#charities and fundraising and the terrible things we apparently make people go through to try and make a difference in the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shesawriter39049 · 4 years

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|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background) Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them)

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale”

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5!

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue.

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it!

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years.

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting.

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck.

“Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?”

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - .

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now!

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?”

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual!

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

“Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier!

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass! “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...”

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated! “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…”

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...”

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it!

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.”

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof! But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED!

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning…

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it! “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

HEADCANONS

#Namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon au #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon x reader #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts x reader #kim namjoon x you #kpop #kpop smut #kpop au

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kurokoros · 4 years

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some like it hot (2/4) | todoroki x reader x bakugou

Rated: T (bakugou’s dirty mouth, sexual humor)

Words: 9.2K

Pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader x katsuki bakugou

Summary: A Charity Fundraiser leads to you going home with not one, but two of the most popular Pro Heroes of your generation. They say some like it hot, and you certainly aren’t complaining.

AKA: a totally not self-indulgent threesome fic

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | AO3

AN: It’s been a terrible week, but I still managed to pump out a chapter, so I feel accomplished! Also available on AO3. Ask to be added to the tag-list. Chapters will be weekly until completion! Thanks in advance for reading! A note: the reader does have a name used only in dialogue because I hate using “Y/N” in fics. Both names are puns. “Yuna” = Y/N, and the kanji in “Hikai” means “fire time”.

Dubiously, you stare at the file Izuku is holding out to you. The look you send him is all but reproachful as you place your hands on your hips, your lips pressed into a tight line. Izuku fidgets under your gaze, sweat beading on his hairline, but his smile never falters for a second.

“Let me get this straight,” you start slowly. Maybe you didn’t hear him right. With all the muttering and nervous babbling he tends to do, it wouldn’t be a surprise for you to mishear a few things. Though, you have practically mastered the art of deciphering him at his most incoherent. Regardless, you press on, not even trying to mask the utter bewilderment in your voice. “You want me to run all the way to Shouto’s Agency to drop off a single file?”

It sounds even more bizarre when you say it out loud.

Izuku fiddles with the pen on his desk. “Yes?”

The questioning inflection of his reply only makes your frown deepen. Resisting the urge to rub your temples, you send him another hard look. “Aren’t you supposed to be seeing him and Bakugou tonight?” you ask, sure you heard him mention something about the three of them going out for dinner. “It can’t wait until then?”

“It’s important,” he tells you, only slightly more confident in his reply than he was before.

You know you shouldn’t roll your eyes at your boss, but you do so anyway. “I see. And you do realize I’ll be gone for at least two hours, right?”

“It’s very important?”

Your frown turns into a pout.

Any other day you might have agreed to go right away, always happy to see one of your favorite Heroes. But ever since that night at Momo’s, you’ve been doing your best to avoid both Shouto and Katsuki. It wasn’t on purpose at first. You planned on going out for drinks with Katsuki and Kirishima over the weekend like you always do, only to be slapped in the face with the reminder of what you told the girls. Mina’s jokes about a threesome came crashing back over you, and with the dirty fantasies floating through your head, you knew that being drunk around Katsuki would end in nothing but loose lips and an extremely awkward confrontation.

You didn’t even want to think about the possibility of rejection, so you called Kiri to cancel with excuses of planning the fundraiser—which wasn’t technically a lie.

Katsuki wasn’t happy about it, obviously, but you know how to handle him. You just need to make it through this fundraiser before making any life altering decisions including, but not limited to, trying to fuck two Pro Heroes that also happen to be two of your closest friends.

Avoidance was clearly the best answer to this.

Of course, your luck seems to have run out today thanks to Izuku. You have no idea where he’s going with this or why one of his sidekicks can’t bring Shouto this supposedly very important file, but seeing as the alternative is more phone calls and paperwork, you might as well go along with it. And you won’t lie and say you aren’t a little excited at the prospect of seeing Shouto today.

That being said, you aren’t above giving Izuku a little hell for it first.

“I don’t feel like I can leave you alone for that long without something terrible happening,” you say bluntly, careful to keep your mouth from twitching into a smile. Though you’re only teasing, a part of you does mean it. As great of a Hero as Izuku is, he’s also practically a walking safety hazard.

He really hasn’t changed all that much since UA.

The pout that forms on his face makes you feel like you’ve just kicked a puppy. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, sulking. Those big, green eyes of his stare down at you from the other side of his desk, only adding to the effect.

You aren’t so easily swayed. “The last time I left you alone here, you managed to dislocate your entire arm,” you remind him, casting a pointed glance at said arm. Even now, you aren’t entirely sure how he managed that in the time it took you to grab lunch at a cafe not even fifteen minutes from the agency. You’re never going to let him live it down.

“That was an accident!” Izuku defends himself, flushing all the way to the tips of his ears. The color clashes spectacularly with the green of his hero costume.

Your tone is beyond dry when you say, “I’m aware.”

Izuku’s expression melts into one of distress, and again you wonder why this file is such a big deal. Whatever it is, it’s making your boss more skittish and awkward than usual, something you didn’t even think was possible. “Please, Hikai? This is really, really important! I don’t trust anyone else to do this but you!”

“This is manipulation,” you tell him, crossing your arms. Even as you say that, your heart swells with the sheer level of trust he has in you. Izuku must realize it too. There’s something cunning behind those puppy dog eyes.

He blinks at you far too innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Well played, Deku.

Heaving an over-dramatic sigh, you hold out your hand and wiggle your fingers impatiently. “Give me the damn file.” A megawatt smile stretches across his face before the file is practically shoved into your hand. “Really, Midoriya, you have to stop leaving things until the last minute. One day it’s going to get you in trouble.”

He rubs the back of his head in embarrassment, ruffling the curly strands of his hair. “That’s what I have you for,” he tells you. The sincerity in his voice makes you soften. “Oh!” His eyes suddenly light up. “How’s everything been with planning the fundraiser?”

“About as well as you’d expect considering the short notice,” you muse, idly thumbing the edge of the file you’ve been handed. Surprisingly, you haven’t had too many issues beyond your less than friendly conversation with Mr. Fujikaze. Most other agencies have been understanding about the situation, and your contacts have been pulling through despite the time crunch. “I’ve contacted most of the agencies in the country like you asked and almost all have replied affirmatively, though some will only be making short appearances.” You glance at him. “Not everyone can leave the field for an entire night.”

Izuku nods, his brows furrowed in thought. “That makes sense,” he murmurs aloud, staring down at the surface of his desk. “Even with the crime rate dropping again, we can’t be too careful.”

Humming, you turn your gaze to the windows overlooking the city behind him. While not nearly as grandiose as some other agencies you’ve been in, you’ve always loved the view from Izuku’s office.

“Exactly.”

With the highly publicized nature of the fundraiser, you’re sure that some people will take the opportunity to commit crimes, violent or otherwise, but it’s nothing most Pros haven’t had to work around before. The event itself will have heightened security even with the amount of Pros attending. Frankly, you’re more worried about the general public, though you know they’ll be in good hands even without Heroes like Deku, Shouto, and Ground Zero. Izuku himself would probably insist on patrolling that night if he wasn’t the one hosting, but you know his sidekicks will be able to handle things for one night.

“How’s everything else going?” he asks. “I know you had to pull a lot of strings to make this work. Thank you, by the way.”

You wave him off and shrug, but offer him a small smile. “It’s my job.” And, hey, if this whole personal assistant gig falls through, at least you have a potential future as a wedding planner. “We have a venue and caterer lined up,” you explain to Izuku. “I’m hoping to hear back from my other contacts by the end of the day, but so far, everything seems to be going well.”

A look of relief appears on his face. “That’s good,” he says, breathing a sigh. At your raised eyebrow, he panics, thinking he’s said something wrong. “Not that I thought you couldn’t do it!” he’s quick to explain, quickly turning an even darker shade of red. “You’ve always been great at organizing things! Though this was super short notice, so I wouldn’t have been disappointed if you couldn’t put it together that fast. But I would never doubt you like that. You always go beyond! Plus—”

Mercifully, you hold up a hand to stop his rambling. You have work to do, and you know from experience that he would go on and on until someone stopped him or he ran out of air, and Izuku has quite the impressive set of lungs.

“Deep breaths, Midoriya,” you chide playfully, reaching out to pat him on the back. “I know what you meant. Thank you for having so much faith in me.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, going right back to beaming at you. “Thanks again for doing this—the event and the file, I mean.”

You gather your discarded purse and jacket, carefully tucking the file into your bag. “Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” you joke as he leads you to the door. “What would you do without me?”

“Apparently, I’d die.”

Your laughter cuts off as soon as you reach the door, your expression sobering as you remember the phone call you received shortly before Izuku called you into his office. You didn’t have the chance to tell him before he was practically shoving a folder in your hands and babbling something about you needing to see Shouto immediately.

Izuku stops beside you. His expression turns to one of concern as he notices the look on your face.

“There’s one more thing,” you tell him, lowering your voice though it’s only the two of you in the room. “I received an answer from Endeavor’s assistant this morning.”

The statement is heavy and laced with more meaning than so few words could typically hold. You can’t keep the bitterness from creeping in as you say the former Hero’s name, but Izuku either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it.

Somehow, he manages to keep his voice light when he asks, “Oh? And what did he say?” Izuku’s gaze slides to the door and refuses to move. You can only imagine what might be running through his head.

“He’ll be making an appearance at the gala.” Absently, your fingers clench around the strap of your purse, knuckles turning white from the pressure. As soon as you realize what you’re doing, you sigh through your nose, forcing yourself to release your grip. “He may be retired now, but it matters a lot to the public that the former number one Pro Hero makes an appearance at things like this. Not everyone may like Endeavor, but most people do respect him. It’s exactly the show of support we need right now.” You turn to Izuku, and his gaze finally rises to meet yours again. “Similarly, All Might will be there as well, even though he retired almost a decade ago.” Your lips quirk upwards. “Though, I’m sure you’re already aware of that,” you tease, hoping to lighten the mood.

It works. Izuku is always an easy target to fluster. He sputters and makes a vague excuse while awkwardly waving his arms around like he isn’t sure what to do with them. You wait patiently until he’s done, used to this kind of outburst after so many years. When he’s finally calmed down, his eyes widen a little as he looks at you.

“Does Todoroki know?”

The question makes your stomach churn. “Not yet.” Your admission is soft as you rock back on your heels. “I just found out. Besides,” you look past Izuku to stare out the window again, “I thought it would be better to tell him in person.”

When Izuku doesn’t respond, you clear your throat. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He snaps out of his thoughts quickly. “Right!” Izuku reaches around you to open the door, holding it for you politely as you step into the lobby. Your eyes immediately drift to your desk, and you’re more than a little surprised to see a familiar, nervous face sitting behind it. When you stop, Izuku follows your gaze and smiles. “Oh! I’m sending Nakamura with you!” he explains as the hero in training waves at you awkwardly. “He’ll be heading back to UA after and I want to make sure you get to Todoroki’s agency okay!”

It’s a poor excuse if you’ve ever heard one, but you don’t have time to question it. Your eyes follow Izuku as he darts back into his office. He’s not fast enough to hide his ever widening smile though.

He’s up to something, you decide as you make your way to the flustered intern behind your desk. You don’t know what he’s up to, but you’re going to find out.

The train ride across the city was nothing short of awkward between you and Seiji. The poor intern didn’t seem to know what to say to you outside of a professional setting. He kept squirming in his seat and wringing his hands, glancing at you occasionally in a way that wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought he was being. Clearly there was something on his mind, but you weren’t about to ask. You figured if it was important enough, he’d come out and say it when he was ready.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to get some additional work done. Izuku may have kicked you out of the office, but you did still have a job to complete. The fundraiser wasn’t going to plan itself, and the date was rapidly approaching. You’d made good progress so far, but that didn’t mean you could start slacking.

It isn’t until the two of you are within a block from Shouto’s agency that Seiji finally perks up. There’s an additional bounce to his step that reminds you of an overexcited puppy, and it makes your lips twitch in amusement.

It’s only then that you realize he’s so much taller than you, gangly with long limbs that carry him faster than you can walk. He keeps getting ahead of you, only to freeze up when he realizes you aren’t there, quickly glancing around almost frantically until he spots you again. It’s absolutely adorable the way his eyes light up and he visibly relaxes.

“Hey, Hikai?” he asks once you catch up to him for what must be the fifth time. “What’s Shouto like? You seem like you know each other pretty well.” Those blue eyes of his are too wide with innocence, and you school your expression before you can flush once you remember what Seiji saw last week.

“You met him last week,” you remind the teenager, adjusting your grip on your purse and double checking that the file is still tucked into place. “What do you think he’s like?” There’s something disconcerting about discussing one of your friends that you’ve thought about fucking on multiple occassions with your boss’s new student intern.

Seiji’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks over your question. “He was nice,” he decides, glancing down at you. “Just… really quiet.”

A low hum of agreement escapes you. “Don’t take it personally. Sho isn’t much of a talker.” Especially in comparison to Izuku’s excited ramblings and Katsuki’s loud presence. “If you stay with Deku for a while, I’m sure he’ll warm up to you though.” You smile up at Seiji and pat him on the arm.

He flushes at the attention. And there’s no hiding the pride shining in his eyes at the insinuation that the Deku would take him on as a sidekick after graduation. To cover his embarrassment, he sputters out, “So, you’ve known them for a long time then? Shouto and Ground Zero?”

