck broke again. “Greeeeat. Come on Helpy...Fix your neck.” Jeremy ordered. “Then let’s sleep for a while. And no more honking.”
Helpy nodded and snapped his neck back in place like he usually did. Then, Helpy walked himself to Jeremy and raised his arms up. “Up up up?”
Jeremy smiled and knelt down, picking up the bear and placing him on his hip like he would for a toddler.
“Ready for beddy bye?” Jeremy asked. “Would you like me to read you a story? I might have some old classic books in my bookshelf to read to you.” Jeremy asked.
Helpy nodded his head. “Story! Story!”
Jeremy grabbed an old fairytale from his bookshelf and dusted it off a little. It was an old copy of the Paddington Bear story.
Jeremy sat his pillow up and sat down with Helpy in his arm. “A Bear Named Paddington...By Michael Bond and Peggy Fortnum.” Jeremy read the cover.
“Bear!” Helpy reacted, pointing to the bear on the cover.
“Yeah, that’s a bear. A brown bear, to be specific. He used to ride a train and would stop at Paddington Station in London, England, in the UK.” Jeremy explained.
Jeremy flipped to the first page. “Mr. and Mrs. Brown first met Paddington on a railway platform. In fact, that was how he came to have such an unusual name for a bear, for Paddington was the name of the station.” Jeremy read.
“Choo choo!” Helpy said as Jeremy paused.
“Yup! Choo choo!” Jeremy imitated before resuming to read. “The Browns were there to meet their daughter Judy, who was coming home from school for the holidays. It was a warm summer day and the station was crowded with people on their way to the seaside…”
Jeremy kept on reading the book for a long while till he finished it up. He had grown quite fond of such an old classic, and had forgotten how nostalgic it made him feel. Jeremy closed the book and found that Helpy had shut himself down halfway through the book. Jeremy smiled and laid the bear down, before placing the book onto the bedside table and laying down. With Helpy being a new roommate of sorts, Jeremy treated him like a special little Paddington bear of his own. Despite the robotic features, Helpy was a little like a toddler in his eyes. And Jeremy wa so glad to have him...forever now.
Also, this is now a series, known as Jeremy Meets!
#Jeremy Meets:#fluff#pre-fnaf 6#helpy being cute#jeremy fitzgerald bite victim#ticklefic#switch!jeremy#switch!helpy
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Offering
Description: Michael had grown much more comfortable in this place that he resides in. He finally feels progress accumulating in his life. Though, Mike is reflective and can’t help the abundance of space Walter takes up in his mind.
Pairing: Walter Marshall x Mike (Hellraiser)
A/N: I am extremely nervous to post my parts 😰 but, I know that there is a nice group of lovers of this story and I am dying to see everyone’s reactions. I have tagged everyone @feralrunaway tagged in her parts. This, right here, is one of the warmest pieces that I have ever written. It was a delight to type together.
I proofread as much as I could, sorry for any errors. I hope y’all enjoy! 💖
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: smut (18+), oral sex, a bit of doubt, a truckload of fluff, trust exercise
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The large oak trees, heavy with emerald leaves danced outside Mike's window. He only had two views in the small quarters that he was living in. Each opening was spacious enough to see much of the flowery fields stretching out behind the church.
A single twin bed, one large oak dresser, a bookshelf, and a desk. This was what could fit in the room. Mike found that he did not need much, only space for him to lay out his work, a closet for his church attire, and a bed to sleep in.
Other than the clothes on his back and a burning desire for rebirth—for change within himself, Michael arrived with nothing.
He was thankful when Walter took him in. From the beginning, everything felt too good to be true. Genuine benevolence, it was a bit of a rare phenomenon to experience. He thinks back that it must have been several years since he observed that.
It may have been several years since I deserved that, he thought.
The young man could not believe his ears when he was told, "My doors are open to anyone. If you need a safe place, I have a bed open."
It was how Father Marshall spoke those words to him that day, how he never showed an ounce of irritation or disinterest in Mike. The man spoke to Michael with generosity and the respect that he seldom received.
The way that man made him feel alone, Mike struggled to find the words still. Father Marshall—Walter, opened up parts of him that he thought would never see the light of day. He reached inside Michael, with that thawing glint in his eyes and his staunchly charming voice.
Mike knew that he was a goner.
That night of the rainstorm, in this very room where he was nearing his limit. There he felt the most exposed he had ever been and Walter did nothing but look deep into his eyes and take him in further.
Come here, it's alright...
His hand laid over the knotted flesh on his chest, subconsciously fisting the fabric covering it. Walter's touch still remained. With each sting rapturing that very spot, the ghostly remains of those dark and horrific nights.
The grace of his warm skin against Mike's was a potent balm, pushing away those unsettling feelings inside—and for the first time since the accident, pacifying him. Walter, the only one who had accomplished this with Michael. And Mike wasn't sure that the man knew of the effect he had on him.
The wind blew gently along his cheek and forehead, and Mike lifted his head to look out the window. His eyes drifted over the stray clouds inching along the bright sky, taking in the summer air. They settled upon the sun peeking out from behind a fluffy overcast until his attention drifted back down to the book in front of him.
He drowned in the pages, for it had been years since he actually sat down and read a book. Feeling the sun kissing his skin and the pages under his fingertips, Mike grew to find his escape in the romantic words.
The young man had not noticed the low creak of his bedroom door open, or the footsteps padding in. He missed the sound of the door closing and the click of the lock following.
Michael leaned his elbow on the window sill, inching in closer. His attentive orbs traced the sentences in the pages.
The presence in the room muted, standing just a few feet away from the long side of the bed. They rotated their head to and fro, interest taken in the decorations and books littering the room. After several months of residency, the once bare and insipid bedroom now housed a fair amount of decorations.
Pages of scripture, photographs of Michael and newfound friends, and even drawings the children gifted him sporadically hung the walls and the space of the shelves.
Michael had yet to notice any change in the room, the light breeze filled his ears and his mind was lost in the world of Maurice Hall.
The young man's shoulders kicked up slightly at the soft dip of his mattress. He froze, breath catching in his throat and his lids opening wide.
A thick arm snaked its way around the right of Mike, the volume of hair gracing the skin provided the young man a tell. He felt his remaining side become captured in another arm. Soon, Michael fell victim to an intoxicating embrace, as the familiar feel of a broad chest pressed to his back.
The whisper that met his ear was accompanied by the scratch of prickly hair.
"Hi."
So simple and an everyday greeting, but Mike couldn't help the grin manifesting on his face. He relaxed into those arms and allowed himself to take Walter in. He could feel the deep rumble of a chuckle vibrate his back and behind the shell of his ear.
"It wasn’t my intention to startle you, Michael."
He shook his head.
"It's alright, Walt."
The older priest began kissing along the nape of his neck, murmuring his apologies into Michael's skin.
"I know that it's been a little while since you and I saw each other last. I have been caught up in work, projects with the other bishops."
Mike hummed, working to not squirm under the intense contrast between Walter's lips and his facial hair.
"I know, I...I understand. I've made myself busy with other stuff."
Father Marshall pulled away and took a look at the novel in Mike's hands, brow lifting to try to read the current page he was on. With his eyes following about halfway down the paper, his mind was sparked with the title of the famed book.
"Is that from my personal library?"
Michael didn't reply to the question.
He might have snuck into Walter's office here and there, curiosity getting the best of him. The man did have an impressive collection of books, many ranging of different genres and subjects.
Mike found this particular title hidden inside a drawer in Walter's desk.
The younger male placed a marker in the opened book and closed it shut. The violet lace layering the cover and the silhouette of two men faced upward.
Walter's fingertips were brought to the underside of Michael's jaw, with a tilt he connected their lips together.
It was needful, eventually growing more so with quiet gasps and sighs. He rotated Mike's body, gently pulling him away from the window sill, and shifted his legs to surround his wide hips.
Michael's heart began to thud with a solid beat in his chest. He eagerly followed the older man’s lead, his body instinctively doing so. The sweeping touch of Walter, his large palms stretching over his skin and his lips urgent against Mike's throat lead the young curate into a dense fog.
"I missed you."
It was soft and noted along Mike's jaw. At first, he thought it was simply a misunderstanding, it must have been. He didn't quite know how to respond, for that phrase rang loud and repeated in his ears.
Walter pulled away and rubbed his hands along his thighs. He pressed his forehead to Michael's and gazed down, taking note of the swell between the young man's legs.
When Mike's superior placed his lips once more to his, he found himself releasing hushed moans, each one taken into Walter's lungs.
His volume hitched lightly as a warm pressure smoothed over the tension in his jeans. The friction moved upward, his belt grasped. He could feel the brown leather start to loosen around his hips.
Mike stilled, hesitantly pulling his mouth away from Walt's.
There was a quiet tension between the two lovers. Walter's brows quirked up in concern and he slowly pulled his hands away from the belt, resting his hands on either side of Mike.
"Is everything alright?" He whispered.
"I can stop if—"
"—N-no. It's okay."
Mike shut his eyes and sighed to himself, head dropping minutely. It was okay. Michael could not find a sign within that pointed toward anything less than what felt...right.
The feeling jerking in his gut melted away with anything dark that was remaining. This was real, all genuinely happening. He could reach out and touch Walter, and he would be there, warm under his palm.
He was left with what felt like feathers inside of him.
Mike placed his fingers over Walter's and moved them back to his belt, "Please keep going."
While his lover gingerly loosened the confining fabric around his lower half, Mike lifted his face and nuzzled against the older priest's bushy cheek.
"I missed you too."
A breeze was sent through the opened window that speckled Michael's skin in a layer of bumps. He shivered, despite the season's high temperature plaguing much of the atmosphere outside.
His discomfort was abolished the instant Walter's lips met his rigid length.
Mike's fingers dug into the blanket, his mouth falling open at the sight in front of him. Walter licked and let his tongue follow the veins along the sides of his erection, taking the head into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks.
The young curate keened, his thighs spreading wider to allow Walt more room. He could feel the man's fingers lightly rub and massage his balls. His other hand anchored the base of Mike's length, compressing with each dip of Walter's head.
Michael's hips jerked, as he tried to take his eyes off of the priest's reddening lips. His blackened pupils fell on the window outside, eyes fluttering at the sound of Walter sloppily swallowing him down.
He could hear himself spew shortened words that barely had the effort of coming out, each one ragged and shaky.
"Ah, f-fuck. Walt—please."
Walter hummed, pulling his mouth off of Michael with a wet, gentle pop. His hand remained stroking the quivering length.
"How does that feel?"
The younger man simply bit on his lips, tearing his eyes away from the window to the striking blue down below. Their eyes met, and the priest grinned, dipping down and giving little licks at the slit on Mike's head.
The room soon erupted with a deep, teasing, laugh, and hoarse pleading. Walt lifted his head once more, releasing Mike's erection. He wet his lips and brought his palms to smooth along Mike's trembling thighs.
The young man peered down at him with an inquisitive look. There was an expression on Walt's bearded face that read anticipation.
"I wanted to show you something...It's erm...Well here, let me—"
Walter sat up on his knees, carefully steadying his body to reach into his pant pocket. He pulled out a black, velvet sack, about the size of a change purse. He shifted closer to Mike, pulling out a black and silvery-looking object.
Through a closer look, eyes squinting to get a better view, Michael could see that what was resting in his lover's palm was a finely shaped plug.
And, well, it wasn't an ordinary plug.
The silver trim showcased the sleek design and contrasted finely against the onyx black color. He tilted his head to study the object further, on the flared end was a cross, raised slightly above the surface.
Walter chewed on his lower lip as he watched Michael's eyes furrow down at the plug in his hand.
"I assume that you know...what this is," he breathed out a chuckle.
"The reason I show you this is...I know how much you enjoy it when I perform things down there. And…" Walter paused, mulling over his next sentence.
"You need to be ready for me—whenever you are wanting to continue. I want you to wear this, and…during that time, wherever you go the Lord will be walking with you."
Michael inhaled, eyes shifting between his lover's and the plug. With heat rising to his face and burning clear to his ears, he pulled a bashful grin up to Walter. Eventually, he slowly nodded his head.
"Okay."
The beam on Walter's face would challenge the shining sun outside. He descended down Michael's legs once more, pressing kisses along his inner thigh and his knee.
Without breaking eye-contact, Father Marshall reached under Mike's bed to find the small bottle of lubricant.
Walter's finger was cold and jarring against his sensitive hole as he spread the gel. Michael found himself chuckling in response, his hand going to rub at the back of his neck.
His lover returned his warm mouth to the throbbing length between his legs, drawing out those same muddled words and sighs from Michael's lips.
With an attentive focus, the older priest pressed his finger into the puckered hole and began periodically stretching.
Michael could feel everything within him tumbling down, a flurry of jitters tickling along his spine and his groin.
Walt reached up toward Mike's fidgeting hand by his broad shoulder and guided it to his mess of curls. Mike shuddered, breathlessly moaning as he watched the man's head bob over his length, long curls poking out by the spaces of his fingers.
There, laying a few inches next to their bodies was the plug. The silver cross glimmered smoothly under the mid-afternoon sunlight, reflecting a white ray onto the ceiling above.
