#get that man a taller chair or something why does he have to science while sticking his ass out

[brookbee]

why did I make this

[caitlesshea]

begging for footnotes in the story of your life

Ana learns a lot about Buck while she’s dating Eddie, like how Buck’s the one who should be dating him.

Ana learns about Buck in stages.

First from Christopher, when she was his teacher, and he would mention his Buck or draw Buck in family pictures. 

The second from the school nurse telling her that Christopher is being signed out to go home and she sees his name on Chris’ school forms. 

The third is from Eddie, when he brings him up as a work colleague even though she suspects it’s more than that.

She just doesn’t realize how much more until the first time she sees the inside of Eddie’s house. 

His house is homey, much cozier than she’d expect for a single dad who’s a first responder. She says as much and he chuckles.

“Some of this I did, but most was my Abuela.”

Ana nods and walks over to the mantle to look at the photos. 

She sees a picture of a younger Christopher sitting in a high chair between Eddie and a woman who she assumes is Shannon. 

“Shannon?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah. Chris, uhh, wanted to put some up.”

Ana nods and continues looking. There’s some more of Eddie and Chris, people she assumes are Eddie’s parents and his Abuela, and then there’s Buck.

Or well, she thinks it’s Buck, with how Chris has always described him. She notices one photo in particular that causes her to pause.

“Is that?”

Eddie reaches up and grabs the back of his neck, almost like he’s nervous. 

“Uh, yeah. Buck built him a skateboard, we tried it out at the park.”

So, Buck built Chris a skateboard after Ana wrongly said that Chris should know his limitations. 

“I’m sorry for saying what I said.”

“It’s fine, Ana.” 

“It’s not.”

Eddie shrugs and Ana considers bringing it up again but she chooses not to, instead focusing on a Christmas photo that was taken at the station; Eddie, Chris, and Buck in the back smiling. 

Eddie follows her eye movement and he smiles. “Buck and Athena set that up. We were on shift on Christmas and he surprised us with our families and dinner.”

“That was sweet.” Ana feels a little out of her depth here. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this soft look on Eddie’s face before but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. 

“It was, yeah.” 

They finish going through the photos, as Ana learns more about Eddie’s life. 

He makes them dinner, although he sticks a pan of lasagna in the oven so she doesn’t know how much he actually cooked. 

They’re about to sit on the couch, when he stops and says he’s going to grab something from his room. She follows him and notices for the first time that his room is a different sort of style than the rest of the house. 

It’s all dark blues and grays with some stylish lamps and photographs on the walls. 

She almost wishes she didn’t know about Buck now. 

“I like your room,” She comments while he grabs a blanket from the bed. It’s a soft black velvet.

“Oh, thanks. This was mostly Buck. My room apparently looked like a boring hotel room so he’s been giving me some of his stuff.”

“That’s?”

“Nice, right?”

No. She was going to say weird. But she nods instead. 

“The photo?” Ana asks as she walks closer to the print on the wall. It’s the typical California style photo, the palm tree lined street, but it’s in black and white, tasteful, where they’re usually cheesy. 

“Oh, uh, Buck took that. Had it framed for my birthday last year. Said it can remind me of why I moved us here, for a fresh start.”

“Huh.” Ana can tell it’s important to him, can tell that he loves the photo and the sentiment behind it. What she can’t tell is if he loves the photo more or the person who took it. 

“C’mon, let’s go watch the movie.” Eddie grabs her hand and she forgets about the room and Buck, at least for the night. 

~~~

Ana meets Buck in stages.

She thought she’d meet him at school, when he came to pick up Christopher, or at the school play, where Christopher was the main character, or at the science fair, or bake sale. All events she knows Buck was there for.

But, she never does. Whether it’s by luck or design, she doesn’t know. But she wishes she had, because she meets Buck, awkwardly, while on a date with Eddie. 

The one night Buck isn’t babysitting Christopher, Eddie’s Abuela watching him after Chris and Eddie’s talk, they run into Buck. 

So, she meets Buck outside of an ice cream shop. 

“Buck.” Eddie freezes beside her and she sees a tall man, taller than she thought with the pictures, with a cone halfway to his mouth. Buck lets out a sheepish smile and shrugs. 

That’s when Ana notices the woman next to Buck, she’s pretty, her red hair is gorgeous, and Ana thinks she looks familiar. 

“Taylor,” Eddie says clipped, in a voice she hasn’t heard from him since the skateboard incident. 

“Eddie,” The woman, Taylor, says just as clipped. 

Ana wonders what she missed. 

“What are you two doing here?” Buck asks and then he holds out his non sticky hand. “Sorry, Eddie’s rude, I’m Buck. You must be Ana.”

She nods and looks between Buck and Eddie who are giving each other eyes. “Yes, hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too.” Buck looks at Eddie and realizes no one is going to say anything else so he looks back to Ana.

“Would you two like to join us?” Ana asks out of desperation and Eddie looks at her incredulously. 

Buck looks at Taylor and she nudges him back. “We’d love to, but I have to get back to the station, I’m on nights right now. Next time? Buck and Eddie can schedule something.”

“Sure, bye Eddie. Ana.” Buck nods his head and she smiles at him. As they leave she can hear Taylor and Buck whispering to each other.

“That was awkward Buckley.”

“It’s not my fault he didn’t say anything…” Buck trails off and then they’re too far away to hear anything else.

Ana turns back to Eddie. “They seem like a cute couple.”

“Huh?”

“Buck and Taylor? You didn’t tell me he has a girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t,” Eddie says sharply. “They’re friends.”

“Oh, could’ve fooled me.”

“Why do you say that?” Eddie asks, looking at her for the first time since they ran into Buck.

“They seem close.” Ana shrugs. She doesn’t know why she has to explain anything, or why it would matter if Buck’s dating someone. 

“They, uhh, dated a couple years ago, but I think they’re friends now.” Eddie finally manages.

“Ohh. Okay. Friends with benefits. I get it.”

Eddie chokes on nothing and he looks a little green.

“Edmundo, are you okay?”

“Yeah, lets get that ice cream.” 

She nods and follows him into the ice cream shop, not surprised in the slightest when he orders the same flavor Buck was eating. 

~~~

The second time she meets Buck is at a party in his loft. Everyone is vaccinated and Buck wanted to have everyone over before his sister, Maddie, has her baby. 

Eddie introduces her to everyone; Bobby and Athena, Hen and Karen, Michael and David, Chimney and Maddie, Albert, and then Taylor.

“It’s good to see you again,” Ana says kindly as Eddie goes into the kitchen to grab them drinks. The loft is nice, modern, and looking suspiciously like Eddie’s bedroom, but she keeps that to herself. 

“Hey, not until after dinner. You’re worse than Christopher!” 

Ana looks over as Buck smacks Eddie’s hand with a towel as he tries to sneak cookies and Ana laughs at their antics, although no one else even so much as blinks their way. 

Taylor follows her line of sight and smiles. “Oh, they’re like that. You’ll get used to it.” 

Before Ana can respond she sees Taylor slide up to Buck and helps him with setting up the rest of the food. 

Eddie comes back over to her with a glass of wine and Ana smiles even as she notices Eddie’s face is pinched. 

Before Ana can grab it she spills some on her dress and Eddie curses.

“Shit, sorry Ana.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just grab a towel.”

“Buck, I’m taking her upstairs,” Eddie shouts to Buck and he looks over and nods.

Eddie guides her up the stairs and when she sees Buck’s bedroom, she pauses. It’s almost identical to Eddie’s in style and color. He even has the same photo hanging up on the wall. She says as much and Eddie smiles. 

“Oh yeah, he came to LA for similar reasons so he had one made for his place.”

“Huh.”

“There should be Shout Wipes in the bathroom. Medicine cabinet.” Eddie points to the bathroom as he sits down on Buck’s bed like he has every right to. He probably does. 

“Thanks. I’ll be just a minute.” 

Ana closes the door and finds a towel, wetting the stain first and then finding the wipes. As she cleans, she notices the meds in the bathroom. 

She knows she shouldn’t snoop but seeing Chris’ name on one of the bottles surprises her. It looks like Buck keeps extra medicine here for backup. She notices painkillers and Eddie’s favorite brand of shaving cream. 

Feeling like she’s crossed some sort of boundary she closes the medicine cabinet and is about to head back out when she hears voices from the room.

“You spill on yourself, too?” Eddie jokes and Buck groans.

“Albert ran right into me with the dip.”

“Sucks.”

“Seriously. I can’t wait til he leaves.”

“He could go back home, you know,” Eddie says gently as Ana hears what is likely a shirt being thrown in a hamper.

“I’m not gonna do that to Maddie.” Buck moves around and then asks. “Which one? Red or blue?”

“Blue, definitely,” Eddie responds and Ana can’t see them but she has to agree, whatever blue shirt Buck puts on will bring out his eyes.

“Good, I think this red shirt is actually yours.”

Eddie laughs and Ana pauses a moment because she’s never heard that laugh before. Part fond, part exasperated. She wonders why he laughs like that with Buck. 

“Makes sense.”

“Okay, come down when you’re done, I can’t have Albert setting my kitchen on fire.”

Ana can hear Buck heading down the stairs so she leaves the bathroom. Eddie stands to come closer and she accidentally blurts out what she’s thinking. 

“You have clothes here?”

“Huh? Oh, well I did live here for a couple of months, but with the firehouse and everything we all probably have each other’s clothes.”

Eddie says it so nonchalantly that Ana can’t even respond as he heads towards the stairs. He turns to look at her.