“Almost as long as Izuku. I met them through him. Deku has a way of adopting people.” You sigh. “Neither of them have changed much since UA.”

“I see,” Seiji murmurs as you reach the front doors to the agency. He politely holds the door for you as you step inside, a look of deep contemplation on his face. His head cocks to one side as he stares at you, eyes narrowed just a tick before they widen. “That must mean you’re pretty close.” There’s an unexpectedly sly tinge to the statement, like he’s hinting at something more.

Your breath catches at the statement. Seiji notices. “I suppose so,” you say before turning your attention to the receptionist in front of you.

After a short greeting, she lets you pass, recognizing you from previous visits. You’re told that Shouto just returned from a patrol and is already waiting for you in his office, and with a parting smile you and Seiji head for the elevator.

It’s only after the doors close behind you that you look at Seiji again, confusion clear on your face as you remember what Izuku told you earlier. “Shouldn’t you be heading back to the dorms by now? I don’t know how long this will take, and I don’t want you to have to wait for me. You should go enjoy your afternoon.”

“No!” Seiji protests a little too quickly, voice cracking. He shakes his head almost violently. You stare up at him in bewilderment as those big blue eyes meet yours seriously. “Deku told me to walk you to Shouto’s office,” he babbles, struggling for an excuse. “We aren’t in the office yet!”

“I—” You shake your head, decide it’s not worth questioning as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. “Yeah, okay, sure.” If that’s what he wants to do, who are you to stop him?

An achingly familiar voice calls out your name as you and Seiji step into the top floor lobby. The smile that overtakes you in response is automatic once you see Shouto already waiting for you.

“Shouto.” You practically breathe his name, and it would be pathetic if there was anyone else around aside from Shouto, who’s, frankly, as dense as a brick at times, and Seiji, your boss’s dorky intern. Before you can do something stupid like staring at his toned forearms, you forcibly peel your eyes away from the sliver of skin at his throat left uncovered by his hero suit and look up at Seiji. “Can you make it to UA from here, Nakamura?” Your voice is higher than usual. “I don’t want you getting on the wrong train.”

Seiji smiles a little too wide. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Turning to Shouto again, you nod towards his office. “Should we…?” You could just as easily hand him the file and leave with Seiji, go back to work, return the dozen phone calls you still have to make, and check to see if everything is still going smoothly in your short absence, but you’re rooted in place under Shouto’s fond gaze. You’ve missed him more than you care to admit—Katsuki too—and now that he’s in front of you, you can’t just walk away.

More than that, there’s something you need to discuss. The thought makes your stomach flip anxiously.

Shouto seems to relax at your suggestion and gestures for you to follow him as he turns toward his office. You wave to Seiji over your shoulder and are vaguely aware of him taking a seat in one of the leather chairs situated in the lobby area.

You shut the door behind you.

“I believe this is yours,” you say as you pull the folder from your bag and hold it out for him.

Shouto gives you a small smile. “Thank you.”

“How’s the case going?” you ask, gesturing to the file you’ve handed over. The two of you easily slip into a familiar routine as Shouto settles himself behind his desk and you lean against the side of it before hoisting yourself up to sit on the glass surface. “I was a little surprised when you called in Izuku and Katsuki for help. The last time the three of you worked together like this was…”

“Operation Vermillion,” he finishes for you, thumbing through the stack of papers. “That was right after we opened our agencies. I remember you leading the briefing.” His blue-grey eyes flicker to yours, and his smile widens a fraction. “My old man tried to give you trouble, and you shut him down. I’d never seen him so shocked before.”

Humming, you start to smile as well. “He never did like me much.” It’s a perfect segway into what you need to discuss with him, though you wish it wasn’t.

You lean back on your hands, watching silently as he idly flips through the files from Izuku. That knot in your stomach tightens. Your gaze shifts to the aged burn scar covering his left eye. Just another reminder of Endeavor. It makes you sick to think about, and this is the last thing you want to talk about right now, but you know he deserves to hear it before Friday night. Even so, your tongue feels thick and heavy in your mouth.

Clearing your throat, you wait until he looks at you to speak. “I figured I should let you know that Endeavor will be at the charity gala.” Your gaze holds steady as you say it, gauging his reaction.

Predictably, Shouto stiffens. It’s slight. Anyone else probably wouldn’t notice it. Shouto’s always been good at burying his emotions and acting like he doesn’t care. But you can read him. And you’re close enough to hear him inhale sharper than normal. The tense line of his broad shoulders and the nearly imperceptible twitch of his fingers are your only warning before the temperature in the office drops drastically.

Goosebumps prickle across your bare arms, and you shiver reflexively. The ghost of your breath clouds the air as you exhale, but you don’t move from your spot on his desk even as frost begins to creep across the glass. It branches outward from his palm, slow and sluggish, and you wonder if he realizes he’s even using his quirk.

The ice stops just shy of your fingertips. A heavy sigh falls from his lips. Your eyes flicker back to his only to find him already staring at you apologetically.

“I expected as much,” he tells you, a bitter tinge to his voice. When Shouto smiles, it’s rueful and nothing short of sarcastic. “It would look bad in the eyes of the public for the former number one Hero not to be there.”

You hum your agreement, having said as much to Izuku earlier. The temperature begins to rise again, and the thin layer of frost on the desk melts and evaporates before it can make a mess. You watch him carefully as you pick at a spot of lint on your dress. “How have things been lately?” you ask casually. “Between you and him.”

Shouto is silent for a moment that seems to stretch on for hours, seemingly frozen behind his desk as he stares at his reflection in the glass. What he’s seeing there, you don’t know, but the torrent of emotions that flicker in his eyes makes your chest feel tight. It’s melancholy. Resignation. Bitterness. A dozen other things that come and disappear so quickly that you couldn’t put a name to them even if you tried.

An incessant need to pull him close buries itself inside you and takes root. You can feel it in your throat, choking you, urging you to move, but for now you ignore it.

“He’s… trying,” Shouto settles with. “But…” Those mismatched eyes hesitate before they meet yours, and you’re struck by just how exhausted he looks. Sighing, he stands and glances away from you, looking out the large window overlooking the city. “I don’t know,” he finishes bluntly, eyes finding you again. “It’s difficult. I understand that he’s trying, but I still…” he trails off again and shakes his head.

Shouto walks around the edge of his desk to stand in front of you, close enough that his leg brushes against your knee. His palms settle on either side of you, boxing you in, and heat creeps along your spine as you tilt your head to maintain eye contact with him.

Like last time, the scent of his cologne tickles at your senses. Automatically, you lean in closer, lulled by the heat rolling off of him in gentle waves. Shouto doesn’t pull away, and like always you’re pinned in place as those mesmerizing eyes stare down at you.

He wets his lips, and you unintentionally follow the movement with your eyes. “Izuku thinks I should forgive him,” Shouto tells you, voice lower than before. Deeper. His thumb brushes against your bare leg, just above your knee. It’s freezing to the touch and you swallow your gasp. “He says it would bring me peace.” The heat of his breath tickles your skin.

“Oh?” It takes more willpower than you thought to keep your voice even.

A low sound rumbles in the back of his throat. His thumb taps against your leg again, flirting with the hem of your skirt. Shouto’s eyes stay locked on yours. “Bakugou says I should tell him to shove it up his ass.” The faintest hint of a smile tugs at the edge of his mouth.

That doesn’t surprise you. Katsuki can be too blunt for his own good at times. He and Shouto are both like that. Clearly, you have a type, and it’s fogging your brain a little how close he is. A little voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like Mina whispers how easy it would be to close that distance and pull him down to you, how good it would feel to have those hands of his sliding across your skin.

Now isn’t the time for that though.

“And what do you think?” you ask him in a voice barely above a whisper. His hand stills beside you, and the burning chill makes you shiver again. Surprise flickers in his eyes as he peers down at you through his bangs. “This isn’t about Izuku or Katsuki,” you remind him. “What do you want to do, Sho?”

Shouto inhales sharply as you move. Your fingers find his left hand, still pressed to the glass, and slowly your palm slides up his arm until you’re gripping his bicep just like the other day. An anchor. Like he did before, you allow your thumb to rub slow, soothing circles against the tense muscle beneath your fingertips. In response, his right hand shifts so that he’s gripping your thigh in his palm, long fingers wrapping around you and squeezing.

“I don’t think I’m ready to accept him,” he admits, voice just as soft as yours.

“And that’s okay,” you tell him, brushing his hair away from his eyes with your free hand. Gentle fingers ghost against his cheek and the curve of his jaw, and you allow your hand to linger there, tilting his chin to better meet his eyes. Shouto leans into you. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s not your job to forgive him.” When he looks like he wants to argue you squeeze his arm, pinning him with a harsh stare. “It doesn’t make you less of a Hero.”

That strikes a chord with him. Shouto’s eyes stay locked on yours, refusing to budge as he searches your gaze. For what, you don’t know, but you hope he finds it. His grip on your leg grows tighter, a little bit colder, and you think about the ice that covered his desk without him realizing it. But he’d never hurt you. You know that more than anything.

And then, quietly, “Okay.”

The tension slowly drains from his shoulders as the two of you stay like that. The soft pad of your thumb rubs against his cheek, and you absently stroke the high point of the bone just under his eye. Shouto leans into your hand, lips pressing against your palm in what isn’t quite a kiss, but something close. In response, you squeeze his upper arm before letting go. There’s a noise of protest bubbling in the back of his throat, but your hand reaching up to cradle the left side of his jaw silences him before it can slip out entirely.

With your finger you trace the edge of his scar, smooth with age and familiar under your gentle touch. You try not to think too hard about the way he’s looking at you or the heat of his breath on your forearm. Raw instinct begs you to do something—anything. To lean in. To draw him down to you. To sink your fingers into his hair and pull.

Instead you smile and hope he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating. “If you ever need to hide a body, you can call me,” you joke, because you aren’t sure what else to say. You just want to make him feel better.

Shouto’s chuckle is low and throaty and it sends a shock down your spine. “Oh? Is that so?” He shifts his weight to his other leg but is careful not to dislodge your hands from his face. And you can’t bring yourself to release him either.

Your thumb brushes against his scar again, and you say, “I know a guy.”

His head tilts to the side, and he raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “You do remember what my occupation is, correct?”

You should stop holding him like this—intimately—but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you have the whole damn world in your hands, and how could you possibly let that go?

“Are you going to arrest me, Hero?”

Shouto shakes his head, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips. “You are so…” He sighs as he trails off, and you’re surprised when he releases your leg to wind his arm around you instead, pulling you into his chest. You go willingly. Tucking your head under his chin, your hands leave his face to wrap around him, returning the embrace. His heart beats loud beneath your ear, as strong and steady as his hands.

His lips find the crown of your head and his hand slides up your back so that he’s cupping the nape of your neck. “Thank you, love,” he murmurs against your hair, too quiet for you to hear.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you sit like that, but the next time you speak your lips brush against the cold buckle holding together the collar of his hero suit. “You don’t have to talk to him at the gala,” you remind him, returning to your initial conversation. The mention of Endeavor is sobering, and you hear him sigh above you. “And if he tries to talk to you, I can be your human shield.”

The offer makes him hum. “My human shield, huh? Will you have time for that on top of everything Izuku has you doing?” His thumb rubs against the back of your neck absentmindedly.

You shrug. “I can make time for one of my favorite Heroes,” you tease him, tightening your grip around his waist.

He stiffens. “I see,” Shouto murmurs. His fingers are still against the back of your neck, and you could swear you feel the heat of his hand begin to grow. “And what about Bakugou?” There’s an edge to his voice that you almost don’t notice, but when it registers, you pull your head from his chest with a small frown.

Jealousy. That’s what it is, you realize as your eyes seek out his.

Your traitor heart practically skips at the mere mention of the other hero. Right, Katsuki. That’s another thing you have to figure out. Not for the first time you think about Momo’s suggestion. This time, though, you don’t force it away just as quickly as it comes. A part of you is desperate to know if it would work between the three of you, if it’s worth the risk. Because you can’t keep holding Shouto like this if you won’t do something about it. It’s not fair to Shouto or Katsuki to keep dancing around things.

But then your thoughts go back to the gala, and your stomach drops when you remember how much you still have to do, how much pressure you’re under, and how important it is that this event goes as planned. No slip-ups. No disasters. And absolutely no messy relationship drama.

It just has to wait until after Friday night.

“What about him?” you ask, hoping your voice isn’t higher than usual.

His expression shifts, his brows furrowing as he looks down at you. “I thought—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. Your stomach drops as he starts to unwrap himself from your frame. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

You’re left overwhelmingly cold as he slips away, and you follow him without meaning to, sliding off the desk and landing back on your feet. “Shouto?”

He avoids your eyes as he reaches for the file sitting on his desk. “Thank you. For dropping this off.” Shouto hesitates before he looks at you again, swallowing thickly, but then his expression goes carefully blank. “You didn’t have to go out of your way.”

Your heels click against the tile as you take a step towards him. “What do you mean?” A frown forms on your lips, confusion sweeping through you at the turn in conversation.

Whatever was going through his head a moment ago seems to have disappeared. Shouto peers down at you with a puzzled look. “Midoriya was going to give this back to me tonight,” he explains. You nod, having already known that. “He called and told me you offered to drop it off on your way home. He said you have a half day.” Shouto’s expression softens. “That’s good. You’ve been working too hard.”

