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shadowbriar · 4 months

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James Potter - Traitor

Pairing : James Potter x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 1.9k Warning : Cliffhanger (sort of). Not proofread as always. Synopsis : As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away. Notes : Inspired by this request and Olivia Rodrigo - Traitor. Pretty sort as I don't know if anon would like a happy or sad ending? If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ James Potter's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @coffeehurricanes @ineedmentalhelp123

She should’ve known better. She should’ve known that when he pulled that stunt at the Great Hall, proclaiming his feelings and just how desperate he’s been to get her attention, that it was only a projection of the words he wanted to confess to another. She should’ve known that when he looked at her with those eyes that were filled with love, it would never compare to the affection he hoards for another. She should’ve known that with every promise, every sweet nonsense he whispered to her ears, they were truly addressed for another.

The signs were laid bare for her to see. From the way he stopped holding her hands in the hallway to making up excuses and cancelling their dates. His kisses have turned into quick pecks before they’re gone altogether. The jokes he used to share have stopped coming. Dissipating into thin air with no warning.

Supposedly it was her fault. She should’ve said something, calling him out from the lack of effort he’s been showing but she knew she was pulling on a thin thread. Their relationship has always been based on a frail foundation. She knew that deep down there was no other woman that could topple his first love, so she kept quiet. Crying herself to sleep and praying to whoever might listen out there to help salvage their relationship. Anything to keep him just a little bit longer.

“Love, you left your hair tie in my room,” James says once he takes a seat, busying himself with the stack of pancakes in front of him.

She takes the unassuming item and examines it. This hair tie wasn’t hers. She doesn’t have bright orange hair ties, “This isn’t mine, James.”

“Oh,” He responded, taking the item and placing it in his pocket nonchalantly “Must be Lily’s then.”

“Lily?”

“Yeah, we had an impromptu study session last night after our rounds. She helped me with my potion essays.”

“But we promised to do that essay together,” She says, forcing a smile as she tries her best to conceal her disappointment and heartbreak “I waited for you to have some free time so we can work on it together.”

“Yes well, like I said, it was an impromptu session. We finished our rounds earlier than expected so we figured we could use the free time to do the assignment.” He explained, still oblivious to the harm done to her heart “Shouldn’t you be proud I’ve finally managed to finish an assignment earlier than due? This is a huge improvement for me, don’t you think?”

Her head nods, another pretend smile decorating her face. James looks happy and proud of his achievement. It was true. When else would you find James Potter diligently working his schoolwork? He’s always been one of those students who waits for the adrenaline rush of working everything at the last minute. He’s brilliant, perhaps too brilliant to ever spare an hour in revising his notes and making flashcards for the upcoming exams, so this certainly is a huge improvement to celebrate for. If only it wasn’t because of Lily.

“You’ve been spending more time with Lily, lately.” She points out. Her hands were shaking, knowing that the pool she’s stepping in might be deeper than it seems and she might not know how to swim to the shore but she needed to start somewhere. She needs to save their relationship somehow.

James’ brows furrow, a slight sign of disagreement, “Not really. Our rounds just happened to be scheduled together a lot this month.”

“Well, you also cancelled our study date last week for her.”

“Yeah, that’s because she needed my help with Divination.”

A rude laughter escapes her, “You’re the worst from our House in Divination, James. She doesn’t need your help.”

“Where are you going with this?” He finally snaps, turning to face her with evident annoyance in his eyes “I thought you would be happy with me finally trying to fix my grades.”

“I am. I just didn’t realise that needed to be done by increasing the amount of time you share with your ex-crush.”

“Oh, so you’re jealous?”

She was quiet now. Sure it was jealousy that plagued her mind the first time he began drifting away but these days, these days she’s only been insecure and worried for their sinking ship. Anxiety over the chance of her being replaced by someone who has always had his heart has been haunting her nights. As gracious and angelic Lily Evans is, she couldn’t help but to see her as some villain who might steal him away.

“You’re being paranoid, again.” James scoffs, turning completely blind and deaf to her silent agony “There’s nothing going on between me and Lily. I’m trying to fix my grades for me. She just happens to be a great teacher and companion to help me study.”

She's still quiet, weighing if she should believe his words.

"Please, I don't want to fight," James sighs, dropping the fork on his hand and taking hers to show his sincerity "She's just a friend, I promise."

There was truly nothing left for her to say that wouldn’t act as petrol to their burning bridge. James wasn’t listening. For a while now he hasn’t truly cared about a word she’s said and it was painful to finally understand this. That he might never have been as sincere as she thought him to be. Or perhaps he did, once, yet that feeling has died a long time ago with no chance of revival. His feelings for her have withered, faded into nothingness.

And it’s only a matter of time before the flame in her heart dies too.

—-

It was a nasty fall.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this much worry and cried so much from something Madam Promfrey claims as ‘nothing but a light nudge on the head’, but she was there when the bludger hit his head. She was there when James began losing balance of his broom and falling to the hard ground. She was there when the team crowd around their passed out captain.

Her eyes were getting heavy now. The watch on her wrist has shown that she has skipped dinner a few hours ago. Some of the lights on the hospital wing have been turned off, making the hall darker as night falls deeper. If it wasn’t for the boys coming to visit James half an hour ago, she would be left starving and secretly creeped out by the eerie feeling of the infirmary.

“You should get some rest, Love, you’ve been waiting here for hours.” Remus advises, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze.

“He should be up anytime soon, now,” She reasoned as she looked up to see the tall boy “I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“Trust me, Dove, knowing Prongs, he might just sleep in till tomorrow,” Sirius added “Besides, you won’t miss a thing. He’ll still be the same obnoxious Potter tomorrow morning.”

A small curl of smile tugs on her lips.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Peter offers this time.

“You don’t have to, Wormy. I’m fine—”

“Dove, please,” Sirius begs “You look awful. And I mean this in the most endearing way but you could really use a bath.”

“Thank you, Pads,” She rolls her eyes, finally standing from her seat and glaring at the raven haired boy “Your honesty is always something I could count on, even in the darkest time.”

Sirius grins, nodding, “I am a man of honour.”

“Let me know if anything happens? If he wakes up?”

“We will,” Remus reassures “Goodnight, Love.”

With a last bid of hug and ignoring the still awful churning feeling in her gut, she links arm with Peter and walks out of the hospital wing. It’s been hours since she’s waited for her boyfriend to wake up from his sleep and the fatigue plaguing her body has only been recognised as she takes further steps away from the infirmary. Perhaps the worry has amplified the soreness of her muscles. It’s never an easy life dating the Captain of Gryffindor team.

She hates to admit it, but she might really need that bath Sirius was talking about.

And just when they were about to exit the tower, her brain reminded her of her left satchel, “Shoot, I forgot something.” She groans, letting out a frustrated sigh “Give me ten minutes?”

“Is it that important?” Peter asks “We can just bring it to you later.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise. I have to finish my paper for the first period tomorrow, I need to get my satchel.”

Peter only nods at her as she begins running back to the ward. Truth be told, she’s finished the paper as she waited for James earlier. Leaving her satchel was completely by accident and she could’ve just continued walking back to her dormitory and ask the boys to bring it to her later, but why would she pass up a chance to see her boyfriend one last time?

“So did she come?”

A smile blooms on her face as she hears James’ voice echoes faintly. He’s up.

“Of course she did, she waited for you for hours.” Sirius answers “She’s your girlfriend, Prongs, she never left.”

“Oh,” James answered, the disappointment dripping from his tone slows down her steps “I was asking about Lily, actually.”

There was a pause. She could see Sirius and Remus exchanging a glance from behind their backs. If it wasn’t for the curtain blocking James’ view, he would’ve seen her coming.

“So did she come?” James asks again.

“No, Prongs. Why would she come?” Remus asks, his tone slightly rising in annoyance.

“I don’t know,” James answers “I thought we were getting closer. I just figured she’d want to check on me.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Sirius says this time, the same level of irritation evident in his tone “Why are you even thinking of her? You have a brilliant girlfriend who cares for you. Who literally spent hours sitting on that awful chair, worried about your bonked head, and the first thing you asked about when you woke up was Lily?”

“It was just a question, Pads. No need to get all worked up on me.”

“Well, your question is rubbish, Prongs.”

“Why are you—”

“Hey guys,” She says, finally showing herself from behind the curtain “Sorry, I left my satchel. Oh, hello James, you finally woke up.”

She could see the surprise on James’ eyes that he quickly blinked away with a sweet smile, “Hello, Darling.”

“I’m glad you’re up. Are you feeling okay?”

“Still dizzy, but I’ll live.” He says warmly “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Uh, no, I need to finish my papers.” She says instead, fighting the loud ringing in her ears from the heartache “Besides, you need all the rest you could get. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“But you wouldn’t—”

“I really need to go. Peter is waiting for me,” She cuts in “Good night, James.”

She glances at Remus and Sirius for a brief moment. Staring at them for too long would make all the dam she’s trying to uphold break lose and the last thing she’d want to do tonight would be to cry in front of James. No, she would not give him that satisfaction. It is one thing to deny and avoid all of her questions and another to actually dismiss her presence. Perhaps it's time for her to accept that the heart James wears on his sleeve was never hers to begin with.

As she walks out of the infirmary for the second time tonight, she could hear Sirius’ curse faintly, “You’ve lost her for good now, Prongs.”

#james potter #james potter scenario #james potter scenarios #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter request #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x oc

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joojconverts · 15 days

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4t3 Conversion of HLS' Rose's "Draw Me" Robe

A 4t3 conversion of a gorgeous 1910's robe, made originally by HappyLifeSims, now to TS3!

So first of all hellooo, I'm back with a little conversion I made, which may not seem like a lot, but it was a VERY complicated conversion lol. I'm not 100% back, I'm still re-organizing my life and setting the right priorities for me, but as I said before I really want to keep this hobby going because I love it so much!

In other news, my GPU BROKE lol. It was a veeery old gpu and I already bought it used (it was an AMD Radeon HD 6450 💀). But thankfully I had money to buy a new one, a GTX 1050 Ti (which is still a bit old but 1000x better than my old one). In the meantime tho, I'm using my CPU's internal graphics, and guess who didn't take screenshots of this robe on my old GPU in time? ☝️ So I asked the wonderful @deniisu-sims if she could take them for me, and she took the gorgeous pictures you see in the previews. Thank you sooooo much for helping me out!! 💖

Also, I hope Tumblr doesn't do anything about the "nudity", I censored everything after all lol!

Hope you like it, enjoy! <3

————— —————

Known Problems:

The robe may/will clip with the body that's underneath in some animations. Pretty much inevitable considering its transparency, and I didn't want to make the robe too large!

The sleeves were a headache for me, but I believe I did the best I could considering ts3's bones system. As you can see in the preview, if your sim moves their arms up, they fall to the ground, and if they're close to the body, they'll kinda fold. They'll definitely look off in some animations though!

————— —————

ALL OG CREDITS GO TO @happylifesims! IT’S NOT MY MESH, AND IT’S NOT MY TEXTURES, I JUST CONVERTED THEM TO THE SIMS 3!

————— —————

NOTES:

The sparkles on the lining are an overlay texture!

SimFileShare | Dropbox

☕ buy me a coffee or become a patron!

————— —————

Credits:

HappyLifeSims for mesh and textures - here

💖 @katsujiiccfinds @emilyccfinds @kpccfinds @xto3conversionsfinds

#ts3cc #s3cc #ts3 cc #4t3 #ts4 to ts3

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the-kr8tor · 10 days

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Mr and Mrs Smith AU: When Jane met John

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 9k

Summary: Joining a spy agency? Check ✓ Hired in said agency? Check ✓ Getting a new fancy house? Check ✓ An entire armoury of weapons at your disposal? Check ✓ A new Husband? Check ✓ wait, what?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie and R call each other by fake names (ie: John, Jane, Smith etc), spy AU, CW suggestive, CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, CW vomit mention, TW death.