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Taglist: @beck07990 @magdelen69 @rn7rocks @inthenameofcavill @gearhead66 @oddsnendsfanfics @cavillhavoc @pterodactylterrace @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @mary-ann84 @fuckoffbard @its–fandom–darling @kmuir1 @thelastsock @henryobsessed @eldarwen333 @definitelydenisse @inlovewithhisblueeyes @shy-violet-soul @seriouslygoodlookinggents @coffeebreathy @hope-to-hell @summersong69 @faithiee @madbaddic7ed @artandotherdelights @emyearns @cavillryarchive @bellening @agniavateira @maizyistrash @wiccanmetallicrose @the-soot-sprite @geralt-of-baevia @harrysthiccthighss @luclittlepond @brandycranby @buns-of-steel @worshipping-skarsgard @littlefreya @zealoushound @luna-aestas
(@tinylittlebluebird @critfailroll @biblioworm) <- These tags hadn’t worked for me :(
If I missed anyone, I apologize!
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#Walter Marshall#Mike: Hellraiser#Hellraiser: Hellworld#Walter Marshall x Mike#Walter Marshall x Mike Hellraiser#fanfiction#smut#mlm#Levamentum
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Walking Home (v)., the Tourniquet
For you @thursday-knight. Lysm
They’re going to let Billy out of that horrible, gray padded room on Tuesday, which Steve snorts at over the phone.
“What, you think that’s fuckin’ funny or something?”
“No, It’s just.” It’s kind of funny. Steve wraps the phone chord around his hand. Nice and tight, like a tourniquet. “Tuesday’s weird.”
“Tuesday’s...weird?”
“Yeah.”
Steve can hear something, like. The clack of a pen. It’s a common nervous tick, a way to cope, but. Steve’s never seen any one hold a bic the way Billy does.
Barrel in his palm. Clicking the register with his pointer finger, like. He’s pressing Reagan’s Big Red Button. The one to blow up the world.
“What’s so weird about a Tuesday release, man?”
“Ruining the start of a week by spending it in the hospital and then having to use the rest of it adjusting to life outside?” Steve shrugs, remembering that Billy can’t see him. “They could at least give you a Friday. Then you’d have the weekend, right?”
Billy’s grin is somehow manifested in the honey drip of his voice. “Been locked up for six months, Harrington, what’s two more days?”
And that could be true.
Steve doesn’t feel like so much time has passed. The rise and fall of the moon, the turn of the seasons, the way Billy has to wear fuzzy socks with those little grips on them to stay warm in beige corridors, have been lost on Steve.
Tainted. Wrapped in paper the exact shade of survival. Surgeries and afternoons carpooling the kids to Hawkins general, paying Barry Mildred to do Billy’s algebra homework for him, and.
Convincing everyone.
Himself, too.
That Billy would be alright. Steve had to do everything he could to get Billy ready for the world, or.
The world ready for him.
“Has it really been that long?” Steve wonders.
And Billy laughs. “Maybe not for you, King Steve. Some of us had to spend the whole of it in one room.” It doesn’t sound as painful as it usually does.
Steve just nods again. To himself.
He remembers the leaves changing around the time Billy learned to walk again. Halloween. Bringing left-over contraband to spoil Billy’s strict diet of organic bullshit while his body healed itself. Amber leaves complimenting blue eyes as they made unsteady laps around the courtyard together.
Steve holding his arm out time and time again, and. Billy taking it.
Christmas. Snowball fights with the kids, crystals on long blonde eyelashes while that stubborn mouth fought to return every smile Max threw his way. Those very same lashes, wet with tears, when Billy opened a vintage copy of Cider House Rules, on Christmas Eve.
All, you really shouldn’t be spending the holiday in a psych ward, Harrington.
But they held hands for the first time that night. Steve said, where else would I want to be?
And Billy, just. Took what he could get--nothing more.
Steve remembers a lot of things. Happiness. Rocky, at first, unearned, a slide into friendship which turned into peachy cheeks that rivaled the setting sun.
Summer, Fall, Winter, and.
February.
Steve must have missed it. All of it, while he was busy being grateful that Billy was alive.
He checks the calendar.
“You’ll be out in time for Valentines,” He says. Because that’s important, somehow. “Got any big plans?”
“Oh, for sure.” Billy clicks his pen. One-two-three. “Got a girl waiting for me on the outside, thought we could catch a movie.”
Steve knows.
He knows it isn’t true, that Billy’s just yanking his ridiculously short chain, but. Steve’s heart beats in time with the click of a pen. Advancing and overtaking the tempo to orchestrate a symphony of worry.
Of fear.
It used to taste like copper. Black slime and dirty snow, but now it tastes like mashed potatoes served on a hospital lunch tray. Contraband sweets. Change and forced endings and--
Steve chokes on something. A laugh that falls wrong halfway through, like a sob colored to fit summer days. “What are you doing after?”
The clacking stops. “Just fucking with you, Harrington.”
“I know.”
“Was a joke, I’m not.” Billy clears his throat. “Everyone who matters came to see me while I was here.”
Steve just nods. Frantically, because he hears words that aren’t there. Meaning that couldn’t possibly color his life in broad strokes. He thinks about what Billy’s saying, what he really means.
Everyone who matters.
“Where are you staying? Like, when you get out,.” Steve mutters. The chord is wrapped around his hand again. He leans against the wall, wincing as the pins from his bulletin board pinch his shoulder blades. “You got a place to crash?”
Billy doesn’t say anything.
Steve clears his throat. “You aren’t going back, right? You’re not going. Home?”
“To Neil’s?”
And Steve gets the distinction. Feels it settle like an axe between his first three ribs. “Yeah.”
Billy sighs. “No, fuck that. Figured I’d ask around. See if there are any beds open at RCA.” Recovery Centers of America, that’s.
“That’s in Indianapolis.”
“Yeah,” Billy says flatly. Steve thinks, distantly, that he sounds almost. Annoyed. “Owens says there’s a car. It’ll take me wherever I want, long as I stay in State.”
“You want to go away?”
“Sure,” Billy says bluntly. “Wouldn’t hurt to leave this place behind, you know. Maybe go somewhere new--”
“Stay with me.”
Steve’s heart is beating in his eyeballs.
The world falls silent. Only for a moment, for as long as it takes for Billy to drop something on the ground and then swear under his breath. His voice shakes, like strands in the wind. “What?”
“At my apartment,” Steve clarifies. He untangles the phone chord which has somehow worked its way to his elbow. “It’s small and shitty, and the couch only has three legs, but.”
Steve closes his eyes and hopes against hope, praying to every god who has ever existed since the beginning of time and everyone who will come after, that Billy can hear every meaning, every hidden word.
“You could.” Steve says softly. “If you wanted to.”
The clacking starts up again, slow and measured. Steve can hear Billy’s breath. The ragged intake of air that sounds painful, like a boy clinging to life in smoke filled memories. Holding on to his hand, saying, I don’t want to die, Steve, please.
It plants Steve’s feet in an ambulance. It tips the string of a tourniquet, bloody and wet with slime in his hands. It makes him remember.
Pull it tighter, kid, come on.
And.
He’s losing a lot of blood.
And.
Steve, we’re losing him.
And.
Kid, step away from the body.
Billy clears his throat. “You mean it?” He asks, and.
Steve lets go of a breath. “Of course I do.”
“You’ll get tired of me.” Billy’s voice, it sounds like shattering windows. Steve doesn’t say anything. Can’t respond, because. Nothing in life is more impossible.
The world falls silent.
Only for a moment, as long as it takes for Steve to close his eyes. “I can’t watch you get in that car and walk away, Billy.”
It’s nothing. Only a part of how he feels. Only a drop of what he wants, but. It sets things in motion again.
Billy clears his throat. “Alright,” He says. “Give me the address.”
--
Steve wants it to be something other than what it is.
He buys new sheets. Fern green satin, five-hundred thread count and worth a third of what he has in savings.
They aren’t what he’d usually go for, color or texture, but. The lady at the department store says muted colors are good for preventing overstimulation after trauma and satin is gentle on the skin. Warm, too, which is always a good thing.
Billy says it feels like winter, now. All, I’m a goddamn human snow globe.
Buying sheets on Valentines, it.
Makes Steve hope that this is something else.
That Billy will insist on putting his new sheets on Steve’s bed instead of the couch in the living room. That they’ll sleep together here, just how they always did in Billy’s hospital bed.
Chest to chest.
Billy’s head tucked under Steve’s chin, but.
Mostly Steve being eaten alive by the guilt.
For feeling like this is the start of their lives. That everything before now--living with his parents, fighting monsters, feeling useless in every sense of the word...
All of it was a dream.
Preparation for the day he would open the front door and find Billy there, waiting.
Steve takes the sheets back to his apartment. He makes up the living room, rearranging the furniture so Billy can have his own space. The couch as a bed and the coffee table as a book shelf.
Billy has a lot of books.
More than anyone Steve’s ever met, more than Robin and Nancy Wheeler combined and Steve doesn’t own any books himself, or. A place to put them. His apartment is the size of a shoebox.
He’ll get rid of the stuff he doesn’t use anymore.
He’ll make room.
In his apartment, in his miniscule life, so that Billy has something of his own.
And maybe after they’re settled in and the bills are paid for the month, Steve will pick up extra shifts at the video store until he can afford buy one.
A nice, big oak bookshelf for Billy to house his favorites.
--
He locks himself in the bathroom an hour after moving in.
Which, you know. Throws the evening for a loop.
He seems happy when Steve opens the front door, dropping his box of books by the shoe rack and toeing his boots off with a grin.
His body is loose, and. Open, Like he’s comfortable. Billy pokes around the apartment, making fun of the weird shit hanging up on the walls while Steve cooks dinner.
“You gotta get some real art in here, man.” Billy says. It sounds like he’s by the record player, digging through the stack of vinyl's Steve keeps in a shoe box by the T.V. “And some real music, holy shit. How have you been living like this?”
“I’ve been living just fine, fuck you very much.”
“You have three copies of Waterloo,” Billy snorts. As if that proves something.
He’s crouched by the mosaic of finger paintings left by Holly Wheeler, studying a particularly abstract piece when Steve hands him a glass of sparkling cider.
“Everyone’s gotta have their backup copies of Waterloo, you know, extra in case you gotta dole them out to strangers.” Steve clinks their glasses together. “Cheers.”
Billy swishes the drink around with a lift of his eyebrow. “You trying to get in my pants, Harrington?”
“It’s not alcohol.”
“Why is it bubbly?” Billy accuses, lifting the glass to sniff at it suspiciously. His nose wrinkles, like a bunny rabbit.
Steve laughs. “It’s sparkling cider. Cherry flavored.”
“Cherry?” Billy snorts, his cheeks glowing pink like little love hearts. “That’s definitely a sex flavor.”
“It’s a celebration flavor, you dick.” Steve chuckles again. He files through the records he does have, selecting one he thinks Billy can tolerate. “What do you think of Rumours?”
Billy’s wandered to the kitchen. “Hate the activity, dig the album.” He calls.
The sound of cabinets opening and slamming shut echo through the space while Steve figures out the settings for this vinyl, fiddling with the tiny knobs until Songbird filters through at a pace that seems right.
“Ice is in the freezer,” Steve announces, and.
Billy rounds the corner with a bag of chips, happy little smirk on his face. Steve frowns.
“I’m fixing dinner--”
“I haven’t had Doritos in almost a year, Harrington.” Billy says roughly. He rips open the bag, collapsing next to Steve on the floor by the music stand. Billy takes one and licks the cheese dust off the chip, holding the bag out, like. “Want one?”
Steve face hurts from smiling so much. “Nah, I’m good.”
Billy leans back against the wall, rolling his eyes. “What, don’t eat carbs after four p.m. or something?”
And Steve filters through a million answers, all of which make it sound like he’s trying to get laid, so. He settles in next to Billy, letting his eyes fall closed with the sway of the music.
“No, just. Don’t wanna ruin my dinner.”
Billy snorts, bag crinkling loudly as he dives in for another handful. “I could eat twelve bags of this shit and still go ape on whatever rich boy thing you whipped up.” Billy asses him, head cocked to the side. “Bet the cheese makes you fart.” He concludes.
Steve blinks at him. “You’re disgusting--”
“Processed cheese makes everyone shit their pants, man, that’s like.” Billy wipes his hands on Steve’s leg. “Common knowledge.”
Steve makes a noise like a runover chicken, wiping frantically at the trousers he bought at the Goodwill, just for tonight.
He wets his fingers with spit, wincing and scrubbing at the bright line of orange nacho cheese that stains his corduroy flares.
The shape of Billy’s fingers is unmistakable. “I’m starting to regret asking you to move in.”
“Thought I was just crashing here until--”
“Now that you’re here I’m no letting you leave,” Steve smiles at him, the weight of it softening when Billy’s cheeks glow pink again. He knocks their shoulders together. “You’re stuck with me.”
Billy falls silent after that.
Shoveling in handful after handful of Doritos and crunching so loudly that Steve can’t get wrapped up in the bass line on the Chain.
“Dude, you gotta chew so loud?” Steve asks, shoving Billy’s hand away when he reaches to smear nacho dust down the length of Steve’s neck. “My god, you’re a menace.”
“You love it,” Billy giggles, and.
They stare at each other for a moment. Sort of watching the brush of eyelashes against cheekbones while the music plays.
A backdrop to the start of something Steve doesn’t have a name for.
--
Night falls and Billy doesn’t come out of the bathroom.
The food has been stored, the dishes put away, but the light which escapes like neon strips of gold to kiss the mouth of the hall carpet never flicks off. Never giving way to rest.
Steve thinks about waiting for him.
He thinks about going to bed, jiggling the handle to make sure Billy’s okay, breaking the door down when two hours turns to three but that seems intrusive.
If Billy wanted company he would ask. And if he wanted to come out he would, right?
Steve feels like an idiot.
Pacing back and forth between the living room and the hallway, trying not to make it obvious that he’s right in the thick of gut-wrenching worry. Violent, intrusive images of brain splattered tile fill his mind.