“Oh. Did he?” A half day. Amazing how Izuku neglected to mention that little detail to you earlier. It seems like you’re due to have a little chat with your boss. You glance at the door to see a familiar head of dark hair duck out of sight and your eyes narrow when you realize Seiji has been waiting here the entire time. So much for going back to the dorms. “Well, I should get going,” you say, gathering your things. “I don’t want to bother you.”

Besides, apparently it’s your day off.

He’s shaking his head before you’ve even finished, expression nothing but sincere. “You never do,” he says as he walks you to his office door. And then, softer, “I like when you stop by.”

Your chest tightens at the admission. “I’ll see you Friday,” you tell him as he opens the door for you. There’s so much more you want to tell him, but now just isn’t the right time.

Shouto’s palm presses against your lower back and you readily relax into his touch, glancing up at him. Heat sinks into your skin and radiates through you until you can feel it everywhere at once, all consuming. “Save me a dance?” he asks, his breath tickling your ear.

Smiling, you nod. “Of course.”

“I’m telling you, Ochako, Izuku is scheming something.” You glance at her from across the table, idly stirring your drink, and your eyes narrow when you notice she’s biting her lip to keep from laughing at your assertion. “This isn’t funny, I’m being serious!”

This time she does laugh. “This is Deku we’re talking about,” she reminds you, waving off your concerns as she picks at her food. “You really think he would do something like that?”

“If he thought it was the right thing to do, yes. He’s kind of nosy.”

You ended up calling Izuku directly after leaving Shouto’s office, only waiting until you saw Seiji racing around the corner to get to the train station and frantically texting on his phone to dial your boss. He picked up on the second ring, like he’d been waiting for your call. It wouldn’t surprise you if he was. You could barely get a word in before he was babbling something about you deserving the rest of the day off and to do something fun before you were abruptly hung up on, only furthering your suspicions.

Hence, you called Ochako. Though, you’re beginning to regret that decision.

“I don’t know,” she drawls, quirking a skeptical eyebrow. “You seem to think people are much more invested in your love life than they really are.”

You scowl. “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit when you and Mina interrogated me the other night.” Not invested in your love life, your ass. You were perfectly fine ignoring your feelings until they brought up a threesome. Now, it’s the only thing you can think about. “Besides, why else would Izuku have his intern spy on me while I was talking to Shouto today?”

“I seriously doubt he was spying on you.”

“Izuku told us two different stories about why I was dropping off that file. That’s not exactly subtle.” For a Pro Hero it was a pretty lame move, if you’re being honest. “And Nakamura sat outside Sho’s office for like fifteen minutes while we talked. And he insisted on walking me up to his office. That doesn’t seem odd to you?”

Ochako shrugs. “Maybe he has a crush on you?” The suggestion makes you blanche and she backtracks. “I just don’t think Izuku would actively try to spy on you and Todoroki. That’s a little weird, even for him.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you reply, propping your elbow up on the table and resting your chin in your palm.

“See?” Ochako reaches across the table to pat the back of your hand, offering you a sunny smile. “Besides, even if Deku was trying to spy on you guys, you know he’s only doing it because he cares about you guys. He’d never try to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I know, I know. I just… I don’t get why, you know? According to you I’m incredibly obvious and Izuku already knows they like me, so I don’t understand why he’d go out of his way to make me see Shouto today unless—” Eyes wide, your gaze snaps to Ochako and you gasp, betrayed. “Did you tell him something about the other night?”

She almost chokes on her drink. “No!” she says just a little too loudly, drawing a few curious eyes their way. Ochako flushes and plays with her chopsticks as you continue to stare her down. “Maybe,” she relents, “but not on purpose! Like I told you the other night, Todoroki and Bakugou have been fighting because they’re jealous idiots, and Deku didn’t know what to do, and it just kind of slipped out, I’m sorry!” The apology in her eyes melts into a more curious look. “Anyway, have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

You sigh and shake your head, picking at your food. “Not yet.” Ochako makes a disgruntled sound, and you pout, glaring at her half-heartedly. “In case you don’t remember, I’ve been extremely busy planning a major event with little warning. I barely have time to eat, let alone seduce two men.”

Seducing just one of them seems like a daunting task. Katsuki is the more open flirt between the two of them, but he tends to clam up whenever you even hint at returning that affection, so actively trying anything could send him running. And Shouto can be difficult to pin down, if his open affection earlier today is anything to go by. He’s usually more reserved; the last thing you want is to scare him away.

“Oh, I don’t think you’d have much trouble trying to seduce them.” Across the table, Ochako’s smile becomes sly. “I mean, they’re both pretty blunt, right? So if you just went up and asked if they wanted to have sex they’d probably say yes. You’re just being a chicken!”

“I am not!” you argue, offended. “I just need this gala to be over before I worry about my love life. That’s all.” It’s been your mantra since girl’s night. Just a few more days. Everything will work out.

She snorts. “You keep saying that, but then you go and cuddle up with Todoroki in his office.”

“It wasn’t cuddling,” you correct her not for the first time today. “It was just a hug because we were talking about his dad.” A very long and intense hug that kind of made you want to let him have his way with you right then and there, but still a hug.

Ochako doesn’t look impressed. “Prolonged physical contact counts as cuddling.”

You throw down your chopsticks and cross your arms, leaning back in your chair. “Ugh, why did I call you?” You’re pouting, you know, but it’s hard not to when you can see her blatant amusement over your suffering. Why are all of your friends so mean to you?

She blows you a kiss. “You love me!”

Damn right you do.

Before she can keep heckling you over the complicated situation that is your love life, a familiar, gruff voice shouts, “Oi! Sweetcheeks!” from across the cafe. You stiffen in your seat as heat rushes through you, leaving you feeling uncomfortably hot. You blame it on the eyes that have shifted to look at you and not the disgustingly attractive Pro Hero stomping towards you.

You don’t dare to look at him as he approaches, sure you’ll turn into a stuttering fool if you do. “Katsuki, what have I told you about calling me that in public?” The correct answer is “not to.”

He scoffs, and you finally force yourself to look at him. He’s already glaring down at you. Why? You have no idea, but you match his look, holding his intense ruby gaze with a stare of your own. It’s a challenge. One he usually takes. But you’re surprised when he drops his gaze first and glares at the floor instead. “Whatever,” he grumbles, cheeks a little pink.

You’re a bit put out by the distinct lack of any flirty comments or obvious—according to Mina—bedroom eyes, but before you can ask what’s wrong, someone else cuts in.

“Oh, hey, guys!”

It’s only then that you realize Kirishima is there too, and you’re only a little embarrassed about that.

But Kiri, bless him, is either entirely oblivious to you not noticing his presence, or just decides to roll with it anyway. He really is too good for the rest of you. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, too!” His smile is wide and toothy as he rubs the back of his head, careful not to dislodge the bandana holding his hair back. “Midoriya suggested we stop by for lunch, what a coincidence, huh? I gotta say, it looks like a nice place. Hopefully we don’t get kicked out because of this guy.” He jerks a thumb in Katsuki’s direction, electing a sour look from the cranky man.

Your eyes widen as Kiri mentions Izuku, and you shoot Ochako a look that she ignores. Kirishima and Ochako begin to chat about the cafe, but you stop listening.

Okay, now you’re almost positive you’re being set up. The cafe isn’t anywhere near their agency, and it’s more than a little suspicious that they just happened to show up while you and Ochako are here. Coincidences, your ass. You should have known better than to trust Ochako. Of course, she and Izuku would be in cahoots. Assholes.

You glare at Ochako one more time before allowing yourself to stare unabashedly at Katsuki instead. He isn’t looking at any of you, instead choosing to glare at something across the cafe and pretend the rest of you don’t exist. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead using the rare moment to just look at him.

Katsuki is nothing short of eye-candy, though you never really get the chance to appreciate just how damn hot he is without the chance of being teased mercilessly in front of other people. Even now, you can see Ochako biting her lip to keep from laughing at you, but really who can blame you for just wanting to ogle him a little? Katsuki is by far one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. Years of training and fighting have covered him in lean muscle, and his features have become sharper since you were teenagers.

He’s nothing short of someone’s wet dream, and he damn well knows it, too.

Your eyes drag down his bare biceps slowly, silently thanking whatever gods are out there for his aversion to anything with sleeves. You stare a little longer before your eyes trail back up, lingering a moment on those broad shoulders before moving higher.

Red eyes stare back at you, and you almost choke on your spit.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow.

Like the hero he is, Kiri chooses that exact moment to turn to you in excitement. “Hey, how has the event planning been going?” His interest is nothing but sincere, and you can’t help but smile. “It sucks that we missed you this weekend, but hopefully afterwards you’ll have more free time, yeah? It’s super manly of you to take on all of this by yourself!”

“It’s going well, Kiri. Thanks for—”

“I need to talk to you,” Katsuki cuts you off, scowling. He shoves his hands into his pockets, when you don’t move.

You blink back at him, baffled. “What?” He rolls his eyes at your confusion. “Katsuki, I’m kind of in the middle of—Katsuki!” You call after him, gaping as he just turns around and walks away from you, heading towards the back of the cafe.

“Hurry up, angel face!” he calls over his shoulder without stopping.

The pet name makes you flush. You glance at your friends, noticing their similarly dumbfounded yet amused expressions. “Ochako?” You aren’t sure if you should apologize or not as you cast another look at Katsuki just in time to see him round a corner.

She waves you off. “Take your time! Have fun!”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you slip out of your chair and hurry after Katsuki. If you take any longer, he’ll probably bitch about it. Though, you are curious about what he wants, especially if he decided it’s something he can’t say in front of Ochako and Kirishima.

A less than PG thought flashes in your mind, but you force it away just as quickly, fighting down a blush.

You turn the same corner that he did, finding yourself in a dim hallway that has you searching for your favorite head of spiky hair. A hand lashes out, grabbing you by the arm. You gasp as you’re suddenly spun around so that your back is pressed flush up against the nearest wall. Just as quickly, a large pair of hands slap against the wallpaper on either side of you, boxing you in.

A pair of red eyes glare down at you, closer than before. Your breath catches, and your hands press against a well-muscled chest automatically. There’s hardly any space left between the two of you, but Katsuki manages to close that short distance even more until your bodies are just barely brushing against each other. It sets your nerves on fire, all of your senses suddenly attune to him.

He speaks before you can ask him what the hell he’s doing. “Damn Deku said you went to see Icy Hot today,” he practically growls against your ear. His breath fans against your cheek and you shudder.

It takes you a second to collect yourself, overwhelmed by the feel of his chest rising and falling beneath your fingertips. “I dropped off a file with Shouto, yes,” your voice trembles a little, but not because of anything like fear. No, you’re just stupid and horny and he’s close enough for you to smell the heavy caramel scent that clings to him because of his quirk.

You were already more riled up than you’d ever dare to admit out loud, and the heat rolling off of his body paired with the way he’s pinning you between his broad chest and the wall is doing things to you.

Whatever you were expecting from him, it certainly wasn’t this.

He huffs. “Figures,” he sneers, lip curling back. His eyes shift from yours to glare at the wall, and without his gaze on you you find you can breathe again. It only makes you more aware of the knee that’s pressed against the outside of your thigh. “Bastard would do it first,” he grumbles under his breath. You wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t pressed up against you like this.

“Excuse me?” Your mouth is dry. Your tongue is thick and heavy. And the heat radiating from him is making you dizzy. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize that, just like Shouto earlier, he’s jealous. Though where it made Shouto pull away from you, it only made Katsuki bolder than usual.

“Ask you to be his date to this stupid fucking thing.” His eyes snap back to yours for just a second before they’re raking down your body just like the other day at the agency. He leans in a little closer. “Ask you to dance.”

How does he know about that? “Katsuki?”

When you don’t deny it, he makes a low sound in the back of his throat that has heat pooling low in your stomach. Your fingers fist in his tank top. Katsuki’s lips brush against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Guess, I’ll just have to remind you that I’m better than Icy Hot.”

As turned on as you are right now, the mention of their stupid rivalry makes you want to roll your eyes.

“Katsuki,” you say again. He’s so close that this time you notice the faintest hitch in his breathing at the way you say his name, sweet as honey. Despite the way your heart is pounding in your chest, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. “If you want me to save you a dance, all you have to do is ask.”

“Tch.” His lips brush against your jaw, barely grazing your skin. “Who’d wanna to dance with you anyway?” Katsuki is slow to lean back again, but only enough to meet your eyes.

You breathe a laugh. “You’re such a grouch.” Tilting your head to the side, you lean in close enough to press a sweet, fleeting kiss against his cheek. Katsuki freezes, sucking in a harsh breath. “I’ll see you Friday?” you ask, sliding your palms down his chest.

He lurches away just as your fingers reach his stomach, edging closer to his belt. “Whatever, sweetcheeks,” he huffs, not meeting your eyes.

Katsuki shoves away from the wall and stomps away without looking back at you once, but you still manage to catch a glimpse of his pink cheeks and the tiny smile he’s trying to hide as he disappears back into the main dining area. He’s flustered, and satisfaction floods through you at the mere thought of leaving him all hot and bothered.

Maybe Ochako was right. This seduction thing might be easier than you thought.

That night, Katsuki leans back in his chair, nursing a drink and only half-listening to Kirishima telling a story to Kaminari, Jirou, and Mina. He stopped paying attention after his first drink, annoyed at being the fifth wheel among his friends, but he only has himself to blame for it.

He was supposed to meet up with Midoriya and Todoroki tonight to go over a case—the same fucking one they went to talk about last week only for it to turn into an argument. That was his fault too, not that he’ll ever admit it. He shouldn’t have cancelled tonight either, but Icy Hot backed out first, and the last way he wanted to spend his night off was listening to fucking Deku give him relationship advice.