A/N: Happy 1k! Happy reading!!!❤️

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The waiting room seems like it's designed to make you extra anxious. From the bright fluorescent lights that whir above, to the carpet that smells like a very harsh citrus soap. Add the metallic chairs that's incredibly cold under your slacks— It all makes you bounce your leg from the bundle of nerves inside your stomach. The people waiting around you don't help either, they all look like they came out of magazine covers. Hair all tied up in a perfect bun, pencil skirts that cinch their waist perfectly. Button ups that are ironed until there's no crease in sight.

You bite your lip, eyes glued on the steel door, to where your last resort is, to where your entire future depends on. Looking around the room full of models, it doesn't seem like you're applying for a security job.

Maybe you should've worn that pencil skirt that's gathering dust in your closet.

Even though you technically don't know what kind of job it is, you really need to get this one, or else. Your savings could only get you so far. An old ‘friend’ of yours recommended this ‘company’. It operates at the highest security, the risk is just as high, but the pay is higher. More than what you've ever earned in the five years you've worked anyway.

Flicking your eyes above the door, the light finally turns green from red, and a chiming sound can be heard as the door clicks open on its own. You still wonder where the applicant goes after their interview since you never saw them exit out the same door. A morbid thought passes by your mind: a gun plus a bullet to the head. The image makes you grab the rubber band on your wrist to slap it against your skin. It leaves the stinging pain for only a moment, but it's enough to throw away the vision from your brain.

An applicant enters and you look down at the piece of paper in your hand— you're next.

The number, 2715 is written in Times New Roman. You can recognize that font anywhere, for it's the same font used on newer gravestones, the same font on his— you slap the rubber band against your wrist again. This time harder than the last. The stinging stays for a minute more. Your heels tap against the carpet, the clock ticks, the fluorescent whirs, someone coughs and you want to punch them in the face— you slap the rubber band against your skin again.

Your ears perk up at the familiar chime like you've been Pavlov’d by the sound after waiting for three hours on that uncomfortable metal chair that has tiny holes that you've gotten your pinky finger stuck in on hour two.

With a deep breath, you saunter your way towards the creaking door, trying to summon all the confidence in your body. They may be watching so you do your best to not look as nervous as you feel like.

As you enter the room, the large screen in the center raises a curious brow. The light from the monitor shines a spotlight on the singular office chair right in front of it. The room is dim, save for the single light. The screen reminds you of one of those mall touch screens that shows you the map of the building. There's another door on the opposite wall, now you know where all the other candidates exit, and it's definitely not from a bullet judging from the clean floors.

With a tentative step, you cross the distance. Sitting down, the chair is a comfortable welcome from the last one you sat on.

“Am I supposed to push a button?” You roam your eyes over the circular shape up top. You surmise that it's the camera.

The calming sky blue screen flashes words,

> Hihi, welcome

“Hi?”

> Insert nail clippings

A box slides out below the screen, prompting you to take the ziplock with your nail clippings from your bag. It slides back in with a mechanic hiss once you place the plastic on the drawer, and the screen blinks to a couple of questions that you answer honestly.

> What's your ethnicity?

You don't falter. Answering it truthfully.

> Height?

You clear your throat, the lump is either from the nerves or how your voice faltered when you answered.

> Are you willing to relocate?

You wring your hands together on your lap. “Yes, absolutely. Nothing's holding me back.” Then the dreaded question pops up on the bright screen.

> Tell me about yourself

“Uh, I graduated top of my class.” You scratch the back of your neck. “MI6 agent for three–no, uh four years.” Chuckling shakily, you continue. “I got high merits…w-well until the thing— but I was on the road to promotion b-before it happened.” God, you hate interviews.

> Words that people would describe you with?

You blink, sucking in a breath. “Truthfully?” Joking, the screen doesn't appreciate your humour.

> Yes

“Oh, p-people would describe me as a… someone who has initiative. Cunning…” unfeeling— you slap the band on your wrist again. Sitting up right, you gaze at the camera like your eyes could see the person typing behind it. You guess it's a person at least. “Passed all my training with flying colours, infiltration, marksmanship, hand to hand, you name it. You tell me the job and I'll do it with no questions asked.”

> Are you okay with high risk?

“More than okay.” You answer quickly.

> With a team or alone?

“I'm alright with either, but I prefer alone.”

> Why did you get fired?

“You know why.” You say intensely, eyes boring holes into the screen. For a second you thought you flubbed it but the screen continues to flash a new question.

> Have you killed anyone?

> And why?

The question turns into what you're more accustomed to. “Yes, approximately…” you inhale sharply. “Forty three. Two unintentionally, the rest with various…weapons.” You mindlessly play with the loose thread of your blazer to get rid of the flashing images in your head. “As for why, that's confidential information.”

The robot or the person behind the screen seems to accept your vague answers for it moves on with the interview.

> Favourite food?

Your eyebrows knit at the sudden turn of question. “Uh, I have a sweet tooth, ice cream. I think. But I can't resist good popcorn.” Your tone wavers at the end.

> Have you been in love?

You laugh, but the question still flashes on screen, unchanged and unamused. Clamping up, you feel for the rubber on your wrist.

“I-I'm sorry but what is this part for?”

The screen remains the same.

“—No,” you remember that they've probably already known everything about you even before you applied. So you decide to answer vaguely, that seems to work out before. “Once, just once.”

> When was the last time you said ‘I love you?’

“A long time ago.”

> To whom?

“You know who.”

—

You're surprised that you got the job even after the disastrous interview. The suitcase is light in your tightly clasped hand. The belongings you've tossed inside are sparse, only packing the ones you only need.

The large wooden door looms in front of you, the street behind you is bustling and right across your new home is an expansive park. A park that looks like you need to pay just to get inside. The neighborhood that you're situated in can be described as exclusive, rich and very suburban. The kind of setting where parents would do anything to raise their kids in. Something you've never thought in your dangerous life to live in, more so even step foot in.

With an exhale, you unlock the door. It clicks open surprisingly, you doubted the company for a second when you pushed it in. Maybe they gave you the wrong address? Maybe something went wrong in their system and your name popped up instead of someone more worthy? Someone who's a better shot, someone who isn't as bat shit insane as you.

The long hallway greets you, the low warm light brings comfort to your rattling bones. Its carpet runner is soft beneath your sneakers, red and blue threads weaved around the thick cloth. Framed art is posted on the walls, the artist's name you recognize from some pretentious reality tv about selling mansions that you once drunkenly watched alone on a friday night.

You leave your baggage in the hallway. Opting to explore the cinnamon scented home. Its rich walls remind you of chocolate that you once got for your birthday. The furniture doesn't look like it came from Ikea, the oak is sturdy under your palm, no rough surface, no protruding nails that slashes your flesh.

You snap the rubber band on your wrist for the umpteenth time today.

There's an ornate door sitting on your right, robins and roses are carved on the wood. The biometric scanner is placed right next to the door, it’s a stark contrast to the traditional home. Flipping the cover open, you place your thumb on the smooth surface of the scanner. After a half second, the door clicks open, revealing a steel elevator. The bright light above it almost blinds you.

Your curiosity makes you enter the steel cage, roaming your eyes, you spot the buttons.

“Might as well.” You say to the emptiness of the house.

As the elevator door closes, the front door opens.

There's a lack of elevator music, perhaps that's the best since you always hated the cheery chiming of it. The second the door opens, you take a peek inside. The weird smell combination of chlorine and butter hits your nose.

“Holy shit,” you mumble in disbelief at the indoor pool and theatre. “A fucking pool under the house? And a fucking theatre screen in front? Which rich fuck decided that?” Your voice echoes, bouncing off the tiled walls of the pool.

Roaming the large room, eyes wide and strides small, you marvel at the high ceilings with the same warm tone lights hidden in the coves to soften the lights. You crouch down, letting the warm water lap at your hand.

There's a handful of sun loungers on the side, tables in between them for drinks and whatever rich people put on it. A projector hangs above the pool, an electrical hazard, you thought and an image of an entire pool party getting electrocuted lingers in your mind. You snap the rubber band against your wrist.

The popcorn machine helps distract you from the intrusive thought. Opening the machine, the popped kernels are still warm against your skin. You quickly scoop up a handful of it in your palm, the butter slicking your hand and your mouth as you eat it like how a baby deer eats grass.

You've had enough of the overly decorated basement, getting back on the elevator, you finish off your popcorn with one big bite. Still chewing, you wipe your hands on your trousers to press the shiny buttons on the elevator. The doors close as you chew loudly, eyes up on the screen showing the floors of the house, you don't notice the stranger standing outside of the opened doors.

Butter on your lips, you almost smack him on his pretty face.

“Christ!” You yelp, almost choking on a kernel.

“Close, but no.” He smirks, eyes flicking at the sheen on your lips.

Your husband, the title echoes in your popcorn filled head. His smile captures your attention, a ten megawatt grin that could power the entire posh neighborhood. His piercings glimmer in the warm light, and your eyes are glued to the ones on his eyebrows. Hazel eyes, the left one seems to be lighter than the other, watercolour eyes stare back at you, scanning your features. If you stare long enough you swear you can see patches of green and gray in those expressive eyes.

“John Smith.” He introduces himself, your husband, your partner. John doesn't raise his ringed hand for you to shake, instead he nods at you, waiting patiently for you to say your name. As if he doesn't know.

Clearing your kernel filled throat, you quickly run your tongue across your teeth (with your mouth closed of course) because you don't want to embarrass yourself further by having popcorn stuck in your teeth.

“Jane, Jane Smith.” You reach towards him to shake his hand, he raises a brow at you in turn.

“I don't do that, love, sorry.”

“Shake hands?”

“Yeah,” he looks to the left of your face, his eyebrow twitches slightly— a tell.

“Are you a germaphobe?” You ask before you could stop yourself.

“Not really, I've got issues…with intimacy.” John shrugs, the metals on his leather jacket clinks together. You think he'd rather be a model or a rock star instead of a spy with how he dresses and carries himself with confidence.

You smile knowingly, “We all do, but you don't have that issue. It's our first day of marriage and you decide to lie to your wife?” You click your tongue, eyebrow raised. “Not a very good first impression, John.”

He'll never get used to being called that basic name. ‘John’ takes your hand, it's warm, searing hot under your slippery hand. You'd thought his warmth would cook your flesh, you guess the butter on your palm would work wonders. You're starting to regret snacking. The calluses on his palm matches your own, a large scar across his palm tells you a story untold. Silver rings decorate his long fingers. There's a more simple silver bracelet on his wrist, a stark contrast to the ornate rings he sports on both hands.

He's handsome, you think, rightfully so. With his chiseled jaw that rivals any greek statue and eyes that could be mistaken for stars; he's tall too, so that's a plus. You lucked out on the fake husband department. Well, there's worse men to fake marry out there. Just judging from first impressions, you're glad he's the one you have on your side,

“How'd you know?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

“I'm very perceptive.”

“Trained?”

“Nope,” you hide your bundle of nerves with your casual tone. His hand is still clasped on your own, you don't notice it. “Just very good at reading people.”

“Did you have a stint at the BAU too?”

Too? You ignore it for now. “No,” chuckling, you finally notice the heat on your palm so you let him go. “Just…natural talent, I guess.”