Billy could be hurt, or. Asleep in the bathtub. Maybe he slipped out the bathroom window while Steve was turning down the couch for him, making the space comfortable.
Maybe he was never here to begin with. Maybe Steve dreamt him up.
Steve paces back and forth, back and forth, wrestling with the urge to call Dr. Owens and ask what he should do, until the clock above the stove reads 11:34 pm and he has no choice but to call it a night.
His knuckles sound like a machine gun when he taps on the door.
From behind the oak barrier, Billy makes a noise like he was startled out of sleep. Steve can hear him moving around, when he asks, “You okay? Been in there for a few hours.”
Billy opens the door.
His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks a little flushed, like.
“Have you been crying?” Steve doesn’t want him to cry. Tears and hallow feelings, they have no place in the stretch of nightfall that Steve has built for them.
He feels himself reaching for Billy on impulse, trying to pull their bodies together, but Billy steps back.
Away.
To make room for Steve in the bathroom or to make a run for it, Steve isn’t sure. He knots his fingers together for safe keeping.
“Of course not, don’t be fucking.” Billy’s voice cracks right down the middle, like. A loaf of bread that has been in the oven for far too long. His eyes are glassy when he looks up, and.
Distant.
Steve feels like an asshole. He leans against the door jam. “I can call Dr. Owens, if you want.”
Billy stares at him. “Why would I want that?”
“You just seem--”
“I seem like what, Steve?” Billy spits. “You gonna psychoanalyze me too, huh?”
Steve grits his teeth against the urge to. Fight back. “It’s just when I started getting the couch ready, you seemed.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words carefully. “Nervous? Afraid, maybe, just a little. Which is alright. It can be scary sleeping alone in a new place, and--”
“I’m not five years old, Harrington, I can handle a sleepover at my friends house.” Billy snarls. He pushes against Steve’s chest until there are rivers between them. Mountains and oceans.
It’s the first time since Starcourt that Billy seems.
Like himself.
The old self, the one that used his fists to keep wandering eyes from getting too close. Figuring him out. If Steve were a younger man he’d fall for it, hook and line, but.
He knows better.
Six months and a lifetime with Billy Hargrove have taught him a thing or two. He nods, stepping back down the hallway.
Billy’s eyes track him. Wide and nervous and so, so blue.
“‘M going to sleep, dude.” Steve waves a thumb over his shoulder, taking a deep, needed breath. He calls over his shoulder to give Billy some space. “Come to bed when you’re ready. I’ll leave the light on.”
Billy’s footsteps don’t pass his bedroom door until Steve is settled under the covers.
--
He’s starting to think Billy won’t show.
The t.v. is on in the living room, tinny sounds of Yogi Bear filtering through the wall and Steve wonders if he made a mistake in assuming, that.
Look.
Just because they slept together, like, actually slept together while Billy was in the hospital doesn’t mean anything.
Maybe Billy is just scraping the bottom of his energy reserves. Maybe he’s getting to the end of the rope when it comes to his friendship with Steve, and didn’t want to move in but had to.
For lack of better options, and like.
Income and shit--
“Scoot over.” Billy says.
Steve jumps, poking his head out from under the covers to glare wildly at him. “When did you--”
“Move over.” Billy insists, eyes burning like flame in the darkness.
Steve does, all, “Jesus Christ, you’re just a little ray of sunshine, aren’t ya?” But there are butterflies in his tummy. Gently flapping wings that turn into stinging wasps when Billy manhandles his way into the bed, yanking one of the extra pillows out from under Steve’s legs to punch into shape on his side of the bed.
Steve squawks. “I was using that.”
“It was under your knee caps, dork.” Billy mutters, bullying his way into Steve’s space like he did so many times on warm summer nights at Hawkins General, stiff as a board on his government issued mattress.
Steve’s bed isn’t anything like that, it’s like. A marshmallow. Swallowing the two of them whole when Billy presses his face into the length of Steve’s neck, legs coming up to pin him in place.
“I got weak ankles.” Steve pouts.
Billy doesn’t say anything as he goes limp and heavy on top of his human pillow. Steve instantly feels like he’s over heating; the guy’s a fucking furnace, but.
Billy’s eyelashes are tickling his collar bones.
His breath fans out over Steve’s skin, like cool breezes on summer nights, and. When he starts crying Steve is there.
Like always, Steve sings him to sleep.
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Too Short For Ao3 Fic #3? 4?
SO this is the extended edition of the bonus wip I did with Sally's birthday. The overall fic it belongs to is Extremely Smutty, so I went in and revised out the brief references and I'm posting the family-centric g-rated stuff for anyone who wants that but not the smut! Cough.
Also, I felt bad about missing WIP Wednesday again. Lolsob.
Percy rouses at around eleven PM to a sketch of himself on Jason's pillow. There's a note on the other side.
I wanted to wake you up to say goodbye, but you looked so comfy I didn't have the heart to. your mom's presents are in the bag by my desk. say hi to everyone for me. I'll call tomorrow anyway.
love you to the moon and back.
-J. ❤
Complete with a little red heart. He doesn't even care that the doodle of him next to it, burritoed in a pile of blankets, includes a little spot of drool— he can tell by the rest of his cartoony, ballpoint features that Jason put it in because he thinks it's cute.
(And by the fact that he's said so, several times.)
Percy gathers up his junk. The cornflower blue sweatshirt he steals goes halfway down his fingers. He's come to accept that at six foot three and counting, Jason is the taller of them and always will be— barring some sort of horrible wood-chipper accident or curse from a grumpy deity.
Fortunately, there's something about looking up to meet someone's eyes that Percy finds incredibly attractive. He has since Annabeth outgrew him for the first time in eighth grade.
He heads out in his own jeans and the boxers he packed and the sweatshirt that smells like cinnamon. Once he boards the train, he stands with his arm around a pole and the other holding the bag against his chest, and tries to stay casual and keep the grin off his face.
It's almost midnight when he gets home. His mom, of course, is still awake, so he heads into the living room to greet her.
"My other half says hello."
There's a pile of presents on the coffee table. He puts the bag with the rest of them and sits down, kissing her cheek.
"He didn't have to get me anything." She closes her book and eyes the bag with a fond sigh. "How is he?"
Percy's the same way she is, always happy to do favors and give gifts, but feeling pretty awkward about receiving them. Jason's even worse, the three of them in an ongoing and circular competition to never let any of it go reciprocated.
"Working too hard, as always. Pulling As and winning games and barely sleeping to do it. His stepmother's up his ass and his father's a bully, so, you know, news at eleven." He leans his head onto her shoulder. "That's why he gives you stuff. He's trying to show you how much he appreciates you."
She sighs, and Percy knows it's because she's just as frustrated by the whole thing as he is.
"He knows I appreciate him too, I hope."
"Without a doubt." Percy smiles at her, watching as she goes a little pink and smiles back. "You have a talent for making him feel appreciated."
"He treats my baby like a prince," she says softly. "That's why I appreciate him so much in the first place. How could I do anything else?"
Percy turns his face into her shirt collar, another futile attempt to hide his goofy expression,
"He really does, doesn't he?"
Holding doors, pulling out chairs, offering an arm on unsteady streets. Jason's never laid his coat over a puddle, but Percy's pretty sure he would, if the option presented itself.
His mom starts playing with his hair, her fingers light and familiar.
"I'm just happy you're happy, sweetheart."
He knows that feeling too.
Half asleep from the petting, Percy lets himself be a little babyish. It's after midnight now, which means it's her birthday, and he knows that sometimes she misses when he was Estelle's age and little enough to curl up in her lap. He's way too big for that now, obviously, but he can still slide down the couch and rest his head there.
"You too, Mama."
She looks at him, her eyes misty with emotion and almost green in the light.
She's smiling, too.
She smiles a lot, these days.
—
In the morning, Paul makes coffee while Estelle helps unwrap the avalanche of presents. She's at the age where ripping paper makes her squeal with hysterical laughter, which worms its way into Percy's heart and melts it into pudding.
Several of them are from Percy's friends, including a handbound book of original recipes from Leo, a lovely silver bracelet inset with mother-of-pearl that Beckendorf made himself, and a huge sheathed knife with a matching decorative handle from Clarisse. The last one makes his mom snort as she gets up to put it on the bookshelf, out of reach of curious toddler hands.
"Decorative. Sure."
"I bet she'd teach you how to use it if you asked."
"I know how to use a bowie knife, dear. Your father and I used to catch and cook our own fish when we went camping."
"Which reminds me, he still hasn't taken me out," Paul cuts in, frowning. "I've been saving up dad jokes and embarrassing stories for four years."
"I'll bug him about it the next time we talk," Percy promises. "It's probably the ADHD."
"Do you want me to bug you about bugging him?"
"If you haven't set something up by blueback season, yeah."
Percy and Paul went in on a pound of jasmine tea, which his mom reaches for next. She immediately asks for a cup— it's one of two days out of the entire year where she lets other people wait on her, for a change, and even that took a lot of cajoling.
Paul makes the tea, since Percy usually scalds the leaves and it turns out tasting like grass. She probably wouldn't complain anyway, but it's her birthday, and she deserves to have the best tea that can be made in their kitchen.
"Is the last bag from Jason?" Paul sets the mug on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table, and Percy scoops the baby into his lap so she doesn't try to grab it. She mashes her tiny hand against his cheek.
"And Thalia. I'm not sure if they went in on stuff or he just packed them both in one bag to make it easy."
Either is a possibility. He watches as his mom reaches in and pulls out a large wrapped frame, Thalia's spiky handwriting answering the question.
Whatever's inside, it makes her shut her eyes and exhale deeply through her nose.
"Please pass on that I am absolutely furious."
She turns the frame around. An autographed vinyl EP of Sign O' the Times by Prince— one of the albums Percy grew up on, though she skipped a number of the songs when he was little. Thalia must have spent a fortune on it.
"That woman is incredible," Paul breathes, lightly touching the glass. "How does she get this stuff?"
"See!"
"She has friends in high places." Percy grins as Estelle reaches for the album, and holds her over the glass so she can touch it too. "She's also really good at barter chains."
His mother shakes her head, but he can tell how delighted she is— the two of them have spent hours animatedly talking about music, Thalia hanging on every word and groaning with jealousy over the concerts his mom went to in the eighties.
"I know exactly where I'm going to put it."
Thalia got her a turntable for her fortieth birthday last year, as well as a full set of replacements for every worn-out record in their collection— and had the originals framed too, since they had sentimental value. They're currently occupying the better part of two walls of his mom's study.
There's a blank spot by her bookshelf, right underneath the first copy, that the autographed album will fit into perfectly. Percy grins.
"I'll hang it up for you later."
She doesn't argue. There's only Jason's left, his careful print written out across the same paper Thalia used. The crinkling draws Estelle's attention, and she gleefully reaches over to help tear it off.
Their mom gasps at what's inside and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes going bright.
It's a watercolor portrait of Percy and Estelle, laughing by the shoreline. She's dressed in a little bucket hat, a ruffled swimsuit patterned to look like a clownfish and the coolest shades in the world— sparkly blue frames shaped like seashells that he kind of wishes he could get in his size. He's in a wetsuit, having spent the morning surfing, and he's holding onto her hands so she can jump at the waves. In the distant background is the Montauk lighthouse.
It's beautifully done, like everything else Jason's ever put to paper, but Percy's never choked up like this over one of them.
"You remember that, Beluga? That was on my birthday, when you came and visited me and Jason at the beach."
"Beach?" she asks, expectant. Paul bursts into laughter, sounding as rough-voiced as Percy feels.
"You're your mother's daughter, sweet pea."
"Beach!" Estelle insists. Percy noses her pudgy cheek.
"It's too cold to swim, baby." His mom's eyes are sparkling, still a little teary. He can see Estelle in the smile on her face. "But we could go for a walk and visit."
"Brunch first." Paul kisses her— Percy averts his eyes, wrinkling his nose at his sister to make her giggle again— and gets up, heading back into the kitchen.
It's a lovely way to spend a late morning. Pale blue araucana eggs courtesy of Grover's new hens, a blueberry coffee cake from Nico by a fantastic hole in the wall in Hell's Kitchen, Paul's signature home fries made with blue potatoes and seasoned to perfection; all of it delicious.
Jason calls while Percy's doing the dishes. After his deep, resonant performance of the happy birthday song, the five of them chat on speakerphone for a little while, though he has to excuse himself pretty quickly to keep banging through his reading.
"Maybe next year," Percy sighs. His mom puts her hand on his hip, then crouches down to help Estelle with her light-up sneakers.
"He's always welcome for a rain check."
"He's always welcome, period," Paul adds. For the second time, Percy gets dangerously close to sniffling.
Montauk is a little far for a day trip, so they head to Brighton Beach instead. Estelle's shrimpy legs get tuckered out more quickly than the grownups' do, so Percy ends up carrying her on his hip, snuggled into his jacket to block the chilly breeze. She points at seagulls, shouting triumphantly every time.
"More bird!"
"That's right. A whole flock of 'em."
They watch for a while as the gulls fight over a discarded pizza crust. Then Percy feels an arm around his back and a head against his shoulder.
"I don't know how I got so lucky," his mother murmurs, barely audible over the rushing of the waves.
Percy's eyes sting.
For most of his life, her birthdays had been spent without fanfare. He was rarely actually there for them anyway, and Gabe complained so much it was easier to just ignore the day and focus on survival instead.
She'd been triaging like that since before she even met his dad, keeping herself afloat when nobody seemed to care if she drowned. It would have been easy to lie down and give up. Percy's pretty sure he would have, in her place.