“Coming?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She doesn’t think it’s nonchalant at all. 

~~~ 

Ana meets Evan all at once. 

It’s her first night staying over at Eddie’s, with Christopher at Hen’s house for a sleepover of his own. 

She isn’t sure what wakes her up until she hears Eddie’s sleep rough voice.

“Evan?”

Who’s Evan? 

“Yeah, no, we’ll be there.” Eddie pauses as he sits up. “Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Eddie hangs up and looks at her sheepishly. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks as she sits up as well. 

“Yeah, Maddie’s gone into labor, so I was gonna head to the hospital.”

Huh? Eddie isn’t family, why is he going to the hospital?

“Okay. Let’s go,” Ana says instead of asking that question. 

“Are you sure? I can drop you off first.”

“No, it’s fine, we can go.” 

Plus this is a way for her to assert herself as an important person in Eddie’s life. 

“Thanks,” Eddie say, relieved, as he starts getting dressed. 

Ana follows suit and when they finally head to the hospital Eddie’s a bundle of nerves.

“She’ll be okay,” Ana says quietly as she places a hand on his leg. He nods but he doesn’t relax. 

He doesn’t relax, that is, until he sees Buck in the waiting room. 

“Evan,” Eddie breathes out as they hug. Ana’s momentarily shocked, because Eddie isn’t overly affectionate with anyone other than Christopher, but he hugs Buck like it’s a normal thing. 

Both of them calm down when they hug and then it hits her that Eddie called Buck ‘Evan’. She’s never heard someone call him that, but it must be his first name. 

She wonders when Eddie got that privilege. 

She feels like she’s intruding so she taps Eddie’s shoulder and he turns toward her. 

“I’m gonna grab coffee, you two want anything?” 

Buck smiles at her but Eddie answers her. 

“Black with cream for me, sugar and cream for Buck.”

“Okay.” Ana walks away and turns around just to see Eddie and Buck sitting down and bringing their foreheads together, almost unconsciously. 

“Oh, Ana, hey.”

Ana turns and sees Chimney.

“Chimney, hi. How’s Maddie?”

“She’s good. I’m grabbing her water. And waiting for Albert to get here. I take it you came with Eddie?” 

“Yeah. Is the whole station coming?” Ana asks even though she thinks she knows the answer.

“No. Only family. Hen and Bobby said they’d stop by after she’s born,” Chimney responds and then he’s quickly turning back towards the rooms. “Tell Albert when you see him that he comes in second since he’s late.”

“Sure,” Ana says quietly as she takes the coffee back to Buck and Eddie. After they grab theirs she sits next to Eddie and sees what they’re looking at on Eddie’s phone. 

“Is that Christopher?” She asks and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I got so many photos of him when he was this age,” Eddie speaks quietly and Ana realizes that he got sent photos of Christopher because this must’ve been when he was deployed with the Army. He doesn’t talk about it much but she can tell Buck knows because Buck squeezes Eddie’s knee in support. 

The biggest shocker, though, is when Eddie grabs Buck’s hand and squeezes back.  

She once again feels like she’s intruding on something private, something theirs, and she doesn’t know what to do. 

Luckily she doesn’t have to think too much because Albert comes running in and he and Buck start arguing over who’s going to go in first, who’s going to be the better uncle. 

“Should we?” Ana gestures to them and Eddie shakes his head.

“Nah, they’re fine. This is fun for them.”

Ana nods and sits back to drink her coffee. Before she knows it, Chimney’s back in the waiting room telling them that Maddie and baby are fine and that they can all come meet her. 

Buck and Eddie jump up and Ana trails behind with Albert. 

“You don’t want to run in there?” She asks Albert.

“Oh I do, but I don’t want to overwhelm Maddie.”

Ana nods and keeps walking towards the room. When she gets there what she sees stops her in her tracks. 

Buck is holding his niece and Eddie, well, Eddie is staring at him with so much love, adoration, and abject want that Ana feels like she’s intruding. 

Eddie turns to her and holds out his phone. “Can you take a picture? I promised Chis I would show him before he meets her.”

“Sure,” Ana says like she’s underwater. Eddie’s lockscreen, a picture of Buck and Chris, barely registers. 

She hears the baby's name, Kylee Danielle, after her uncles, and watches as Buck tears up, and Eddie grabs the back of his neck. 

She then watches Buck pass Kylee to Eddie, and if she wasn’t so shocked she would notice the way Buck was watching him, the way Maddie was watching her, and the way Albert was videotaping everything. 

She would notice that Eddie looked damn good holding a baby. 

If she didn’t feel like she was intruding on a private family moment. 

She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with Eddie. 

She looks toward Maddie and Chimney, Maddie has kind but sad eyes looking at her and Ana knows now that she’s not who Eddie is meant to be with. 

“Congratulations,” Ana says quietly. “Eddie, I’m gonna go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Eddie says as he hands Kylee to Albert.

“I do. It’s okay, I’ll call you.”

It shouldn’t surprise her when he nods and turns back to the others but it does. 

She nods to Maddie and Chimney and then to Buck, who’s looking at her with an odd expression on his face. 

“It was nice to see you again, Evan,” Ana says and she hears his breath catch. 

She calls an Uber, waits outside for it, and when she finally gets home, she realizes she took some photos on her phone, too.

Ana looks at them, sees Eddie and Buck, looking like they belong together, and sends them to Eddie with the text ‘you have a beautiful family.’ 

~~~

Ana learns about Edmundo and Evan Buckley-Diaz when she gets a change of name form for one Christopher Buckley-Diaz. 