“What’s under the house?” John asks, stepping aside so you could exit the elevator.

“A beating heart.” You curse yourself, fingers already reaching for the rubber band on your wrist.

To your surprise, John laughs. The sound is genuine, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I got the reference.”

“I figured.”

“I saw a black box in the office, you wanna check it out?” He points behind him with his thumb.

“Why? Do you think there's a beating heart in there too?”

“Maybe.” He plays along, walking beside you. “You never know with the company, for all we know there's a head in there.”

“Morbid.” You joke as he opens the door for you.

“Says you?” John keeps reminding himself of his real name whilst he memorizes the side of your face. He already wants to tell you his real name, not the one assigned to him by the suits behind the faceless screen he has grown familiar with. He says his name in his mind again, if he accidentally blurted it out, well, c'est la vie.

“Says me,” you shrug casually, trying to keep up with his wit and charm. You already think you're losing. You scrunch your face at the painting above the mantle. It's an art of two lovers doing the tango, if tango excludes clothes and includes intense snogging.

He chuckles right next to you, an airy laugh that has you smiling too. “A very brave choice. Not my taste, but whatever floats the company's boat. What's inside is a bit better though.” Your ‘husband’ reaches towards the frame of the painting, gently pressing down, it releases a metallic click as it reveals a secret compartment full of weapons.

You hide a snort behind your hand. The cabinet reminds you of your own. Unimpressed, you flick your eyes down at the office table, the large black box sitting on top of it is just begging to be opened.

Without a second thought, you open it. Taking out the bottle of expensive looking wine, you read the card that is tied in a neat ribbon around the neck.

“‘Good luck on your first day of marriage’” you look at the man beside you. He's incredibly close to you, his elbow grazing yours, lips slightly parted whilst he takes a peek at the wine. He smells of burgundy and leather, it calms your senses for some odd reason. “I prefer coke.” You practically shove the bottle in his hands. The glass clinks against his metal rings.

“The snorting variation or the fizzy one?” He asks, placing the bottle down on the narra table with an almost silent thud.

“The fizzy one.” You take his question at face value. He doesn't question why you don't prefer alcohol. Sitting down on the plush office chair, you open the laptop in front of you. It dings, needing a password to open it. “It needs a—”

Before you could even finish the question, he gives you a scrap of paper from the numerous envelopes inside the box. The password is printed on it with the same font as the one from the piece of paper you held a couple of weeks ago.

You type it whilst he rifles through the box. The home screen pops up, nothing too fancy or out of the ordinary. Except for the single application in the corner that's only labeled as ‘S’

Clicking it, a chat box appears.

> Hihi, follow man

John snakes up next to you, the harsh light from the laptop shines on his pensive face. You return your attention towards ‘your boss’. A picture of a young blond man pops up in the chat, there's a mole near his left eye, he sports dark eyebrows. And a look that says ‘daddy paid for my college!’

> 40.748817, -73.985428

“That's downtown I think.” John pipes up next to you, and you look at him like he just said the sky is green and the grass is blue.

> Take keys, take car. Bring car here

> 51.505554, -0.075278.

“A car?” You rhetorically ask.

“Must be a very expensive car, or an important one.” John answers back as he leans further down to take a better look at the monitor. His hand is on the back of your chair, his necklaces dangle on his neck like a pretty chandelier.

You both wait for more instructions but it doesn't come.

“Hihi isn't very talkative, huh?” Your voice echoes in the awkward silence.

“‘Hihi?’”

“Yeah, I thought I'd give it a nickname.” You think he's weirded out but with an amused laugh he pats your shoulder nonchalantly.

“Cute.” You don't know if he's referring to you, or to the nickname you dubbed your electronic boss. “I've separated our papers.” John says as you still contemplate his last comment. “Here's yours.”

“Thanks.” You scan the pile in your hands. Your own face greets you as you flip through it all.

“It has everything we need. Credit card, ID's, carry permit and a passport.”

“What's that one?” You point at the larger envelope next to John's pile. A smaller black leather envelope sits atop it.

He opens the large envelope, giving you the contents of it. “Marriage certificate. And this one…” shaking the leather envelope, whatever is inside of it clinks. Taking it out, he shows you the gold bands. “...our wedding rings.” Heat rises in your cheeks unavoidably once he says it softly. “May I?” Open palm reaching out, he beckons.

You try to remember which hand wears it. With a split second decision, you place your left hand atop his own. Carefully sliding the cold ring in your marriage finger, you stay locked in on his eyes that's concentrating like he's disarming a bomb.

John pats your hand and then inserts his own ring in his finger, mirroring yours.

“Guess we're married.” You shrug casually like your heart doesn't beat against your ribcage, like it's trying to escape its confines. “It feels kind of weird?”

“We are,” he flashes you his signature smirk. “And we'll get used to it, hm, wife?”

“Yeah, I'll adapt.” You say just barely above a whisper, hands suddenly clammy.

“That's my girl.” Throwing you a wink, he walks away from a flustered you.

Yeah, you got lucky.

—

Morning comes and you had the best sleep you've had in years. Even if you slept on an empty stomach last night, you still slept like a baby on the eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton blanket. You stare blankly at the beige ceiling, hands roaming around the soft bed sheet like you're making a snow angel. Sleep ridden eyes roam around the expansive master bedroom to which your new husband has graciously let you take.

Speaking of ‘John’, his bedroom is just across your own. Surprisingly enough, he hasn't woken up yet based on the silence in the hallway outside, you hadn't pegged him as a late riser.

Breakfast calls for you when your stomach rumbles loudly, but you're too comfortable to even move from your spot. Something taps from your window that's facing the foot of your bed. A soft tippy tap of something hitting the glass that has you sitting up. Eyes blinking rapidly, you stare off a pigeon perched outside. Its iridescent feathers shine in the early morning sun, its beak tapping rhythmically at the window.

Sliding your hand behind you, blindly grasping at a pillow, you fling it across the room to scare off the bird. The pillow hits your mark and out flies away the annoying pigeon. With a sigh, you get off your ass to get ready for the day ahead. You don't want to be late to your first day out in the field, no use in rotting in your luxurious bed if you can't keep it after you get fired for being late.

You dress for the day and for the cool weather. Spring has come but the freezing temperature has decided to stay for a little while. With a cozy turtleneck and comfy slacks, you forgo the torturous device called ‘heels’ for a pair of trainers. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you shrug with a huff. And you snap the rubber against your skin once again.

Taking the chair off the doorknob and then unlocking the door, you exit your sanctuary. Closing your door softly, you find yourself in front of John's room. Judging from the soft snores, you notice that he’s still sleeping. You might be his fake wife but it's not your job to wake him up. So you continue down the hallway and into the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of cereal.

Bowl in hand, you chew as you walk up to the rooftop. Unlocking it, the sun greets you with a comfortable heat, and you frown at it. You keep eating whilst you explore the space. There's a bountiful garden in the corner, raised garden beds full of fresh vegetables and fruit that is ripe for the taking. An outside dining area sits in the middle, you recognize the long table from a catalog you once read to pass the time at the dentist. You remember that it doubles as a grill and leg warmer in the winter.

“Fancy,” you murmur with your mouth full of grainy goodness. Sipping the leftover milk in the bowl, you place it on the expensive table to crouch down next to a bushel of strawberries to sniff. “Almost ripe,” you figure from the softness of the fruit.

A bird flies above you, it's shadow casting over you. With the sound of fluttering wings, the bird perches on the table, black orbs staring at you, head tilting like it's observing your presence.

“Are you the same fucking bird?” You question the pigeon. It coos at you, and then pecks at the ceramic of your discarded bowl. “Motherfucker—” standing up, you have the look of someone ready to square up with the feathered creature.

“Why are you fighting an innocent bird?” John appears with a mug of tea in his hand. You forgot to make tea.

“I wasn't fighting with it.”

“He,” your partner crosses the distance, the bird doesn't fly away from the close proximity. You raise an eyebrow at that. “might be hungry.” He gestures towards the strawberries behind you with his chin. “Think you can grab us one, lovie?” You're gonna need some time to get used to that term.

“It's not ripe.”

“I don't think he's picky.”

“It's too sour, it might upset his stomach.”

“He's a pigeon, he's used to eating shit off the pavement. I think that's fine, love.”

With an awkward nod, you pick the one that's redder than the rest. Throwing it towards John, he catches it with a practiced hand. He sits down before laying the fruit in front of the bird. You watch it unfold, the pigeon hops on the table, beak pecking at the seeds. You're intrigued at their interaction.

John sips at his drink, still in his sleep clothes. Toned arms in full display from the loose tank top he sports. Pajama pants hanging low on his hips, silk bonnet on his head. He only has one sock on his feet, you tilt your head.

“What happened to your sock?” You point at his bare foot curiously.

“Hmm?” He looks down, and he chuckles like he just realized the missing article of clothing. “Don't know, probably kicked it off while I was sleepin’”

“Oh,” you blink, “you should get ready, we might miss our target.”

He fakes salutes at you, drinking casually from his mug as you leave the rooftop. He doesn't miss how you didn't take your dish with you. Sighing, he watches the pigeon eat his fill.

—

You and John arrive at a pub. It's dim inside with only a few miserable patrons sitting sparsely at different corners of the musty establishment. They all look miserable, all having expressions from different points of the human emotion. But there's only one face you're observing— your target.

He sits alone on the bar stool, back hunched, eyes red and nursing a half filled pint of beer. Holding his face in his hand, blond hair raked in between his fingers, bomber jacket hanging loosely on his form, bags under his sagging eyes. He's the picture of someone who's on the bottom of the barrel.

John guides you with his hand hovering on your back. Not touching, at the same time still close, you are supposed to be a couple after all. You slide into a booth that has the perfect view of the target, but still out of his sight and out of earshot. The leather seat is worn down, tiny bits of it are ripped, at least it's not sticky. He orders for you, and you observe how he slyly roams his eyes towards the man, looking out for the keys.

He comes back with a plate of chips and dip. “Thought it would be weird not to order anythin’”

“Good call,” you take a chip whilst your eyes only briefly leave the target's back. “Thought you'd buy me a pint.”

“Did you want a pint? This early? Do you want to talk about it?” He half jokes as he takes a smaller chip.

“No,” you scoff, “and no. I just thought you'd order it instead of this.”

“You're not the only perceptive one in this relationship.” John looks over his shoulder to quickly do a once over at the forlorn man.

“Did you see where he's keeping it?”

“Inside his jacket, right side.”

You nod, “Is he carrying?”

“Not that I can tell.” He shrugs, licking the salt off his finger. “So, why'd you join?”

“Really? We're doing that?” You watch as the man gulps down his remaining drink and then orders a new one immediately.

“Yes, we're doin' that. Won't that make us work better together? To get to know each other a bit more?”

“Fine,” you silently huff. “No one else would take me, this is a last resort, I guess?”

“Bullshit, love, I think anyone would be happy to have you in their…agency?”

“Flattery won't get you anywhere, birdman.” A small smile appears on your lips, he beams at you. “Besides, who else is hiring for someone with the specific skill set that I have?”

He hums, while turning subtly to take a peek at the target. Returning his attention to you after seeing the blonde man still hunched in his stool, John takes another chip. “True, did you get kicked out from the last one?”

“Not really,” you stare at the crack on the wooden table. “You?”

“Not really,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“You MI6?” He asks casually. “This your first time in London?”

“I'm not answering either of those questions.”

“C’mon,” he wiggles his left hand, the wedding band shines in the pub light. “Husband, remember? ‘sides, I won't tell anyone.”

You place your elbows on the table, smiling sarcastically at him. After a beat for his anticipation, you grin wider. “No.”