He turns to hug her with the obligatory proclamation of a Stella Sandwich. He catches Paul's eye over her shoulder, and gets a wide, sentimental grin in response.
"Luck's got nothing to do with it," Percy tells her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while his sister wriggles with delight between them.
"Listen to our son," Paul adds. "He's very wise, as you raised him to be. This is all on you, honey."
Within moments, she's surrounded by her whole family on all sides, and Percy has another arm around his back, and he's getting a little choked up over it all.
When she first started dating Paul, back when Percy was still in middle school, she'd spent weeks all aflutter. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her at the time. They'd sit outside and work on her car together, and she'd slip into song like a grease-stained fairytale princess without even thinking about it.
Seeing them interact is like cool water on a burn, Paul's devoted kindness soothing a lifetime of sitting back and watching people treat her like dirt. He worships her, just like she deserves and long overdue.
"I love you," she says, tearful and muffled in someone's shoulder. "All of you, more than anything."
"Love Mama," Estelle replies, and that's it— Percy's blubbering.
It'll never undo the damage, but it's about time she got a chance to heal and thrive.
-here in our bed, chapter 7, ~6200 words
#wip wednesday#yes I know don't look at me like that#i wrote this#sally jackson#paul blofis#estelle blofis#family fic#oh lord the cheese
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simply be mine - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)
author’s note: i needed to write a fluff piece after my last fic, “cottage by the sea,” and got inspiration while listening to a couple songs (see prompt line below) for a new years’ eve party fic. i hope you enjoy!
copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames.
series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop)
rating/warnings: 14+; descriptions of drinking
word count: 3.1k
based on/prompt: “only girl in the world” by rihanna / “one and only” by adele
summary: adam struggles to understand why anyone would care about human new years’ eve traditions, but when he finds out regina enjoys them, he finds himself intrigued.
simply be mine
when regina walked into the warehouse living room an hour before the agency’s new years’ eve party, she was pleasantly surprised to see unit bravo somewhat dressed up, even if they were standing around brooding like usual. she was both surprised and excited that she was invited to attend as well, without having to be someone’s plus one, even though she had been assured by both nate and farah that they would’ve invited her. she giggled internally at the memory of farah practically jumping off the walls of the warehouse living room in excitement, yelling what seemed like a hundred words per minute about going shopping and getting ready together.
she quickly learned that the rest of unit bravo hated attending agency work functions and avoided them as much as they could. however, everyone was “strongly encouraged” to attend the new years’ eve party, which she gathered from both morgan and adam that what the agency meant was “we better see you there or we’ll give you the worst cases next year.” she thought they were probably exaggerating a tiny bit, but let it slide.
perhaps to make up for the fact that they’d have to spend the night in a brightly lit and loud room for several hours with colleagues they didn’t care for, regina found that unit bravo had already started pregaming before she arrived, and they pregamed hard. she saw firsthand the sheer amount of alcohol they needed to consume just to feel a little buzzed.
another rare upside to being human, regina noted, a couple of shots of any brown liquor and she was good to go. of course, she only managed one shot of nate’s vintage prohibition-era whiskey before he snatched it away and started lecturing her on its rarity and history and had to settle for farah’s tequila.
“regina, do a shot with me!” farah practically screamed, bounding over to her with a half-empty bottle of tequila and limes in one hand and a pinch of salt in the palm of her other hand.
“who taught you how to do a tequila shot?” she asked incredulously as farah poured a generous shot for them both and handed her a lime.
“i looked it up online!” she said with such a proud look on her face that regina could only smile fondly at the person who had become her best friend on the team.
they both knocked back the shots and cringed, the salt and limes providing little relief to the burn; regina could only assume it was maybe ten times worse for farah. but then farah drained whatever was left in the bottle and let out a loud whoop before wrapping regina up in a big hug.
“i am soooooooo glad we get to celebrate with youuu!! you are the best person on this teammmmmm, after me, of course,” farah shouted and regina couldn’t help but laugh.
adam raised an eyebrow. “you mean she’s the best human on the team, don’t you, farah?”
“nopeeeeeeeeeeee. regina’s the bestttttttttt of us and you can’t convince me otherwiseeeee,” she said in a singsong voice, much to everyone else’s annoyance.
“hey farah, why don’t you put on some pre-party music?” regina suggested. farah’s eyes lit up and she sped away and disappeared before regina could blink.
she felt adam’s large presence behind her, casting a figurative shadow over her in the living room. the room was softly lit by the chandelier farah herself had selected, much to morgan’s annoyance. regina let herself lean back slightly without actually touching adam’s chest, knowing it would tempt him to wrap his hands around her waist.
except he only kept one hand hovering near her hip as he said in a low murmur, “you really shouldn’t encourage her, you know.”
the corner of her lips twitched as though it wanted to break into a smile, but regina knew adam wouldn’t appreciate being teased about being a ‘stick in the mud’ considering each member of unit bravo took their turn throughout the day telling him to lighten up.
“you know she’s not going to stop, so just let her have her fun,” she winked as a familiar song started vibrating through the walls, followed by farah’s vocals. “we’ll be heading out soon anyway.”
morgan let out a sound that was a cross between a loud huff and a growl as she stomped outside, cigarettes in hand.
“i want you to love me, like a hot ride,” farah sang out as she appeared in the living room, twirling gracefully as she leaped over the table to land in front of regina. “be thinking of me, doing what you like.”
regina laughed as adam sighed loudly, intending obviously for them to hear, before he walked over to where nate was leaning against the bookshelf with a glass of wine. she immediately missed the warmth of his body behind her, or rather, the tingle she got in her spine from the prospect of his touch. she took a long sip of her whiskey, willing herself to actually enjoy tonight and not dwell on the lack of progress between her and adam.
“come on, regina, sing with me!” farah grabbed her hand and started twirling her around, whatever was left of the whiskey sloshing out of the glass and on to the floor.
“want you to make me feel, like i’m the only girl in the world,” regina belted alongside farah, throwing her head back. “like i’m the only one you’ll ever love; like i’m the only one who knows your heart.”
farah grabbed the wine bottle on the table by nate before he could intervene and put it to her mouth like a microphone. “only girl in the worlddddd,” she crooned, before collapsing into a giggling fit on the couch, bringing regina down with her.
despite wanting to roll his eyes at farah’s antics, even nate couldn’t help but smile at how cheerful his family was and how nice it was to celebrate the holidays together.
“we should get going soon,” he said, finishing his glass of wine.
“no, wait, regina’s not dressed!” farah said, immediately standing and pulling regina up with her.
“what are you talking about? i am dressed,” regina protested, motioning toward her tailored dress pants and blouse.
farah wrinkled her nose. “oh honey, no. this is a fancy party and you need to dress like it. come on!” before she could protest further, farah had dragged her back toward her room.
* * * * *
“you know, regina might appreciate it if you partake in some new years’ traditions,” nate said quietly, glancing over at his longtime friend, who was staring out the window.
adam looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. “and what traditions would that be?”
nate smiled mischievously. “well, the one that seems to be really popular among humans is kissing someone at midnight.”
nate could feel adam’s shoulders tense a fraction of a second before he saw the physical movement itself. “that is an impractical and inane tradition. i would think the detective to be above such childish antics.”
now it was nate’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “and i think she’d appreciate the romantic gesture. it’s not childish to want to ring in the new year with someone you care for.”
before adam could retort, the sound of heels clacking along the hallway and the gentle swishing movement of fabric drew his attention toward the only thing that was capable of unraveling centuries of carefully architected walls with a single glance. regina appeared in the living room, farah’s arm looped in hers, dressed in a strapless black floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline and slit that went all the way up to her mid-thigh.
adam’s eyes followed the length of the slit; the creamy complexion of her skin drawing him in. his gaze traced the way the fabric clung to her curves, dipping at the waist before cupping her chest. her hair was styled in soft waves to one side, leaving her collarbone and neck exposed. he didn’t realize his eyes were continuing to trace the delicate lines of her neck and jaw, before they landed on her red lips. they were lighter than blood and yet, just as, if not more, enticing to him.
he watched as the corner of those luscious lips quirked up into a smirk, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. his gaze shot upward to meet her teasing blue ones, not realizing that his feet seemed to move of their own accord until he was standing right in front of her.
“can i help you, commanding agent du mortain?” regina said, the low and sultry tone of her voice sending warmth south in an unfamiliar, but not wholly unpleasant way.
adam’s throat suddenly felt dry – an odd, human-like sensation that made him pause, until he realized that regina was suddenly very close. too close. he inwardly begged his legs to take a step back, but they wouldn’t budge, and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to anyway.
“your… dress. it’s impractical. what if you were to get attacked?” he said slowly after clearing his throat, clasping his hands behind his back.
regina smiled and gazed up at him knowingly, a look that was both infuriating and intoxicating. as though she could read every piece of his soul back to him and love all of him anyway.
“don’t worry, i have my volt gun strapped to my thigh, see?” she reached for his hand, her touch sending a jolt up his arm that would worry him for medical reasons if he were human, but instead was stoking a deep primal urge within him as she moved it toward the back of her thigh.
the familiar rectangular gun was firm underneath his fingers and even though regina had let go of his hand, he held on, not quite allowing himself to graze her skin, but feeling her body heat at the tips of his fingertips all the same.
“besides, i know you all will be keeping an eye on me,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. adam could hear the flutter of each lash against the air and found himself wondering how they’d feel against his skin as she kissed her way down his chest.
“of course, i— i mean, we, won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, moving his hand back behind him, flexing it once before resuming his stance.
“well, i only care that you are keeping an eye on me, commanding agent,” she said, giving him a flirty wink before putting on her coat and following farah out to the car.
adam let out an audible groan and rubbed his face with his hands. nate clasped a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see his best friend was smirking at him.
“it’s okay. but if you’re going to pretend like there’s nothing between you all night, then you won’t mind if we all take turns dancing with her, right?” his smile only widened as adam’s mouth parted in stunned surprise. “come on or we’ll be late.”
* * * * *
adam stood, tense and rigid, in a corner of the ballroom near the balcony doors with morgan, who ducked out every so often when the lights and sounds got to be too much, while nate and farah took turns dancing with regina. it baffled him how an entire room full of trained agents could let themselves potentially be compromised by partaking in such celebratory activities. even his own team, although he would admit only to himself that they needed the break.
farah loved the upbeat songs that allowed her to twirl regina around as fast as she could, and he wondered how regina could handle what must be incredibly dizzying and nauseating for a human. and then there was nate, who took advantage of the slow ballads and classic waltzing music sprinkled throughout the evening, to lead regina around in simple box steps. it was very unlike adam to care what his team did during events like this, as long as they behaved themselves, but something about how nate would lean in every once in a while to say something and make regina laugh made him want to crush every glass in sight.
he crossed his arms and glared at the back of nate’s head, knowing he was doing this to antagonize him, somehow. he felt his gaze unwillingly soften, however, whenever he felt regina’s eyes glance over at him. he quickly looked away when he realized she was walking toward him, surveying the room as though he was being vigilant.
“not fond of dancing?” she asked, the words coming out in soft gasps as she sought to catch her breath.
“i don’t see the point,” he said quickly, the defensiveness in his tone catching even him by surprise. surely, he didn’t need to explain himself.
“sometimes things don’t have to have a point to be enjoyable,” she offered, her voice pleasantly cutting through the din of the party. “and i really like dancing.”
regina let out a soft hum as nate arrived and handed her a drink. she drank it gratefully, giving nate a gentle smile that made adam grit his teeth. morgan appeared next to her and swiftly took regina’s drink, finishing it despite her half-hearted protest.
“so, regina, what is your favorite new years’ eve tradition?” nate asked, hiding his smile behind his glass of wine and ignoring adam’s pointed glare.
“oh well, i always like how excited everyone gets and parties like this are definitely fun,” regina answered, pausing for just a moment to look down at her glass hesitantly before continuing, “but the best one is of course getting to kiss someone at midnight.”
“it’ll be midnight soon, do you have anyone you plan to kiss yet?” morgan asked, slinging an arm around regina’s shoulders. “i’m free at midnight, if you’re interested.”
adam cleared his throat. “that would be unprofessional, agent.”
morgan brought another cigarette to her lips. nate stopped her hand with the lighter and motioned to the balcony. “let’s get some air, morgan, and leave these two alone.”
“sure, if you think that means he’ll actually kiss her before i do,” morgan snickered, too soft for regina to hear but it was obviously directed at adam.
a soft romantic melody started playing over the speakers; a love ballad that regina was familiar with, judging by the way she started humming along and swaying gently in place.
i don't know why i'm scared
i've been here before
every feeling, every word
i've imagined it all
you'll never know if you never try
to forget your past and simply be mine
regina blinked at adam’s sudden appearance in front of her, his large figure towering over hers and blocking the chandelier from her sight.
“you like this song.” it technically wasn’t a question.
“um, i guess?” she asked, puzzled.
“you should dance,” he said, his hands itching to reach for hers.
regina tilted her head to the side and looked up at him searchingly, her blue eyes delicately framed by her long dark lashes. “are you asking me to dance?”
he pursed his lips into a thin, straight line. “you would need a partner, and seeing as no one else is around, i can… dance with you. if you’d like.”
her eyebrows shot up in surprise. she was not expecting adam du mortain to willingly admit to asking her to dance. she quickly looked around and noticed that most of the agents had gone out on the balcony to watch the fireworks.
she smiled and tucked her hand gently into his and led him to the dance floor. they settled into a swaying rhythm as regina wrapped her arms around his neck. adam hesitantly placed his hands on her waist, and a sweet heat bloomed throughout her body, making her feel flushed.