The memory of your lips on his cheek makes his skin itch, and he scowls over the rim of his drink as he thinks about that Icy Hot bastard asking you to save him a dance at the stupid party coming up.

The sound of his name draws him out of his stupor.

“Ugh, finally,” an intoxicated Mina slurs, cuddling up closer against Kirishima’s side. “It’s about time one of them made a move. I thought for sure she’d be the one to do it after what she said on girl’s night, but I’m proud of them for finally doing something about it. Usually Bakugou and Todoroki are more emotionally constipated than that.” Apparently, she doesn’t remember that one of said emotionally constipated men is sitting right across from her. Or maybe she doesn’t care. Mina tends to say whatever the hell she wants when she drinks. No filter at all. Mina heaves an over-dramatic sigh. “If those three would just fuck already.”

Katsuki chokes on his drink. Wild, red eyes lock on Mina across the table. “What the hell are you talkin’ about raccoon eyes?” he finally manages to sputter out.

Kirishima and Kaminari look equally as shocked, and Jirou’s face has gone pale, frozen in horror.

And Mina, with no filter or hesitation, looks Katsuki dead in the eyes and says, “Just how Yuna wants to fuck you and Todoroki.”

“Mina!” Jirou snaps, glaring at her furiously and shaking her head. A silent conversation passes between the girls and then Mina gasps, covering her mouth with her hands when her brain finally catches up with her mouth.

A very tipsy Kaminari glances down at his frazzled girlfriend before he blinks and turns to Mina instead. “Like… at the same time or…?” he trails off.

“Don’t answer that!” Jirou lurches forward and slaps a hand over Mina’s mouth as she starts to answer. Despite being unable to speak, the other girl nods behind Jirou’s hand, happily spilling her friend’s sexual fantasies.

Kaminari’s question is like a punch in the gut to Katsuki, but the wave of interest and arousal that crashes over him is unexpected.

Jirou groans and peels her hand away from Mina’s mouth. “Fuck, she’s gonna kill us later.” She shoots a withering glare at Katsuki. “Look, Bakugou, you can’t tease her about this, okay? She’s stressed enough about liking both of you dumb assholes, and if you make her feel bad for it, I’ll make sure Denki lights your ass up like a Christmas tree.”

“I will?” Kaminari asks. Jirou glares at him too. “I mean, yeah I will!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Katsuki grumbles, staring down at his drink. He’s never been shy about wanting to fuck you, and he’s known for years that Icy Hot wants to fuck you too, but he could never figure out which one of them you wanted to fuck. Apparently, it’s both of them.

He can work with that.

Katsuki waits until the conversation shifts to something else he’s not interested in to pull his phone out of his pocket and find a specific name in his recent texts. He keeps the message short and vague, glancing over it once before hitting send.

‘Yo, Icy Hot. We need to talk.'

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader x todoroki #todoroki x reader x bakugou #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #nbha #mha #fic: some like it hot

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let-it-raines · 6 years

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Betting on the Bullseye (16/?)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I didn’t have to edit, Nonnie, so sometime this weekend turns out to be Friday night! Happy weekend, you guys!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings

Over the course of June, Killian’s sure that he flies between Los Angeles and Boston more times than any other passenger. He’s not really working consistently while Emma is, so he’s constantly loading up on a plane, racking up miles every time just to spend a day or two in Boston before he’s flying back for a meeting or a pre-made appointment. Sometimes he has to simply show up an event, let people see him wearing clothes, and then he can leave. He thinks those are his least favorite, but as much as acting is his job, that is too.

Sometimes he really wonders about his life. It’s definitely not normal. He knows that, but he’s honestly used to it. He was comfortable with it, but that was before he fell in love with a woman who lives three thousand miles away.

(Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine miles to be exact. He looked it up.)

Honestly, though, he’d spend his life on a plane just to be with her. Will calls him sappy (a sappy wanker actually), and while he might be, he doesn’t really care. It’s definitely worth it.

Emma is worth it.

Damn, okay, maybe he is sappy.

Of course, with his frequent flying and the few posts he’s made about Emma online, never showing her face or saying her name, the amount of pictures of him on the internet has increased drastically. With that, journalists and paparazzi have begun to investigate where he’s going, often finding him in Boston with Emma when they’re out to eat or running outside. Last week they went to the Red Sox game when they were playing the Yankees, bringing her friends with them, and he couldn’t even begin to count the amount of people that were waiting outside of the stadium when he left. What could possibly be so interesting about him walking out of a baseball game he’ll never know.

According to Robin, they’ve recognized Emma from their first date at the charity gala, and with every new picture that’s taken, there’s some other bogus article about them, the information supposedly coming from their close friends. Considering that everything about it is bullshit and that none of their friends would ever talk to a journalist, he’s not too concerned about it all. Really, everything is gossip, just articles that are made for clicks, and the only concerns he truly has about all of it is Emma and her well-being.

She seems to be fine, says that she’s fine, and is always telling him that she understood what she was getting into to a certain extent. It hasn’t been as bad as it once had been in the past, his lack of released projects likely helping with that, and he’s never been so thankful for not having worked as much as he usually does. She did say there were some photographers outside of her apartment last week, which isn’t a shock since they managed to find it the night of their first date, but that it hadn’t been enough to make her uncomfortable.

He, however, is entirely uncomfortable with anyone trailing after Emma and her home. He’s the one who chose this profession and everything that comes with it, and while he doesn’t like it, he should be the one to have to take all of the displeasure and annoyances that come with it, not his girlfriend when she’s simply trying to go throughout her life like she always has.

Emma’s flying out to him tomorrow, though, claiming that she wants to spend some time at the beach for the weekend. She took Friday off, has been working her arse off all week to make up for it too, and he’s excited to see her while also being able to spend time in his own home. He’s not saying his bed is more comfortable than Emma’s, but his bed is definitely more comfortable than Emma’s.

She admits to it as well.

His bed is bloody comfortable.

“You have issues, man,” Will whistles, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and settling down on a stool while Killian continues to wash their plates from lunch.

“What issues do I have?”

“You’ve been in here scrubbing three plates for over fifteen minutes. And you’re just going to put them in the washer too. I don’t see the point.”

Killian shrugs, rinsing his plate off one more time before drying it with a towel. “It’s a force of habit. Didn’t have a dishwasher growing up and had to do things by hand. I’ve never quite gotten out of the habit. Also, you’re not supposed to insult the hands that feed you.”

“Before you eat, mate. It’s after. You can’t spit in my food now.” “I’ll save it for next time. What time do you have to be down at the bar?”

“Seven. I’m working until closing, which always sucks on Wednesdays. Who the hell stays out until closing on Wednesdays?”

“People who need something to drink about or who don’t have normal jobs. Or kids. So, really, most people in this city.”

“True,” Will sighs, taking another sip of his water. “I’m still waiting for you to give me a fancy job like Rob where I can finally work semi-normal hours.” “I told you. Come up with something you can do, and I’ll let you do it. Though you do serve a mean drink.” He opens up the dishwasher and puts the plates inside, checking to see how much longer until he can run the thing. “Is the match still going on?”

“Yeah, it’s in the beginnings of the fifth set. I think Rob is going to pull his hair out. But not for him. Rol has apparently been freaking out for the whole tournament. Tennis is his new thing, says Messi and Ronaldo are old news.” “Ah, to be young and switch interests so quickly.”

“Bloody hell,” Robin groans from the living room, loud enough for them to hear in the kitchen. “Why would you do that? You should have gone down the line instead of cross court.”

“Do we need to go save him before he rips all of his hair out and breaks your TV?”

“I don’t care about his hair, but I do care about my TV.”

“I can hear you,” Robin yells, the displeasure in his voice obvious. “You try having a son who’s freaking out about this match while he’s supposed to be learning how to use correct grammar at school.”

“I’ll get to working on that,” Will jokes, sliding back in his stool while Killian grabs himself a water bottle as well. “Though I don’t really think a lass will want to have a kid with me just so I can yell at the TV. I think that’s the opposite of what they want.”

“Just shut up and come watch the match,” Robin groans, and Killian shakes his head back and forth while laughter rumbles through his stomach.

“You two are ridiculous.”

-/-

Emma: I just boarded the plane. See you soon! Is there a way you can make the rain forecast go away?

Kilian: Let me just use my magical powers, and I’ll do that for you.

Emma: You’re da bomb diggity.

Emma: Pretend I didn’t type that.

Killian: Never. Be safe, love.

Emma: I shall not wear my seatbelt and will walk around during turbulence.

Killian: The definition of safety.

He goes back to lounging on his couch and flipping through channels on the TV. It’s been a long time since he was this bored, and he’s contemplating asking Elsa to bring Aiden over to the house just so that he has someone to talk to. Of course, he’s thinking about having a baby for his conversational partner, so he’s not sure how good of an idea that is.

Elsa would be here too, but he honestly wasn’t thinking about having her to talk to. He may be a horrible brother-in-law. And friend. So both. He’s terrible with both.

He’ll have to go see them sometime next week. He’s saw Liam when they went to dinner Monday night, but Elsa had been going to spend time with her friends. Maybe Emma will want to go over there this weekend, or they can come here and spend the day at the beach with them.

If he makes the rain go away. He’s supposed to be doing that.

He really might be bored enough to be delusional.

Sighing, he keeps flipping through the channels and leaves it on Friends, knowing if anything that can just play in the background while he fiddles around on his phone. He might need to pick up a new hobby other than reading and exercising. And he’s pretty sure that exercising is technically part of his job.

Does he really only have one hobby? Well, taking his boat out must count. So that’s two.

He’s got to work on this apparently.

Slowly but surely the hours pass as he alternates between watching TV and wandering around his house, cleaning up and straightening anything that’s out of place. If he wasn’t always traveling, he’d get a dog to keep him company, and he definitely spent at least two hours looking at different breeds just now.

He wants them all.

His phone buzzes to tell him there’s someone at the gate, and when he checks the video feed, it’s Emma punching in the code and walking through with her weekend bag slung over her shoulder. He immediately gets up from the couch and walks to his front door, swinging it open and running outside to catch Emma before she bothers going through the garage.

“Oh hey,” she begins when she sees him twisting her body at the sound of the door opening. “Were you watching the cameras because – ”

He doesn’t let her finish, grabbing onto her waist and pulling her to him with his lips, effectively quieting her words while she gasps into her mouth. It’s only been a week, but he’s been anxiously awaiting her being here for the entire time. Missing her isn’t getting any easier. If anything, he thinks it’s getting a bit harder. She tastes like coffee and minty gum, a combination that’s not great, but he doesn’t really care with the way she’s sliding her lips over his and threading her fingers into his hair, her nails scratching at the sensitive spots on his scalp. God, he loves her a ridiculous amount, and he’ll never not be thankful that she allows him to be a part of her life.

“Were you watching the cameras?” she sighs breathlessly when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his, her skin ridiculously warm while a breeze blows past them, the impending storm picking up. “Because I can’t decide if that’s sweet or creepy.”

“Just be quiet, Swan,” he laughs, gliding his lips over hers again and sucking on her upper lip. He quite likes the little noise she makes when he does it, and he’d like to hear it as often as possible. “And I wasn’t watching. My phone sends me a message whenever there’s someone at the gate.�� “Fancy.” “I try to be. You want to come inside?” “Why, Mr. Jones,” she begins in an exaggerated accent, “you have to buy me dinner first before I come inside. I am a lady. I can’t just go home with any man.”

“Did you watch a period piece on the plane?” “Absolutely I did.” “That’s what I thought.”

The moment they get inside and have the door closed, Emma drops her bag to the ground and wraps her arms around his neck while he backs her up to the front door, rolling his hips against hers while his mouth moves over hers with more force and more intensity than it did outside. This is how most of their reunions go, hurriedly greeting each other and making up for all of the lost time that they’ve missed while apart. She’s bloody intoxicating in the way the she feels against him, the way that her tongue feels as it dances with his, and with the way that her hands move along his shoulders and up and down his sides, snaking up under his shirt at the same time this his hands find the warm skin of her stomach.

“I smell like airport.” “You know I don’t care. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she sighs before gasping as his lips trace along her jaw, nipping slightly and soothing every bite with his tongue. He doesn’t want to leave a mark, won’t leave one, but she likes when he teases her. He likes it too.

“That seemed like the longest flight of all time.” “You weren’t…ah fuck, you weren’t even on it.”

“I was waiting for you.” “Again, it sounds creepy without context.”

He chuckles against her ear before kissing the lobe all the while his thumbs ghost over her nipples through her bra. He can feel the lace underneath his touch, and it sends a shiver down his spine. She’s not usually one for pretty little underwear, so he’s not going to complain when he’s gifted with this.

“You talk far too much when I’m supposed to be taking your breath away.” “Do a better job,” she teases him, resting her forehead against his shoulder while she maneuvers herself to wrap her legs around his waist, grinding her core into his so that they both groan. “You can take me upstairs now.” “Not feeling like walking?” “Not at all.”

He walks her down the hallway and to the stairs all the while her lips trail across his jaw and down his neck, the pressure at the base of his spine continuously building and building and building to the point where it’s almost painful not to be inside of her right now.

“Oh my God, KJ,” she gasps when he stops to readjust her in his arms on the middle landing, “don’t you dare drop me.”

“I’m not going to, love. That’s why I’m adjusting you. This isn’t as easy as you’d think when my entire body is thrumming with frustration.”