His shoulders fall, a chortle escaping his lips. “Cheeky.” Pointing an accusing finger at you, he quickly looks behind him, only to find the target sluggishly exiting the pub. “He's on the move.”

You both follow the drunk man like gravity is pulling you towards him. Walking the streets of busy downtown London, stranger's faces whizz past you. John has his hands casually in his pockets, yet he stays close to you, eyes flicking in the corners to check on you.

“Why don't you ask me a question? Y’know tit for tat?” He waits patiently for you to answer back, hell he'll even take a grunt at this point.

“Okay,” you surprisingly start the conversation on his behalf. “Have you killed anyone?” The passing pedestrians don't seem to notice you and the morbid subject.

Your partner snorts, nose scrunched up, eyes glued on the staggering target. “Nah. Have you?”

“I call bullshit,” you dodge a distracted woman scrolling on her phone. “Anyway, I have. I'm not exactly proud of it or flaunting it if you're thinking that I'm doing that.”

“Good, once you start flaunting it like a bloody trophy, you've lost it.”

You hum in agreement, the sound of a deep rumble in your chest as you two turn a corner. “Why do you think hihi needs us to nick the car?”

“Hihi” he chuckles, you turn to him with a serious face. “There's probably a stash of confidential information in the trunk or somethin’”

“Maybe a stash of weapons?” The man in front of you stumbles. “I don't see him as the type to harbor secret documents.”

John nods, “a highly infectious disease then?”

“Christ, we better drive carefully once we get a hold of it.” You turn to him briefly. “Maybe it's a really expensive sports car and he's all sad and mopey because he's gone broke after buying it?”

“Got a whole story now, huh?” He pushes you lightly with his leather clad shoulder, and you smile softly. “You good at pickpocketing him?” Your partner gestures with his chin, said target is walking into traffic. He seems unbothered by the oncoming vehicles. John curses under his breath.

“We should do that now before he kills himself.” You speed walk across the crossing, grabbing the drunk man before a car hits him.

Arms enveloping around his bomber jacket, swiping him away and quickly carrying him to the footpath, you save him before an suv hits you both. The car honks loudly and angrily as your target groans in your arms like he's about to hurl the contents of his stomach.

John punches the hood of the car, pointing at the driver accusingly. A distraction for you to take the keys hidden in the man's jacket.

“You almost hit my fuckin' wife, you wanker!” Your partner yells, covering the sound of jingling keys in your expert hand. He plays the part well.

Surprisingly, the target straightens up in your hold, a split second after you pocketed the car keys inside your own coat.

“Y-you,” he slurs, feet struggling to keep himself upright. “Dickhead!” Slamming his fists on the hood with a loud *thunk, he joins John who gives you a look and a shrug. The drunken yelling gets louder and the driver now exits his car with an equally angry look.

John takes this opportunity to come back to your side, hand holding your elbow, he leads you away from the screaming match as more and more people try to intervene.

“Got it?” He whispers closely to the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps to rise in your arms.

“‘course I did.” You jingle the keys inside your pocket. “I'm not an amateur.”

Playing along, he laughs, hand still holding your elbow softly. “Good job, missus.”

With an awkward chuckle, you lean away from him. “Just so you know, I'm not in this for…the romance.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I'm not looking to date my co-worker.”

John raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. if the situation calls for us to actually act as a couple—”

“We'll act as a couple, I won't fuss if that's what you're saying.”

“Good, now let's get this bloody car.”

—

“A fucking ‘99 toyota corolla?” You stare in disbelief at the rusting metal. “At least it's one of the good models.” Kicking the wheel, you expect it to tumble over like in an old timey cartoon.

John is crouched way down to check the bottom of the car. “It's clear.” He stands up fully, cleaning his hands on his jeans. You wince at his movements. “What?”

“Nothing.” You open the driver's side, the smell of alcohol and something musty hits your nose. “Nasty.” Coughing, you air it out by opening another door.

“You know your cars?”

“A little bit.” You say with your nose pinched. Sparing him a look, he stands in the parking lot like he's still waiting for the rest of the story. “What?”

“Throw me a bone here, love.” You roll your eyes. “Why do you know so much about cars?”

“I said I know a little bit.” You place your hands on your hips like an exasperated mother whose son keeps asking weird questions about dinosaurs. “I dated a mechanic.” You say flatly.

“Really? Did you date a pickpocket too? Or do you date people so you could absorb their skills like kirby?”

“Are you jealous?” You tease him with a comment you didn't have the foresight that it would backfire.

“We are married.” He says matter-of-fact with a killer smirk and eyes glinting with mischief. “And this is technically our honeymoon so—”

“Get in the fucking car, birdman.”

—

The wheel is sticky under your hands, you have an intense urge to wash your hands or to at least grab a sanitizer. Apparently your disgust shows on your face, for John chortles next to you.

“What?” You say through gritted teeth.

“Nothin’, you just look like someone shat in your tea.”

“The wheel is sticky.”

“I have a handkerchief with me, d’you want me to?” Taking out the dark green cloth from his jean pockets, he's already twisting in his seat to wipe it clean.

“Please,” you ask softly, hands sliding down to make space for him.

Your hand never left the wheel while he cleans it for you. John's seatbelt is unclasped so he could have more movement, his face is close to your vision, warmth blanketing over you. He's so close that you can smell his cologne, it's a different one from yesterday, it's more flowery with a hint of mint. You spot a hidden mole under his ear. A tiny dot that is just begging to be poked.

Without thinking, you press softly with the pad of your finger. He yelps, flinching away instinctively. Looking at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, you're ready to be called a nasty nickname, or be cussed out with a loud voice. Instead of what you're anticipating, a laugh bellows out, a rumbly laugh that makes you smile and let out an almost silent chortle.

“I think you found my mole.” John holds the side of his neck with a grin. “You let your urges get to you, love.”

“Sorry,” you keep your eyes on the road to hide your embarrassment.

“It's fine, your hand was just cold. Ask me next time, I have a few more cute moles on me.”

“Nevermind, you ruined it.” With a roll of your eyes and a smile, you park at the coordinates. “Nice acting back there, I see an Emmy nomination for you in the future.”

“Thanks, I barely remember what I said. You sure this is the place?” John peeks at the map pulled up on your phone. “Shit, we're here.”

The entire street is suburban, large colonial houses lining the sides, tall pine trees decorate the sidewalks. There's not a lot of people walking by, save for a couple pedestrians walking their dogs, the place is devoid of people.

“What now?” You unclasp your seatbelt to twist around in your seat so you could observe the neighborhood.

“Hihi told us to bring it here, so maybe we should—?” John lets out a high pitched scream that also has you yelling in surprise, not from whatever made him shriek but from the sound that escaped him. “What the fuck!”

Leaning slightly to look at what had his knickers in a bunch, you stare blankly at a bespectacled man in a bespoke suit. The man gives you and your partner an apologetic look, he points for John to open the window.

He turns towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Should I?”

“Yeah, I think you should.”

“What if he's got a gun?” He whispers.

“We also have guns, John. I'll cover you, don't worry. Maybe this is what hihi asked us to do.”

“Easy for you to say, you're not the one opening it.” He gives you a glare before rolling the window down an inch. “Hi, mate. What can we do for you?”

“The car,” the stranger points a lengthy finger at the wheel. His voice is crackly and gravelly, like he just smoked a pack of cigarettes before he went up to the car. “You're late, but that doesn't matter. How much do I owe you, folks?”

“Uh, the usual.” You say with fake confidence.

“Good,” the lean man straightens up, “mind gettin’ out of the car then?”

“Right, sorry, bruv.” John, gives you one look before exiting the car. He's nervous and so are you.

As the doors shut, the man flexes his open palms expectantly for the keys, to which you hand off immediately. He gives you bad vibes, maybe your intuition tells you to run for the hills.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I'll wire the money to the usual account.” The nickname sends shivers down your spine.

He closes the door and starts up the car. With a splutter of the exhaust, he slowly drives away. You and John watch, standing side by side in the middle of the street in confusion.

“He was weird, right? Not to mention it was too easy.” You turn your head to look at him. “Maybe they're trying to ease us in?”

“It was all weird, not just him—” A blast coming from the car interrupts him, the sheer force of it sends you two down on the rough pavement.

Your cheeks are incredibly warm from the searing heat of the bomb. The light from it blinds the two of you.

Palms skinned, trousers slashed at the knees, your ears ring loudly like an annoying buzz from a broken microphone. Coughing loudly, smoke fills your lungs, debris is scattered around the once pristine neighborhood. There's blood on the concrete, you can't hear John calling for you, your vision is blurred by the cloud of smoke. His hand reaches for you, and your instincts tell you to run.

“Fuck!” He yells, running beside you at full speed. “What the fuck!”

“Keep running!” You yell as he turns around to check on a woozy you. “I'm fine!”

Someone behind you screams for you to stop so you and your partner run faster. Knees aching, thighs burning, you don't stick around to look who's running after you. The unmistakable click of a gun’s safety is loud in your eardrums, even if your lungs threaten to give out, you sprint right next to John as he turns a corner and into a carwash.

The smell of soap and heavy pine scented car freshener hits your bloody nose. He tugs you towards the plastic curtains and inside what you presume as the employee lounge, someone yells after you but it falls on deaf ears as you and John continue your escape.

Exiting the establishment, the metal doors open to a messy alleyway. Boxes upon boxes of trash and god knows what are littered all around. The pungent smell makes you want to hurl, or maybe that's the adrenaline having a weird effect on your stomach.

You two find reprieve for a second, huffing, trying to get oxygen back in. Hands on your aching thighs, the concrete below you slowly turns crimson as your mysterious injury drips precious blood on the messy ground.

“You're bleedin’” He says in between inhales. There's rustling of fabric next to you, and you feel the warm cloth placed on your forehead.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Waving the drenched cloth away, you scoff lightly. “Don't.”

“What am I supposed to do? Let you bleed?”

You stand up straight, blood coating your lashes as you stare at him. “I've got a better idea.” Placing your palms on the source of the pain, you let your blood coat it.

“What—?” You roughly smudge the warm ichor all over his face and shirt, the plain white of his t-shirt turns a dark pink shade with your touch. Leaning away, he gives you a slow nod of understanding. “Ease us in, huh?”

“I'm rarely wrong and this is one of the rare instances.”

“Let's hope you're right about this one.”

—

You kick the backdoor open with ferocity. It bangs loud against the wall, getting the restaurant staff's attention.

“Help please! My husband!” John's limp arm is around your shoulders, your hand gripping on to his waist to add that one detail that would convince them of your innocence. “There was a bomb!” You don't let the bystanders touch you or John whilst you quickly lumber through their dinghy bathroom. There's murmurs and chairs scraping on the tiled floors as you lock the door behind you.

The bathroom is small, tiles yellowed from the years, the stench of bleach itching your nose. The lightbulb above you whirs like it's about to burst out. He leaves your side to take off his bloodied jacket, tossing it outside from the window— his exit, you presume.

“Your phone.” He holds his empty hand out to you, when you only raise an eyebrow at him, he sighs, eyes turning soft, adrenaline melting out of his system. “Please, c’mon, love, you got me sayin’ please and shit.”

“What for?” You try desperately to wipe the blood off your face.

“To contact you, just in case you need help.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, how else did you get the job then? Just let me,” his voice wavers a bit but he corrects himself with a timed clear of his smoke filled throat. “Please, Jane.”

After pausing, you take your phone out from your pocket to give it to him. He enters his number after seeing your home screen of a basic mountain range.