“i thought dancing was pointless?” she asked teasingly after encouraging him to shift his weight between his feet to match her movements.
adam lowered his head, as if he didn’t want anyone reading his lips or hearing what he was about to say. “with you… it doesn’t seem that way.”
regina shook her head fondly. “you continue to surprise me, commanding agent.”
i dare you to let me be your, your one and only
i promise i'm worthy
to hold in your arms
so come on and give me the chance
to prove i am the one who can walk that mile
until the end starts
“i hope so,” he muttered quietly. “i have lived over nine centuries, yet every day with you seems new and uncertain.”
regina was afraid to ruin the moment by saying anything and decided to step closer and rest her head on his shoulder instead. she smiled when his hands tightened around her waist, bunching the fabric in a way that she was sure would leave wrinkles.
“10…9…8”
her head shot up at the sound of the crowd outside counting down the last few seconds to the new year. “i didn’t realize it was almost midnight, we should go join everyone.”
adam’s green eyes bore into hers and she was close enough that she could see little specks of gold reflected in them from the chandeliers and ornate décor throughout the room. “you… you want to kiss mor—ahem, someone at midnight.”
“7…6…5”
“oh, i didn’t mean anything by it,” she said quickly, giving him a reassuring smile. she tried taking a step back only to find that adam was holding her tightly in place.
“but it’s a tradition you enjoy.” it was a statement, but he was looking for confirmation while trying to maintain his composure despite his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he thought regina would be able to hear it.
“4…3…2”
she dropped her hands from his shoulders and let them rest on his chest, fiddling with the lapels of his jacket nervously. “oh well, i— i suppose with someone i care for, yes.”
the final second and cheers from the balcony faded into the background as adam leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to hers; they were softer than he imagined, even with the layer of faded lipstick between them.
regina’s body instinctively arched closer to his as she sought to deepen the kiss, her hands scrambling for some part of his shirt she could hold on to. she barely registered that it was over all too soon as adam pulled back, her head spinning from the kiss in a good way.
“happy new year, detective,” he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back and walking away.
regina touched her lips to savor the pleasant tingling feeling the kiss had left behind. happy new year indeed.
* * * * *
mentions: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @writer-ish; @fhauvilles;
#twc fic#twc#the wayhaven chronicles#twc fanfic#twc fanfiction#my writing#detective regina bishop#adam du mortain#nate sewell#farah hauville#unit bravo#my detective#not choices#long fic#twc adam#adam x detective#adam du mortain x detective#i just wanted to write the pinky scene okay#my twc fics#adam x regina#adam du mortain x regina bishop#twc fanfics#twc fics
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No Nut November - Jaemin
Na Jaemin – Smut, Crack, Fluff
Warnings: Explicit content, a lot of mentions of penis’s, dirty talk, brief spanking, oral (male receiving).
Word Count: 3k
Summary: 00’s line take part in No Nut November.
The Rules of No Nut November:
You cannot have sex, masturbate, or nut in any way, shape, or form.
Watching pornography and having boners are allowed, but you can’t nut.
You are only allowed one wet dream. If you have more than one, then consider yourself out.
You do not have 3 strikes; you only have one shot at it. If you miss it, you’re out.
If you have passed the month with a total of 0 nuts, you are a victor and you shall qualify for Destroy Dick December (Not Recommended).
Look man, just don’t nut in 30 days.
Series
Day 1:
Jaemin had made it very clear to you a week before the month changed to November, that he had every intention of doing no nut November. The week building up to it you had been pinned to whatever surface Jaemin had deemed fit and had been fucked hard. It was the best week of your sexual activity that you’d ever experienced, so you were kind of happy he was going to take part in the strange internet trend. You also knew once the month was over that he would go into a sex crazed state and give you a performance good enough to rival his last show.
However, it wasn’t you that you were worried about not being able to last the entire month. You were certain that Jaemin could not go a whole month without trying to get into your pants. You knew your boyfriend well enough to know that he had a very high sex drive, leading him to asking you for sex nearly every time he saw you. It didn’t help that he was the master of flirting. It made it easy for him to charm your underwear off your body. He had a knack for sending you dirty texts that were filthy enough for your face to heat up in want and slight embarrassment. He once sent you a dick pic that your friend was absolutely mortified to have seen by accident when you opened the text, not having expected him to send pictures of his meat in the middle of the day.
As you stood in your local book store, enjoying the peace and quiet it bestowed upon you, you browsed the fiction section, hoping to find a book about a hopeless romance that ended in heartbreak or a forever love, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It caused you to jump a little but luckily, you’d remembered to put your phone on silent before entering the book shop. You pulled it from your pocket and smiled softly when you saw the contact name said ‘Nana’.
“I miss you :(” his text read, your smile widening at his adorable use of the sad face emoji. You wondered if his text had a hidden meaning or not but decided it probably didn’t because it had only been about half day since he last got his dick wet. You took your time to reply, typing with one thumb as you glanced between your phone and the bookshelf in front of you.
“You saw me about 4 hours ago, I was naked in your bed. Remember?” You replied with a soft giggle, not even surprised when his reply came less than 20 seconds later.
“I remember well! ;) But do you not miss me?” You could almost hear the pout he was more than likely sporting through the words written on your screen. You smirked, trying to suppress a giggle as you replied.
“No.” You quickly followed up with another text. “Just kidding, love you boo.”
“Ouch. My heart bleeds.”
“How are you holding up? Not touched your precious pleasure rod yet have you?” You couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the best of you.
“First of all, ew, never call Jaemin Junior a pleasure rod ever again. Secondly, no I haven’t touched it yet! Have some faith in me!”
“Ew since when have you referred to it as Jaemin Junior?”
“Since now, actually I hadn’t even thought about anything sexual until you brought it up you perv!” You sniggered, rolling your eyes and leaving him on read as you went back to scouring the shelf for the book you desired.
Day 2:
“Hey babe…” Jaemin patted your thigh, trying to gain your attention as you sat beside him in a taxi. You were on the way to a movie theatre and decided a taxi was the best way to avoid the downpour of rain hitting the earth forcefully.
“Yeah?” You tore your line of sight away from staring out of the window to look at him.
“Have you got any nudes on your phone?” He leaned in close, his lips beside your ear as he whispered lowly to make sure the driver didn’t hear him.
“Na Jaemin!” You whisper-shouted at him, not believing the audacity he had to ask you that in the back of a taxi.
“Please baby just give me your phone and I’ll find them myself.” He whined, holding his hand out to your expectantly.
“No!” You slapped his hand away, watching the way his lips turned into an endearing pout.
“Please…I can’t remember what your body looks like…” You shoot him a disapproving glare, shaking your head slowly at him.
“No!”
“Fine!” He turned away, folding his arms over his chest and pretending to throw a tantrum. He didn’t ask again but later on you did send him a cheeky booty pic, much to his excitement.
Day 5:
The hot rivets of water hit your skin and ran down the contorts of your body, leaving a warm sensation flooding through your system. The water had no competition against Jaemin’s soft lips peppering open mouthed kisses across the back of your neck. The plush pillows sending cool shivers down your spin, a complete contrast to how hot your body felt.
“I want you so bad baby girl.” He murmured, his words almost getting lost amongst the noise of the water hitting all the surfaces of the shower. You hummed in acknowledgment, his hands wrapping around your from behind, fingers teasing you on their ascent to your breasts. “Let me make you feel good.” His big hands cupped your soft boobs, thumbs and forefingers each pinching your hardened nipples. A bolt of pleasure shot through you, it rippling down your body from your chest to your neglected clit. You became putty in his hands, him pulling your flat against his chest and gyrating his hips into yours enough for you to feel the prominent erection he’d formed.
A sudden reminder popped into your head. A reminder that Jaemin was supposed to be participating in no nut November. You rolled your eyes, pulling away from his grasp – although somewhat reluctantly, and turning to face him.
“I knew you’d try to fuck me before the end of the month.” You smirked at him, moving your hands up to cup his cheeks and pecking the gobsmacked look off of his lips with your own. He struggled to form words, his mouth opening and closing as he stared down at your smug face. “You’re weak Na Jaemin.” You whispered, leaning in and taking his lips between your own in a lingering, steaming kiss, the water running over your heads as you got in the line of the water streaming from the shower head. His arms looped around your torso, pulling you against him and holding your naked bodies together.
“I’m not weak.” He whispered into the kiss, his tongue poking out and trailing over the lining of your lips before working its way into your mouth. He flicked his tongue against your own, rolling his hips into yours and moving his hands down to squeeze your ass. He moved his lips down your face, to your jaw and nipping at your wet skin.
“You’re still trying to-” Your words were cut off by a moan slipping from your parted lips, his perfect mouth sucking right on the spot he knew would make your knees shake.
“Let me treat you.” He spun you around, forcing you up against the wall of the shower, bent slightly and presenting your ass out to him. You bit your bottom lip, spreading your legs apart enough to give him access to your dripping heat. He trailed his fingertips down your spine, the slight tickle causing shudders to shoot across your nerves. He ran the palm of his hand over the curve of your ass cheeks, removing it only to bring it down on your skin with a slap. You gasped in surprise, relaxing as he spanked you once more before jamming a finger inside your slick hole. “So wet for me baby girl, do you like it when I spank you?” He used his free hand to bring it down on your ass once more before leaning that hand on the shower wall and putting all his weight on it, his body hovering over yours.
“Yeah…oh god.” You moaned, rutting your hips back into his hand. He slowly withdrew his finger, circling your sodden hole with the tip of his finger before ramming it back inside of you, pumping it slowly to loosen you up. He added another finger, his lips attaching themselves onto your shoulder. He smirked when you whined against the cold shower wall, the warm water cascading down onto your body, but it was the warmth you felt from Jaemin that was making you overwhelmed.
“You want me to fuck you with my fingers harder?” He bit at the skin of your shoulder, maintaining the slow pace with his fingers. “Answer me.” He growled, stopping his fingers altogether at your silence.
“Yeah! Fuck me hard!” You whimpered at the loss of stimulation, wiggling your hips as an incentive for him to continue.
“As you please princess.” He smirked, thrusting his digits back into you hard and fast. The hand he was using to hold himself up on the wall moving to cup your breast in his hand. His fingers working over your sensitive nipple causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head.
“Jaemin!” You squeaked, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as the knot tightened in your stomach. “Right there don’t stop!” A gasp ripped from your chest, his teeth biting into your shoulder enough to leave teeth marks behind as the white-hot feeling rushed through your body, your climax hitting suddenly. Your chest rose and fell as you tried to catch your breath, your legs shaking and hips stuttering as he stopped his ministrations on your core.
“That’s my girl.” He gently kissed the bruise he’d made on your shoulder, withdrawing his fingers from you and opting to enclose his mouth around his dripping digits. He sucked them clean, dropping his eye into a wink and turning his back to you to wash his hair, his hard on being left unattended to, much to your surprise.
Day 7:
So far, so good. To your knowledge, Jaemin had managed to not touch his penis in any sexual way at all, which again, had shocked you. You’d assumed he wouldn’t make even 3 days, so him having lasted a week actually impressed you. Despite many close calls, Jaemin had reigned in the hormones and want for you, simply keeping it in his pants, or by pulling away during your steamy session in the shower days prior. About an hour ago, Jaemin had fallen asleep on your bed, even though you’d both planned on walking down the local convenience store to buy snacks for the evening. Not wanting to disturb him because his sleeping face made your heart warm, you’d decided to go on your own and leave him to nap. Choosing not to rush, you’d taken your time in getting the snacks, and stealthily entered your apartment silently in case Jaemin was still sleeping. You’d dumped the snacks on the kitchen counter, and slowly creeped towards your bedroom. You raised an eyebrow in confusion when you heard weird noises emitting from the room. You held your ear to the door, listening as realization dawned on you, causing you to gasp loudly.
“Na Jaemin!” You burst into the room, pointing at him accusingly. “You’re watching porn!!!” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes wide and arms folded across his chest. You paused, about to accuse him of losing no nut November when you noticed he wasn’t touching himself inappropriately. “You’re…erm…are you watching porn for the plot?” You glanced at the television opposite your bed, the scandalous video of a girl having a cock shoved down her throat greeting your eyes.
“Kinda…” He shrugged, grabbing the remote and shutting off the power.
“You’re so strange…” You both looked at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.
“I was bored, and I missed it!” He defended himself, watching your every move as you slinked closer to the bed, a seductive look gleaming in your eye. You’d had enough of this stupid no nut November thing, deciding once and for all the test his resolve. “What are you doing…?” He asked suspiciously when you clambered onto the bed, throwing your leg over his own and sitting just above his knees on his outstretched legs.
“Oh nothing…” You bit your bottom lip alluringly, his eyes watching your hands as they slowly peeled down his jogging bottoms. “Lift your hips like a good boy yeah?” You winked, his hips lifting automatically to your order. You pulled his joggers down, his boxers coming down with them. His hard cock sprang up to his t-shirt, your eyes zoning in on it like a predator hunting its prey. You pushed his t-shirt up, exposing his defined abs and smirking as a bead of pre-cum oozed from the tip onto his stomach.
“Hey…don’t touch that penis missy.” He spoke with a dominating tone, you giggled, raising an eyebrow challengingly at him.
“Or what?”
“Or I lose no nut November!” He gulped, sighing and leaning his head back onto the soft pillow of your bed. “Fine. Touch it.”