Along with the name form is an official form of guardianship for Buck, declaring him Christopher’s other father. 

~~~

Years later Ana learns about Ellie Buckley-Diaz when her fathers drop her off for her first day of kindergarten. 

“Eddie. Buck. Hi,” Ana greets them as they come out of the front office, paperwork in hand and an excited five year old bouncing on her toes. 

“Ana,” Eddie says warmly and Buck smiles. “Principal now?”

“Yeah, for a couple of years.”

“Congrats.” Eddie smiles and then turns to his daughter who pulls on his shirt sleeve. 

“Daddy, I want to see my classroom.” 

“I’ll take you,” Buck responds and gives Ana a smile. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once and then takes Ellie’s hand. 

“Papa! We have to see it right now!” 

“Okay, okay, little monster, we will,” Buck chuckles after her. 

Ana turns back to Eddie and he smiles after them and then turns to her. 

“I’m happy for you,” Ana says and Eddie looks at her curiously.

“Thank you. I am sorry about how…”

“Water under the bridge.” Ana waves her hand and points to a photo of her and her son, Milo, and Eddie smiles. 

“He’s beautiful.”

“Your daughter is, too.” Ana wants to say she looks like a perfect mix between the two of them but she keeps those thoughts to herself. 

They’ve never been close enough for that kind of conversation. 

“Thank you. She’s certainly energetic, takes after Evan,” Eddie says this with such fondness that Ana’s thrown back to the hospital when Kylee was born, and how he looked at Buck even then. 

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nope. Well, it was good to see you, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ana smiles as he walks away, towards his family.

Ana looks at the photo of her son again. 

Learning all of these things about these great people led her to her greatest joy. 

She can’t be mad about that. 

[drakenology]

Vapors - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings!: use of drugs (weed), smut, a lil comedy, fluff (cause im a cancer and we love romance in this house.) swearing because bakugo, Bakugo aged up (cause we don’t fuck children ‘round here), and sex under the influence of drugs. i also sprinkled some daddy kink up in here so...

author’s note: THANK YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH FOR 100 NOTES ON MY RECENT POSTS!!! I really appreciate all the love, it makes me so happy to see that you guys like my work. Remember I’m taking requests and asks so please don’t be shy! here’s yet another bakugo smut because.. well, i’m obsessed with this man ok?? AND we need more stoner Bakugo idc idc idc. enjoy!

summary: Bakugo is a stoner and you’ve been kind of a goody two shoes for most of your life until the night you smoked with your boyfriend for the first time. 

It was a calm evening at home. You had just finished cleaning the home you shared with Bakugo as he helped by washing the dishes. You sigh, putting away the vacuum as you go and hop in the shower. You loved when he took days off of being a hero to spend some time with you at home. As you take your shower, you hear your boyfriend singing along to his favorite song; you smile as you hear him carelessly belt the notes off key. You loved his stupid ass so much. If you had ever told anyone he was a softie for you he’d probably kill you himself, but you still cherish the moments when he’s at his sweetest. You step out of the shower, drying yourself off as you dress yourself in a t-shirt and fleece pajama pants to keep warm and cozy. You walk out to the living room to a strong stench that completely caught you off guard. Bakugo was sitting on the couch, singing his song in his own little world; rolling a joint for him to smoke. 

“Katsuki! I told you no smoking in the house!” You nag, walking over to him. He smirked up at you, continuing to roll. He was in a really good mood today. He spent the day smoking weed and fucking his hot girlfriend. Even if she was a little uptight, she was fucking gorgeous and she had a good heart. Though he really wished you’d loosen your corset a bit. 

“Relax, shitty woman. I’m taking this outside. Just rollin’ up as all.” He said, concentrating on sealing his joint. He licked the seams of the paper, looking you in the eyes as he did so. He chuckled as he watched your face turn red. 

“You’ve never smoked before, huh?” Kastuki asked you, raising a brow at you as you watched him carefully roll his joint. You sat next to him, folding your arms as you shake your head no. Katsuki smoked, not a lot but whenever he had time to himself and you knew that. You never had a problem with it, you just never smoked yourself. 

“I’d never. I used to think weed was so bad for you. But you smoke it and you seem fine.” You admit, watching him hold a lighter over his joint to seal the edges. 

“Did you wanna try it with me? If not that’s fine, I’m not pressuring you to do anything you don’t want to, princess.” He said, cupping your chin in his hand as he gave you a small peck on your nose. You smile and think briefly. Katsuki knows that you’ve always been a goody two shoes. Ever since you two were kids, you were always so afraid to get into trouble for anything. He remembers when you cried all the way through detention for bickering with him in middle school. It was your first and only detention. You were so hysterical, it was as if someone died. You were just always so sweet and innocent. You never cussed or got too angry and that’s what Katsuki loved about you. You were such a calming spirit. Even though he was the complete opposite, it worked as you balanced each other out. 

“Okay. But just this one night.” You giggle, hopping up out of your seat. He stands up and walks to the balcony of your apartment, smacking your ass as you walk through the sliding door. You two were sat next to each other, watching the sun set over the clouds as he lights up the joint for you both to share. 

“Now I just wanna warn you, please don’t feel like you gotta keep up with me. You can stop when you feel like you’ve had enough. Okay?” He said, taking a drag. You nod, watching him closely to see how to properly smoke a joint. It had to be a science right? He takes another slow drag and blew out the smoke, passing it to you so you can have a hit. You take it and hold it like a cigarette, making Katsuki laugh as he watched his goody goody smoke weed for the first time. You take a puff, one that was a little too big for you to start off and immediately you cough up the smoke. Katsuki pats your back as he handed you some water to help your throat. 

“Idiot.” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. You lightly hit his chest, trying to take another drag. 

“Just inhale. You’re overthinking it.” He said watching you slowly take a drag. Sure enough after following Bakugo’s instruction, you blow out the smoke. You felt your body instantly relax, your eyes hazy and low as you watch Katsuki smoke some more. God, he was so attractive. You’ve never sat and watched him smoke before, he’d always leave the room out of respect for you not liking the smoke in the house. But with the way your body feels right now, you think you’d been missing out for sure. You take in his form, he was slouched in his chair with his legs spread out as he smoked. You felt yourself blush as you watched him, in awe of his stature. He passed you the joint once more and you happily took another drag. You loved the high you were feeling, the stars in the sky twinkling much more pristine as then usual. You become a little giggly, your first time being high just seemed so hilarious. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Bakugo says looking at you with hazy eyes, your laughter roaring through his ears. 

“I-I’m sorry I just- AHAHAHAHA!” You burst, hunching over laughing at practically nothing. Being high was kinda fun. Bakugo laughs with you, putting out the joint when he was done. 

“That’s enough for you, shitty woman.” He said standing up from his chair. You slowly stand up from your seat as you wobble a little, feeling your balance being thrown off by the influence of weed. He helps you inside, opening the door for you letting you walk in first. As a tradition, he smacks you ass as you walk through the door. You looked especially delicious when he was high, his pants feeling a little tight just looking at you. He plops down on the couch and turned on the T.V, flipping through Netflix as you walked into the kitchen. 

“I’m fucking HUNGRY.” You blurt out, looking through the cabinets for something to snack on. Katsuki froze, unsure that he heard what he just heard.

“D-Did you just fucking cuss?” He asked, completely shocked. Never in his years of knowing you has he ever heard you utter a swear word. He tried to get you to at least say “Damn.” and that never worked. 

“Oh shit... I did just cuss. Oh shit I just cussed again! FUCK!” You laugh, not being able to contain your foul language. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, finally loosening your metaphorical corset. Katsuki laughed. 

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asked sarcastically, standing up from his seat on the couch. He walked towards you to see you stuffing you face with every snack from your pantry. You had a seriously bad case of the munchies, crunching away at some potato chips. 

“We gotta go food shopping tomorrow. Ain’t shit in here to eat. UGH why does food taste so fucking good right now!?” You said, cussing with ease at this point. Bakugo inched closer to you shaking his head, snatching the bag of chips away from you as he started to eat them. You frown, grabbing some cookies instead. 

“Gimme one.” Bakugo said, grabbing the cookie out of your mouth with his, taking a bite from it. You blush as you chew your own cookie, watching him look down at you. You never really realized how much taller Bakugo was compared to you. You took your hand and wiped some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, kissing him deeply as you pulled him closer to you. Katsuki kissed you back, picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. The kiss under the influence felt amazing. It was like time froze while you kissed, your lips combined feeling like electricity as you melt into him. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, immensely turned on by this man. You tug at the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, earning a chuckle from Katsuki. 

“You’re horny as fuck right now, aren’t you?” He asked, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can tell you’re probably soaked right now.” You moan as he left open mouth kisses down your neck, reaching under your shirt to grab and squeeze at your bare breasts. You feel absolutely blissful, your panties soaking at this point. Why did everything feel so fucking good right now? 

“Kachan~” You whine, trying to grind against him as he licked and sucked on your neck, pinching your nipples lightly. You feel as if you’re about to cum just from him playing with your boobs and kissing your neck, your pussy pulsating as you grab onto him for dear life. All the pleasure was becoming so blinding you never wanted this feeling to go away. Katsuki lifts you up again to walk back into the living room with you in his arms, sitting on the couch with you on his lap. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He said, nibbling on your ear. You moan, grinding against his growing bulge, taking off your shirt to reveal your nude breasts to him. 

“You, daddy.” You purr. Katsuki freezes a little, shocked by what you just called him. You were pretty vanilla so hearing you call him daddy turned him feral. 

“Say it again.” He demanded, taking a nipple into his mouth. You moan, still grinding your pussy against the tent he was pitching in his pants, running your hands through his hair. 

“I want you, daddyy. Please fuck me.” You whine, getting off his lap as he stood. Your obedience was turning him on so much he just had to have you, not caring where in the house he took you at this point. He slid off your pants and panties in one go, kneeling down to get a closer looks at your wetness. 

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, baby.” he hissed, kissing your inner thighs. “I would eat you out for being such a good girl but I need to be inside you. Now.” He said, standing up to take off his pants and his boxers, his thick length springing out as he pulled them down. You almost drool at the sight, spreading your legs and rubbing your pussy as you imagined his length stretching you out. You were never this sultry in the bedroom, always having Katsuki initiate. But tonight, you had a hunger you needed to be fulfilled. 

“You’re so fucking sexy..” Katsuki moaned, pumping his dick a few times before grabbing your face to kiss you with tongue. He pulled away to grab you by your neck, the dominating look in his eyes making your pussy gush. 

“Bend your sexy ass over.” He growled, letting you go as you obliged. He crouched behind you and gave your pussy a few taps with his dick before sliding inside your slick folds. You have never felt this good. Sex with Katsuki had always been amazing but tonight this was different. You moan sinfully as you felt him stretch you out, his thrusts progressing as he fucked you good. 

“D-Daddyy.” You moan, gripping the arm of the couch for dear life. He smacks your ass a few times, quickening his pace as he grabbed you hair to pull it. You lean into the couch, one leg on the seat and one planted onto the floor, hardly being able to keep you stable as your legs shake. You feel your release come quicker than expected, you reaching back to rub your clit in harsh circles. 

“You make me feel so good daddy. Fuck, I love you!” You scream, pushing your face into your hands as Katsuki continued the assault on your g-spot. You start clenching around him, the sound of your moans and skin slapping together filled the living room as Katsuki starts to sweat, a caramel scent filling your nose. 

“So fucking sexy, baby. You gonna cum for me?” He asked, his hard thrusts causing you to see stars. Your moans are the only thing Katsuki can hear, unsatified as he pulled you up to him by your hair. 

“I can’t hear you, baby.” He said, fucking you even harder,  you not knowing that was even possible. You can hardly form a sentence, you responding with frantic yeses and moans and I love yous. He smirked, throwing you back onto the couch as he feels you clench around him once more. If he knew you were gonna be this frisky he would have gotten you high a long time ago.  

“I’m gonna cum, daddy! I- oh!” You shriek, cumming around his dick to Katsuki’s delight. He smacks you ass hard as he helps you ride out your orgasm only to quicken his pace again, chasing his own release. 

“Yeah.. ‘M gonna cum, baby. You ready?” He asked sweetly, kissing your back as he pounds you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, gasping for air to try and answer him. 

“C-Cum inside me, daddy. Oh god yes!” You moan, biting your lip. He did just that, a strong grunt leaving his mouth as he slowed down his movements, his cum painting your womb white. You sigh, almost missing his dick inside you as he pulled out of you. He picked you up and carried you to your shared room. 

“Can we smoke again later?” You ask innocently. He laughed and walked into the bathroom to start you both a bath. 

“Sure baby.” He said, giving you a sweet kiss. He pulled out the joint you both hadn’t finished as he led you into the bath. He goes to light it before looking to you to see if it was okay to smoke in the bathroom. 