“Thrumming?” “It’s a word.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of weird word when you think about it. I mean – ”

“Emma, my love,” he interrupts continuing to take the steps upstairs since he’s now confident he won’t drop her, “I will absolutely sit with you and talk about language in about twenty minutes, but I need you to not think about the origins of the word thrumming right now.”

“Oh you think you’re going to last that long when you’re thrumming with desire?”

He drops Emma on the bed the moment he’s close enough to it, letting her bounce just because she’s being a smart arse, but she doesn’t seem at all deterred by that. “You are driving me mad.” “I know, I know,” she squeals as he peppers kisses across her face while undoing his zipper. “I just feel like humming would be a better choice there and – ”

He cuts her off with a kiss. It’s all he can do when she’s in a playful mood like this and wants to have an absolutely ridiculous conversation with him when he really does feel as if he may burst from frustration, desire, or whatever the hell Emma wants to call it. Honestly, he loves her, but he missed her like mad and needs this right now. And Emma’s very obviously not protesting with the way she whimpers into his mouth.

Despite their brief interlude, it’s a rush of clothing being removed and bodies melding into each other just as their lips have been. She feels fucking fantastic wrapped around him as she moves up and down above him, and he has to briefly close his eyes with the pleasure of it all. They’ve truly gotten into a groove as of late, finally having time to learn more about each other’s bodies and pleasures as they spend more time together, and he can absolutely feel all of the proof of that right now.

It’s honestly like heaven.

Emma falls apart before he does despite how keyed up he’s been, but he doesn’t last long after her, not with the way she feels pulsing (thrumming) around him and the way she whispers his name over and over again into his ear while her nails dig into his shoulders. It was quick and a bit messy, maybe even a little harsh, but as they both rest against each other while catching their breaths, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hold on, darling,” he whispers, moving her off of him while he walks into the bathroom on still shaky legs to clean himself up and get a wash cloth for Emma. He gently cleans her up before pulling on his boxers and tossing the cloth in the laundry bin as he settles back into bed where Emma is still stretched out. “You not going to move, Swan?”

“In a minute,” she yawns, slowly sitting up and propping herself up on her elbows. “The jet lag is hitting me right now. Like, hard. I think I was run over by the plane at some point.” “Why don’t you go to sleep?” “I’m trying,” she yawns again, slowly getting up from the bed and stretching her limbs out the slightest bit. “Will you be, like, the best man in the entire world and go get my bag from downstairs? I’m just going to wear your pajamas, but I need my toothbrush.”

“I bought you one to keep here when I went shopping the other day. And I stocked up on some more of your shampoo.”

“Is it the – ”

“Yep, it’s the electronic kind that you and your special teeth like.”

“Bless you,” she sighs, coming over to him and cupping her cheeks before slanting her lips over his while his hands rest at her hips. “I love you, and I know I’m, like, deliriously tired, but that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” “Yeah, we’re definitely going to have to work on that then.” He gently slaps her arse while their lips are still ghosting over each other. “Go get dressed and try out that toothbrush, Swan.”

“I most definitely will.”

-/-

He’s standing in his kitchen drinking his mug of coffee the next morning when Emma stumbles down the stairs with all of the grace she usually possesses as she walks over his pajama pants that are far too long on her. Usually she rolls them up, but she must have just decided to take the risk of tripping and walked down the stairs like that. Honestly, he’s not even really sure if she’s actually fully awake right now with how sleep rumpled she is.

“G’morning, love.” “Morning,” she gruffs, walking toward him and taking his coffee out of his hands only to take a sip and scrunch up her face. “This is disgusting.” “That’s because it’s made for me and not for you. You don’t like black coffee. I do.”

“You’re weird,” she moans, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist after putting the mug down. She must be exhausted, all of her sleep making her groggier than usual, and he lets her rest there, rubbing his hand up and down her back while her hair gets caught in his mouth. Her hair is really something else. “I’m tired.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” She weakly hits his back before pulling away from him. “Sorry for taking your coffee. I’m going to make an actual, drinkable cup now, and you can keep your nasty one to yourself.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“Ha,” Emma laughs, her eyes lighting up, “I knew that I’d get you to say it!”

“Aye, Swan, you’ve bested me with your odd little sayings.”

“Yes, exactly.” She pokes him in the stomach before moving around him and preparing her own cup. “I said bloody hell the other day, so we obviously both have problems.”

It’s nice to have a slow, quiet morning with Emma. There’s no impending plane ride tomorrow, no immediate rush to do everything they absolutely can in twenty-four hours, so they sit in his living room, drinking their coffee and eating the bagels he had delivered this morning. Usually he’d cook something, but he wasn’t feeling like it this morning, figuring he could just order in while Emma was sleeping upstairs.

He really likes having her here, and while he knows it’s far too soon to even suggest it, he wishes it could be a permanent thing. He keeps thinking about it, though, thinking about the fact that Emma could have more than just her toothbrush here.

She’s laughing at the beginning of the Hangover, something he’d like to get to experience more often, and while he wonders why that movie is playing before noon on a Friday, he’s not going to question it when he can already feel his stomach rumbling with laughter as well. Suddenly Emma’s phone starts ringing, the vibrations causing it to move across the coffee table, and she leans forward to pick it up. “Hello?” she answers, adjusting her legs and tucking them underneath her. “Oh hey, Rubes. Rubes? Hey, Ruby?” she soothes, her voice calm yet firm, and he immediately mutes the television so Emma can hear. “Ruby, you have to stop cursing and tell me what’s wrong. Are you okay? Is Marg okay?”

She looks over at him with fear in her eyes, the green brighter than usual, but he can see them relax while Ruby tells her whatever she tells her. He can’t hear, the sounds muffled, but if Emma wanted him to, she’d put in on speaker.

“Oh, Rubes,” Emma sighs, getting up from the couch and pacing the room, “I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He has absolutely no idea what’s happening, what’s wrong with Ruby, but he watches Emma move back and forth in front of his television, running her hand through her hair multiple times all the while biting her lip. She doesn’t look upset, not truly, but she’s definitely not happy. The fact that she’s not crying soothes him in the fact that he doesn’t think someone has died or been in an accident.

He wants to know because he’s curious, but he also wants to know because he wants everyone to be okay. He’s really come to care about Emma’s friends.

“I’m going to be home Sunday night. I promise. I’ll come over to your place, or you can come over to mine. It doesn’t matter, but why don’t you go spend some time with Marg? I know you probably want to be alone, but Marg really does help. And I know for a fact that she’s got a bunch of good junk food in her freezer. I love you, Rubes.”

Ruby obviously says a few more things, Emma nodding her head to all of them, before she’s hanging up her phone, placing in on the coffee table, and then coming to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

He rubs his hand up and down her back in what he hopes are calming circles. “What’s wrong, Swan? You okay?”

“Fine,” she mumbles into his skin before pulling back and settling back on his thighs. He gently take her hand in his, bringing her wrist to his lips and kissing the skin there several times. “I mean, I feel really shitty for being here because Ruby and Victor broke up and I’m not there to comfort her. She took the day off of work and everything, and Ruby is not one for moping. But she’s moping. I think we really all hoped it was going to work out for them this time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“You’re not home because you’re here with me. I’m sorry for Ruby, and I’m sorry you can’t be there with her.”

“It’s okay,” she sighs, and he can tell that she only partially means it. “Marg is much more comforting, and then by the time Ruby’s ready to bash Victor, I’ll be there with all of the things that bothered me about him but that I never voiced.”

“Is the hair number one on that list?”

“Stop,” she groans, scrunching up her face and slapping his shoulder. “That’s awful.” “I mean, that is probably pretty tame compared to what’s going on in your mind right now.”

“True.” Emma dips her head and slants her lips over his. She tastes like her coffee, the vanilla creamer obvious, and he can’t say he minds, not when the taste is on her lips and not in his coffee. It’s much better than the mint and coffee of last night. “I love you.”

He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ears, the strands continuously falling, before looking up at her through his lashes while his thumb traces over her cheek, over the freckles that reside there. “I love you, too. Do you want to go out to the beach to get your mind off of things?” “I’d like that.”

The temperature continues to rise throughout the day, but with the way the sky is overcast, the heat isn’t overwhelming. If anything, it almost makes it cool despite being over eighty degrees. And as the dark clouds move in, thunder rumbling in the air, he only gets a few minutes to appreciate Emma in the scrap of fabric she has on before they’re rushing inside already soaked to the bone with how quickly the rain fell.

He thought maybe the storm wouldn’t come after it didn’t break last night, but he was apparently wrong about that.

After they’ve both quickly rinsed the sand off in the shower and changed into warmer clothes, they settle down in his room, Emma pulling the comforter practically up to her chin while he flips through the channels trying to find something to watch. Emma teases him when they pass one of his movies, practically begging to watch, but he refuses and settles on one of the Oceans movies just to have something playing. Friday afternoon is obviously not prime time for movie replays.

Obviously Fridays are just bad for television overall.

Emma’s been herself all day, but he can tell that not being at home with Ruby is definitely bothering her. She’ll get quiet every now and then, her gaze trailing away, and she’s got her phone by her side constantly when she usually leaves it alone for a little while, not always having to be on it. He wishes he could help, had offered to pay for her ticket so she could go home early, but she insisted that it was fine, that it really will be better for her to stay. Still, he can tell that she wishes she was at home, especially when she walks out of the room to talk to Mary Margaret for at least an hour.

“We should do something with your family tomorrow,” she tells him. “Or Will and Robin. I don’t know. As much as I love sitting inside with you with it pouring down rain outside, we probably should leave this house at some point. Or maybe have people come to us.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer and kissing her temple. “Elsa did say she wanted to do something with you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How?”

He can feel her shrug under his arm. “We text.” “Really now?”

“Hey, don’t be so surprised. I like her. Also, I know that you and Marg talk about food all of the time, so it’s really not weird.”

“I never said it was, love.”

“It was implied, KJ.”

-/-

“You’re such a cutie,” Emma coos to Aiden, brushing his hair off of his face while she lays on the floor of Elsa’s house with him so that they can play with all of the toys he has scattered across the ground. Aiden’s taken quite a liking to her, which is good considering his fondness for only liking people he knows. “You remind me so much of Leo.”

Aiden runs one of his trucks over Emma’s stomach, and she doesn’t even care, laying out on the ground and making Aiden giggle with all of her theatrics.

“If anything, I think I’m going to keep you around to entertain my kid,” Elsa laughs, settling down next to him on the couch and handing him the tea she’s been making.

“I mean, I’m being run over by giant trucks right now, so it’s very hard work. I feel like I need a pay raise.” “We’ll negotiate later.” Elsa nudges his shoulder, making him tear his eyes away from where Emma is now tickling Aiden’s stomach, their combined laughter filling the room.

“What?”

“Slow your roll,” Elsa whispers into his ear, squeezing his shoulder.

“What are you on about, lass?”

“You’re thinking about future things,” Elsa continues, and he can feel the blush rising in his face and reaching the tips of his ears. He is thinking about future things, has been all weekend, but watching Emma with Aiden is filling him with more thoughts than it should. One day at a time. They take things one day at a time, maybe a few weeks at a time, but they’re not thinking years ahead. He’s thinking years ahead. “I can see all of the gears turning in your head, see the way you’re making all of these plans.”

“I am not.” “You are.” She rubs her hand up and down his arm while he takes a sip of his tea, letting the warm liquid wash down. “And I’m so happy for you, but you gotta take the baby steps before you take the running leaps.”

He hums, knowing that she’s telling the truth. Honestly, though, even with all of his thoughts about the future, he knows this. He’s not looking to do anything that he’s not ready for. He’s not looking to do anything that Emma’s not ready for.

“Thank you for your all-knowing advice, oh wise one.”

“Shut up,” she groans, slapping his shoulder before pulling back and picking up her tea from the coffee table and drinking it. “Emma, let me know when you’re tired of fooling with him, and I’ll pull Liam out of his office so that the three of us don’t have to have him constantly in our sights.” “Are we talking about Aiden or Killian here?”

Elsa giggles beside him, blinking down into her cup all the while he feels the tips of his ears heat again. “Sweetheart,” he sweetly begins, “I will leave you here and change the gate code at the house if this is how things are going to be.”

“Hmm,” Emma mumbles, pulling Aiden up to stand on her stomach, “I think I’ll just stay here. I feel like Aiden will gladly share his room with me. He’s much cuter than you too.”

“This is so true.”

“Bloody hell,” he grumbles into his cup. “I’ve made a mistake introducing the two of you. This is not nearly as entertaining as when we’re all ganging up on Liam.” “That’s because Liam is much more fun to make fun of,” Elsa laughs, having to wipe the corners of her eyes. “He gets much more flustered than you, which is saying something.”

They stay over at Liam and Elsa’s while the storm rains itself out, coating the city in water that it probably desperately needed, especially with the summer heat taking full effect. It’s nice listening to the steady rhythm of the rain beating against the house, watching it fall down through the floor-to-ceiling windows they have leading out to the backyard, and while he had no intention of staying here all day, it’s exactly what happens. Emma falls asleep in a recliner, a blanket pulled up around her legs and Aiden snuggled into her chest, while he and Elsa watch TV and eat food, catching up on everything they’ve missed while Liam finally leaves his office and joins them.

It’s one of those days where you know it’s good while it’s happening, and even though Emma wanted to spend time out at the beach while she was out here, he doesn’t think that the rain has been a bad thing.

It’s actually been a good one.

Really good.