“There.” Giving the phone back, you expected him to give his too, but he doesn't as he's already halfway out of the window. “I'll see you at home?”

You let out a chuckle, “yeah, I'll see you at home.” He gives you one last smile as he exits the small bathroom and into the streets where numerous sirens go off from ambulances and fire trucks.

—

It was a blur the entire trip home, you bought a loose hoodie from a thrift store and then promptly discarded your blood soaked coat in the bottom of a dumpster. It was a shame though, you liked that coat, it had real wool in the lining. The uber drive was thankfully uneventful, if the driver noticed the remnants of dried blood on your skin he didn't mention it. You gave him five stars for it.

An empty house greets you, John's shoes are nowhere to be seen in the hallway, nor his jacket. You worry for a second, mind rushing through possibilities. The rubber band burns as you pull it back and release it with a harsh thwack against your skin.

The water is cool as you shower, your blood mixing in and pooling around your feet and into the drain like a macabre whirlpool. You don't let your mind wonder about the man that you turned into a street pancake. Instead, you focus on yourself in the mirror.

You stare at the gash near your hairline, the skin around it is angry, leaving a throbbing sensation. There's also a few scratches on your face, especially around your chin. Your main concern is the large gash. It doesn't look like it needs to be stitched together though, which is a good thing since you don't have the energy to even tend to the tiny scratches on your palms. Cleaning and bandaging the wound, you put on clean pajamas and head to bed.

You stop in your tracks when you see John lying face down on your bed. Still in his iron soaked clothes, save for the jacket. You glare at his boot, it's off the bed but you still grit your teeth at the thought of it grazing your bedsheets.

He senses your presence, and he lifts his head up, chin helping prop himself up. “Your bed is better than mine.” His multi coloured eyes are laced with exhaustion, dull yet there's still a spark when he looks at your annoyed gaze.

“Who are you? Goldilocks?”

“Yeah, I ate your porridge too.”

“Damn, not my porridge.” Too tired to fight him, you slither into bed next to him, an arm's length away from his equally tired body. Staring at the ceiling, you feel his eyes on you. “What's up with your eyes?”

“It's called heterochromia—”

“I know what it is, I'm asking why you're staring at me like you're about to devour me.”

“I could devour you if you want.” He says nonchalantly but with the charisma of a man who knows what he's talking about.

“Maybe next time.” You blindly pat his shoulder which ended up with you patting his cheek. He hums at your touch, a deep rumble that you felt through the mattress. “Not bad for our first day huh?” Lifting your hand away, he twists on the bed to mirror your position. Now you're both gazing at the beige ceiling like it owes you money.

You're tired but for some reason you're fighting off the sandman from sprinkling sand in your heavy eyes.

“I lied back there, I've killed before.” His voice is merely above a whisper but you heard it as loud as a trumpet blaring in your ears.

“I know, you wouldn't be here if you haven't.” You answer with empathy. “If it makes you feel better, I've been to London before. Twice, on a family trip and a decade later…on vacation.”

“Glad to know.” He taps the inside of your elbow as a thank you for trusting him. “You CIA?” He blurts out above the comfortable silence.

“God no.” You truthfully say.

“And here I thought you're an alumni of the culinary institute of America.”

For the first time in years, you let out the loudest laugh you could muster. Snort and all.

Your ‘husband’ joins in with his own rambunctious laughter, the bed shakes at the loud guffaws. The happy sound fills the room, and your heart feels like it isn't as heavy as before. It's still there, the heaviness, but it isn't as cumbersome. You now realize that you've only snapped the rubber band on your wrist a couple times today.

An annoying tapping sound interrupts you both. Simultaneously sitting up by the elbows, you two tilt your head at the intruder.

“It's that pigeon again.” You actually smile at the thought of the same bird coming back to your house like a white strand of hair that keeps growing even after you've pulled it out. “I think we should name him. Something like Terry or Flanders.” You chuckle softly.

“Jeff.”

You shake your head. “Nope, doesn't suit him, what if it's a she?”

“His name is Jeff.” John turns to look at you, eyes full of certainty.

You turn to him, blinking rapidly in realization. “He's yours. He's your bird, isn't he?”

“You are insightful.” He smiles, a soft one that fills you with endearment that you haven't felt in years. “Met him a few months ago, fed him once and now he wouldn't leave me alone. I guess he followed me here too.”

“Y’know, pigeons are really smart, kinda like crows. He probably thinks you're his daddy.”

“Does that make you Jeff's mummy?”

“I don't want to be Jeff's mom.” Said bird taps on your window again, like he senses that you're currently talking about him.

“Too bad,” he raises his marriage finger, showing you the gold band. “He's our kid, love.”

You smile, hiding it with a huff and by laying back down with a gentle thump.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” His face pops up in your vision, you nod in place. “My real name is—”

“Let me stop you right there.” You sit back up, almost hitting his head with your own at how fast you sat. “There's a reason why they gave us fake names. Whether we like it or not, It's John,” You point at him. “And Jane Smith.” You point at yourself. “Until they dismiss us, that's our names. Not whatever you were about to tell me.”

“But you know it's not our names, right?”

“Of course I do. You don't look like a John, John.”

“And you don't look like a Jane. I just…” He sighs. “Just want someone to know my real name. We almost died back there, what if we stayed a minute longer inside that car? What then? I don't want to die with someone else's name written on my grave.” His words are genuine, but it sounds like he has said these words before.

Still, you sympathize with him. You've gone undercover before, taken someone’s name instead of yours for months. Those missions were so long and tiring that you almost forgot your own name. But it was…survivable because he was with you. John has no one, and this time you have no one. No one that calls your real name, no one that can identify your body if you suddenly croak in the middle of a mission.

No one else but John and Jane Smith.

So with bated breath, you give him the go ahead. “Okay, tell me. But I can't promise that I'll call you by that name.”

“Don't want to get in trouble with hihi?”

“No,” you scoff. “I don't give a shit what that robot says. I just don't want to die with a stranger's name. So fuck it, tell me yours and I'll mine.”

He smiles the same smile that he gave you before he went out of that dinky bathroom window. The smile that reassures you, a smile that tells you everything will be alright.

“It's Hobie,” Hobie finally says. “Hobie Brown.”

“It suits you better. Thought it was Jeff.” You whisper, and you give him your real name. The same name you were born with, not the fabricated ones your former agency has given you, not the ones your new company has given you.

He whispers back your name, tongue rolling off it like honey. Then, Hobie smiles again, nodding and those heterochromatic eyes bore into you comfortably like the sun's rays kissing your skin in the summer.

“You look like one. Definitely suits you better than Jane.” You smile shyly as you lose the fight against sandman.

In Hobie's mind, he hopes that knowing your real name is enough, enough to keep you alive, enough of an incentive for him to keep you safe, since you're not just a typical Jane anymore that the company randomly selected for him, no, you're Y/N L/N, and he'll do anything to protect you better. Because maybe, just maybe, knowing your real name this early would work, and you'll outlive all the Janes that he himself has outlived.

As you fall asleep next to him, he stares at Jeff the third. In that luxurious house, within those bulletproof walls, and in your room lies a deep anger in him. An anger that keeps him sane in all those years trying to pay his debt. He needs to end the cycle, not just for him but for all the agents that are in the same shoes as him. For now he lets you sleep soundly, for now, he plots the demise of the people behind the screen.

The laptop flashes a new message from the company.

> Mission complete: 3 fails remaining

> Good job, next mission?

Support banner by @cafekitsune ❤️

A/N: thank you for reading!!! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️❤️❤️

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tinyidle · 1 year

Note

If they have no idea of the q political group, how would she know how to search it up? Like in Korean, how would people who are not Korean know to look up 노무노무, when they could think it's a cute way of saying 너무너무? But it's could be a secret support for a previous Korean president who did not so good things. But none Koreans may not realise how it's offensive.

What do you think?

answered on @tisgifrants, my rant and gif acc

#answer to anon #my second account #ti's ☕

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pseudowho · 24 days

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Higuruma Hiromi Masterlist

REQUESTS CLOSED!

Updated: 26th April 2024

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🔥 Smut. 💔 Angst 💕 Romance

☕ Comfort/Fluff 🤡 Clowning

🐙 Monsterfucking. 📚 Education (*dirty laugh*)

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Behind the Wall 🔥💕-- a desperate Higuruma visits your glory hole

Calamus et Gladius (the pen and the sword) 🔥💕💔☕-- slow-burn, enemies to lovers Culling Game smut with Higuruma and a foreign reader

Cunt-Drunk 💕🔥-- Hiromi goes out for work-drinks and karaoke...and comes home feral.

Daddy 🔥☕💕-- dating apps are a hazard for men like Higuruma Hiromi...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Higuruma x Reader x Nanami sex-pollen threesome

Domestic Bliss series--

#1 Fire Alarm #2 Storm #3 Dishcloth

Fellatio 🔥-- the bathtub lawyer receives head in his office.

Fumus et Ignis 🔥💕-- sometimes, Hiromi smokes and ties you up while he makes you ride him.

Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm Stuck!' with Hiromi, two bottles of wine and a compromising position with his gavel.

Hiromi and Nemo ☕-- tales of Higuruma Hiromi, and his little black cat.

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship Headcanons ☕🔥💕

In Flagrante Delicto 💔☕🔥💕-- Higuruma struggles to adapt to life as a sorcerer, refusing all of your offers to help...until he needs you.

"I've Committed a Crime" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕-- Higuruma is a ruthless tease

Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain 💔🔥💕-- The reader throws Higuruma out of their home after they struggle to adapt to his new Cursed power...and the reader must then hunt him down in the Culling Game, to bring him home.

Men with Big Noses 🔥💕-- you reveal a kink for Higuruma's nose, and he shows you exactly what he can do with that.

Milk and Honey 💕🔥-- Hiromi is obsessed with your milk, and loves you while you sleep.

Office Besties ☕💕-- Hiromi and you are just friends...right?

Sanguis et Vinum 🔥💕-- period sex with Higuruma

Shower drabble ☕💕-- Higuruma comforts you after a bad day.

The Stairwell 🔥💕-- You've been teasing Higuruma all day at the office; he catches up to you, eventually.

Vinum Rubrum 🔥💕-- wine is better when you share a glass...and your mouths.

The Stacks 🔥💕☕-- spending all night with your college/university rival at the library, doesn't go exactly as you'd planned...

The Widow's Keeper ☕💔💕-- The reader and Higuruma traverse the complexities of love and grief, after the death of Nanami Kento, her first husband.

"Your Honour" Ask and Drabble 💕🤡🔥-- Hiromi forgets your name as he cums.

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todomochi-uwu · 23 days

Text

favourite crime. (1/2) J.Y & B.C

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x reader / Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, smut

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey

Did it I proofread it? Kinda.

Did I just spent the last four hours working on it? Yes.

Am I just gonna post it and hope for the best? Also yes.

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

You fell exhausted into the bed, your chest heaving, legs numb and lips swollen. He falls right next to you, in the same state. Both staring at the ceiling, trying to regain composure. You think of your next words very carefully, how do you approach him without sounding needy? How do you ask him without actually asking? Yunho’s thinking about how he has to get up early in the morning for work, and that he must leave in the next five minutes. The thought of staying over not even crossing his mind, even though work is closer to your place than his.

And while you keep trying to think of a way to get what you want, he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and comes back, just to start putting his clothes back on.

“It’s late, Yun. You should stay over.” You’ve used that one before, and it didn’t work. But you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“All my stuff is back at my place, and I need it for tomorrow.” He ties his shoes and looks around for his wallet and jewellery. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

“Can’t you just grab it quick in the morning?”