“Fuck it.” You say, laughing as he lights up the joint for you to relax in your bath. 

[mrslilyrogers]

Fall into Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader 

Warnings: Awkward and cute reader ahead! Nothing but sweet and soft fluff :)

Summary: What’s an awkward scientist like you gotta do when you develop a crush on America’s national treasure, Captain America? Recruited by Bruce and Tony themselves to work at the Avengers Compound, you try your best to keep your cool. But how could you when Steve is always popping up to help you?

Author’s notes: It’s my birthday today!! Yay!! And to celebrate, I want to share this super fluffy piece I wrote for @hopingforbarnes​​ 250 writing challenge. Thanks for letting me participate!  I got the prompt, “This is why I fell in love with you” which will be in bold below. I absolutely loved writing this and being a fan of chick flicks, I went with that vibe. I hope you guys enjoy and please, let me know what you think! Reblogs are very much appreciated :D

There he was sipping his cup of coffee, one hand holding today’s newspaper as he read. You thought it was beyond adorable that he insisted on getting actual newspapers delivered to the compound when he could literally read it from a tablet. You even offered to install the apps for him but he declined, saying he was too old for it. And in that moment you just knew, with his winsome smile and his deep blue eyes, you were utterly done for. So there you were, surreptitiously stealing doe-eyed glances at him from your perch by the kitchen counter, your laptop propped up on the island. His eyebrows were knitted as he brought the newspaper down, jotting his answers for the crossword puzzle. When he beamed at himself, you knew he got it right. Cute, so damn cute. 

“Ugh,” you groaned at your own patheticness. When his head shot up to look at you, you immediately cleared your throat and looked to your laptop, ignoring the heat creeping up your cheeks. 

“Y/N, you okay there?” Steve asked, pencil in mid-air.

“Yep, just working on something!” You replied a little too cheerfully, your gaze not quite able to hold his. You were always this way with him, tongue-tied, flustered and all fidgety. It was embarrassing.

Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together! You have two PhDs under the age of 30. Unfortunately, that was also probably one of the reasons why you were so freakin’ awkward but you really didn’t have to dwell on that now. Shaking off that snide little comment from the back of your mind, you continued your pep talk. You’re a badass scientist, graduated at the top of your class, and working with the Tony Stark and the Bruce Banner, your freakin’ childhood heroes! He’s just a 100 year old man! You’ve got this. 

You looked at him with a bright smile on your face, straightening your back to make yourself seem taller. More Confident. Mature. Womanly. Typing into your laptop, you pretended you were in the midst of a scientific research that would change the world. Except, it came up empty, the screen completely and irrevocably black. Oh, shit. 

“Ugh, Y/N. I think your laptop is turned off,” Steve awkwardly told you, pointing at it with the pencil in his hand. 

“Oh, yeah. Well, uhm, yeah it is… so, ugh, gotta go and charge this,” You flashed him a quick smile before you scrambled to your feet, your chair creaking as you pushed it back, grabbed your laptop and ran out of there as fast as you could. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Steve watched you, a perplexed look on his face. When you nearly stumbled out the door, he almost got up to help except you shot up faster than a speeding bullet. An adoring smile crept up his lips. Cute.

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It wasn’t always like that. It all started when the science geniuses offered an advanced intensive program at the university where you were finishing your second doctorate degree. It meant extra work and more late nights but you didn’t even think of that, you had jumped at the chance from the second you heard of it and the rest was history. You aced their classes with flying colors and by the time you graduated, they had already offered you a full-time position at the Avengers compound, to assist them with whatever scientific endeavor they needed. You would become their resident biochemist/engineering physicist, equipped with your very own office and given free reign to create, tinker or even upgrade their weapons and computer systems. 

What you didn’t expect was how cozy living in the Avengers Compound would be. You thought they were a bunch of stuffy soldiers and spies with no time to deal with regular people like you. But as soon as you were introduced to the team, that all changed. 

They had all been in the common area when you first arrived. The men along with Nat were huddled at the TV, concentrating on some sports game as they drank their beers while Wanda and Vision were laughing and cooking in the kitchen. It was all so surreal, your jaw had dropped to the floor. Who knew the Avengers could be so domestic?

“You’re starting to drool, kid,” Tony commented at your side, immediately stopping you from staring. You mumble out a sheepish apology, your cheeks starting to flush. He flashed a smile at you before turning his attention to the team, “Everyone, listen up,” he shouted at them, clapping his hands twice before continuing, “This is our newest scientist, Y/N! She’ll be working with me and Bruce mostly, helping us with weapons and equipment so be nice! Piss her off and you’re toast,” he teased, winking at you. You didn’t think you could get any redder than you were at that moment. You let out a nervous chuckle, giving a little wave to everyone,

“Hi! Don’t worry, I won’t do that. I don’t think I can even if I wanted to, look at all of you!” you joked and looking at their smirks and empty faces, you realized just how inappropriate that was. 

“Not that I would want to of course! I mean, who would wanna kill the Avengers?” you continued to your own mortification, your mouth running on its own. You could feel prickly sweat down your back and you suddenly wished there was a hole that would just swallow you right that instant. Letting out a huge exhale, you tried again. 

“Uhm, what I mean to say is that I’m very happy to be meeting all of you and I’m glad that I’m given a chance to work here and help in any way that I can.” you finished sincerely albeit sheepishly, shifting your weight between your feet and hoping you didn’t totally muck up their first impression of you. 

Black Widow’s narrowed eyes eased up, arms still crossed at her chest, she gave you a little tilt to her chin as she smirked, “You’re adorable,” 

You let out a huge sigh, beaming at everyone. Captain America nodded at you as if to say ‘well done’, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Damn, if that man didn’t spell out dreamy. 

Tony finished the introductions and once you’ve shaken everyone’s hand, he was already moving, directing you to your designated room to drop off your bags so you guys could finish off your tour early and get to work. You were just about to carry your duffle bags, ready to drag your suitcase across their pristine marble floor when Captain America appeared by your side, “Hey, you need some help with those?” he asked, looking at your luggages. You had almost completely blanked when he stood so close to you. You could hear Tony’s voice getting softer and softer as he walked ahead, talking as he went. You nodded, not able to find the voice to speak. When he draped both duffel bags over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, and pulled the handle of your suitcase higher, you objected,  “Let me at least get that,” you tried to grab your suitcase from him but he swiveled it out of your reach, already moving to follow Tony. “It’s fine. This is nothing,” he said, smiling down at you. 

“Thanks Captain. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep up with him,” you replied, shyly smiling back at him and pointing at the man walking in front of you. He chuckled before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you’ll get used to it. And just call me Steve,” 

Tony suddenly turned around as if just realizing you weren’t following at his heels. “Would you look at that?” He teased when he saw both you and Steve lagging behind him. “Chivalry’s not dead,” shrugging, he continued on, prompting Steve to shake his head at his friend. 

When you both arrived at your room, You tried not to gawk but Tony Stark was definitely not cheap. They let you take it all in, practically feeling your excitement off your skin. Steve dropped your bags off on the floor before turning to take his leave, 

“Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys for dinner,” his voice cut you out of your wonder. 

“Thank you, Steve,” you beamed at him before he left the door. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” he replied, flashing you a genuine smile. You watched his retreating figure out the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest. 

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You had been working for the Avengers for two months now and you must admit you had easily become friends with all of them, jokes and easy conversation flowing with everyone except for one. Steve freakin’ Rogers. Oh, you were friends with him, you talked but the easiness was only one-sided. Every time you had a conversation with him, you felt your heart leaping out of your chest. Every single smile from him sent butterflies to your stomach. It was becoming a problem, your school girl crush making you look less professional and on top of that, you just knew the spies figured it out. Why else would Nat and Clint suddenly make up excuses and leave you and Steve alone again for breakfast? 

You tried to ignore the fluttering of your heart as Steve made his coffee. Acting as normal as possible, you reached for the flour on the highest shelf of the cupboard, your hand coming up short. Uh-oh. Maybe, if you could just go on your tiptoes, you could get it, right? Wrong. You had been dead wrong. You wiggled your fingers, hoping you didn’t look like an absolute idiot. Oh God, have I been reaching for this too long already; past the point of asking Steve for help? If you turned around now and asked him, wouldn’t it be too awkward?  But if you suddenly changed what you were going to make just because you couldn't reach the flour, wouldn’t that be too petty? Oh god, why do you have to overthink everything when he’s around?

Steve suppressed his laugh as he leaned on the counter, watching you struggle. How long was it going to take for you to give up? You were so different from any woman he’s met since waking up in the future, always so happy and cheerful with no guise whatsoever. You were a breath of fresh air, real, and so unlike all the other spies and agents he’s worked with, with their cold manner and calculating eyes. It didn’t take long for him to trust you. He considered you his friend and now, you were just beyond adorable. A crooked smile formed on his lips as he waited some more, enjoying the show far too much, his eyes involuntarily moving down to check your ass out in your sleep shorts. When he realized what he was doing, he blushed, and immediately straightened up to help you. 

A huff fell from your lips as you decided, enough was enough. You turned around, ready to call for him, when you came face to face with his solid chest. His familiar masculine scent warmed your senses as blood crept up your cheeks. “Got it,” he said, holding the jar between you, a playful smile splayed on his perfectly luscious lips. 

You cleared your throat, your eyes on his lips as you tried to find your voice. “Thanks Steve,” you replied just a little too breathily.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he smiled softly down at you, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair. And just like that the romantic atmosphere was ruined. It was just on your part. Again. 

______________________________________________________________________

Months later 

You were dancing carefree to the beat of the music blasting from your headphones as you cooked your dinner. It was late, you were sure everyone had gone to sleep so you were safe to boogie and shake your hips while you celebrated. You had finally figured out how to calibrate Black Widow’s newest weapon. It took you the whole night for the finishing touches, making you forget to eat but it was all worth it. You were on a high as you piled the pasta on to your plate, grabbing the still-too-hot garlic bread from the oven too early, making you wince as you put your thumb between your lips to lessen the burn. You didn’t hear the tired chuckle from the doorway when you shook your hips to turn around, refusing to let the scalding garlic bread shake your mood. You let out a tiny squeal when you saw Steve leaning against the doorway, decked in all his Captain America glory minus the mask. 

“You’re back?” you shrieked, a hand flying to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart, thanking god you didn’t drop your plate. “You scared the shit out of me,” 

Steve had the audacity to look ashamed as he straightened. “Yeah, sorry about that, couldn’t help it. Please don’t stop on my account,” he teased, laughing, before a wince escaped his lips. 

“You okay?” you immediately dropped your plate on the table and walked over to him, losing your nerve to even get embarrassed when he clutched his rib. 

“It’s nothing, doll,” he replied, shaking his head, a faint flush casting over his cheeks as the endearment slipped. 

You couldn’t help but be taken aback too. His voice had been soft and unconvincing unlike his usual steely, determined self. You laid your hand over the one still clutching his waist.

“What happened here? Are you hurt?” Concern seeped into your voice as you looked at him worriedly.

“It’s fine, really. It’ll heal fast,” he stepped away from you, making light of his injury. He didn’t know how to deal with anyone fussing over him. 

“Let me see it,” you said, your voice firm for once in his presence, putting your hands on your hips. 

“What?” he chuckled again, poorly hiding his hiss.

“Come on, Rogers, I’m a doctor. Let me see it,” you nodded to his injury, determination steeling your stance. 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he said, “Yes ma’am,” and gave you a mock salute.

 “But didn’t you say you weren’t this type of doctor?” he continued, teasing, as he unbuckled his utility belt.

“Don’t get sassy on me now, Rogers,” You rolled your eyes until he started to peel off his uniform, then you lost your breath. You felt your cheeks flush at the forced intimacy of the situation, your resolve withering as you shifted your weight between your feet, crossing your arms at your chest. Should you even watch him take his top off? You didn’t want to look like a creep so you focused on the wall behind him.

When you heard him wince, your eyes shot back to him as he struggled to lift it over his head. Your hands moved of its own volition, gently helping him. Once that was over and done with, you looked up at him, his chest panting. 