#betting on the bullseye #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic

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hailqiqi · 6 years

Text

Skirting Katabasis

AO3 - Chapter One - Chapter Two

Chapter Three: She Forgot it Wasn’t Just About Her

Words: 2,913

Written for the @pidgebigbang!

Shout out to @ibupony for their glorious artwork (spoilers for a later chapter) and @sp4c3-0ddity for their diligent beta-ing (this chapter would have been very different without her).

This fic was not supposed to be this angsty, but I’m proud of how many headcanons I’ve managed to cram in.

Are the read mores working again yet?

“Forgive my interruption, Princess, but did you just say refugees?”

J'aothlians were officially Pidge's least favourite aliens. They ranked even lower than Galra, given that she actively liked more than a few of them.

“Yes, Kztaun, there is some refugee movement between planets in the Coalition,” Allura replied. Her disdain was loud and clear through the bond, but — impressively — there was no trace in her voice. Allura’s diplomatic skills were one of Voltron’s best assets.

Pidge, for her part, was only ever expected to play nice, but she really should be better at diplomacy. The Holts had been in the Garrison for six generations and ranked as Commander or higher for all of them. Charity galas and harsh whispers of ‘Katerina, please don’t embarrass me this time’ were staples of her childhood.

She’d only escaped her junior débutante ball because half her family ‘died’ and it would be ‘too much stress’. Honestly, that was probably the only objectively good thing to come out of the Kerberos mission.

“You see, Princess, we don’t exactly have the room or resources for refugees, though we are of course happy to help in other ways…”

Pidge carefully kept her face neutral, biting back a snort. Her mother would have been proud.

J'aothl had plenty of room for refugees, and refugees would probably be lining up to come here. The city was built of white stone and had wide, clean streets and large squares filled with orderly-but-colourful stalls. A pristine white beach and a crystal-clear ocean bordered it on one side, with vast, mostly uninhabited savannas extending to snow-capped mountains on the other.

They could gift each refugee an acre of land and probably still never see them. Alas, J’aothl was in a heavily occupied quadrant of the Empire and inaccessible by anything other than teludav, a technology which the rest of the Coalition were sorely lacking.

“Actually, the refugee situation is mostly under control. We were hoping that you could help us make inroads into the more established areas of the Empire…”

The J’aothlian ministers — or Kztaun, as they called themselves — discreetly heaved a collective sigh of relief. Pidge felt a wave of anger wash over her. Two-faced, selfish snobs.

The planet had been a part of the Empire for millennia, and over the centuries evolved into a vacation destination for Galra subjects. It was nothing like the impoverished, oppressed planets Voltron usually visited. The only reason J’aothl was considering joining the Coalition at all was because tourist GAC had ground to a halt with all the upheaval. Even the commander in charge of the planet had been redeployed elsewhere, along with his entourage.

The Kztaun Major was obviously hoping that the Coalition could help to plug the gap.

Pidge tried to tune out the discussion as it turned towards intelligence, trade, and treaties. Natural beauty aside, J’aothl was apparently the most medically advanced planet in the universe and the original creators of Altean healing pod technology, which was the main reason Allura and Coran had jumped at the invitation despite the risky location. If they came on board Pidge would end up being briefed separately on the tech side of things, so it didn’t really matter if she paid that much attention now.

Plus, the last time she’d been in a room with people like this she’d gotten herself arrested for assault and banned from the Garrison Social Club. She didn’t quite trust herself to speak.

“...come here, the view across the water is absolutely delightful. After dinner, if you have time…”

Hunk glanced at Pidge nervously while she suppressed a twitch.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to!”

“I’m exceedingly glad to hear that our Justice Kztaun will be able to show you more of our beautiful planet. Now if we could…”

Pidge pushed her annoyance down and battled to tune out the conversation again. She was a Holt. She’d been brought up around people like this, and honestly? This lot had nothing on some of the Garrison wives.

It was probably because she was tired.

That had to be it. Pidge was really proud of the progress she'd been making on The Obol lately — the first half a foot or so was even recognisable as the bottom of the spaceship, a feat she didn't think was possible without Hunk — but progress came at a price, and for Pidge that price was collapsing into bed way past midnight after quick showers to get the grease off.

Facing the the universe's self-proclaimed greatest hosts and 'most evolved civilisation' on roughly two months of averaging four hours’ sleep a night would be difficult for anybody.

“I’m sure your Blue Paladin would make a fine escort.”

Pidge closed her eyes and blocked it out. It was just because she was tired.

Her bad mood had nothing to do with the Justice Kztaun being one of the most beautiful alien women Pidge had ever seen, nor the fact that she had been making eyes at Lance since the Castle had touched down.

Nor the fact that Lance was lapping it up.

Nausea swirled in her belly, and Pidge swallowed. It was ridiculous, but whatever. She wasn’t going to care.

The Kztaun kept batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, flipping her hair over her shoulder (even though it wasn’t even as long as Pidge’s had been!), and directing the conversation towards him for his 'valuable input'. Lance, for his part, was actually being charming — flirting subtly, paying her compliments at all the right times... Since when was he even able to do that?!

He'd barely even glanced at Pidge. Pidge, who'd been stupid enough to think that maybe they were on the verge of something. That maybe he actually liked her back. That liking Lance might not be such a bad thing after all, that maybe, maybe --

Hunk’s warm hand closed around her lower arm gently, cutting that train of thought off before it could show on her face. Pidge wished she could slip her hand into his, squeeze it until she could feel the steady comfort radiating through his warm skin, but that wouldn’t exactly look professional.

Instead, she took a deep breath as quietly as she could and focused on counting the flowers in the vase. Had she seen flowers resembling these at one of those horrible galas before? Maybe if she could place a memory she could remember some snarky comment about how ‘legacy women don’t pilot’ and get angry again.

Anger looked good on a soldier. Bursting into tears at the negotiating table? Not so much.

At least she was meeting Keith later. Apparently the chair and a few smaller pieces had been sold to a collector on the outskirts of the city, so she was meeting him after the dinner tonight. All she had to do was try to ignore stupid Lance and his stupid flirting (with everyone but her, he’d never flirted like that with her) and the concerned gazes that everyone else kept shooting her way...and somehow keep ignoring them all the way through dinner. Oh, and she had to definitely not stage a repeat of the Holt Fundraising Dinner in the process.

Then she would be free to sneak around the city with Keith who, at the very least, wouldn’t judge her if she needed to hit something.

Just six more vargas to go.

Madonna, how did she get into these situations? Here she was in space, millions of light-years away from any known allergens, and yet her eyes were sore, itchy, and watering, her nose was completely blocked, and her chest felt tight.

She glanced at Keith next to her on the sofa, completely unaffected as he sipped his tea, and for a fleeting moment she understood Lance’s jealousy.

Another round of sneezing racked her body with the force of an ion cannon. M'tchkiera tsk'd sympathetically. "I really can't understand how that can be common for your species," she said as she passed Pidge another tissue. "Anyway, as I was saying... Litchvr then had to travel to the Pyralliul Quadrant, which as you know is terribly far from here..."

Just to spite her -- because that seemed to be what the universe was up to today -- another one of those stupid ngl'achra-whatevers (why was every name on this stupid planet impossible to pronounce?! Cats. They were space cats. Done.) climbed over her shoulder from the back of the sofa and jumped onto her lap. She hurriedly pushed the space cat off as gently as possible, but the quiznaking furball still managed to leave a cloud of pastel pink and blue fur in its wake.

And off she went with another round of sneezing.

"Here, dear, have some more tea." A cup of steaming neon pink tea appeared under Pidge's nose when her vision finally cleared. She accepted it gratefully, and, without missing a beat, M'tchkiera (who insisted on being called Mad'ynko for short, because that apparently made complete, logical sense on J’aothl) continued on with her story. "At that point in time his mother had taken up with a woman from the Y'cht'kry District near the Gyrzcha Savanna -- I know you're likely busy with paladin and other duties but if you do get a chance to explore the city, don't waste any time there, it's dreadfully boring..."

Pidge had no idea what the conversation was even about anymore, so she tuned it out and hoped she was humming at the appropriate times. Mad'ynko — the first collector Keith had identified as having parts of The Obol — was an elderly J'aothlian lady who seemingly had a great deal of money and very little to spend it on. She had greeted them kindly, ushered them inside, listened to why they had come, and immediately offered them tea. Honestly, she was the first J'aothlian that Pidge actually sort of liked.

Only sort of, though. So far she had told them the life stories of what seemed like every single person in the district -- along with those of their cousins, childhood best friends, and random farmers’ market buddies — but whenever Keith steered the conversation back to The Obol, she would look at one of her bazillion space cats and say, 'But they would be so sad without their favourite chair!'

Two of said space cats were watching her from the familiar orange chair right now, their fluffy tails swishing slowly as they sprawled out on the seat, mocking her with their eyes.

Pidge refrained from sticking her tongue out and took another sip of tea. The pinnacle of human engineering, and it had been reduced to a cat tree.

She was going to need something stronger than tea.

"So then Harold, Zgniecs bless his soul—" Pidge blinked. Harold? "—was awarded the Medal of Highest Healing, but of course, as his widow, I submitted it to the Museum after his passing, and, as luck would have it, it ended up on the pyre—"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Pidge murmured automatically, feeling completely thrown for a loop. Everything on this stupid planet was completely unpronounceable, yet this woman's husband had been called Harold?

(It was probably short for Glyg'tch'kinzkaria.)

"Oh, Harold?" Mad'ynko waved a hand dismissively. "No need, my dear, no need. I'm well shot of him. Remaining dutiful while the poison worked was troublesome, of course, but—"

Both Pidge and Keith choked on their tea in unison.

Keith recovered first. "Uh," he began, banging his fist against his sternum. "You poisoned your husband?"

Mad'ynko looked at him coolly over the rim of the delicate silver teacup. "Why, yes, dear, of course. He was a philanderer." She took a sip, then smiled at Pidge. "It was by far the best decision I ever made. I've still got some left; shall I give you a vial together with the spaceship parts in case your black-haired beau here decides to stray?"

Pidge spluttered, making herself sneeze again in the process. "We're not together! We're just friends!"

"Oh?"

One perfectly groomed eyebrow was arched high as she looked between the two.

"We're...not like that," Keith confirmed, gripping his tea tightly. "Pidge is more like...like a little sister, than anything."

"Aw, Keith!" Pidge smiled and ducked her head cutely, batting her eyelashes at him, though the effect was probably muted somewhat by the giant clump of snot she could feel dangling from her nose.

Keith rolled his eyes and handed her another tissue, but that was definitely a blush on his cheeks, the sight of which warmed her heart.

Mad'ynko studied them curiously, one pale hand gently stroking the pastel purple space cat in her lap. She waited until the tissue had joined the growing pile of them in the trash can by Pidge’s feet before continuing the conversation.

"Why not? Are you already married to another?” Mad'ynko smiled indulgently, and Pidge was irresistibly reminded of summer nights spent being subjected to her Nonna’s good-natured — but nosey — neighbours. “Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but I find it difficult to believe that one as beautiful and accomplished as yourself should be single!"

Yep, Mad'ynko would fit right in with the donna. (Had she mentioned having a son who was single yet…?)

Keith laughed. "She has a boyfriend."

"No, I quiznaking don't," Pidge cut in, mood immediately souring. She took a deep breath and relaxed her grip on the delicate cup before continuing, ignoring the curious look Keith shot her. "I don't have time for a boyfriend, anyway."

"Much better that way, I fear," Mad'ynko answered primly. "Men simply can't help themselves. It's better to be alone than to allow someone to make you feel second-best."

"Tell me about it," Pidge muttered bitterly, downing the rest of her tea in one gulp. Apparently Lance really couldn't help himself. It was like he saw a pretty face and his brain just switched off.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Mad'ynko leaned forward to pat Pidge on the arm, nudging the purple space cat off her lap in the process. "Don't you worry, my dear. I'll make sure to add a vial or two to the package."

Pidge stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Maybe Mad'ynko would be the first J'aothlian she liked, after all.

“Hand it over.”

Pidge wiped the sweat off her brow and blinked. “Hand what over?”

“The poison she gave you,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes. “Hand it over.”

“I’m not gonna use it.” She glared at him when Keith shot her a look over his water packet.

They were standing in the Great Puzzling Hangar at about two in the morning, having just finished cleaning and installing all three chairs onto the now-completed floor (having an extra pair of hands really helped with the heavy lifting).

They’d gotten the chair back to the castle via a hair-raising ride across the city in the cab of one of Mad'ynko’s neighbour’s sons’ hover-vans. For all its ‘great civilisation’, J’aothl apparently had very little in the way of road rules.

(Keith was going to return to Mad'ynko’s with an Altean blanket-cloud for the space cats tomorrow. He had been offered a lift, but Pidge suspected he was going to walk.)

Aside from the chair, Mad'ynko had also purchased a small box of odds-and-ends which now needed to be categorised properly. None of them were the missing thruster engine piece (from what Pidge could see), but one piece definitely looked like a bit of the flight stick…

“Pidge.”

She sighed. “Keith, I am not going to poison Lance. Relax already.”

“I’d rather you didn’t have temptation to hand,” he said evenly, plopping himself on the ground in front of her box.

Pidge steadfastly ignored his gaze and continued sorting through the contents.

“Pidge…”

“Ugh, fine!” She pulled the two little vials from her pocket and threw them at him.

The jerk caught them with ease — how were his reflexes so good? Was it a Galra thing? — and she ducked her head, focusing on the box so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t have any reason to use them on Lance anyway. It’s not like we were dating.”