“That doesn’t make sense, Y/n.” He pats his pockets making sure he’s got everything. “Hey, have you seen my hoodie? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Uh no, I don’t know where it ended up.” It’s not like it’s hidden right under your pillow. That would be crazy. “I’ll look for it, you can come get it tomorrow, or I can bring it to you while you are at work, it’s no…” He cut you off immediately.

“There’s no need for that, don’t worry about it. I’ll take it next time I come by. See you Thursday, gorgeous.” And with that, he leaves.

And so, the story goes. Every single time. Yunho comes over, horny, desperate and right to the point. Never steering away from his goal. Sex with him is mind-blowing, you won’t even lie, he knows what he’s doing and he’s managed to learn every single thing that makes your toes curl. He knows every inch of your body like a map, inside and outside. The things his mouth does should be illegal, the way his fingers curl just the right way while his lips suck on your clit, maintaining a rhythm that has you seeing stars in seconds. His cock is huge and gorgeous, making it hit all the right spots, while he whispers the most sinful things in your ear.

Looking at you taking my cock, aren’t you such a good slut?

Every single time you beg him to let you suck him off. Doesn’t matter if your jaw ends up aching the next morning, or if your tongue goes numb. The image alone of Yunho losing himself in the pleasure you bring makes you cum untouched. The way small whimpers escape his mouth as he starts growing closer, his hips thrusting into your wet cavern desperate for release, his head thrown back, eyes narrow and open wide mouth, his fist tightly wrapped in your head. It was all too good.

Fuck, baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please don’t stop. Oh. Yes, just like that, sweetheart.

Yunho knows everything there is to know about making you cum. But nothing about not making you cry. The way he doesn’t say anything once everything ends, not even asking if you are okay, his eyes never reach you, making you feel invisible. Leaving you feeling like a toy, his fuck toy, that he can just use and toss aside every time he feels like it. And while you died a little every single time, you couldn’t let go of him. Know that you loved him so bad, you let him treat you like that.

____________________________________________

Work, stress and a broken heart are never a good mix. You sat in front of the screen, staring at the blank page for a good number of minutes. Your body is there but your head is in a completely different place.

“I don’t there’s any more nails left to bite,” Hongjoong said as he sat next to you, putting a cup and a muffin in front of your face. “Eat this instead of trying to munch off your fingers.”

You looked at them, small bits of skin, nails, chipped nail polish and blood covered the tips, and the pain was slowly making itself present. You cursed under your breath before taking a sip of the beverage, gagging the second it touched your tongue.

“Ugh, I hate tea. I hate chamomile.” You took another sip, “I hate Mondays.”

“You are always in a bad mood, but what’s gotten into you today?” He said taking a sip of his drink, looking through some of his notes.

“I got no sleep. I’m on my period. I’m on a fucking block and this is due by Wednesday.” I’m heartbroken.

He hummed, “Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

“Y/n, babe, since I’ve known you, you’ve never gotten a full night's sleep, so that’s not it. I understand about your period and you always, always manage to pull through a block, at least good enough for a deadline. You and I both know what this is about.”

“I already told you…”

“Bullshit. Why do you keep lying to yourself? Why do you keep lying to me?” He crossed his arms, his tone becoming accusatory. “What I don’t get is why you keep defending him. No matter how much he crosses the line you keep crossing your heart for him[MC1] .”

“He’s not doing anything, I’m the one who fucked up by falling for him.”

“He doesn’t even give you the bare respect you deserve, Y/n. He treats you like a sex doll; he doesn’t acknowledge you in public; he acts like he doesn’t know you. He knows about your feelings and he could give less of a fuck about them”

“It’s casual sex, Joongie.”

“I’ve had casual sex, and it has never even crossed my mind to treat someone the way he treats you.” He sighs frustrated, “And what bothers me the most is the fact you are willing to stand all it to get a bit of him. He doesn’t want you; he only wants your body.”

Tears threaten to spill out. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. From him, from Mingi, hell even from yourself. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away. To let go. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m aware of it. But what do you want me to say? I’m a fucking idiot for loving him, but I can’t help it.” You covered your mouth, trying to keep the sobs inside.

“Love, please, I’m begging you I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. I hate what he’s done to you, he took away your shine, your spark. Please, promise you will end this. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore, if not for you, for me, please.”

____________________________________________

You had made a promise. You would try to move on, finally kicking Yunho out of your life. Yeah, you had first slipped a bit but you were now on the right track.

The first Thursday you had been so dispersed you completely forgot to cancel your (dick) appointment with him. So, when he showed up on your doorstep and immediately threw you onto the couch and ate you out, there was nothing much you could do, so you let yourself enjoy it, one last time you said to yourself.

Oh my god Yun, I'm gonna cum, please!

Don't you dare, I'm not done with you.

Watching him leave was just as bad as the last time. It made you cry all night long, your heart empty and your stomach in a swirl. That was the night you decided you never wanted to feel like that again.

The second time, you'll admit, it was because you were horny and in withdrawal. It was a few weeks after, you had been cancelling your appointments claiming you were too busy, and while it wasn't necessarily a lie, you were also avoiding him. But you just needed a bit of him to help you get by, a small dosage and you would be able to quit.

You had found yourself head pushed against the sheets, waist up and knees wide open while he pistols his hips against your, now, reddish ass. You were drooling, eyes at the back of your head, and mouth screaming his name over and over again.

You missed me, you whore? Oh, I bet you did. I'm the only one who can give you what you need, this pussy is mine and don't you dare forget about it.

You watched him leave and didn't say anything. Staring at your phone, of course, pretending to be busy on it, but it had at least made you appear uninterested.

The third and last time it had been him texting you that he was right in front of your building. On a Wednesday. What the hell was he doing there on a Wednesday?

"I'm sorry, I thought I'd drop by, we haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks and I thought I would at least try." He said.

You looked at him as if he had grown a second head. No clue on who was the man standing in front of you. Yunho had never "dropped by", your meetings planned, and established beforehand, like a doctor's appointment. He was equally as confused as you, not knowing what got into him; blaming it on the stress and the lack of sex.

You had ended up riding him on the sofa, both of you cumming unusually fast, but near as satisfying.

Oh, it felt so good Yun. We hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks, remember?

And just like that, it was done. You had gotten up, ready to take a shower and go to sleep. Asking him to lock the door on his way out. Yunho couldn't help but feel sick, you hadn't even spared him a glance.

____________________________________________

In the middle of your mess of a life, a new project had been assigned to you at work. It was bigger than anything you had done before, and so demanding that the workload had to be shared between three people. Hongjoong, you and…

“Guys, this is Bang Chan. He will be working with you for the next few weeks, he’s going to be supporting you during this project, so make sure to relay on him.”

Your eyes crossed and he gave you a small smile. He was cute, you won’t try and deny it. But you didn’t have time for that, you have to focus on working on yourself and on the project. Right?

While at first the load of work had been a blessing in disguise, keeping you away from Yunho and off of thinking of him, it had quickly turned into a nightmare in the last few weeks. Change after change after change. At some point it even had you doubting yourself, but Chan was always there to reassure you.

Early mornings turned into late nights. Hongjoong, Chan and you took turns to sleep on the uncomfortable, black leather couch at the back of the studio.

It was 4 a.m. on a Thursday. Hongjoong had lost the battle about an hour ago, softly snoring in the background, with drool running down his cheek. Chan had taken a photo for "future purposes" as he stated.

At this point, you couldn't even focus on the things happening on the screen, but you also couldn't sleep, too anxious to find any peace.

"I don't think we are going to get anything else done today," Chan said throwing his arms back and stretching his muscles. And yeah, you couldn't help but stare.

"I know. But god knows I won't be getting any sleep until we finish this"

"I'm the same."

A comfortable silence covered the room, only the soft sounds of Chan clicking the mouse and the quiet snores of Joong could be heard. And just as you started to disassociate.

"What's your favourite midnight snack?"

"Mm? Oh, I don't know."

"Mine's instant ramen. And I would kill for a bowl right now." He said getting up, "My treat, you in?" He offered his hand to help you get up.

Without any thought, you took it.

And so, the rest of the night went. Between energy drinks, trash food and friendly (and bit flirty) banter.

"I cannot fathom the idea of someone not liking coffee."

"It tastes like shit." No hesitance.

"No, it doesn't! It's literally what keeps me going without it I would just be a zombie all day."

"Tea does the same thing, it doesn't taste like dirt, and it's better for you."

"The thought of having a cup of green tea first thing in the morning makes me want to gag."

"Don't knock till you try it." He finished the last of his noodles, speaking with his mouth full, "And it doesn't even have to be green tea, there are lots of types of teas, like..."

Your phone started ringing, interrupting his rant. He took it and looked at the screen, "Bad idea, don't you dare answer is calling you?"

He called you. Which is something he never does. Too personal. Yet here he was, at the other side of the line. Waiting for you to answer, but you couldn't let yourself do it, you couldn't let yourself fall for him all over again. Stunned on what to do, you let it go to voicemail. Watching it ring one, two, three times before your screen turned black. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Now an awkward silence.

"So... I'm guessing a ghost of the past has just tried to summon itself back into your life?" He said trying to break the tension[MC2] .

"Yeah, it's umm... It's complicated."

"I've got time and I've been told am an excellent listener." His eyes carry a kind of compassion you had never experienced, no pity, no sense of charity.

"Well..."

____________________________________________

"Oh wow, he isn't just a bad idea, Y/n. No, he's way past that."

"I know." A sad giggle. "He's not always an asshole, he's just not interested in me in any other way that's not sexual. That's why I'm trying to move on."

"That's good, that's good." A thought crossed his mind, "he can't be that good in bed."

You choked on your spit, not expecting the conversation to go in that direction.

"I'm just saying, maybe you just idealize him because you hadn't had decent sex before him."

"Even if the burdens me to admit it, he's really good."

"I don't believe you."

"Believe me, that's what makes me hate him even more."

"I'm sure there are guys out there go can fuck you equally or even better, and not break your heart."

"Oh, yeah. Where?" You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. But the view in front of you made your heart stop.

He was looking right into your eyes. His back relaxed against the back of the chair, his legs opened wide and his arms resting on top of his thighs. He tilted his head and gave you a small smirk.

The guy was right in front of you.

You were just too dumb to notice.

"Oh."

____________________________________________

Contrary to you, Yunho couldn't go back to his duties. Staring confused at the screen of his phone, why didn't you answer? Were you okay? Could you just be busy? Too busy for him? Busy doing what? Busy doing who?

His pulse sped up at that thought, could there be someone else? No. Could it? No. But why does it matter? Is not like he wants you like that.

Right?

____________________________________________

Thursday rolled around and the project was finally done, delivered and paid for. And you couldn't help but be in ecstasy.

"I thought that shit would never end!" You said finally leaving the building you had been trapped in for all those weeks.

Chan only giggled while looking at you.

"I can't wait to get home and spend the next days completely buried in my bed," Hongjoong said.

"No! Let's go out and celebrate, we deserve it!" You tried convincing him.

"Aren't you tired? My back is killing me, Y/n." He gave you a side hug, "I'm sorry, not today, but I promise we'll go out soon."

"But Joongie." You whined.

"I'm sorry, but you go out and have fun with Chan, okay?" He placed a small kiss on top of your head, "Chan, please take care of her okay? I trust you."

"Don't worry, I've got her."

And got you he did. Got you so drunk you could barely walk back to your apartment. So, he had to carry you on his back.

"Goddamit, when did you take all those shots? I only saw you order two rounds, Y/n."