“May I?” you asked, your slightly shaking hand gesturing to his undershirt. He nodded and you let your hands lift his shirt off gently, but what greeted you made your jaw drop open. The skin on his right rib was marred with a big dark patch of purple and blue, almost appearing black. Around it, littered lighter and smaller versions of it, a few cuts here and there. On his arms, his pecs, on the side of his jaw that you didn’t even notice awhile ago.

“Steve, what the hell! This isn’t nothing! Can you even breathe properly?” You asked worriedly, running your hands over the cuts and bruises. 

“Yes, Y/N. I told you this is normal. This happened just a few hours ago, it’s already healing. I’ll be fine,” He once again explained to you stubbornly, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“Sit down, you need to put ice on that and I need to clean your wounds,” You rushed off to get the things you needed before pulling up a chair beside him. He watched you as your hands worked practically over his injuries, pride swelling in his eyes. There was a strange fluttering in his chest that he didn’t dare acknowledge. He wouldn’t admit it to himself but he only objected more to your ministrations because it made you double your fussing. 

“All done,” You cheered to yourself as you started tidying up. 

“Congratulations to you,” he replied jokingly, moving to help you before you swatted his hand away. “Stop, just keep that ice on your rib,” you told him seriously, getting up to bring back the first-aid kit to the cupboard and throw all the used up cotton. He was the worst patient there ever was, complaining and whining all the way through. 

“Yes, boss,” he deadpanned, loving the blush that tinted your cheeks. 

“Hey, have you eaten dinner already? You hungry?” you asked him, washing your hands.

“Dinner? Y/N, it’s 2 am, how have you not eaten dinner yet?” This time it was his turn to be indignant.

“Well, I was working,” you replied matter-of-factly as if it was the most normal thing in the world to forget to eat.

“Jesus Christ, I ended up taking down a terrorist base camp and I still had time for dinner,” he huffed, furrowing his eyebrows.

You scooped up a plate for him anyway, making sure to double the serving. When you dropped it in front of him, you noticed he had put his shirt back on again much to your displeasure. What can you say? The guy was chiseled like a greek god. It didn’t hurt to look at him.

You both started to eat in peace, the awkwardness settling in. You had no idea why he wasn’t talking. He was usually cool as a cucumber while you were a blubbering mess. 

“So how was--”

“I didn’t know--” 

You both started at the same time causing you both to pause then laugh heartily. When he winced and clutched his rib again, you quickly apologized before he shushed you. “You go first,” he said, drinking water as he tried to hide his pain. 

“Do you want to get an x-ray? Make sure there’s no broken bones?” You asked, worry seeping into your voice again.

“Doll, I told you. This is normal for me, part of my job.”

“But I thought you said this was a simple covert mission, no fighting involved. They should’ve added more guys to go with you,” you frowned at him which made him chuckle lightly, his heart flipping in his chest at your concern. 

“That rarely happens. Really, you should see the other guys,” he made a joke of it to calm you down. Unconvinced, you smiled tentatively at him, thinking if you should still push the subject when he steered you to a different topic, asking about your work. You had explained to him animatedly about the progress you’ve made so far that you didn’t even notice how easily you guys had flit to different topics, talking about any random thing that popped into your minds, smiling and joking like it wasn’t almost four in the morning. 

When you went back to your room that night, you snuggled into your blankets, giggling. You had finally been able to talk with Steve without acting like a love-sick teenager. And it was everything you thought it would be. 

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After that night, you guys formed an unspoken ritual. Every time you were working late and forgot to check the clock, Steve would bring you food to your lab, reminding you of your much needed dinner break. The first time it had happened, he walked in on you snacking on some m&m’s while you continued to work. He had groaned and lectured you on about how m&m’s and any form of chocolate was not considered dinner food. So after that, he took it upon himself to make sure you had something substantial to eat, often bringing his own cooking. You had talked about everything and nothing, some deep conversations that could only be shared through trusted friends while others had you both laughing deep from your belly with tears brimming your eyes. There were times when he had been relentless with his training too, even the rest of the team had left him alone to it, and you had to drag him away. Those days you had to remind him there was no war anymore and a little break was fine. You dragged him to watch movies, listen to music he had missed and, tried out those hole-in-the-wall types of restaurants where people wouldn’t recognize him.  

Steve had just gotten back from a mission with Sam and Bucky. Both boys grunted as they sat at the kitchen table, clutching their drinks.

“Man, I could really use a shower right now but I’m too tired to move,” Sam quipped, massaging his neck muscles. 

“I’m gonna order us a pizza,” Bucky said and eagerly whipped his phone out. Ever since he got off the ice in Wakanda, he’d been obsessed with all the “new” technology he’d been catching up on. He sure didn’t look it but he was a science geek at heart. Often going to you for help with everything he’s missed. The guys both looked to Steve questioningly, expecting him to butt in. He usually had a lot of input after a long mission. They were greeted by silence as he had his back to them, retrieving the first-aid kit from the cupboard. When he continued to ignore them as if he hadn’t heard anything they had just said and walked to the direction of your lab, both Sam and Bucky looked at each other, knowing smirks on their faces as they nodded their heads. America’s golden boy was whipped. 

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Tony and Steve had been arguing in their usual banter at the lab. The super soldier looked like the worn out parent between the two while the genius billionaire gloated at his misery. Steve was wearing a black long-sleeved sweater that did nothing to hide his muscles despite its regular fit. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him from your station with Bruce, the two of you working quietly with an occasional chuckle or two thrown at the bickering men in front of you. 

Bruce cleared his throat when he caught you staring far too long at the golden-haired adonis, not paying attention to the question he was asking. You quickly averted your gaze and asked, 

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” you felt your cheeks warm as he looked at you with an endearing smile.

“I said, could you please pass me that sample?” He pointed at your hand clutching the petri dish. 

“Of course!” You replied, handing it to him before hiding behind your laptop to record the results of your experiment. 

“Will you quit acting like a grandpa for just a second and ask Sharon out? You guys clearly hit it off at the last mission. I don’t know what the hell is taking you so long,” Tony muttered as he tinkered on. 

You and Steve’s eyes snapped to each other, almost as if on instinct, before you quickly lowered yours and hid your hurt behind your laptop screen. Bruce didn’t miss the subtle exchange and tried to distract Tony off from the subject but still, the man was oblivious. 

“Tony, would you just quit it?” Steve complained exasperatedly, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m just saying, Cap. You’re a hundred years old, you aren’t getting any younger, pal,” he continued on. 

Before Steve could say anything else, you made a show of stretching out of your chair. 

“Oh boy, I need some coffee, do you guys want any?” you asked as cheerfully as you could, looking for an escape. 

“Oh you just read my mind! Didn’t I say she was the best?” Tony asked rhetorically, his hand gesturing to you as he looked at the men in the room. You missed the way Steve’s eyes had softened when they landed on you. The only reason he was even here. 

“I could use one right now, angel. Thank you!” Tony continued, using the nickname he had given you since you started working here, giving you a quick smile before going back to work.

“I could use one too, thanks.” Bruce nodded at you.

“Alright. How about you, Steve?”  you turned to him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as he looked at you, an endearing smirk playing on the corner of his lips while he shook his head no.

“I’ll go with you, help you carry it.” He said, already standing up.

“What? Pssh. No. It’s fine, I got it.” You dismissed him playfully, leaving the lab as fast as you could, a weight in your chest as Tony continued to berate him into asking Sharon out on a date.

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You decided to get Steve coffee anyway. You knew he was only being a gentleman because he didn’t want you having a hard time carrying all of it back to the lab. Grabbing some snacks too, you made your way back, a tray balancing on your hands when you heard Tony scream your name. Uh-oh. 

You opened the door to see Bruce and Steve laughing their asses off while Tony looked at you with murder in his eyes. “Did you just hack my playlist and change it all to spice girls?” he bellowed over the music, hands on his hips. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. It was supposed to be a prank between the two of you. He said you couldn’t hack into the system he created and you just had to prove him wrong. You thought you had put a timer on F.R.I.D.A.Y to just change it when he was alone. Guess you weren’t as good a hacker as you thought you were.  

“Sorry,” you shrugged sheepishly. 

“You don’t even look sorry. You could at least tell me you saved my old playlist,”

 Uh-oh. “I think so?” 

“Oh, come on!” he whined. 

“Sorry, but you questioned my hacking skills!” You replied indignantly.

“Because you’re not a hacker!” he emphasized each word, making you giggle. 

“I really am sorry! Look, I’m sure if there’s anyone here who could get it back, it’s you.” your sickly sweet voice belied the trick you still held up your sleeve. 

“Damn right, I could,” he replied arrogantly, typing into his hologrammed board as he gave instructions to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

You sipped the coffee in your hands, hiding the smirk on your lips. Bruce thanked you for the wonderful prank and you gave him a little curtsy in return as he grabbed an extra cinnamon roll, still smiling. All the while Steve looked down at the tray, his insides warming at your thoughtfulness, you had brought him his favorite yogurt and fruits knowing he’d prefer those over the sugary treats. He was suddenly pulled out of his reverie when Celine Dion’s haunting voice rang out, almost making him spit his coffee out of his mouth as he burst out laughing, watching Tony’s face get flushed. He turned to you as you carelessly threw your head back, laughing. Anyone who could take Tony down a peg, he admired, and knowing that it was your brilliant mind that had the genius sputtering in annoyance made him love you even more. 

“Oh doll…” he exhaled. “This is why I fell in love with you.” 

Everyone in the room suddenly stilled. Tony’s audible, “Oh” popped in the background making Steve screw his face up in confusion. What the heck? He saw your eyes widen, your cheeks turning beet red.  Oh crap. 

He said that out loud, didn’t he? 

[stitch1830]

CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: KANTO

So this is a character description for the character Kanto that @precious-metal-girl and I created for AUs where he is in a loving and committed relationship with Toph Beifong. Part of this is to help me keep track of all of his features and personality traits, and if others are looking to write about Kanto but aren't sure about how to describe him, feel free to pick and choose characteristics that meet your AU needs! This will (hopefully) be a living document where characteristics are added and changed over time. If you are curious about our AUs or want to know about a particular trait/personality, feel free to ask us questions!

......

Born: ~88/89 AG (summer)

Residence: Republic City

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Green

Element: Earthbending/Metalbending

Occupation: Deputy for the Republic City Police Department, Metalbender Division

Nicknames: Hotshot, Dep (short for Deputy), Slick, Botany Boy, Pretty Boy, Metalbrain, Metalhead, Rockhead, K, My Rock

Relationship: Toph Beifong

Background:

Kanto grew up near one of the Fire Nation colonies close to what is Republic City today (part of the reason why his name has FN influence). His father took many different jobs and tried to avoid fighting in the war as long as possible so he could stay with his family, while his mother was a seamstress for the town. Often, he would help his mother sew clothes, and because of that he was pretty crafty and good with his hands. He lost his parents at age 7; old enough to remember them and his childhood, but all the memories are pretty blurry.

What he does remember is that his family was pretty poor, but they always had something to laugh about.

He loved learning new skills with his dad, and had his mom read the same two books they had every single night. And one thing he always remembers is eating together as a family.

His parents died either in an accident for rebelling against a FN rule (maybe the FN wanted to take Kanto away for being an earthbender), or from protecting Kanto in general.

Kanto was always pretty feisty as a boy, pushing people’s buttons and egging people on. It only got worse when his parents died because he pushed buttons out of anger now.

He also had a lot of friends, but after, he didn’t talk to anyone for a while because he ran away. Most of his fighting skills were learned while on the run, he never got any formal training until he went to the metalbending academy (maybe 17 or 18? Toph managed a different part of the academy so she didn’t know him. That or he went to a different academy branch entirely).

One thing he remembers is that he was happiest with his family, so he cherishes the idea of a happy family unit, and he constantly searched for something that made him feel close to that happiness.

Personality:

The first impression people get of Kanto is that he is a no-good, arrogant, bad boy. He acts as if he’s the coolest person in town and always has something sassy to say in response. More than half of the words that come out of Kanto’s mouth are flirtatious and sarcastic, a combination that initially drives Toph Beifong crazy.

But in reality, Kanto is an extremely loyal man who’s rather selfless, putting himself in harm’s way so no one else has to. His initial personality is a front to protect himself so that he doesn’t befriend anyone too much, because he knows what it’s like to love people and lose them. He hated how he felt when he was orphaned and never wanted to feel that way again.

When his facade finally cracks with Toph and she sees the real him, he’s actually… a dork.