“Yay!” You gripped his cock at the base, pulling it so it stood upright. Your touch took his breath away, a week proving to be too long for the absence of having his dick touched in a sexual manner. This is what he’d been craving since the he’d decided to take on this stupid challenge, and he knew he couldn’t last out long. You held eye contact with him, leaning down to rest the head of his cock on your bottom lip. “Tell me what you want.” He wasn’t used to this amount of dominance from you, it causing a firework of pleasure to burst inside his stomach.
“Suck my cock baby girl, make me cum.” You poked your tongue out, kitten licking another drop of pre-cum that spilled. The bitter taste didn’t bother you, and you actually enjoyed giving your boyfriend blowjobs, knowing a lot of your friends had different opinions on giving head. “Hurry.” His own dominance shone through, challenging your own and giving you the sensation of needing to comply to him. You fluttered your eyelashes at him, taking the head of his cock between your lips and sucking gently. “Oh fuck.” He wanted to bend his knees, but you were caging them underneath your body, restricting his movement. His fingers found their way into your hair, gripping at it gently. Without any warning, you took all of his hard length into your mouth, sucking harshly and bobbing your head up and down in perfect rhythm. Puffs of air left his parted lips as he tried to cope with the pleasure coursing through his cock, his toes curling in response.
You pulled off to wipe at your mouth, spit forming in the corners of your lips. You leaned forward, placing soft kisses on his abs and slowly trailing them back down to his red, leaking cock awaiting the presence of your warm mouth. You take him back in your mouth, making sure to stare into his soul as your drag your lips down his shaft and back up against tauntingly, letting your lips leave the tip with a pop. You use your hand to pump him fast, biting your bottom lip as his stomach starts to flex. He whimpered, squirming on the bed before letting out a loud grunt, his grip on your hair tugging harshly as he came. You’d opened your mouth in perfect time, white ribbons coating your tongue and lips.
“Fuck you look hot covered in my cum.” He panted, watching as you closed your mouth and made a point to lick your lips provocatively in front of him. “You’re a dirty girl.” He spoke lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught his breath. You let go of his cock, letting it flop to the side without cause. “Also, fuck you! I was doing great at no nut November and you just had to ruin it didn’t you!” After the bliss of his orgasm wore off, he sat up, pushing you onto your back against the bed. You squeaked in surprise, suddenly the ceiling being all you could see until Jaemin came into your view, his body hovering over your own.
“Punish me then.” Winking at him to rile him up, you trailed a hand over your own body, squeezing your boob over your clothes and grinning cheekily at him. “Do your worst.”
“You’re in for a long night baby girl.” He smirked his famous smirk at you, immediately diving in to suck at the crook of you neck.
No Nut November: Na Jaemin - Fail.
(A/N: Hello! Thank you so much to everyone whose liked/reblogged/commented and messaged me about this series. It’s been a wild ride and I’m overwhelmed from the love its gotten! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you thought of the series as a whole and whether you’d like me to do Destroy Dick December!)
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Always By My Side — Prologue
Synopsis: Young Bucky and Ziarah learn about the story of the fates and soulmates. Whether the tales are true or not is left to be seen.
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell
Warnings (will change with each chapter): none that come to mind for this chapter besides a referencing to God.
Word Count: 1,189
Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.
Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!
Note: This is is kind of a teaser/prologue to the series I’ll be posting the first chapter to soon called Always By My Side. It’s an AU my best friend Taylor and I have been building off of an imaginary friend prompt. I’m hoping this snippet will give you a bit of insight into the purpose of the soulmate bond in their world so you have some context going in. Hope you enjoy.
Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s the first part, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer!
[Brooklyn - Late 1920’s]
Faded hues of yellows and oranges could still be seen through the thin panes of glass of the Barnes residence. The table had just been cleared from supper, the delicious aroma of Winnifred’s cooking still clung to the air.
Bucky and his sibling gathered on the floor in front of their mother, all freshly bathed and dressed for bed. The anticipation was clear in the younger ones’ faces as they prepared for their nightly story, though Bucky decided Rebecca’s shown the brightest. The woman couldn’t help but laugh as she settled into the wooden rocking chair that had soothed all of her children throughout the years.
“What story would you like to hear tonight, dears?” Winnifred’s smooth voice interrupted the youngest pair’s fit of giggles.
Charles, the second oldest after Bucky, was the first to answer. “Tell us the one about the coal miners again!” It was always his answer as he loved the voices his mother would use during her retellings.
Rebecca seemed less than sold on the idea as her freckled nose scrunched in distaste. “That one is silly! I want to hear about soulmates. Will you tell us that one, ma?” The glint in her eyes only seemed to grow as her mother hummed in agreement.
The rhythmic creaking of wood on wood could be heard as she began to rock, summoning the tales of lovers separated by miles being brought together with a bond that only true love could create, or so they said. Her blue eyes fell to Bucky’s, which mirrored her own, as she began to speak.
“They say the bond of soulmates is rare, God’s way of bringing together two people destined to meet and fall in love. The first stories were from long ago, before planes, cars, or even trains existed. When the corners of the earth were undiscovered and untouched by man. A time when mere miles could act as a barrier to keep others from ever meeting. The two individuals would see visions of one another, guiding them closer together over time. A mirrored reflection of their fated love.”
The children listened to her words with great interest as she continued her story, even Bucky’s attention seemed to turn her way. He had heard the stories a million times when he was younger. He’d lean in the doorway as she rocked a babe in her arms, telling them the tale that he had deemed himself too old to care about. Yet, as he found himself at the age where the pretty young dames around were of great interest, he also found himself considering the possibility. That there was someone out there in the world who was destined to love him in the truest way.
Bucky was sure it was a fairytale at its core, meant to spark a light of hope and possibility in the young eyes of youth. Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more akin to fate at play.
[Brooklyn - 2004]
Ziarah leaned over the top railing of the bunk bed she shared with her older brother. The boy on the lower bed rolled her eyes at the continued antics of their nightly routine as this was the third time his sister had been brought to bed that night alone. The four year old grinned goofily as her mother, Hanna, adjusted the silk bonnet on her head.
“Lay back and tuck in, my little bumblebee,” the woman said fondly, climbing the first few rungs of the ladder to pull the blankets up to her daughter’s shoulders. Once she was satisfied, she climbed back down to sit on the stool she kept nearby for bedtime stories. “Which one shall we read tonight?”
Hanna couldn’t help but sigh as Zara popped straight up in her excitement, wiggling out from under her pile of blankets and stuffed animals as she made her way right back down the ladder and onto her mother’s lap. She knew any scoldings she would give would be fruitless so she settled for gathering the girl warmly in her arms.
Zara seemed to consider the question for a moment, emerald green eyes scanning the small bookshelf tucked only a foot or so away. Her gaze settled on a small book on the second shelf. As her mother selected it, Zara’s hands reached out to run over the watercolor themed cover. Shades of blues and pinks blended together to create the scene of a galaxy, two lover constellations drawn into the stars.
“Ahh, yes, the lovers. This was one of my favorites growin’ up as well,” Hanna mused, memories of her own childhood swimming to the surface of her eyes. She shifted her daughter in her arms slightly so she could open the cover more easily, clearing her throat before she began to speak. “Once upon a time there were two fates, old and wise women who spun the tales of all humans. They did not control the stories as much as they were scribes--”
“Momma, what’s a sk-shir-scribe?” Zara looked up at her mother for an answer, her head leaning back against the woman’s shoulder.
“It’s someone who copies things down to keep a record,” she answered, placing a kiss on Zara’s forehead before continuing. “Of life. Occasionally, the threads of time would become twisted and out of line so the women would step in to correct it. That is how the existence of the soulmate bond came to be. Some time ago it was believed to be caused by the distance that separated two people meant to be together, but now they believe it’s changed--”
“To what?” Zara’s eyebrows knitted together in a line as her cheeks puffed out at her impatience.
Hanna couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics. “I don’t know, love. Though, perhaps if you let me read more than one page without interruption, we’d know by now.” While the color was barely visible, the girl’s cheeks heated up as she bared her baby teeth, one of her less subtle ways of defiance. Even so, Zara nodded for her to continue.
“They believe it’s changed to times when one or both halves won’t survive without the other. The fates trigger the bond to preserve life and sanity, to provide support to both halves when they need it the most. The occurrence is more rare than ever now, as it relies on both sides truly needing it,” She went on to finish the rest of the story as Zara’s eyelids seemed to grow heavy. She was ever so careful as she stood to carry the girl back to her bed, tucking her in for what she prayed would be the final time that night.
Zara let out a large yawn as she pulled her stuffed bunny, Frankie, to her chest. “Momma,” she called out through another yawn, blinking over at her lazily. “Do you think that I have a soulmate?”
She was asleep before Hanna could even answer, but even so she gently brushed her thumb over the girl’s soft cheek. “I hope that you never need to find out if you do or not.”
#marvel#sebastian stan#bucky barnes#marvel fanfiction#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x ofc#black ofc#Ziarah Heartwell#always by my side#always by my side series#abms series#ABMS#Bucky Barnes x woc#Bucky Barnes x black!ofc#soulmates#soulmate AU#bucky barnes soulmate au
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Chapter 3: The Secret Room
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Once outside, Nancy gave Renee her chocolate and returned her key. She then walked around the small garden towards the gates that led to the cemetery. Following Henry’s instructions, Nancy eventually spotted the top of the mausoleum. She approached the mausoleum door but they were locked. Looking around the front, she saw the same crow engraving from the paper on the lower left. Along the bottom of the mausoleum were four different designs, a crow, bones, a worm, and a coffin. Odd. Then again, everything that happened so far had been eerie. Nancy placed her paper over each engraving and rubbed the image onto it. She quickly placed the papers back into her coat and hurried back towards the Bolet manor.
Once inside and back at the model mausoleum, Nancy put the engravings into each slot. She heard a click and the mausoleum roof opened to reveal a key. Now where do you go? Then she understood. This was clearly the key for the mausoleum. Pocketing the key, she hurried back towards the study. As she left through the doors, she noticed Henry was not at his desk.
As Nancy approached the mausoleum she could hear muffled sobs. It was Henry! He was, sobbing? Henry was down on his knees and letting out a torrent of tears. Nancy tried to mask her presence but it was too late. Henry heard her boots approaching. He snapped his head towards her direction. They locked eyes. His stunned expression mirrored Nancy’s, but before she could call out to him, Henry jolted up and ran away, the rain quickly masking his figure.
Nancy never knew how to comfort people. She understood grief, but others always found her advice to be too hard to swallow. Henry was clearly hurting more about his uncle’s death then he let on, but Nancy didn’t know what to say to comfort him. Move on? That’s what she did when her mother died. At least, her father never mentioned Nancy having any issues moving on from her mother’s death. Life went on, and she moved with it. Considering Henry’s testy nature, Nancy thought it was best to carry on like she never saw him.
She eagerly unlocked the mausoleum door, anticipating what she would find inside. Silence greeted her. Leaving the door open, Nancy walked through the small interior. She noticed every coffin had a stone marker with the name Bolet. So, this is the Bolet family’s private burial ground. She looked towards the more recent deaths, but Bruno Bolet was not there. There were, however, two other names with the same death date. Henry mentioned his parents died in a car crash. Marianne and Claude Bolet. Now it made sense why Henry was crying out here, alone. Not knowing what else to do, Nancy simply placed her hand on the stone markers and listened to the rain.
From her periphery, Nancy noticed a rolled parchment on the right-hand side of the mausoleum. She picked it up and unrolled it. Two figures stared back at her. A woman with lush brown hair gazed forward. Her eyes stared down at the beholder and a Cheshire smile laced her lips, as if she knew something they didn’t. Her arms were wrapped around a man. He was shorter than her and looked rather plain were it not for the smile on his face and his eyes which were affixed upon his wife. Charming couple, must be Henry’s parents. Then Nancy noticed that Marianne was holding an umbrella in her hand. She smiled. Of course. The kookiness of this family was quickly growing on her.
Nancy tucked the painting within her trench coat and headed back towards the manor. Upon entering she saw that Henry was back at his desk with a dry shirt. He very pointedly refused to acknowledge Nancy and she moved towards the living room. She took down the empty frame, attached the painting of Henry’s parent’s, and placed it back on the wall. Now what? Since each Bolet was holding an object, Nancy was sure that they were clues to something. She sighed. She would have to ask Henry, if he knew anything, and if he was even willing to talk to her.
Bracing herself, Nancy slowly slinked back into the study room. If Henry heard her, he did not give any indication. She moved closer towards the bookcases, thinking of something to say that would allow her to ask Henry about his family. Good god, Nancy, just ask him outright! The worst he can say is no! Or he could throw her out of the house. She leaned against a book shelf and was about to address him when she heard noises coming from the bookshelf. Looking up, she noticed that the stuffed iguana had moved!
The not-stuffed iguana leaped away from the bookshelf, knocking over a crate of books and scurried quickly out of sight. Henry swiveled around from the commotion but Nancy saw that he was not mad. In fact, there was a glint of humour in his eyes and he looked like he was suppressing a chuckle.
“What was that?” Nancy asked.
“That was uncle Bruno’s pet iguana, Iggy. He’s always in here stealing paper. Must be using it to build a nest or something”.
“An iguana! Keen!”
Henry shrugged as his face fell back into a scowl. “Hey, look. I had all those books arranged so they fit perfectly. Could you put them back please? I don’t have time”.
Nancy looked up and saw that Henry had his cell in one hand.
“Sure”.
“Groovy”.