“You weren’t? I thought you were spending all your free time together.” Keith’s tone was genuinely surprised.

The words stabbed her straight through the heart, and she tried to hide a wince. She shrugged miserably, knuckles tightening around a titanium exhaust of some sort; apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d been reading things wrong.

“Yeah, well, I guess that meant something different to Lance.”

Keith didn’t reply, and she willed herself to focus on the pieces. For the next few moments they sat in silence, the only noise the slurping of Keith’s straw and the clinking of metal on metal as Pidge grouped like components together.

Keith’s water packet had long been empty by the time he finally spoke.

“Pidge, I...I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

Sudden, burning tears pricked at her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away. “Look… I knew Lance was like that from the start. We all did. I guess… Oh, quiznak, Keith, I don’t know.” Pidge ran her hands through her hair and gazed at the ceiling of the hangar. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Sure.” Keith tossed his empty water packet towards the door and got to his feet. “What were you planning on working on next? Is there anything else you want me to move while I’m here?”

–> Chapter Four: She Forgot to Step Outside Her Head

Fun fact: the space cats have glowing red eyes like the fluffy demons they are.

Also fun fact: Everybody on the team pronounces J’aothlian words differently. None of them are right.

#plance #pidge big bang #my writing #keith #pidge #lance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #lidge #pance #I'm sorry for the angst #well I'm not but I am

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sunlitroom · 7 years

Text

Gotham – s4e07 – A Day in the Narrows

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Professor Pyg is here. What joy. Jim says the murdered cop was a message to Oswald. Ages ago – Bruce punched a schoolmate for insulting his parents. Barbara gave a sales pitch. Selina is terribly desperate for a family – any shape, any size. Oswald though Sofia was up to no good, but she was actually opening an orphanage and – for reasons that are unclear, wanted this to be a surprise for him. Ra’s wanted to kill everyone Bruce loved. Pyg wants to kill everyone on Oswald’s payroll. Jim had the iron-clad nerve to get at Harvey for being corrupt.

As always, long post will be long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

GCPD. Jim is stting at Harvey’s desk, reading the newspaper, which carries a prominent Pyg headline. Harvey appears in the doorway, and asks if Jim has called dibs on his office. Jim jokes that he was just measuring it up – but then tells Harvey that he should still be resting. Harvey does indeed look dreadful.

Harvey claims he’s well enough to be back, and takes a swig from a hip-flask. That can’t be helping anything. Jim says, then, that it’s time to talk about him taking money from Oswald. Harvey grimaces, and says he’s not well enough for that. Jim stubbornly says it stops today.

(OK. Stop here. So, first off, Jim can see that Harvey looks like death warmed up. He doesn’t even think he should be in work. But then he decides to raise a topic that he knows is likely to cause Harvey massive stress? Even then, if Jim really felt the topic had to be broached there and then – why is he approaching it like this? Last week, his closest friend and constant ally – who was nearly killed – told him that he was just about drowning in money troubles, which was apparently news to Jim. But he doesn’t open with: ‘the debt, the bills you mentioned – talk to me. What’s going on?’. Or even with a more self-centred, ‘why didn’t you tell me you having problems – we’re supposed to be partners’. Instead, he just wades in with an accusatory, scolding tone.)

There’s a commotion outside, which cuts short what looked like a fight brewing.

Pyg has had 44 pig’s heads delivered to GCPD. Jim doesn’t get one, because Pyg is a shit researcher, and is presumably unaware of the very many times Jim has broken the rules. He’ll not be getting any academic title from me.

Or he’s connected with Sofia somehow, and this is a longer game.

A charity fundraiser at Wayne Manor. Bruce is silently brooding while Alfred desperately tries to lift the mood, thanking him for holding it there, since it was a particularly important charity to his father. A waiter bumps into Bruce, and Bruce lashes out brattily. Alfred remonstrates repeatedly, but Bruce continues, before closing his eyes for a moment, and then storming off.

Alfred follows him, to where he’s now brooding silently in another room. Alfred says he hasn’t wanted to push – and that he knows Bruce is hurting after what happened with Ra’s. Bruce tells him to get off his back, before apologising. He takes a breath, and says he

Just… can't stop thinking about what I c-

Alfred cuts him off here to try and empathise again – which was a bit odd, since it sounded like Bruce was about to open up about something before interrupted. Bruce starts again, saying that he

Should feel bad, guilty - I just….

Alfred cuts in again, which still doesn’t make sense – he wants Bruce to open up. He comments that Bruce is just angry, and that anger is concealing what's going on. He tells Bruce he needs to face it full on. Or it will consume him, and erupt. He tells Bruce that he knows what he’s capable of and don't want to see him or anyone else hurt. I think there was a flicker of hurt here from Bruce, at the notion that Alfred would perceive him as a threat to others. He blurts out that he needs some air and storms out, as a young girl watches from the party crowd.

(An aside – I wasn’t terribly engaged by Bruce’s plot at all this week. The only vaguely interesting thing in it was that the boy he punched seems to have actually grown as a person. That’s it. What we see doesn’t really seem to lead on from when we last left them, Alfred’s interruptions seemed a a little contrived to force miscommunication, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I was to understand about Bruce’s behaviour. Is this grief and guilt for Alex? Ra’s? Both? Worry about a lack of guilt? No clue.)

Back at GCPD. Jim releases the van drivers. They plaintively tell him that they’re COD – but Jim tells them to get the hell out. Harvey calls him up to his office. Oswald is there. He’s fairly buzzing with nervous energy, and tells Jim that they’re working hand in hand. Harvey adds that he just showed up to offer help. Jim glances disdainfully at Harvey and offers a sceptical ‘did he?’ Which is really pissy of him – what does he think, Oswald’s counting out notes into a swag bag for Harvey to take home? That whole bit was just aggravating.

(An aside – and again, just not in keeping with what we know about their relationship. Why is Jim suddenly being a complete ass towards Harvey? Even if we look beyond their friendship, and think only about what Jim wants to achieve: why is he behaving in a way that might well alienate Harvey even further?)

Oswald introduces his temporary henchman, Headhunter. He is back-up security left by Victor, who -Oswald tightly informs us – is off visiting his bubbe. I didn’t know what this word meant – so had to look it up. It’s a Jewish word for grandmother.

(An aside - The fact that Oswald uses the word suggests that either Victor or Oswald, or both, may be Jewish. This bit of backstory is welcome in Gotham – which can often be stinting with details. It’s also easily the most interesting thing, for me, in a very uneven episode)

Headhunter introduces himself to Jim, and starts to brag about his signature move. Oswald already seems tired of him and pissed off at Victor’s absence, and describes him – with a clenched jaw – as ‘colourful but effective’.

(An aside – I wonder if Victor deliberately left someone who would irritate Oswald in order to ensure that his own position wasn’t usurped?)

Jim angrily barks that he doesn’t want help from Oswald or his ‘idiot hitman’, Oswald gets in Jim’s face – as usual – and tells him that these are his cops, his employees. Jim snaps back that they don’t work for him or with him, ever. At this – Oswald laughs, and comments that his captain says otherwise.

(I honestly can’t remember here whether we see Oswald and his temp leave, or Jim and Harvey leave first. They surely didn’t leave them in the office – that would be weird.)

As Jim and Harvey walk downstairs, Jim angrily says that working with Oswald is legitimising him. Harvey points out that he’s been legitimised for years – he was the mayor. The money is mentioned again. Jim tells Harvey he’s dangerously overreacting to the situation. Harvey points out how many cops have deserted the precinct because they’re terrified. Jim gets on his high horse, and says that Oswald and his thugs will beat and torture their way through the city to find Pyg, and eventually execute him.

(An aside – hey, remember last week, when Jim was roughing people up and shoving them into the boot of a car?)

Jim then – without an ounce of shame or self-awareness – says

The people need to know they don't need gangsters to protect them

(An aside. No. Just no. Again – another episode where I don’t know what I’m being guided to think. This is nakedly hypocritical, given Jim’s current scheme. To nod to that, to reassure us that the hypocrisy is intentional and recognised in universe – all that would have to happen here is for Harvey to comment on Jim’s asking Falcone for help, and Sofia’s sudden arrival. When that doesn’t happen, I’m left wondering if the show is suffering from amnesia)

Jim says he'll find Pyg. Harvey’s had enough.

Good for you

Harper interrupts yet another squabble. Three cops have been kidnapped and taken to the Narrows.

Champagne is being poured into a glass, but the mood is far from celebratory. Barbara’s gun emporium is closing its doors. Selina and Tabitha are seriously pissed. However, the whole venture and scheme was apparently Ra’s – and now he’s gone, there’s no point. There was no sincerity in her offer – just a sales pitch.

Selina – trying desperately to keep some kind of life and family for herself- suggests that they can’t still profit from spying on other criminals’ plans. Barbara is cruelly dismissive. She sees through what Selina wants - a plucky little family – and gives her sisterly advice: in this life, you’re on your own – always.

(An aside – superficially, this notion makes sense from Barbara if you just focus on how hardened she is by this point – but her survival since season 2 has been built on an ability to work in new relationships – even coercive, dangerous ones. The Maniax, Theo, Tabitha, Ed, Ra’s – she’s virtually never a solo operator.)

Anyway – Tabitha doesn’t like this and shakes her head. Barbara leaves. Selina tells Tabitha that she knows where a motorcycle gang keeps their stash – but Tabitha thinks it’s too dangerous, and tells Selina they can find something else. Selina pulls a face at this, and leaves. Tabitha is left behind – frustrated.

Police cars scream into The Narrows. Oswald’s men also arrive. Harvey sees the car the cops were presumably transported in, the seat soaked with blood. A woman looks out at them all from an apartment window.

Hey! Was that eyepatch guy? I think it was!

Harvey tells everyone that the Narrows is the poorest of poor, and hardest of the hard, with a code of silence.

Underlining his point, someone lobs a TV out their window at them, fortunately spotted by Harper. They all scatter. A lamp follows – showily shot by Headhunter – who laughs. Gee – thanks for the shards of glass.

The door is broken down. Headhunter grins at Jim, and tells him this will be fun. Jim, having roughly the same worldview on fun as a puritan preacher from the 1700s, gives him a disapproving look

As they work their way upstairs, we see Jim stopping both Oswald’s men and GCPD from beating residents to get information. The cop he holds back is incredulous – saying that everyone in the Narrows likely has some sort of criminal background or connection – but Jim insists they’re potential witnesses, not suspects or perpetrators

(An aside – so, taking that to its logical conclusion – Jim is OK with beating information out of possible suspects and perpetrators. Also – it just doesn’t wash with what we’ve seen before, which is Jim getting handsy with anyone who might have information he needs. Again – I’m left asking, does the show believe what it’s telling me here, or am I supposed to be remembering previous antics?)

Harvey breaks up the brewing brawl between Jim and the other officer. Jim snarls at him that this is working out great. Harvey juts his chin, and says that as long as it gets him his cop killer – then it is.

Bruce is angsting in the kitchen now. I’m not sure if we’re to think about the contrast between the hard, poor life in the Narrows, and Bruce’s charity benefit cocktail party woe – but I’m going to do it anyway.

The girl who watched him leave before wanders in and introduces herself. She’s Grace – and she goes to the same school he used to attend. Bruce is – apparently – now home-schooled. I say ‘apparently’ because while it is true he doesn’t attend school anymore, you virtually never see him being tutored. He does what he wants.

She shyly says that the fundraiser is boring, and asks him if he’d like to go somewhere else. Bruce agrees.

(An aside – Yawn.)

Back at the Narrows, we have more punching and stairs. Jim takes a breath, and knocks on an apartment door, asking the woman who opens it if he can come in.

When we enter, we see that there’s also a man there with an oxygen mask (Nebuliser? Repirator? I’m not sure, sorry). Jim tries to convince her that he’s sympathetic, and knows that life in the Narrows is hard, and tries to wheedle information from her – promising secrecy. He might be getting somewhere – but Headhunter bursts in.

He grabs the guy in the wheelchair and drags him outside – presumably down all those stairs. When he gets him outside, he drops him on the ground, puts a gun to his head, and announces loudly that if the old lady doesn’t talk, the old man gets it.

(An aside – this guy is just an idiot. He could easily have killed this old man by just doing what he did. Victor is brutal – but he’s precise, and he wants to get his job done.)

Jim is furious, and aims his gun at Headhunter. Suddenly everyone is aiming guns, while Harvey tries desperately to de-escalate the situation. As he does, the woman caves. She runs over to the man on the ground and tells them that Pyg was driving a hearse, and headed west.

Headhunter grins at Jim and thanks him – telling him that he never tried good cop/bad cop before , but it works. Jim grimaces. Harvey turns to Jim, and says the area Pyg is headed to is easy – but Jim is distracted by seeing Headhunter chatting and showing off to some of the police officers. Harvey pleads with Jim to trust him, and pops a painkiller. They head off.

We are now in the other location, searching noisily again. Jim finds two men tied up in what looks like an abandoned school room. One is still alive – but gagged – and pleads for help. Harvey runs in – and tells Jim that Pyg has disappeared.

The Falcone Orphanage, where Oswald is watching TV.

(An aside – much of Oswald’s storyline in this episode was pretty dumb. Yes, he’s seemingly decided Sofia is trustworthy – but he does still have a job to do. The idea that he’s just hanging around here is silly. He’s obsessive and controlling of the entire city. He’s paranoid about the prospect of challengers. This makes no sense)

He’s watching footage of the raid, and turns excitedly and tells Sofia those are his men. He also mentions Headhunter, who’s kind of a moron, but effective. He laughs – giddy with his success – and congratulates himself that technically, he saved the life of the cop they found in the schoolroom. It’s great PR.