He’s got a very goofy personality, he gets excited about little things, and his passions do not necessarily align with his looks and his first impression. When he loves people, he does so with his full heart, but again, he’s hesitant to do so with many… His family are essentially the only ones that see him this way.

Looks:

Kanto is most certainly a hunk. He’s got a similar skin complexion to Toph, thick and wavy (borderline curly) black hair (Toph loves playing with it), broad chest and shoulders (a fit and toned body overall), a mischievous, slightly crooked grin (left corner turns up higher than the right) that makes all the women of RC swoon, a crooked nose from being punched in the face one too many times, and classic earthbender green eyes. He’s also pretty tall, that’s where Lin gets her height from, well over a head taller than Toph And despite being an earthbender, his hands and fingers are actually rather long and nimble. Some popular fanart interpretations of Kanto can be found here and here and here and here and here.

Interests:

Kanto likes flowers, he often brings new ones home (especially when he’s with Toph) so he can teach her about its qualities and so they have a nice and natural floral scent in their home. He’s obsessed with pro bending like Toph, and often will attend matches with her. Astronomy and biology are also interests of his. Toph and Kanto also have a cool rock collection, both are trying to best each other to find the coolest one. Kanto reads science fiction novels to Toph in their downtime and he’ll play the guitar or pipa.

Fears:

Kanto is afraid of bugs, he doesn’t care for large fires that can get out of control, and big animals make him nervous at first contact. When Lin’s in the picture, he freaks out when there are too many sharp corners in one place. He’s always afraid she’s gonna fall and hit her head. Kanto also doesn’t like those rip tides or currents in oceans/large bodies of water.

Some of his deeper level fears include losing his family. He cannot stand the idea of losing Lin or Toph, especially if the reason they are missing or gone is because of him. He’s lost his family before, and he’ll be damned if he loses them again.

Flaws:

A lot of his flaws stem from his stubbornness and confidence. He’s arrogant, overconfident, prideful, and impatient. He knows he’s good at his job and he’s not afraid to talk about his skills and talents, and unless he’s working specifically with Toph, he assumes he’s the best for the job.

He’s flirty, sarcastic, reckless, and a bit of a slob (just his home, he keeps a clean appearance). Kanto’s constantly ragging on coworkers, has comments for days, and it’s rare for him to speak in a serious tone while on the job. Just doesn’t happen.

He’s protective, reckless, a troublemaker, skeptical, and vengeful. When he actually finds love and has a family, he is extremely protective, to the point where if criminals threaten his family, he’s not afraid to take the law into his own hands to eradicate the problem. One of these would be his fatal flaw, maybe vengeful? His vengeful tendency could be from a need to retaliate to protect his family from a threat, and that ultimately may take him down.

His flaws mainly seem to come from his overconfident front that he gives to the world. He doesn’t let too many in, or, he lets people in, but they don’t see the real him. Kanto doesn’t trust people right away, but it’s easy to get along with everyone if you just have this confident and charismatic face on. But his ‘face’ seeped into his actual personality, so there are times when he shouldn’t blurt out the first stupid comment in his head, but he does.

Gaang First Impressions:

Aang: He’s always extremely happy and excited to meet new partners, so he was thrilled to meet Kanto. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but Aang is great at being friends with everyone despite the differences, so there’s no animosity.

Katara: She’s skeptical at first, because Kanto acts like a douche and has a bad boy persona. Katara just doesn’t want to see Toph get hurt, so she interrogates the man a bit (a lot), but even though the things he says concern her, he’s a gentleman to Toph, very attentive to her needs. So, maybe he’s not so bad… Later on, she knows the bad boy look was all a facade and that Kanto is a sweetheart, and she grows to really like Kanto.

Zuko: He gives Kanto a very cold shoulder at first. He’s very protective of Toph because he thinks of her as a little sister. So, he crosses his arms, glares a bit, and Kanto glares back because that’s what he does at first. But then, they start going on double dates, and Zuko and Kanto turn out to have a lot more in common than they realize. They’re buddies now!

Sokka: Sokka’s attitude really depends on ship preference with him, but in most HC’s, he’s Toph’s best friend, so he would also be distant with Kanto. He wouldn’t like how cocky he is, or that he’s super tall and talented at many things… he’s not a fan. However, Toph is always super happy around Kanto, he makes her laugh, and no one is allowed to insult Toph without an ass whooping from both Kanto and Toph, so, he warms up to the guy. He’s been seen buying Kanto a beer after a long day of work as a truce, and he often goes to Kanto if he needs police paper signed and expedited (Kanto does the same with Sokka, it evens out).

Suki: Suki is pretty chill about it all. She’s pretty perceptive about personalities and whatnot, and she can detect a bit of a bad boy mask. So, she treats the introduction casually and is super cordial with Kanto. They never become best friends or anything, but she was one of his first “allies” in the Gaang, and for that he is forever grateful.

Other Facts:

His mannerisms are that he walks with a slow swagger. Often the slowest of the group, he takes his time whenever he walks places. But don’t let that fool you—he can sprint really fast. He leans back in almost all of his chairs, sometimes he leans too far back. Kanto was a notorious manspreader when he would sit down, but since being with Toph, she put a stop to that instantly. When he’s restless, he bounces his leg a lot, and usually only stops if Toph reminds him (usually a hand to his leg to calm him down). Kanto also runs his hand through his hair a ton to either push it off his face, or just on instinct. He fidgets with his hands, too, Toph does as well. Usually, the two will hold hands or play with each other’s fingers to ‘remedy’ their nervous tick. In extremely stressful situations (like an AU where Lin is kidnapped), Kanto usually throws up and doesn’t sleep at all.

Kanto’s voice is a mix of a rural and city accent, once Republic City becomes prominent. He uses slang in his speech often and mainly uses city words (he picked up a lot of city lingo when interacting with criminals and undercover work back in the day). There are a few words and phrases from his childhood that he uses that scream ‘rural kid’ and that is mainly when the distinction in his accent and speech is picked up. His voice is smooth and deep when he casually talks. When he yells, it becomes a bit gravelly and husky sounding. Oddly enough, when he whispers, the same thing happens.

Kanto smells like the earth or something with a forestry scent (cedar comes to mind). He wears cologne, and the scents he usually goes for are ones that smell like earth, wood, or resin. Kanto likes wearing cologne, but he can’t put too much on, otherwise it bothers Toph’s nose, and he typically checks to see which ones Toph likes, and he’ll purchase that cologne again because he knows she likes the smell. He naturally smells a bit like metal and dirt and a bit of smoke (he was a casual smoker before he had Lin). All these scents are not prominent, but by the end of the day, these are the scents that can usually be detected.

Some of his pet peeves include fake apologies, when people kick or shake the chair he is sitting in, any slightly insulting remark toward Toph, close talkers, people that interrupt frequently, and those that correct his grammar.

Kanto canonically only has one daughter, Lin. In this AU, he’s a loving and committed father who emphasizes putting his family first and protecting them. He doted and hovered over Toph while she was pregnant, cried tears of joy when Lin was born, and is very attentive and caring toward Lin. He’s the one that soothes her when she cries out at night, he’ll get up in the morning with her so Toph can sleep in, and when he comes home from work, he smothers her in kisses and gives her raspberries on the belly (affectionate). Even as a baby, Lin was a Daddy’s girl and Kanto spoiled her as much as possible.

In the relatively canon compliant AU, Kanto dies when Lin is about 6 months old. He left for work, had a run-in with a bloodbender (or an accident on the job), and never returned home. On the day of his death, Kanto planned on proposing to Toph, but never got the chance.

Lin knew about her father growing up, but he wasn’t talked about often because it is a touchy subject for Toph (and for most that knew him well). On her 13th birthday, Lin receives the engagement ring on a necklace, along with a handwritten letter from Kanto.

There are many AUs and headcanons related to where he lives, but those are very fluid and change all the time!

[thiswasinevitableid]

29 for indruck nsfw? i am already amused thinking about what sport either of them would play

Here you go!

29. I’m a professional athlete and I just fired my personal assistant and my manager sent you over but you don’t even know what sport I play or who my team is

When you’re in an aggressive profession it’s best, in Duck’s experience, to be as calm and friendly as you can the rest of the time.

But this whole shit-show is testing his fucking limits.

It’s been two days since he found out his perfectly fine P.A was working for the Wallstreet Journal, hoping to learn that Duck was somehow using his T or his identity to gain an unfair edge in matched. Ned fired him on the spot, thank god, but it took less than twelve hours for the guy to publish some fabricated piece on his attitude and for Duck to remember why he needed an assistant in the first place. He’s gotten so used to having one that he keeps forgetting stuff or dropping the ball on appointments, and the last thing he needs right now is to look like some stupid hick.

When Ned texts him to let him know his new P.A is en route, Duck groans “thank fuck” loud enough to startle the cat from her tree.

He goes to the door when someone knocks, but doesn’t open it.

“Who is it?”

“Indrid Cold? I, ah, Mr. Chicane said this was Duck Newton’s address and I’m supposed to start as his assistant tomorrow.”

Duck opens the door, “Fuck tomorrow, you’re startin today. I gotta focus on strategy with Minerva the next two days if I don’t wanna show my ass Friday night and it’s real fuckin hard to do that with people callin me left and right.” He guides the startled young man inside, then stops to take a deep breath, “sorry, lemme try that again” he holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Indrid.”

“Likewise, Mr. Newton.”

“Duck is fine. It’s a nickname. You bring your stuff with you?”

“Yes, it’s all in my car.”

“Good. Here, lemme give you the, uh, the grand tour, so to speak, on the way to your part of the place.”

Indrid smiles and nods, hanging back slightly as Duck leads him through the house. They cover the living room, kitchen, Duck’s bedroom, then come what was once the garage door.

“This here’s the gym; you can’t find me in the rest of the house, I’m probably here.”

“Goodness” The other man’s eyes widen behind his red glasses, “that’s an impressive array. I mean, I know professional athletes need to train but I, ah, I assumed you did it on site with the rest of your team.”

“Team?” Duck closes the door, spots Indrid’s fingers diving into his pockets to hide their twitching.

“Yes.”

“Which team?”

“Your...sports team?”

“....you got no fuckin clue who I am, do you?”

“No.” Narrow shoulders sag in his sweater.

Duck chuckles, “Figures.”

The silver haired head snaps back up, “Mr. Chicane didn’t say it was a prerequisite for hiring me.”

“Guess he didn’t. And I guess it ain’t. Just hoped they’d hire someone who knew what the fuck he was gettin into.”

Indrid crosses his arms, “They gave me a very thorough job description. I assure you I can do every part of it. Laying out your pre-workout and scheduling appearances isn’t rocket science, and it doesn’t matter if the dry cleaning I pick up is for a, a baseball after party or some sort of charity basketball fundraiser.” It dawns on the taller man that he’s just snapped at his boss. He contracts in on himself, staring down at his black converse.

Duck takes the chance for a more careful look; all of his clothes are second hand, chosen as if he’s cosplaying a jock who went into white collar work. There are piercing holes in his ears, flecks of silver polish on his nails. This job application was a hail mary and Ned Chicane went ahead and caught.

“No harm done, slim.” He rests a friendly hand on Indrid’s arm, “think it’s time I enlightened you.”

His office doesn’t get used much, so a sprinkling of dust greets them as he flips on the lights and reveals posters, magazine covers, and newspaper clips bearing Duck’s face. The gloves he used to win his first fight hang in a place of honor, right above the photo of him and the other fighters from Amnesty Boxing. It’s an older photo, taken the first time they sent a team out of state, sun-faded to the point the writing on it is disappearing. It makes him smile all the same.

“This does explain the set of instructions for helping you cut weight if needed.” Indrid takes in the posters, then turns his attention to the corner dedicated to Duck’s model ship collection. He cocks his head, says more to himself than Duck, “boxer. Interesting.”

“Were you just gonna bluff about knowin who I was until I said somethin?”

“That and look for clues in the rest of the house.”

He smiles, “Like a man with a plan b. C’mon, lemme show you your room.”

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

Alright, so Indrid should have researched Duck Newton before turning up at his house so he didn’t come across as ignorant and unprepared. But he was busy running every Taskrabbit and UberEat he could get just to scrape up enough to keep his landlord off his back. Sue him for not wanting to sleep in his car again.

He never expected to get this job; live-in P.A who doesn’t have to pay for groceries (buy them, yes, since that’s one of his jobs) is not the kind of luck he’s familiar with. He keeps waiting for the catch, so nervous that when Duck pops in on him unpacking he assumes he’ll scold him for his wardrobe.

“I, should I buy some more professional clothes?”

Duck takes in the two duffle bags and backpack, “Up to you. I don’t mind you lookin like the little art punk you are, but a dress shirt or two might help if we gotta go somewhere real upscale. Don't worry about buyin it yourself; just use the same card we do for groceries.”

Indrid is still hung up on why the fact a man three inches shorter than him calling him “little” makes his chest burn. Luckily, the phone rings and distracts him. Then it rings again. And again. And again. All while the inbox doubles every time he looks at it.

This turns out to be the catch; the work is actually hard. Everyone and their uncle wants to interview Duck, get him to sponsor something, or proposition him. Four hours in, he’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, and ready to hide under the desk. His fidget necklace isn’t helping, so he pulls out his chewable one; it often helps him think in high pressure moments.