Henry turned around and initiated a call with someone. Nancy eavesdropped for a bit, but there was nothing important. She turned towards the books and started to place them back. Once done, she noticed that one of the books was written by an old acquaintance. Beatrice Hotchkiss, professor of French history. She wrote a famous book on Marie Antoinette based the journal Nancy uncovered when she vacationed in Wisconsin. Looks like she wrote another book. The Crystal Skull: Fact of Fable? Strange, not related to French history. It must have been the result of professor Hotchkiss’s side research. The woman was a genius and always had some side project going on. Nancy opened it and saw a number near Hotchkiss’s name.
Flipping through the book she read about the theory and histories behind the legendary crystal skulls. They came from the Mayans and were made of a single pure crystal quartz. However, the skull’s histories enveloped a vast array of cultures. Some Indigenous communities claimed there to be 13 skulls total, and when united, they would reveal all the secrets of the universe to mankind. Some argued that the skulls came from Atlantis, and others believed the skulls contained some power and would give its owner anything from telekinesis to invisibility. One skull in particular, “The Whisperer” was reputed to give its owner immortality. It had a history of belonging only to owners who did not die of natural causes. Nancy sighed. There was being eccentric, and then there was poppycock. Still, she knew professor Hotchkiss would not write on something that did not have some irrefutable evidence.
As she closed the book, a piece of paper fell out. It had letters randomly spaced out on it. Three letters at the top and four at the bottom. Nancy recognized that the position of the letters matched the position of the photo frames. Perhaps the letters tell me where to place the photos! She hurried back to the living room and was pleased to see that her theory was correct. Each object a family member held corroborated with a letter. Arranging the pictures like the letters, Nancy heard the noise of a door unlocking behind her. She turned and noticed that a portion of the wall opened up. A secret passage way!
Nancy eagerly walked into the secret room and up the stairs. There was a door and it was locked. Rats. She looked at the lock, hoping that maybe she could use a paperclip. Instead there was a metal etching of a spider web with dashes coming out in various locations. I’m guessing that this Bruno Bolet foul proofed the door from blindly breaking in. It was another dead end, for now. Nancy pulled out her phone and took a picture of the lock. Walking back down slowly, Nancy heard noises coming from Bruno’s study. Leaning closer to the wall, she could hear Henry’s voice. He was arguing with someone.
“Aw c’mon Summer! Give me a break! You never said anything about that!” Henry paused listening to Summer’s response. “Well, how was I supposed to know? I mean, what am I? Telepathic? No. No. C’mon Summer. Don’t get upset! Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
There was a silence as Henry listened to Summer’s reply.
“What do you mean ‘something else’? You gotta be kidding me, Summer. I don’t have that kind of money!”
Summer must have said something harsh because Henry quickly changed his tone.
“No. No. I meant, I don’t have it now, but I will soon. Okay? Bye”.
Conversation over, Nancy heard Henry toss his cell onto the table and groan.
Yikes, Nancy thought. On top of a dead uncle, Henry seemed to be having major issues with this Summer person. Has this guy ever been able to catch a break? No wonder why he was grumpy all the time.
As she reached the wall-door, Nancy noticed a spyglass built into the wall. Curious she peered through and saw the study again. Or rather, a specific shelf within the study. There was a zoom button and moving the cursor, Nancy caught the sight of a book, The Eye of the Beholder. Keeping it in the back of her mind, Nancy went out to talk to Henry.
When she entered the study, Nancy saw Henry looking towards the double doors that marked the entrance to the garden. He had a hand on his cheek and a vacant expression on his face.
“Want me to open the door for some fresh air?”
“No,” came a quiet response. Henry didn’t turn towards her.
Nancy tried again.
“I need to ask you some questions”.
Slowly Henry unfolded from his position and turned to face her. He looked exhausted.
“And what is it you need?” Henry asked in a tone that implied Nancy’s request was not something he wanted.
“I need to ask you about your uncle Bruno”.
Henry made a gesture with his hand for Nancy to continue.
“Okay, look, I know this is going to sound like nonsense, but I’m not losing my mind when I say what I’m about to say, okay?”
Henry gave her a puzzled look, then nodded softly.
“What can you tell me about your uncle?”
Henry shrugged. “Not much more than what I told you”.
“Well, you mentioned he was eccentric”.
“Yep”.
“And this manor isn’t exactly what you would call normal”.
Henry rolled his eyes and gave a small smile.
“Tell me about it. But that’s just your perspective”.
This was interesting to hear. Nancy titled her head and asked, “You find the manor normal?”
“Look at me,” Henry said gesturing to himself. “I fit right in.”
“Well, you are a Bolet”.
Henry stiffened at Nancy’s response. “Doesn’t really mean much. The family name and its meaning left me the day my parent’s died. Now Bolet just means something else”.
Nancy wanted to ask what it meant to Henry, but Henry, despite his firm appearance, looked like he wanted to cry.
“Right sorry, getting off topic. Well, you see, your uncle’s eccentric behaviour, well,” Nancy hesitated. She didn’t really know how to explain it to Henry. It wasn’t unusual in her line of work to stumble across locks and odd clues, but it was rare to see them so intentionally placed.
“I think your uncle is hiding something”.
“What?” Henry asked.
“I don’t know what or why, but your uncle’s eccentricities have a pattern. There are all sorts of wacky locks around the house and they each lead to a clue and another lock. I think your uncle was hiding something from someone”.
“My uncle?” Henry asked.
“Yep”
“Hiding something?”
“Oh ya”.
“And you’re sure your head’s not hurting right now? Cause I think you’ve got a concussion coming on”.
Nancy rolled her eyes.
“I know it sounds mad, but I’m telling you the truth. I can even show you”.
“Look, it’s getting late. Why don’t you just let this go? Whatever my uncle was hiding is not important now. He’s dead, so whatever he’s hiding is not worth anything anymore. Just go on back home and enjoy your vacation”.
Annoyance flared through Nancy.
“It does matter! It does matter Henry Bolet! I don’t know anything about your uncle or the Bolet family but there is clearly something important being kept secret here! Something someone wants desperately. I did not make up that skeleton figure, and if they were willing to attack me for whatever your uncle has, think of what they will do to you, to Renee! You cannot just ignore it!”
“Oh I can ignore it, just like my uncle ignored me”.
“This isn’t about you or your uncle. This is about something bigger. I don’t know what, but if you ignore it… I don’t know, but something’s just not right and in my experience that usually means trouble”.
Henry sighed and Nancy tried to again.
“Please. Just let me show you what I know. If you don’t find any of it intriguing, I’ll go”.
Henry got up and walked over to Nancy.
“Alright, lead the way”.
Nancy led him to the living room, explaining all her work and deductions up till now. She pointed to the mausoleum and pulled out the key it hid from her trench coat. She then pointed to the portrait of Henry’s parents and explained the order that unlocked the secret passage door. She led him up the stairs and pointed to the lock.
“I don’t suppose you know how to unlock this?” she asked. She was about to say more, about to delve deeper into her theories on what might be going on and further steps, but when she looked back at Henry, the man looked pale. He stumbled out of the passageway and melted onto a living room sofa.
They were endless in their onslaught. While the whispers didn’t give Henry any pain, they were distracting, making it difficult to do anything but listen. They repeated so many phrases to Henry as he tried to work. It didn’t help that there was now another person in the house. While Nancy ran about chasing some skull man, the whispers chased Henry with words.
Garden…skull…man…garden…bury…garden…look…her…spider.
At one point he gave into the voice and went out to the garden. They grew eager and urged him here and there till he found himself at the vulture shrine again. Bury…bury…bury.
“I can’t,” Henry exclaimed to the air, then realized what he had just done. Mad as he seemed to be, the words had their effect and the whispers quieted down. Enjoying the silence, he walked towards the cemetery gates, entered, and wandered around. Even after seventeen years, the paths were familiar. Henry remembered roaming around as an eight-year old. Uncle Bruno gave him free run of the place, for the most part, and a despondent, lonely Henry sought friends in the afterlife. He knew exactly where his legs were heading, the same legs that stumbled upon a solitary mausoleum as a boy. The door was open and when little Henry stepped inside, he saw his uncle yelling at the Bolet engravings, before collapsing in a sobbing heap. Now at twenty-five, the mausoleum stood tall and alone. Henry tried the door, but it was locked. Of course it was locked. When eight-year-old Henry ran away from his crying uncle, the Bolet mausoleum shut Henry out. The ominous building with its locked doors made its message clear, you do not belong here.
“So then where do I belong?” Henry cried out, stupidly to the rain. He collapsed onto the ground and felt warm rain run down his cheeks. No one responded. Even the rain became muffled. So Henry sobbed a thousand apologies though the recipients were long gone and forgotten. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but soon the pitter patter of the rain turned into the clicking of boots and Henry shot his head up to see a woman in a trench coat—Nancy Drew. Sound returned and Henry realized where he was and how he must have looked. The whispers came back.
Skull…man…skull…find…woman…garden…woman…spider.
Henry scrambled to his feet and dashed away. When he got back into the house, he changed his clothes and did his best to ignore Nancy. She, thankfully, didn’t bring up what she saw. But the whispers continued, and when Nancy returned, when she explained her convoluted theories, when she ushered Henry towards the living room and explained her madness, when Henry saw the door to the secret passage way open, when he saw the spider on the lock, he knew deep down that she was right. Bruno Bolet knew something and these whispers were determined he faced his uncle head on.
“Like I said, I’m pretty sure your uncle was hiding something. Trust me, in my experience people don’t make secret rooms if there wasn’t something to keep secret”.
Nancy continued to pace back and forth, lost in thought as theories spilled out of her. Initially, Henry just pressed his fingers to his nose and listened to her ramble. When he had the energy, he looked up and noticed that Nancy was soaking wet. The rugs are going to need cleaning now. Thankfully, most of the house was hardwood flooring. Henry glanced at his phone. 9:45 p.m. He looked back at Nancy, but she did not seem to be stopping any time soon.
“Henry, I think I need to call professor Hotchkiss. Your uncle seemed to have her number, at least, I think it’s her number. But she might know what’s going on”.
Nancy whirled towards him, eyes bright.
“So, what can you tell me about your family?”
“I already told you, I don’t know anything.”
“No,” Nancy countered. “You said you knew nothing about your uncle. You didn’t mention your family”.
“What’s the difference? I really know nothing”.
“Nothing at all?” Nancy’s voiced dropped as despair creeped in. Her eyes dimmed as she slowly slipped back into thought. Watching her, Henry felt his stomach clench. He searched the recesses of his mind for any scrap of memory, anything that might be of use for her.
“All I know from my parents is that the Bolet’s are an old family, synonymous with New Orleans”.
Nancy did not react and Henry dug further into his memories. It was hard to remember the things you did with your parents when you were young. The world mainly revolved around you. But memories had the ability to preserve expressions. Faces and reactions that you can only explore as an adult.
“My father, he always became sober when he had to return to the family manor. We didn’t live here, so you can imagine my surprise at hearing manor and seeing a bungalow when I came here at eight. My father was a very happy man, especially when my mother was around. He would,” Henry cracked a smile. “He would just light up and the whole room turned bright. Everyone felt the warmth. He usually went to the manor by himself. Mom was busy in the lab, so dad had to go by himself”.
Henry looked up and saw Nancy stare at him pensively. Unable to stand her fixed attention on him, he looked towards his phone.
“It’s getting late,” he started.
“So let me get this straight,” Nancy cut in. “Your uncle dies and it seems he’s designed some locks around the house. Your dad always comes here alone. Your family is wrapped up in the history of New Orleans and no one questions this or tries to change it. And now, a skeleton man appears. Henry,” she suddenly said and her voice dropped. “Is your family running a cult?”
“What,” Henry exclaimed. He jolted up from the sofa and placed his hands on his hips.
“Of all the— “
“I know it sounds weird, but think about it. All I know is that something is being hidden here and everyone respects the Bolets. What other conclusions would you come to?”
“Well,” Henry ran his fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t immediately jump to cult. What would make you think that?”
Nancy looked away, a little bashful.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been a houseith a secret”.
The stood together in silence for a while until Nancy asked him whether he believed her.
“Frankly, the cult theory sounds rubbish”. His eyes darted towards Nancy but she just gave him a small smile, prompting him to continue. “But, there might be something uncle Bruno was hiding”.
“So,” Nancy began, a smile growing on her face. “Want to help me find out what it might be?”
Henry was taken aback by her smile. He was reluctant to admit that the idea of searching through Bruno’s junk for some treasure was appealing. It didn’t help that Nancy’s smile seemed so mischievous, as is she knew he would find her offer more appealing than the piles of paper that sat on Bruno’s desk. At the thought of the work that awaited him, Henry scowled and shook his head.
“No. I already have enough to do”. He took a deep breath. “It’s getting late,” he started again.
This time Nancy got the hint. She didn’t want to go and was quite ready to stay up the whole night figuring out this case, but she couldn’t well do that in someone else’s house. Darn social politeness! But, if she left now, who knows what would happen tomorrow, or whether even Henry would let her investigate.
“The rain and power outage have most taxi services out of order. I don’t know if you’ll get a cab. You’re going to have to spend the night here”.
Nancy looked at Henry, appalled.
“Don’t worry,” Henry rushed to assure her. “We’ve got plenty of food, blankets, and room. So, it might put a damper on your vacation plans, but you can go back in the morning. I would drop you myself but”.
Henry didn’t finish his sentence and his throat clenched.
“Thank you Henry!” Nancy exclaimed. “You’re a great friend”.
Friend? They barely knew each other.
“Oh we’re going to have so much fun! I tell the best stories, all my friends say so,” Nancy rambled again and Henry looked at her confused.
“We’re not kids. This isn’t a sleepover”.