"The guy at the bar thought I was cute, so gave me a couple extra." You drunkenly giggled, holding your clumsy against his back. "Why aren't you drunk, Channie? We went out to have fun and you are acting all bossy."

"Someone had to be responsible, baby and I knew it wasn't going to be you. Besides, I don't love the taste of alcohol."

"You don't like coffee, you don't like alcohol, what do you like Chan?"

"I can think of one thing." He mumbled under his breath.

Making your way inside the building wasn't easy because of the amount the stairs and the lack of an elevator, but he managed. He had helped you with your keys, and changed you into your pajamas, with his eyes closed which made it a thousand times harder. Just as he was about to leave, you pulled him in.

"Stay over, it's late Channie." You hugged his arm, pushing your breasts against his skin. He was so into you that it got him slightly flustered.

"It's barely 11 p.m., Y/n."

"Please, just stay Chan." You looked right into his eyes, you could feel the alcohol dissipating, sobering up. You needed him, right there, right now. Your hand pulled him in.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, love." He whispered as your faces got closer.

"Please, Channie." You whispered against his lips.

The kiss was soft and timid, him still hesitant but slowly letting himself into it. Your hands made their way from his arms to his shoulders and found their home right into the back of his neck. It made him shiver, and he became a little braver, grabbing your waist. You let your tongue into his mouth, becoming addicted to his taste and the way his lips feel. You separated for just a second, the annoying need of air getting in the way, and as you were to continue. A bang on the door pulled you out of the moment.

"What the..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"It's so late, who..."

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Y/n? Please open the door. Please, we need to talk. Please, I know you are there."

Yunho. A very drunk Yunho.

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lee--felix · 2 years

Note

𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮! ❦

hello, @lee--felix! you have received a bouquet full of daisies from @sulfurcosmos! daisies symbolize purity, innocence, and loyal love.

along with your beautiful flowers, a short message has been sent to you! it reads:

“you may look super punk rock but inside you’re a squishy innocent marshmallow and i needed to remind you of that. and the fact that i appreciate you 🤍 i hope you’re doing well~”

have a lovely day, and enjoy your flowers!

(this delivery is from @view-bouquets, a virtual flower delivery service for fans of stray kids. for prettier flowers, click on the photo!)

Oh my gosh, Ti 😭😭😭😭😭😭 you sweet, amazing, precious person!!! This is so cute, thank you so much! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I really appreciate you too!

I am indeed a squishy lil punk rock marshmallow. I've been doing well, just tired from working so much and stressed about money but that's just the usual.

#answered [📬]#ti time [☕]#spooky moots [🧛‍♂️]

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sinfonia-relativa · 6 months

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"Se la mejor persona para ti, no para los demas... nadie valora lo suficiente"

Sad_Boy☕

#sad_boy #escritos #citas #notas #frases #sinfonia-relativa #octubre2023 #vida #dolor #soledad #emociones #sentimientos #pensamientos #destino #public14

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everlastlady · 11 months

Text

Helluva Boss X Reader: The Wedding

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☕Author's Note: Hello! My little imps, demonic sinners, and powerful overlords. Welcome back to the Helluva Boss wedding version. I finally got this done and not posted at midnight like I did yesterday, so I hope that enjoy this one; if you did then please comment, like, and reblog.

☕Fandom: Helluva Boss

☕Word Count: 4473

☕Story Contains: Fluff

☕Hazbin Wedding Invitation: Here💌

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Striker: Striker was never one for love and any meaningful relationship. He saw them as a waste of time. An easy way for people to play with your emotions and get your hopes up high. But when he met you at your clinic and you patched him up from his injuries. He watched how careful you were with his body, how you asked how he was feeling, and didn’t ask or judge how he got these injuries. You were a medic for hitmen, assassins. And crime lords. So you didn’t ask any questions about how they got hurt. After that day Striker would come to you, whenever he was injured. You two would talk and you would offer Striker some much. You both formed a friendship and Striker took that leap of faith, and you both soon formed a relationship. But kept it private because he was a wanted criminal and didn’t want you getting tied up in his mess. After a long while of dating, Striker wanted something more. And this hit him when you were both kidnapped by some people who wanted Striker’s head on a platter and they wanted to hurt Striker by hurting you first. Luckily your cowboy bebop boyfriend got you both out of there. Striker and you patched each other up back at your clinic after that life and death situation he was sure. He wanted to marry so that night, he started planning.

Striker asked you out on a camping trip and you agreed. You've been wanting to see how his survival skills hold up, since he would brag about them and how he could survive better than the others in Wrath. So you and him took your car along with Bombproof to a nice place to camp. You helped Striker set everything up. When you grabbed a small bag. Striker quickly grabbed and stepped away. You ignored, assuming it was just one of his weapons that he didn’t want you to touch. After everything was set up, you and Striker sat by the campfire, you were roasting whatever you felt like would taste good and Striker seemed deep in thought. You asked him what was wrong. “ Will you marry me? “ He simply said. You looked at him and he looked at you. He took out a small tan velvet box and opened it showing a ring. “ And don’t worry darlin, I didn’t steal it, I worked hard and bought it for you. “ He said. “ But you don’t have to say, I understand. “ He said. But you did say yes. You wanted to marry Striker, and this made him happy. He lifted your hand and slipped the ring on your finger, and you two cuddled near the fireplace, Striker decided to play a song on his guitar, a beautiful night it was for you both.

Soon the wedding had arrived. But since Striker was a wanted criminal, you both did the wedding yourself. You simply decorated your guys' home. And made everything look nice. You both baked the cake and made the food. You had your wedding outfit on and Striker was wearing a nice suit. You both were happy with what you had. You didn’t need some grand wedding and a bunch of guests. You and Striker always had each other, you guys didn’t need anyone. You and Striker both stood in front of the wedding cake, laughing, the cake didn’t look perfect but it was the cake you both made. But you guys had a few guests. Striker’s horse Bombproof, his snake Noodle, and your cat (cat’s name) so it was nice to have at least three people at the wedding. You and Striker carried everything out back. While you placed the rings on the table, Striker was a nervous mess but he was ready to marry you and it was time for you both to give your vows, and Striker went first.

“ (Y/N), my darlin, my pumpkin, my stars, my partner in crime, my healer, and the one who made me feel like not everything I care about is gone. You showed me how to care and love again. To not be scared when I’m in love. You helped me through many challenges. Never judged them either. Even though I’m a wanted criminal and I can’t give you a better life. I want to thank you, for sticking by my side through the good, bad, and ugly. You are someone who helps people like me. And I never understood why, but I do know you have a good heart, a giving one. Just like you give and care for me. I want to do the same for you, for the rest of our life together. I love you (Y/N), I'm glad on this day I can call myself your husband. “

Striker stared at you, he could see the tears of happiness in your eyes, he lifted up his hand and wiped them away. You both kiss and help slip each others’ rings on and hold hands smiling at one another. Striker stood behind you and held your hands and you both cut the cake together. Feeding each other the cake and then dancing with each other. Striker’s wrapping his tail around your waist as the two of you dance under the stars. Striker caress your cheek throughout the dance. You didn’t know that Striker was this good at dancing but he seemed to be having fun twirling and dipping you. As he peppers sweet kisses on your neck and mumbles into your neck how much this day will be important to him forever. How he’ll love you forever and ever. At the end of the wedding. You and Striker went back inside, taking a bubble bath together and getting into comfortable clothing. You two cuddled in bed and you stared the ring on your finger, Striker plops a kiss on your cheek and grinned. He leaned and whispered something in your ear which made you blush, you smirked at him and nodded, this was going to be a fun night.

Fizzarolli: You had met Fizzarolli through Blitzo. This happened when Blitzo wanted to get revenge on Fizz for calling him out at Ozzie’s because he couldn’t get revenge on Verosika or Asmodeus. But he seemed to be ready for Fizz. But things didn’t go as planned and before you and Blitz could get kicked out by security. Fizzarolli wanted to talk with you, so while Blitz was getting kicked out Fizzarolli had bought you a drink and the two of you talked. Fizzarolli made you laugh and blush. He seemed to be loving the sound of your laughter and it made him smile. But when you did have to go home, Fizzarolli gave you his phone number, the two of you always text, send each other selfies, and call whenever you two could. What became texting and phone calls. Soon became hanging out and going to his performances. And what became hanging out soon turned into dating. The jester clown loved and adored you. You always made him feel loved and safe. But with his status it was hard to keep your relationship a secret but he didn’t mind letting people know you were his. After a long while of dating, Fizzarolli had been in deep thought. You meant everything to him and were always there for him when he was at his highest points and at his lowest points. Fizzarolli knew one thing right now and that was, he wanted to marry you and he started to plan.

Fizzarolli decided to take you to a theme park and not the cheap rundown one. They used his robotic version at. He took you to Loo Loo World. You had an absolute blast on all the rides, sharing sweet treats with Fizz, and winning prizes for each other. You both took pictures and recorded videos to remember this moment. When night had set. Fizzarolli brought a beautiful view of the amusement park. You watched him walk over and had his phone to someone while whispering and paid them. The person nodded and Fizzarolli walked over to you and pointed at the sky. You looked up seeing fireworks shoot into the sky and spelt out ‘ Will You Marry Me (Y/N) ? ‘ You looked at Fizz to see him on one knee with a green velvet box, he opened it to reveal the ring. You looked at the ring and smiled at Fizz. You told the silly imp jester that you would marry him. He pulled you down with his robotic arms and kissed you. Fizz slipped the ring on your ring. “ I’m so happy you said yes, baby. “ He gave you another kiss and the two of you went home. After a while the wedding had finally arrived, and you had a wedding outfit. Blitzo was giving you away on your wedding day, he had walked you down the aisle as you could see Fizz standing there all dressed and looking nervous, just like you.

When standing up there with Fizzarolli both of you held hands and stared into each others’ eyes while smiling. Never in his life Fizzarolli would think this moment would be happening. That he would be getting married, he sighed and smiled at you, basking in your beauty. You were breathtakingly more beautiful than anyone else here. The marriage officiant talked while you and Fizz were ready to give your vows and Fizz went last.

“ (Y/N) this took a while to write and I have to thank Ozzie for the help. But I wanna take this moment, our special day to thank you. Even though you were helping my idiot brother with some revenge plan. I’m glad I got to meet you. Because your laughter and smile make me feel warm. It makes my day to know that you are okay. You not only respect my boundaries. But you respect me as a whole person, everyday and every moment is a blast with you. You know how to have a good time and you know how to make me laugh. I enjoy the quiet times we spend together, how we cuddle on the couch and laugh at sappy romance movies. I love that snorting sound you make when you laugh. You may hate it but I think it's adorable. But I can’t wait to hear you laughing for the rest of our laughs. After this day not only will we be friends and partners. But we will be married, a new chapter starts for us and I can’t wait to fill the black pages with you, I love you (Y/N) forever and always. “

You cried tears of happiness and it was now official. You and Fizz were married, the two of you cut the cake and shared a dance. Fizzarolli loved holding you while you both danced. How he had always dreamed about this and now it was a reality. After the wedding you and Fizzarolli head back home, he carried you inside and was singing to you. He carried you to the bedroom and tossed you on the bed carefully, then crawled on top of you and cuddled you, he kissed you softly and held your hand. “ I love you (Y/N). “ He said, the two of you kissed and held each other all night long.