A little girl steps in front of the television and stares at him. Oswald tries to shoo her – but she doesn’t move, and he impatiently lifts her aside. He sits back down and continues to congratulate himself that co-opting the police was the most brilliant idea, and that his Pax is moving to a new level. Realising that he’s been monologuing, he turns to Sofia for attention

Hello?

Sofia smiles, and passive-aggressively tells him that he doesn’t need to know what she thinks. Oswald grimaces in annoyance, and says that he now definitely needs to know.

Telling the children to cover their ears, Sofia says that her father would never have publicly aligned with GCPD because they are incompetent and unreliable. They will fail, and fail big, and Oswald will fail with them. She smiles sweetly.

So, that’s what I think

Oswald is livid. He thanks her for her input, and for having shown him what not to do. He’s now going to get even more personally involved. Sofia, disgruntled, snaps at him that he shouldn’t ask for her opinion if he doesn’t want to hear it. Oswald fumes and – lifting the little girl out his way again – leaves.

(OK. A noticeable drop in tension from previous scenes with Oswald and Sofia. There wasn’t really much evidence of the emotional ties we saw being tentatively made last week, other than the obvious joke of making Oswald behave as childishly as the children present. That scene could have been done with Victor instead of Sofia with no real difference.

Sofia – as ever – is difficult to read. We know she’s playing Oswald, but it’s hard to ascertain sincerity within that. We did see, however, her annoyance at her father overlooking her ability to operate in Gotham. We could maybe say that her reaction to her opinion being rejected was sincere, even though the opinion itself might not have been?

Her prediction of GCPD failing big could simply have been an educated and plausible one, or might hint to involvement with Pyg.

Generally speaking, Oswald’s lack of brains here just seemed manufactured for this storyline. While the Pax is obviously riddled with problems – it is also huge and daring and ambitious, and he has been extremely successful. He has made important political ties. We also saw him successfully draw a line under the mess with Ed. While everyone has their flaws and foibles that will cause them to make mistakes – it’s infuriating when he has to fall flat on his face just because it’s at the point in the plot where he has to.)

The biker warehouse. A summary – since this episode wasn’t gripping: Selina steals the stash, but trips an alarm and gets stuck. One hapless biker is tortured for failing to spot an intruder, and Selina looks horrified.

Jim is in the ambulance with the injured policeman – Vizzoli. Harvey calls and says there’s no sign of Pyg or Patel. As Vizzoli comes round, Jim hangs up.

Jim introduces himself – but Vizzoli says he knows who he is. He’s distressed when Jim says that Berkoff is dead – and says that he was tortured for hours, and that he had to watch him bleed out while Pyg sang nursery rhymes. He asks Jim why Pyg is doing this. Jim says he’s insane, but maybe he reached a breaking point – there’s so much rot in the city, everywhere. Yes – torture and murder doesn’t add to rot.

Jim says that sometimes even he – even someone as pure and incorruptible as Jim? Good lord, the ego – feels like breaking.

(An aside – just…. ‘feels like breaking’? What’s going to Falcone, If not breaking?)

Vizzoli says he’s on Oswald's pay. It started small but got out of hand. Jim tells him he gets it – hes done bad stuff too, for Oswald, even.

(An aside – or, for himself, even – like when he trotted off to Oswald to get his old job back in season. That wasn’t instigated by Oswald. That was all Jim)

He tells Vizzoli that they can make it right. Get Pyg, take down the Pax, and clean up the dirty cops.

This seemingly prompts trust from Vizzoli, who tells Jim that Pyg mentioned planning something nearby where ‘justice used to be’. Jim quickly figures out this means the abandoned courthouse. Jim asks the driver to let him out so he can run to the courthouse. As he leaves, Vizzoli thanks him, and tells him he’s one of the good ones. Jim’s brain apparently doesn’t do cognitive dissonance, and we don’t even get a wince from him before he runs off.

(An aside. Interesting that Jim says he’ll take down the Pax, not Oswald himself. Noticeably specific. I’m not sure Sofia is drawing the same distinction)

The boring teen storyline. Grace has brought Bruce some bratty penthouse. Bruce is introduced, and sees Tom Elliott is there.

(An aside – he looks waaaaay older than Bruce. I googled him to see if I could find an age – but other than discovering that he is also a model, I couldn’t find one)

Anyway – he seems amiable now, and tells Bruce that he deserved the punch on the face. His character development is literally the only interesting thing here. The assembled rich bratty teens ask Bruce what he does for fun. He delivers this cringey line:

I used to walk on rooftops and fight crime but now I’m not so sure

Moving on…….

The other guy there (Brant? Was this guy’s name actually Brant? That’s not a name. That’s not even a dog name. That’s some sort of cabinet from Ikea) tries to provoke Bruce by insulting Alfred. Bruce imagines attacking him, but doesn’t. Brant continues to behave like a tool – as he was doomed to do from the moment his parents named him ‘Brant’, but the rest of the party tries to smooth things over, and they go off to some club. Whatever.

Jim nears the abandoned courthouse. He’s unimpressed when Headhunter strolls up – telling him that Harvey told him where he was going, and even less impressed when full backup arrives.

(An aside – while Jim might well be annoyed because he thinks Headhunter is heavy-handed (although this is really rich from Jim) and because he doesn’t like the cooperation between criminals and police (except when it suits him) – the impulse from Harvey is clearly that he doesn’t want Jim charging in alone, which is understandable, given last week.)

Oswald gets out of a car, and heads for Jim. He thanks him for leading the way, but then tells him that we’ll take it from here. Jim bristles, and we cut to another scene while they have another public domestic squabble.

Babs is counting money out for Tabitha, commenting that it looks as though Tabitha doesn’t trust her. Tabitha takes a call from Selina – and hears about the mess she’s in. Tabitha tells Barbara that Selina needs help, but Barbara isn’t interested. Tabitha says Selina only did this to prove their team could work – but Barbara points out that getting caught proves it doesn’t. Tabitha says that Selina only wants a purpose and a home, but Barbara sneers. Tabitha says she thought she could maybe think about someone other than herself, but Barbara just sneers again, and watches Tabitha leave.

Oswald is boasting to some assembled reporters about the success of his consultancy service – Pax Penguina taken to a tactical level – while Jim fumes nearby. Harvey is telling him that he wasn’t about to let him go in alone, and this way Oswald’s thugs take all the risk – but Jim isn’t interested.

Jim’s phone rings. Oh, joy, it’s Pyg – who’s as talky as Jervis but far less entertaining. He tells Jim that he spells his name with a ‘y’ because Pygmalion. Yes, whatever. I hate this guy so much. Long story short – the courthouse is a trap. Before he finishes the call – he tells Jim that ‘he’s one of the good ones’, echoing exactly Vizzoli’s voice and words from earlier. Jim yells to Harper to call the hospital. Pyg has ripped off Silence of the Lambs, and done this, but with less style.

Bruce and co arrive at the club. Brant can’t get in. Bruce brushes past, buys the club, tells Brant he can’t come in. Don’t caaaaarrreeeee.

Jim runs over to Oswald and Harvey, who are waiting outside the courtroom. He tells them to call it off – the guy in the ambulance was Pyg in disguise. He fed Jim the clue – it’s a trap. Oswald, incredulous, asks why the insane serial killer who is targeting cops would warn Jim. Jim says because he’s against dirty cops. Oswald sarcastically replies except for all the times you are one.

Jim has no answer for that – and hopefully it stings even more given the Sofia situation. He asks them again to call it off. Oswald suggests that Pyg is trying to save himself by stopping the raid, and Jim is being played – not for the first time. I’m guessing this is an allusion to Theo.

Jim says again that they called the hospital, and there’s no way Pyg could have beaten him back here from the ambulance. It makes no sense that Oswald and Harvey didn’t acknowledge this point, to be honest, they’re both more cautious than Jim.

Harvey insists they have visual (er, why didn’t he say this earlier?). Jim insists again that it’s a trap. They all squabble some more. Jim says that he’s not going to clean up Harvey mess on this one which, again, wow Jim. Harvey, angry tells him to stand down. Oswald says this is the first useful suggestion Harvey’s made. Harvey starts to mobilise while Jim and Oswald have a stare at each other.

Barbara saves the day at the biker warehouse. It looks like she’s just going to take the money, but she’s seemingly changed her mind, and they strut out – now a team, heading ‘back to the nest’. Selina is thrilled. I’ve just spent as much time and care on that summary as the show has on this storyline. Sirens is coming.

Harvey leads a team into the courthouse. Someone in a Pyg mask – who is pretty clearly a bound and gagged cop – yells and sort of wriggles. Harvey shoots – and then we see that it’s actually Patel.

Harvey is broken up

No…oh no.

It’s a set-up. When a chain/rope is tripped, a machine gun is triggered, which sprays the whole area with bullets. The exits are blocked.

Outside – the news is delivered that they’re all trapped. Oswald tells his men to get in there – but they refuse. Jim glances at him, and runs in. Oswald stares after him, both irritated that his own men have been bested, and not entirely happy about Jim running into a trap.

There’s general carnage inside, but Jim manages to disable the machine gun. He looks over the bodies lying on the ground. Harvey looked beaten.

At GCPD, Oswald is being interviewed by reporters and trying to clarify that Harvey gave the order to proceed – not him. As Jim arrives, the reporters stream away from Oswald, and ask Jim how he found the courage to run in there. He ignore that, and says clearly that if Pyg is watching, GCPD will take him down. Oswald and Jim have another stare at each other. For the love of God, boys – just kiss and make up. This storyline is tiresome.

(An aside – a lot of this is actually pretty personal. You could argue that Oswald has taken Jim’s role away from him because he’s harbouring resentment and hurt over Jim’s actions when he was infected. Jim can’t be trusted to be the protector anymore – and Oswald will drive that message home by adopting the role himself. Additionally, Jim is smarting because he arguably recognises how personal this is. Everything is charged with history and familiarity)

Jim approaches Harvey, and tells him Patel is going to make it. Harvey congratulates him, telling him bitterly that he’s a hero, while he’s just a cop who shot a cops. He wanders off.

Jim’s phone rings. It’s Pyg. He tells Jim that he’s amazing, that they want the same things, blah blah blah. He says that his work will be a saga, an epic, a spectacle – all inspired by Jim, his muse. Fuuucckkk offfffff. Please. Mercy. Any other criminal. Anyone.

Oswald is back at the Iceberg Lounge with Headhunter, who is still talking. He is standing very, very still – which should be a huge red flag, but he’s not very bright, and makes the mistake of mentioning that Jim was right. Oswald turns and stabs him twice, commenting that the second one (the same way he killed Frankie Carbone, I think?) is his signature. He walks away

Back at the club I don’t care about, Bruce goes off the rails. Isn’t this Smallville Lex’s backstory just before the series starts? Careful Bruce. You’ll be all dissolute, but then all contrite and tortured, and have to go and live in the country and be in the weirdest retelling of Jane Eyre ever with an abnormally handsome alien.

Back at GCPD Harper thanks Jim. He tells her she’d have done the same. We also see the cop Jim was fighting with at the Narrows rejecting one of the crime licenses. He nods over to Jim, and Jim nods back. Harvey watches blearily from the balcony while knocking back another drink. He looks a very specific kind of drunk which I can only describe as ‘sodden’. He gives Jim a look that communicates pain, bitterness, self-hatred and betrayal all at once, and staggers into his office. Jim watches him go.

General Observations

Hmmm. Not so keen on this week’s episode. There was a lot of people suddenly being very stupid just because the plot needed them to, as well as copious conflict balls, and unnecessarily poor communication.

So. Harvey and Jim. I’m having some problems with this current plotline. Problems like – it’s almost completely inconsistent with what we’ve seen since season one.

First of all, Harvey – like every other police officer in GCPD, including Jim, is not clean. Jim knows this. In fact, Harvey’s willingness to break the rules has often been to Jim’s benefit, usually because Harvey is often cleaning up the mess left behind by Jim��s headstrong and reckless actions – or participating against his own better judgment, to make sure that Jim comes out alive.

I can buy that Jim feels personally stung by Harvey taking Oswald’s money because his whole conflict with Oswald is personal – but his lack of understanding, his censoriousness, his apparent rejection of all the times Harvey covered for him, and saved his neck – why? Jim confided in Harvey that he murdered Galavan when he didn’t even tell Lee. Harvey broke Jim out of jail. Harvey knows Jim went to Falcone and didn’t do anything about it. But suddenly he doesn’t get any understanding?

It’s the same old problem with Jim. I don’t know whether the show wants me to swallow that he’s a hero, or whether I’m to be outraged by his hypocrisy. I’m going to say that I’m to believe he is capable of heroic behaviour – but that this doesn’t make his other sins go away, and there will be a debt to pay for his dealings with Sofia.

Oswald and Sofia. He just seemed irritated with her this week to the point where I’m not sure why he’s hanging around the Orphanage at all. I’ve read elsewhere that Sofia’s big reveal/drama moment isn’t until episode 11. That’s going to be a hell of a lot of wheel-spinning until then, if we continue like this.

Other than Selina’s evident delight at two proxy mothers – I don’t much care about the nascent Sirens.

As for Bruce. Nope. Brant

No Victor. I feel personally wronged.

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #gotham s4e07 #a day in the narrows

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