“Come on Henry, live a little. It’ll be fun”.
Henry just sighed.
“Groovy”.
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Bring on the Mania! P.t 6
"I hope you learned something from this Demon!"
Amane, who was busy nursing his head, flinched at Sebek's loud voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Challenging Valerie means death." Amane hissed when his hand brushed a primarily sore spot.
"As long it not physical, then you're fine." Bennet chimed in, handing out an ice pack to a grateful egg boy.
After that horribly one-sided battle, the boys and Lisha woke up a few minutes later. But not without bearing the aches from it. Thankfully, the ghosts brought first aid and ice packs with them.
"You know, Valerie." Wilbur started. "You could have gone easy on Amane. He is new to this."
"Oh please, mercy is not in her dictionary. Do you honestly expect her to do that?" Ace scoffed. He leaned on an ice pack he was holding, relishing the coolness.
The said girl was tending to Lisha, making sure the little strix didn't get seriously injured.
"On the bright side, we know she can handle herself in a fight." Epel remarked. He winced a bit, clutching his stomach. Next to him, Sebek held an ice pack to his cheek.
" Oh, come on. It wasn't that ba-"
"You don't use pressure points in a pillow fight, Valerie." Jack interrupted her. He had his arms crossed and sat perfectly still; as Gerald tended the scratches on his face.
He wanted to add about biting, but his memory went back to...THAT. His face burned, his tail wagged tail wildly. Gerald sent him a look but said nothing and continued with his work.
Once everyone was treated, they agreed to call it a night; since they were in too much pain to do something else. They had to re-arrange everything since it was a mess. It took a while since the injuries made it harder, but they managed.
The boys brought their sleeping bags. Ace and Deuce were next to each other they were still, but with their sleeping position, they look like they were punching each other. Jack slept like a regular person with Epel hugging his tail. Sebek brought a Malleus and crocodile plushies with him. No one dared to question it, not even Ace teased him.
Grim was curled up on one of the chairs. Lisha used him as a bed. Valerie slept on the sofa. Cause it's her dorm, she is not sleeping on the floor.
The brunette was awoken by the sound of soft whimpers. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she sat up and craned her neck to the source.
Slightly farther away from the rest of the boys (for their safety) was Amane. He was tossing around, but it wasn't as bad as before.
Quietly, she got up a tip-toed towards him; she knelt down next to him and got a clear view of his face. Beads of sweat trickled down his skin, his features were contorted into a grimace.
"P-P-Please." The incubus pleaded softly.
Gently, she rubbed small circles on his back and patted his hair. Valerie briefly remembered when she was little, her grandparents used this trick upon her whenever she had nightmares. Her mother eventually did this as well, when she finally came back home and finished whatever work she had left.
Apparently, it worked on Amane too. He went silent, and his body relaxed. His whimpers dissolved into soft snores. Smiling at her work, she went back to the sofa and let sleep envelop her.
Valerie woke up again, but this time to someone shaking her awake.
"...rie...Valerie, wake up."
Groggily, she pushed herself up and twisted her body to removes any trace of sleep. Feeling more awake, she turned to see who woke her.
There stood Deuce, still clad in his pajamas and sporting a band-aid on his forehead. He gave the girl a small smile.
"Morning, Valerie. Come on, breakfast is ready." He informed. Hooking his arm with hers and guiding her to the dining room.
Valerie blinked at the sight once they entered the dining room. The table is filled with all types of breakfast food, and everyone was stuffing their faces.
Ace took big bites on what looks like cherry pancakes. Jack and Epel's plates were filled with sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, and ham. Though Jack had some pear compote on the side. While Epel had mini apple tarts on his.
Sebek ate like it was his first meal in a long time. His eyes were shining as he indulged himself, relishing every bite. His plate was filled with so much food; that it became a miscellaneous mess. Next to him were numerous tupperwares.
Grim had just as much food as Sebek, but tuna omelets seemed to dominate his plate. Lisha was feeding on sausage bits on a saucer.
"I see you guys are enjoying yourselves."
They all paused from eating. Eyes drifted to the figures in the doorway. Although, a few pairs of eyes were fixated on their arms.
Grim broke the silence.
"Ook yuf ong mmff." His voice was muffled with all the food stuffed in his mouth.
"Grim, please don't talk with your mouth full." Valerie gently chided. Taking a seat next to the monster.
Not far from the girl, Deuce took a seat next to Ace and began to pile his plate with various egg dishes. Unaware of the annoyed looks sent his way.
"Looks so good! The ghosts really outdid themselves." She praised. There were so many options, she didn't know where to start!
"Actually, the ghosts didn't make this." Jack revealed, taking a sip on his orange juice.
"Really? Then who-" She was cut off by a loud yell.
"IS SUGAR TITS UP YET!?"
Amane barged into the dining room, wearing her funky owl apron. Holding a spatula in one hand and another stack of pancakes in the other. He finally took notice of the girl and huffed.
"Bout time, Sugar tits, these were gonna get cold."
He plopped the plate he had in front of her. It resembled a cinnamon roll, only with more icing.
"Did you really make all of this?" She questioned. Cutting a piece.
"Of course I did, and if you don't believe me, ask your boy toys." The heterochromia male smirked.
"He did, and it's good." Epel vouched for the demon.
She took a small bite, and her face lit up. It was so good! She took another bite and another. Soon, she was wolfing down everything.
"Whoah! Jeez, Sugar tits, slow down. You're just as bad as that fat gremlin of yours." Amane teased. But he was genuinely surprised by her eating. A choking sound broke the atmosphere and paused Valerie from eating.
Ace broke into a fit of giggles, with Epel joining soon after. Deuce, Jack, and Sebek restrained their laughter, but barely. Lisha was just rolling in laughter.
But, only one wasn't amused.
"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME!?" Grim raged. He jumped on the table, with a fireball forming in his mouth.
But before he could fire, a hand slammed next to him. The monster yelped in surprise, which halted everyone's laughter. Amane just stared wide-eyed.
Valerie wanted to enjoy a delicious breakfast without any problems. So for once. Just ONCE that Grim would behave and take a little teasing. But obviously, that wasn't going to be it.
So, taking a deep breath, a sweet smile formed on her face; as she looked down at the monster. Though, the room felt it dropped a few degrees.
"Grim." She said slowly. Valerie can distinctively feel the others flinch at her voice. But paid no mind.
"It's too early for this, so, please. Just forget that remark, and continue to eat."
The monster wanted to protest when the girl opened her mouth again.
"Unless you want me to ban you from eating tuna for a year." She added sweetly.
This got him to shut up, muttering a small sorry, and went back to eating. This got everyone else to continue as well. Valerie internally sighed in relief.
Finally, she can enjoy-
"By the way. I used all your food."
Fuck.
____________________________
After breakfast, the boys got dressed and thanked Valerie for the sleepover and the food. Though they wanted to stay longer, Ace, Deuce, and Sebek had dorm duties, while Jack and Epel had some training to do in their respective dorms.
"I can't believe you used all my food."
Valerie and Amane were making their way to Mr. S's shop for groceries. Grim was flying next to the girl, with Lisha on his head.
"Hey, I said I'll pay for everything, didn't I?" He remarked, wearing a new outfit. With a rosy pink off-shoulder crop top and jean shorts, he still wore his ankle boots.
"That's the thing. The more you pay for me, the more I feel like a freeloader." The girl confessed. Since it was a Saturday, she wore more casual clothes. Which consisted of a simple white hoodie, black shorts, and black sandals. Her hair was tied into a simple ponytail.
"Pfftt. Chill out, Sugar tits, with the amount of money I make, you don't have to worry that pretty little head of yours." He assured.
"Besides, that Sebek guy looked happy with all the extra food he got to take with him." Amane can still remember the happy look on the green-haired boy; as he carried a bag filled with tupperwares of food.
"Oi, don't forget. This guy free loaded us and ran you dry when he was injured." Grim reminded. The midnight haired male chuckled nervously.
"Yeah, that too."
They finally made it to the mystery shop, and when they got inside, Amane felt another wave of nostalgia hit him.
The shop was brimming with random items. There was a piano against the wall; next to it were tribal masks that seemed to stare into their souls. Behind the counter was a bookshelf lined with books and jars. There was even a treasure chest filled with gold and jewels.
A rather large chandelier illuminated the room with a faint green light.
"Hey, hey, hey! How's my favorite Little Imp doing?"
Coming from the backroom was a young man with black and purple dreadlocks and dahlia purple eyes. On his body looked like skeleton tattoos. He had a playful but warm smile on his face.
"Hey Val, need some groceries?" He asked.
She nodded. "Yeah, here's the list." She handed him a long piece of paper. He gave a low whistle.
"Ran dry, huh?"
"Yeah, but he's paying for everything." Grim replied. Sam hummed in response.
"Anyway." He finally turned to Amane, his smile returning.
"Welcome to my humble shop! Need something? I got it!" Sam proudly exclaimed.
Amane pursed his lips at the statement before a sultry smile took its place. Slowly striding to the counter, he leaned forward, having one thing in mind.
Sam leaned down to his ear.
"Sorry, but my dick's not available."
The incubi pilled back, his lips forming a thin line.
"Fine, you got any Elizabeth's Secret perfume? Temptation preferably."
The man nodded and went back to get their desired items.
Valerie shook her head at Amane's antics; she just hoped he won't be arrested for it. Which reminded her...
"Hey, Amane." She called. He turned to her.
"Mmm. Yeah, Val?"
"What is your job? I know you don't rely on your parent's money, but you seem to have an endless supply with you." She inquired.
"Yeah. Do you secretly have your own mafia? Is that why you're so loaded." Grim accused, flying in front of his face.
"Okay. First, get out of my face ya fuzzy little shit." Pushing Grim to her chest.
"And secondly I-"
'THUMP!'
They all jumped at the sound; even Lisha fell off of Grim's head but quickly steadied herself. On the counter were four bags and a medium-sized box.
"Alright, here ya go, Little Imp, and he's yours." He placed a bottle of perfume farther away from the groceries. He stepped back and gave them a wide smile.
"That would be...30,000 madol."
"Hahahaha, premium tuna is the best!"
Grim happily said as he held the can, flying ahead. Trailing behind him were a demon, human, and strix in disguise.
"Does he ever shut up about tuna?" Amane whispered, bending a bit for her sake.
They were making their way back to Ramshackle. Amene carried the bags while Valerie had the crate. His perfume was safely in Valerie's pouch.
Valerie giggled in response. "Not really, but as long he's happy."
"Oi! Hurry up back there, henchmen!" Amane's eye twitched at that.
Little piece of shit.
The hetero-eyed male was about to throw a snarky remark when he caught the sight of two blondes in a middle of a discussion, specifically the one with violet tips.
"Hang on for the second, Sugar tits. I gotta greet someone."
The girl looked curious before telling Lisha to catch up with Grim and followed the Amane. As they near, one of the blondes took notice.
"Ah! Bonjour Mademoiselle Trickster, and oh Monsieur Minuit what a pleasant surprise." Rook happily greeted the pair.
"Good to see ya too, predator kink." Amane casually greeted.
"Vulgar as ever, Amane. It's a miracle people, such as myself still put up with you." Purple eyes bore onto him.
Is Vil another childhood friend Amane?" The girl asked innocently.
The actor scoffed. "Hardly, I merely acquainted with because I had to model his clothes."
"Wait. Clothes?" She repeated.
Vil raised a brow, he turned his attention back to the demon.
"You didn't tell her?"
"I was, but that guy in that shop interrupted before I can say anything."
"You see Mademoiselle. Monsieur Minuit is one of the most important and youngest figures in the fashion world. He designs the most Magnifique clothing that has ever graced Twisted Wonderland; while also being a severe but fair fashion critic." Rook explained.
"The brands I owned are called Unholy Allure and Impulsive Heathens. Allure is for women, and Heathens are for men." The incubus added. A thoughtful look came to his face as he stared at the girl. But, Vil snapped him out of his thoughts.
"I heard what you're doing here, Amane. I suggest you keep your flirtations to a minimum. It wouldn't be good for your image to be involved in a scandal. Especially; at the peak of your career. Vil warned. But Amane waved him off.
"Oh, relax, I always keep my tracks hidden." He assured. Vil sighed.
"Regardless, be careful." A soft vibration hummed through Vil's pocket. Fishing out his phone, he scanned the notifications before softly clicking his tongue. This action didn't go unnoticed by the hunter.
"Roi de Poison, what troubles you?" That question caused the other repair to shift their attention to him.
"Epel texted e that there was a mishap in the dor. He's asking us to come back immediately." He explained, putting his phone away.
"Then we must hurry!" Rook declared. He turned back to Valerie, taking her hand; and giving it a dainty kiss.
"Au voir, Reine des Lapins." He gave her a coy smile. The predatory look in his eyes sent shivers down her spine, but she still kept a sweet smile on. The fern-eyed male stepped back to give Vil his turn. The dorm leader gently took her hand snd placed a feathery soft kiss.
I see you've been using the lotion I gave you, Little potato." Vil commented, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
"Y-Yeah, it did wonders on my skin." She slowly took her hand back.
"As much as I liked to continue our little chat, we must go. Rook, we'll discuss the plot for the new movie later."
"Oui!"
The queen turned his heel and walked away, with his loyal hunter close behind.
"See ya in the next photoshoot, Queen sexy ass!"
#twisted wonderland#twst oc#twisted wonderland oc#valerie kemonohito#amane mania#twst grim#ace trappola#deuce spade#jack howl#epel felmier#sebek zigvolt#twst sam#vil schoenheit#rook hunt
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