The phone rings again and he growls at it.

“You’re allowed to let things go to voicemail, y’know.”

He spins in his chair, black rubber moth still in his mouth. Duck leans in the doorway, tank top soaked in sweat and towel around his shoulders

“I, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to drop anything important.”

“Ned handles the fights and the money, and anyone I care about has my private number for emergencies.”

“Right. I knew that.” Indrid can’t have his boss thinking he’s a total space-case.

Duck smiles, “What I’m sayin is; ain’t the end of the world if you don’t get back to everyone right away. Besides, right now you need a lunch break, slim. Lemme go rinse off and I’ll join you.”

By the time Duck enters the kitchen in an old “NIN” shirt and jeans, Indrid has his protein bowl laid out for him and is finishing microwaving a hot pocket for himself. Before he can scurry away, Duck pats the seat beside him and Indrid sits down, preparin to politely listen to Duck talk about himself or his sport.

He talks for ten minutes about the trees he saw on his run that morning before asking Indrid what he did before coming to the house. Indrid explains about his art and his side hustles in tarot and palm reading, about the run of bad luck that saw him without roommates and lost him his steady gig at a coffee shop. Duck makes genuinely sympathetic noises, lets Indrid change the subject when the fact he was on the edge of disaster makes Indrid’s chest tighten. They’re still talking about music as Indrid returns to his desk and Duck goes to meet Minerva in the gym.

By the time Duck’s fight rolls around that weekend, Indrid is feeling much better. He has a system of sorting emails that works for him, some mothman stickers to help him organize the paper calendar on his desk, and more confidence in his ability to spot callers with ulterior motives. He’s shut down two separate ones looking to trap Duck into interviews where he’d be forced to defend his very identity. Duck overheard his responses to the second one and brought him back a fancy creme brulee latte from his breakfast as a thank you.

He doesn’t go to the fight; it’s a small one for charity and Duck has Ned to manage him, Minerva to train him, and Leo to coach him ringside. He doesn’t need his P.A. Instead, Indrid finishes up his correspondence for the day, makes sure Duck’s breakfast is all set in the fridge, and confirms the masseuse is coming in the morning.

Once in bed, Indrid gets sucked into the commission he’s doing and is lost to the world until a tired, satisfied face pokes through his door.

“Oh! Hello Duck. Did it go well? Do, ah, is there something you need from me?”

“Yep, I won like I thought I would. And nope; was just poppin in to say goodnight.”

No one’s said that to him in a long time. The bitterness of that realization is sweetened by Duck’s smile.

“Goodnight to you too, Duck.”

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

Minerva is sick, which wouldn’t be a problem except for one part of his workout. He could skip it, but he needs to keep everything sharp for when they go to L.A.

“‘Drid? You got a few minutes?”

His assistant appears in the doorway, black jeans and white “Cramps” tank-top fitting him in a way that makes Duck want to hold him face down on the floor and find out how to take his breath away.

“What do you need?”

Duck points to the heavy bag, “You up for bracin this while I hit it?”

“I...I am not as strong as Minerva.”

“You don’t gotta be; this is just to keep the damn thing from swinging while I’m doin this speed drill.”

“Alright.” Indrid takes off his glasses and sets them on the folding chair, joining Duck, “how do I hold it?”

Duck shows him, does a few test punches to make sure he won’t send the poor guy flying. The round clock dings green, and he’s off. The bag wobbles for the first few seconds, then Indrid seems to find his footing and holds it stable enough for the drill to work. When the round ends, Duck steps baack, “okay, you can let go until the next round.”

“Goodness.” Indrid stretches his hands, “I feel for your opponents. I’m jarred just from that.”

“You need to stop? I got two more rounds at least, but if it’s hurtin you I caan skip ‘em.”

Indrid shakes his head, smiling, “nono, I like helping you with this. It’s exhilarating.”

The bell dings.

“Glad to hear it. Now brace it again.”

By the end of round three, Indrid is panting loud enough for Duck to hear him over the fan. He looks up, glove still on the bag, and finds them face to face.

“Minerva said three to five rounds for this. You wanna keep goin?”

Indrid, breathless and grinning, nods, “Can’t have you slacking off, now can we?”

Duck wants to bite his lip, just to see what happens. Blames the thought on the adrenaline. Then discovers the exact same thought waiting for him when Indrid, cleaned and in his most respectable clothes, joins him in the car to go to an interview.

Ned gave the P.A a list of likely questions, so they practice those as they creep across the Bay Bridge. But Duck notices that on both the trip there and back, whenever there’s a lull in conversation Indrid is on his phone reading about boxing. Duck knows the other man fixates on topics that interest him; knowing one of Duck’s passions has earned that distinction makes him smile.

After that, he starts inviting Indrid to watch him train, or shares his thoughts about matches with him. That’s all it takes for Indrid to start drawing him into long, animated conversations about his sport. When Indrid asks why there’s such debate over the proper way to wrap hands and also how does Duck do his, Duck demonstrates.

“Here, ‘Drid, now you try it on me.”

The P.A moves the wraps slowly, deliberately, moving Duck’s hand like it’s a priceless treasure he’s readying for transport. Every time he bites his lip in concentration or brushes hair from his forehead, Duck has to remind himself to breathe.

“Done.” Indrid is still holding his left hand, “Did I do well?”

The boxer tests the wraps, wiggles his fingers and clenches his fists. Then he squeezes Indrid’s hand, “you did perfect, slim.”

Duck can wrap his hands in his sleep. But whenever he’s home, he finds Indrid and asks him to do the honors. Indrid does them every time. Perfectly.

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

Indrid stands in the green room with Ned and a cluster of arena employees. The roaring crowd a few walls away echoes through the screen. He’s never seen Duck fight, but this event required all hands on deck to handle P.R, scheduling, and making sure Duck had what he needed to win.

Duck and his opponent enter the ring. Touch gloves.

Indrid’s pulse climbs.

Then the bell sounds and no useful noises come through the T.V. Just the announcers shouting and being drowned out by the crowd. Indrid gives up on parsing the cacophony, focus only on Duck. He’s seen him practice, but in a true match he’s a different beast. His opponent is faster, that much is clear, but Duck is patient, steady, blocks and weaves until he can land blows that make Indrid hurt just watching them.

Duck is magnificent like this. Indrid has to draw him like this, has to capture this and keep it forever, he has to, he has…

He has a hard-on in the middle of the green room.

He sticks it out long enough to see Duck win and then bolts to the bathroom so it can be taken care of by the time the boxer is done with the post-fight interviews.

They go out to celebrate, and Duck never nudges Indrid aside to let someone more important sit next to him. And as the drive to the hotel, he nods off with his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

It only gets worse after that.

Duck will coax him into joining him for a run with the promise of a fancy breakfast. On cheat days, Duck orders food to the house or takes Indrid out to lunch, and somehow the thing he wants when not focused on macros is always the thing Indrid mentioned he’d been craving. He invites Indrid on hikes with him, starts taking him to all his events even though he seldom needs help or herding at them (“yeah, but it’s nice to have someone to crack jokes with”). And on days when Indrid needs to be alone, or wants to see other friends, Duck simply smiles and closes the door.

The most dangerous days are the ones without anything on the schedule. Then it’s all too easy for Indrid to pretend that they’re something they’re not while he draws at the table across from where Duck is building his model ship. Too easy to imagine that the water-wise garden Duck tends is something he put into their house, not his house that Indrid happens to live in. Too easy to admit that Indrid wants to look after him for no payment except being looked after in return.

Duck reciprocating his feelings is within the realm of possibility. Indrid’s caught him staring when he walks in on the P.A doing yoga, and the casual touches long ago made the leap from accidental to deliberate. He also knows that Duck can’t fire him--only Ned can--and hopes that might lead to the boxer slinging him over his shoulder and tossing him on the bed one of these days.

There’s also the tabloid site circulating a photo of them with a caption claiming he’s Duck’s “boytoy” in spite of them only being two years apart. They’re not even sitting that close in the picture; Duck’s just smiling at him like he’s the only thing in the world, that’s all.

Currently, he’s having an easier time keeping his feelings buried because--ever since they landed in Vegas-- Duck has been a dick the rest of the day. Well, as much as a dick as he can be; his offenses are mainly snapping at people and lacking his usual patience.

When he scolds Indrid over something silly in the hotel that night, Indrid turns and stares at him over his glasses.

“Duck, what’s wrong?”

“Wh-uh, fuck, nothing, why do you, uh, fuck, I’m fine.”

“You just snapped at me in a way that was completely uncalled for.” He crosses his arms, “is it the fight? I know it’s a big one but that’s no reason to be rude.”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I swear I won’t. Or, if I do, it will be after you leave.”

That gets a smile, “I’m uh, well, I’m what you’d call ‘horny as all fuckin get out.’”

Indrid’s immediate thoughts would solve the problem at hand while creating a new and far worse set, so he keeps them to himself and replies, “If need privacy, I can come back later and hold all your calls.”

“Nah.” Duck sits on the bed, “You’re not supposed to get off before a fight. Makes you too relaxed.”

“That strikes me as an old wives tale. Old boxers tale?”

“Either way, it’s one Minerva still believes. If I lose, she will ask about every possible cause, includin that one. Better if I just cat nap before I start all my pre-match stuff. Come get me in fort minutes?”

“Of course.” Indrid waves and closes the door before he offers to lay down in the hopes of Duck having a wet dream while holding him.

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

Duck wins, though it’s a tough battle to get there. He fucking hates these Pay-Per-View fights, they try to make it sound like he’s got beef with the other guy. In reality, once he’s down from a knockout, Duck is the one who helps him to the other side of the ring.

There’s a flurry of press afterwards, of questions and congratulations while all he wants to do is shower. He gets clean, promises Ned they can all go out to celebrate later. As he and Indrid finally escape to his suite he’s forced to admit that--if the thoughts of hitting the “fire” button and fucking Indrid against the wall are any indication--his problem from earlier hasn’t gone away.

“Do you need me to see if I can get a masseuse up here? You look very stiff.”

“Just uh, just tense.” Why did he tell Indrid he liked those jeans on him? He’s worn them as often as he can since.

Indrid cocks an eyebrow, “Still pent up even though the fighting is done?”

“Yep.”

The P.A shakes his head, hiding a smirk, “Do you need me to find something for you to watch?”

“No.”

“I mean it, this place has all the good channels.” He’s so earnest, picking up the channel guide like it, rather than those fucking jeans and shirt with Duck’s name on it, has what Duck needs.

“No.” He growls.

Indrid sighs, sets the book back down, “This mood is annoying us both, so just tell me what kind of porn you want and I can go out and buy it.”

“Unless they got somethin called ‘boxer jackhammers skinny artist until he cries’ we’re gonna be shit out of luck!”

The P.A blinks, “Duck, this is Vegas, I can probably find that. Or look for it on your laptop…” he trails off when their eyes meet. Duck knows he must look like he’s ready to jump him. Indrid licks his lips, “Duck? What, ah, what exactly lead to this situation?”

“You really wanna know, slim?” Duck steps across the carpet, notices Indrid padding over the black and blue patterns to meet him.

“Yes.”

Duck removes Indrid’s glasses, “Had a dream about you while I was on the plane. Woke up havin just finished fuckin you open. First thing I thought was “no big deal, ‘Drid’s right here. We can do the real thing once we get to the hotel.’ Then I fuckin remembered that we couldn’t, and I know for damn sure that if I jerk off I won’t feel satisfied because you’re be over there” he jabs his thumb at the door connecting their rooms, “so close and completely outta my reach.”

“So keep me right here instead.” Indrid purrs, fingers tentatively finding Duck’s hips. The light contact splinters his self-control and he practically tackles Indrid onto the bed, kissing him as the taller man moans and paws at his clothes.

The kiss takes the heat off enough to clear the steam fogging up his head and sits up, “This really okay?”

“I would have said if it wasn’t now for goodness sake please get back down here.” Indrid yanks him forward by the front of his shirt, smashing their lips together. He’s humming and sighing every time Duck touches him, rolling his hips to display a quickly forming hard-on.

“Aw, sugar, you gettin excited just from kissin’?” Duck grinds down just to see him gasp.

“Y-yes. I, Duck, I’ve wanted this for months.”

The implication of those words slam his desire into overdrive, “You sneaky little thing, that why you kept runnin around in tight clothes?”

“Most of my clothes h-hang off me.” Indrid holds tight to Duck’s thighs as the boxer strips his shirt off, “but yes I, I did start wearing what you liked more often.”

“Ain’t that thoughtful. And what were you hoping would happen, slim?” Duck yanks his sweats off and kicks them to the floor.

“This.” Indrid’s eyes keep slipping down to stare at Duck’s dick.

The boxer strokes himself lazily, “like what you see?”

“So much.”

“Then how about a closer look, sugar?” He crawls up Indrid’s body to straddle his face. It looks even better than normal framed by his thighs.

“Do I get to touch too?”

Duck guides his hands onto his ass, “As much as you want. You gonna be sweet and let me fuck your face, or am I gonna have to hold your mouth open?”

Indrid opens his mouth instantly, a whimper creeping out of it as Duck strokes his hair. The sound morphs into a louder, but muffled, moan when Duck sinks down. He teases his dick against Indrid’s lips, drags slick across his chin, feels his jaw tremble with wanting to close. Duck shifts so his dick touches Indrid’s tongue, “get to it. Oh fuck” he braces a hand on the wall, “heh, didn’t know Ned screened for cocksuckin skills.”