Asmodeus: You and Ozzie knew each other since childhood, your family and his family were good friends. Ozzie grew up to be the king of lust and you were a famous actor. Sometimes you did perform at Ozzie’s lounge and something about seeing you on stage made him happy. But he always found his chest getting tight and his stomach doing flips whenever you laughed with him or hung out with him in his office. He also often found himself getting jealous hearing others talk about you in a romantic way or in a lewd way. With him being the king of lust, he found it gross and upsetting how people would lust after you. Ozzie had become protective and you noticed. He seemed to always want to be around you and would try to hold your hand whenever you both walked. So you had asked him what’s up and he sighed, telling you that he had caught feelings for you. That the king of lust had fallen in love, he felt like a hypocrite since he often judged others for love. But his eyes widened when you told him that you loved him as well but didn’t know what to say and was scared. Ozzie hugged you and apologized for making you feel like you could never confess. After that the two of you started dating and Ozzie didn’t care what the papers said about him. He was happy to have you as his partner.

He didn’t care what others thought and what the papers said. You and Ozzie laughed at the gossip and would kiss. Of course with being the king of lust. That didn’t stop Ozzie from making you flustered all the time. But his love was always passionate and he knew how to make you feel comfortable. Everyday and every moment was breathtaking with Ozzie, and after a long while of dating the king of lust wanted to marry you. So he would start planning. So whenever you were busy with work and gigs. He would plan and he kept the ring on him at all times. He wasn’t going to propose to you at his lounge. No, he wanted something more special. He had rented out your favorite fancy restaurant and both of you arrived there in the limo. No sexual remarks or flirtatious words came from Ozzie the whole ride. You asked him if he was okay, and he smiled at you. “ I’m fine, my little rose, just thinking about this night. Don’t worry, I'm fine. “ He gave you a kiss and the limo stopped. The two of you walked inside and had the best dinner. As you were eating, Ozzie reached out his hand and took your small one in his large one. You stared at him and he looked nervous. “ (Y/N), we have been dating for a long while despite all the gossip, I'm glad you stuck by my side so will you continue sticking by my side by marrying me? “ Ozzie said, while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a light blue velvet box and opening it to reveal the ring. You gasped and looked at Ozzie then at the ring then back at Ozzie. You smiled and nodded at him, Ozzie laughed with delight and slipped the ring on your finger, he kissed your hand and the two of you carried on with dinner.

You and Ozzie went all out for your wedding, you both invited your friends and family. Your wedding was in the papers and thankfully it wasn’t dragging your wedding through the mud. It was a royal wedding so people tried to get in and be a part of this beautiful day. You walked down the aisle with your father as the guests admired your lovely wedding outfit. You finally stood up there with Ozzie, your friend, your partner, and your soon to be husband. You almost wanted to cry because you remembered how you and Ozzie would throw weddings for your stuffed animals when you were both kids. And here you were, having a wedding with him. You held each others’ hands while the marriage officiant talked. It was time to give the vows and Ozzie went last.

“ (Y/N) I’m glad you said yes. Since childhood we knew each other, our families were friends and we became friends. I will remember how we would sneak cookies and make mud pies so that we could have a cake for our stuffed animals getting married. You were always a fun person to be around and I knew you were going to grow up to be someone great. And you did, then you became my partner, my everything, and you showed me something more than lust. You stuck by my side despite the gossip, rumors, and what those media leeches say. I’m glad you became my partner and I’m glad you’ll become my spouse. I want to go to bed every night seeing that pretty little smile and wake up every morning seeing that smile. I love you and will always love you. I’ll do my best to keep you happy, make you laugh, and to keep you smiling. Just like you do for me. I can’t wait to leave here with you as my forever soulmate. “

Ozzie finished his vows and the marriage officiant had declared you both married. Ozzie picks you up and kisses you. The most passionate and sweetest kiss was this moment at your guys wedding. Ozzie and you cut the cake together, danced, and opened wedding gifts. You listened to the speeches that the guest gave. And you both like Fizz’s speech. After the wedding, you and Ozzie went home; he carried you inside and continued towards the bedroom. He undid his tie, leaning down to kiss you and you kissed back. He held you close in bed so that you could hear his heartbeat. He showered you with kisses and rubbed your legs. “ (Y/N) I love you. “ Ozzie said and kissed your head, you were so exhausted from the wedding that you had drifted off to sleep in the arms of your husband.

Chaz: You only knew Chaz because you helped him fake his death to get away from Crimson. You always helped others fake their death and start a new life. You made a lot of money from doing it, but you kept your life private for safety reasons. But after helping Chaz, the weird shark man couldn’t help but want to be around you, even though he had thanked you many times for helping him escape. He still thanked you and insisted on you both being friends. You didn’t really have friends so you agreed to welcome Chaz as a friend. At first you found him annoying. His attempts at flirting always made you yawn and roll your eyes. You especially would beat his ass, whenever he was in your bed and trying to seduce you. But after hanging out with Chaz a lot you soon developed feelings for the horny goofball. And the two of you began dating but kept it on the down low. Especially Chaz had to do it. Surprisingly Chaz was a good boyfriend. He listened to you and respected your boundaries. He loved watching movies with you and would let you work. His favorite nickname to call you was sharkbait. You sighed but blushed everytime he called you this. With a beautiful relationship, Chaz saw you as more than a partner. He wanted to marry you. He didn’t want to lose you, he didn’t want his relationship to end like it did when he had dated Moxxie and Millie. He wanted you and only you. So he carefully and secretly got you a ring.

While you were out shopping, you had come home with bags of groceries but a delicious smell filled your nose. You had seen that Chaz made dinner, you were surprised that he didn’t burn your apartment down. At first you thought he just ordered the food but on closer inspection you could see he took time to cook. Chaz walked over and put the groceries away. He led you over to the table and rambled how cooking show networks are the best things to have been introduced to television. You and Chaz talked while eating dinner. You watched as Chaz left the kitchen and came back with something behind his back. You tilted your head and looked at him. “ (Y/N), I know sometimes I can be annoying and a pain in your ass. Heh and I want to continue to be that annoying pain in the ass, but as your husband. “ Chaz revealed a dark blue velvet box and opened it. “ Will you marry me? “ He showed you the ring. You smiled and couldn’t believe that Chaz was serious but you didn’t say no, you told Chaz yes and hugged him. Chaz hugged back and showed you the sweetest smile and he slipped the ring on your finger.

You and Chaz did a private ready but you did make sure it was your guys’ dream wedding. Thanks to the people you helped. They were able to make that happy. It pays having connections to the mob. You had on your wedding outfit and chuckled seeing Chaz having a difficult time with his tie. You walked over and helped him, once done the two of you took your wedding picture. And held hands. The wedding may be small but you both knew that it was safer that way and that you didn’t need some grand wedding to prove how much you love each other. Chaz adores your vows and how sweet they sound through your sweet lips. And now it was time for him to give his vows, he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and carefully unfolded it, you chuckle seeing Chaz almost drop the paper. He cleared his throat and looked at you smiling wide.

“ (Y/N) my dear, sharkbait, how much I adore you and I’m glad you took a chance on a guy like me. Because I never expected to meet someone as amazing as you. Because you mean the world to me, I love the way you smile when you look at me, I love how you laugh at my stupid jokes, and I love how you yell at me when I do something dumb and you forgive me when I do those dumb things. I want to be by your side and only your side. No one can measure up to your greatness, you know how to make everyday special and I want to continue to make everyday special with you, but as your husband, I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow as your husband, I love you sharkbait. “

Chaz set the paper down and looked at you. You stepped towards him and kissed him, Chaz closed his eyes and pulled you close. The passionate kiss you both shared made you feel like nothing else in Hell mannered. That just this day, this moment, and you two were all that mannered. Chaz pulled away and smiled at you. He pulled out his phone and played a song you both could dance to. Chaz wasn’t a really good dancer but neither were you but you two had fun dancing with each other and laughing whenever the other stepped on the other's foot. You and Chaz had cleaned up from the wedding, you both sat on the couch eating the wedding cake in your pajamas and watching your favorite movie. During the movie after finishing the cake. You laid on top of Chaz, he was rubbing your back and kissing your head. “ I’ll only have eyes for you and only you, I love you, my (Y/N) my little sharkbait. “ Chaz said softly and held you close.

Verosika: You were a movie star in Hell and met Verosika when she was guest starring in a movie with you. She was playing your love interest. At first you and her didn’t get along and fought a lot on stage, she would call you brainless and no talent while you called her petty and spoiled. But things changed when Versoika had a meltdown on stage after the director said something that seemed to really hurt her and ran off. You sighed and followed her. You walked to her dressing room, and saw her looking in the mirror and crying. She picked up her flask to drink with shaken hands but instead she threw and punched the mirror and injured her hand on impact. You ran over to help her but Verosika fust, you told her to pipe down and you bandaged her hand while she sat there in silence. Verosika eventually spilled the beans on what happened and you were able to calm down, soon you both returned to stage and when the director tried to say something you both told him to shut up or he’ll be replaced faster than a broken glass. The director stayed quiet and the movie continued on.

Even after the movie was done and released. Verosika still wanted to be friends with you, so you agreed to be friends with her. The two of you did a lot of shopping, interviews, trips, and selfies. Verosika adored having you around. There were good moments and bad moments. Whenever she was having a melt down, over time you and Verosika started to date. She loved, spoiled, and would shower you in affection. She had never felt this happy especially after what ex Blitzo had done to her. But Verosika pushed away that pain to start something healthy for herself, for both of you. After a long while of dating Verosika’s friends has teased about her when there will be wedding, not knowing they were joking. She thought to herself, should she marry you? You both had been dating for a long while and you hadn’t stolen her credit card or used her. “ I’ll plan something… “ she said to herself. And plan something she did because Verosika decides to plan and she went with taking you on a private beach she owned. You are both in your swimwear and carrying a picnic basket. After setting everything up, Verosika watched you swim while she was tanning. While the sun was setting you and Verosika had your picnic, while you were eating. Verosika played with something in her lap. She looked at you and smiled. “ (Y/N) how do you feel about marriage? “ She said, showing you a hot pink velvet box, she opened it and showed you the ring with the gold band. You almost choked on your food but with tears in your eyes you nodded at her.

Verosika smiled and slipped the ring on your hand, She hugged you and cried. She was glad you said yes. You and Verosika decide to spend the night in her beach house and listen to the ocean while holding each other. After that night and a few weeks the wedding was finally here and you were glad it was, your poor girlfriend had been stressing about this wedding. Lots of screaming on the phone, firing people, and having to get things fixed. But the wedding came out beautiful but you looked more beautiful in your wedding outfit. You watched as Vortex had walked Verosika down the aisle, she looked like a goddess in her wedding dress. She stood up there with you and held your hands and it was time for the vows, Verosika went last, she had tears in her eyes as she spoke.

“ (Y/N) this is not just my day but our day. A day I never thought would come, everyday I’m sorry that I was a bitch to you because you were the only one who was by my side and stuck by myself. When you agreed to be my partner, I was scared because I had been hurt before. But you taught me how to love again. How to love myself again. And for that I thank you and I want to continue to thank you as your wife. I want the world to know that I am yours and you are mine. I love you (Y/N) thank you for giving me another chance at happiness. “

Verosika finished her vows and the two of you shared a kiss while everyone cheered. You cut the cake with your succubus wife and danced with her. Verosika didn’t care about anyone else there but you. After the wedding, the two of you head home. She was throwing out suggestions of where you both should have your honeymoon. You chuckled listening to your wife, talking about honeymoon ideas. You sat on the couch, and she came back with two glasses of wine. She handed you a glass and sat by you. She took out her phone and took a picture of you both. She cuddled up next to you and the both of you drank wine and watched a movie. “ Remember how our characters got married in the movie. It's just like this but our movie has no ending. “ She kissed her cheek and crawled on top of you. “ Ready for the rated R version. “ She said with a wink.

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