Indrid shakes his head, brown eyes wide as Duck roughly rides his face.

“No? He didn’t make you demonstrate on some of the other fighters? Didn’t make sure you could make a whole gym cum to prove your mouth was good enough for me?”

“‘O” Indrid shakes his head again, silver strands sticking to the pillow as he kneads Duck’s ass in a way that makes him groan.

“Too bad for them. Because now they ain’t ever gonna get a chance.”

A whimper and write of the torso; Duck glances over his shoulder to watch Indrid buck his hips in the air, pre-cum clear on his crotch. His feet, still in their shoes, point and flex as he moans around Duck’s dick.

“You like that, don’t you sugar?” He threads both hands into Indrid’s hair, pinning his head down or pulling it closer as it suits him, all the while gently rubbing his scalp “like knowin’ that you’re doin well.”

A harder suck in reply.

“Then be a good little cocksucker and make me cum.” He holds his head down and let’s loose, grinding and grunting in pursuit of the heat that starts at Indrid’s tongue and is steadily curling up into Duck’s belly. The other man holds him tight, moaning and licknig and sucking until Duck cums on his mouth, the lasts bursts of it happening against a slackening jaw.

As soon as his legs cooperate, he climbs off and guides Indrid to sit up in his arms. His attempt to check on the other man is interrupted by a frantic kiss.

“I was gonna ask if you wanna keep goin’, but I think I got my answer.”

“Yes, I mean no, I mean please don’t stop yet. Please I, we can do whatever you like, we can do just this, you can drag me out on the balcony and fuck me in full view of the city-”

“Easy, slim, easy.” Duck cups his cheek, “let’s start with somethin simple. Get naked and get comfy on your back for me. I gotta go grab somethin from down the hall.”

His memory turns out to be spot on; the vending machine on this floor has toiletries, including condoms and a travel bottle of lube. He buys ten of one and three of the other, drops them in the pockets of his robe and hurries back to Indrid. Sprawled on the bed, he looks painfully vulnerable, like someone who got used to life kicking him and telling him to stay down.

It’ll be different when they’re together, Duck can promise that much.

“Seem to recall you wanting me to keep you here.” He grabs a handwrap, holds it where Indrid can see, “how do you feel about me usin this?”

“Extremely good. Oh, oh hello.” He laughs when Duck rolls down beside him to pepper his face with kisses. The process of trapping his hands to the headboard is prolonged thanks to their mutual need to keep kissing every five seconds.

“Now” Duck kisses his shoulder, “I didn’t bring any toys to fuck you with, so it’s just gonna be my hand.”

“You say that as if it’s a disappointment to me and not incredibly sexy.”

“Some folks don’t think you’re fuckin ‘em unless you use somethin dick-shaped.” Duck shrugs with a flicker of sadness from the last time he had that conversation.

“Tell me who insulted your body or your skills in bed and I shall stand outside their window with a megaphone informing them of how terrible their manners are and how they missed out on the finest man in the world.”

“That’d be funny” Duck leisurely kisses his belly and hips before sitting up, “but you’d have to get outta bed.”

“True. Ah well, a sternly worded email will have do OOOh, oohhhyes.” He wiggles his hips as Duck presses in the first finger, relaxing under his touch.

“Get the feelin you’ve done this before”

“Yes.” Indrid’s chest is flushed and Duck reaches up his free hand to play with his nipples.

“What’s the most you’ve taken?”

“Th-three, I believe. I, ah, I’m usually facing away so I sometimes lose track.”

“You're takin four tonight. Can’t believe anyone would wanna miss out on how you look when you’re getting fucked.” He teases the second finger to prove his point and Indrid’s mouth curves with bliss.

“My ass is many people’s type; my face not so much.”

“Fuck that.” Duck pushes the second finger in. Indrid arches, then sighs as Duck keeps working him open.

“I find it difficult to care what they thought right now. I, ahhhn, it’s much more fun to think about you.”

“About me…?”

“About right you’re doing right now and, AH, what we can do next. I do so want to sit in your lap in the hot tub back home.”

“Can manage that. What else?”

“I’d very much l-like to fuck you, however you’ll let me and, and I want us to do it right after you train some day, you look so good like thatAHgod.” The third finger is in and Indrid is now steadily pushing down on them, “and one of the times you get me to run with you I expect a blow job in reward oh, ohfuck” his eyes are wild and eager, “please do the last one, I’m ready, I want it so badly, please.”

Duck begins teasing the fourth finger, “Think all those wants of yours sound real good. You wanna know mine?”

“Absolutely. AHaahnnnahgod” The wrap tightens as Indrid clings to it, trying to stabilize himself as Duck fucks his hand into him hard.

“Soon as we get home, I’m gettin the strap-on and fuckin you for a solid hour at least. Gonna leave you so fuckin raw and relaxed you won’t wanna do anything but lay there, and you’ll goddamn get to because you’re mine and I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Duck” it’s a happy sob, Indrid’s cock bobbing in the air.

“Gonna take a trip somewhere private, just the two of us, and you’re gonna spend the whole fuckin time tied up, to the bed, a chair, whatever the fuck else I feel like so I can ride your dick whenever I want.”

“Yes.” Indrid is barely getting out words between his cries.

“And the next time you have the fuckin nerve to wear tight jeans the day I gotta fight, I’m gonna shove a vibration plug up that cute little ass and lock your cock in a cage so we can both be horny without bein able to get off.”

“Duck please, I’m close, please touch-”

He wraps his fingers around Indrid’s dick and works him over hard and fast, “Soon as I’m done with that fight, you’re gonna blow me in the locker room so I can focus on nailin your ass into next week when we get--ohfuck!” Cum hits his chin as Indrid gasps and squeaks, scratching at the wraps and the headboard.

If Duck ever loses his memory, he hopes this is the last moment to go; Indrid Cold, happy, safe, and satisfied while he moans Duck’s name.

Indrid is boneless as Duck undoes the bonds, though he rallies enough to pull the boxer into a hug so he can cuddle him like a teddy bear. He kisses his throat, feels his pulse even out beneath his lips.

“Duck? Does, ah, does this mean what I think it does?”

The phone rings right as he’s about to answer. It’s probably Ned, so he holds up a finger and grabs the receiver.

“Go for Duck. Yeah, yeah that’ll be fine” he nods as Ned explains the plan for their exclusive, late night dinner, “yeah, tell ‘em five; you, Minerva, Leo, me and” he winks at a beaming Indrid, “my boyfriend.”

[bastardtetsu]

critical thinking | ch①

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre: college au, enemies to lovers, tsundere!reader, slow burn

wc: 1.9k

warnings: swearing, being a theatre major 

※ mlist | ● ② ③ ④

you knew it was a dumb bitch move to procrastinate on your science requirement.

trying to schedule gen-eds around the demanding requirements of your theatre degree was already a nightmare, and your aversion to maths and sciences makes it even more difficult to find classes that both fit in your schedule AND don’t make you want to actively drop out of school. you weren’t sure why you thought putting off your one and only science credit until your final semester was going to solve any of that. so, you couldn’t be shocked when your only option to graduate on time ended up being 9am chemistry 1. on a monday, no less.

the first class is just as bad as you expect. the lecture drags on for ages, and as much as you will your sleepy morning brain to wrap your head around the concepts being thrown at you, no amount of caffeine, color-coded notes, or mental gymnastics can ford the river of brain-muddling frustration standing between you and a passing grade - the one you need to graduate.

panic begins to set in as you visualize all the hard work you put into your degree rendered useless, all because of a class that doesn’t even have to do with your field of study. who decided there had to be a science requirement anyway? i don’t need fucking chemistry to get a theatre degree??

“if you’re having trouble with anything,” your professor announces, bringing your attention back to the lecture that's finally wrapping up, “the tutoring center on campus is a great resource. i also hold office hours at the times listed on the syllabus. that’s our time for today folks, have a good week.”

you check the syllabus - all of the professor’s office hours conflict with your other classes, of course. asking your classmates is out of the question, seeing as you’re the lone arts major in a sea of STEM and pre-med. as annoying as it is to have to add another item to your schedule, tutoring seems like the only option if you want any hope of graduating. luckily you have some time before your next class, so you pack up your things and head for the tutoring center.

you pray that a decent chem tutor is available during any of your limited free time as you approach the lady at the desk of the tutoring office. she informs you of several with hours later in the week, none of which align with your schedule, and one who is available for the next hour. you figure tutoring right after class isn’t a bad deal - especially considering it’s your only option. the woman gives you a classroom number and a name - kuroo tetsuro - and you set out.

it doesn’t take you long to find the right classroom, but you aren’t prepared for the sight that is waiting for you there. a strong jawline and a mess of black hair that appears to stick up on its own catch your eye first as he taps away at his phone screen, his bored slouch doing nothing to hide his imposing height.

“um... hi, kuroo?” you say tentatively. his eyes glance up from his phone, slightly startled.

“oh, hey,” he responds, sitting up a bit, “you here for tutoring?”

“i am,” you reply with a half smile, “y/n.”

“kuroo. nice to meet you, y/n,” he pulls out the chair next to him as an invitation, “what year are you?”

“i’m a senior,” you say as you make your way over and sit down, “i’m in chem 1.” he definitely seems taller up close, even sitting down.

“chem 1? as a senior?” he asks derisively, his lips curling into a smirk. embarrassment and annoyance shoot through your chest.

“i’m a theatre major, alright,” you respond dryly, “i’m just trying to get my science credit and go.”

“left it ‘til the last minute, huh?” that smirk is still on his face.

“yeah, not my best decision,” you reply, trying not to let your annoyance seep through, “but i’m just trying to pass this class so i can graduate.”

“well, hopefully i can help with that,” he says smugly, “i may be a lowly business major, but i’m pretty good with chem if i do say so myself.”

a business major. of course. you’re familiar with the future capitalist machinery of the business school from your limited experience with the frat parties they so densely populated. needless to say, the impression was not good.

“so what do you need help with?”

“um...” you pondered, “all of it?” he snickered.

“you’re gonna have to be more specific if you wanna get anywhere.” his tone is dripping with amusement. is he trying to piss you off?

“ugh,” you let out an exasperated grunt, suddenly averse to showing any kind of weakness to this jerk. you pull out your notebook and flip to the page where you had attempted to take notes earlier. “this stuff.”

he leans over to take a look at your notes, and as his eyes scan the page you suddenly notice his smell - some fancy-smelling cologne with like, sandalwood or some shit - and his strong but elegant bone structure. i could cut myself on those cheekbones, you think.

“these notes are terrible.”

annnndddd he ruined it.

“well i can’t exactly take good notes if i have no clue what’s going on,” you counter, “isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me with?”

“i can try,” he says with an amused grin, “but I’ve never seen someone struggle this much with the basics on day one.”

now, you could put up with a lot of shit, but the one thing you cannot stand is being condescended to. especially not by some egotistical capitalist fucker who barely knows you.

“look,” you say pointedly, holding back the urge to throat punch him right then and there, “i’m really busy, and i just wanna pass this class, so if you could help me without being a dick about it i’d really appreciate it.”

“aw, but where’s the fun in that?”

his lips twist back into that patronizing smirk - he’s definitely trying to get a rise out of you.

“fuck off,” you say with a roll of your eyes, refusing to take his bait, “are you gonna teach me chemistry or not?”

he chuckles quietly again, thoroughly entertained. “sure. only because I’m so kind, and i could use the challenge.”

you scoff, but hold yourself back from retorting. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

at first, it’s excruciating. you loathe this douchey business bro getting off on being condescending while explaining chemistry to you like you don’t understand anything - which, to be fair, you don’t. but that somehow makes you resent him more.

granted, once you actually get down to business, kuroo is actually a pretty good tutor. he’s not actively annoying when he’s actually trying to teach you something, and he’s surprisingly patient and good at breaking things down. dude is smart, there’s no denying that.

nevertheless, even when he’s not being snarky, every correction he makes seems to fluster you more. you hate looking stupid in front of others, and something about kuroo seems to amplify that feeling by a thousand. you blame his attitude.

as you fumble trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar numbers, symbols, & formulas, you’re simultaneously attempting to maintain a shred of dignity in front of this man who clearly thinks of you as the dumbest bitch on the planet. and the more you struggle, the more you worry he’s right.

“seeeee? i told you it wasn’t that hard!” he hums as you finish off another homework question you’d been struggling with. he can’t seem to praise you without being patronizing as fuck, either. you look up from your page momentarily to shoot him a glare.

frustration and embarrassment simmer inside of you with each of his snide remarks, but you hold yourself together and divert the attention back to studying each time. the restraint it takes not to deck him right in his pretty face is honestly deserving of a nobel peace prize.

“not bad,” he muses as you finally finish off the last of your homework, “and it only took you two and a half hours!”

“i’m floored,” you deadpan. your brain is too exhausted to formulate a more clever comeback. then you suddenly realize - “hang on... has it actually been two and a half hours? i thought you were only available for one??”

“technically,” he shrugs, “that’s when my tutoring hours end. but I wasn’t doing anything after, and you seemed like you needed the extra help.” that shitty smile is back. you can feel your blood boiling, but at the same time that... is actually pretty nice of him?

“ah... th-thanks,” you mumble, still resistant to showing any signs of weakness - much less gratitude - to the messy-haired prick.

“so, should i expect you back next week?” his stare reminds you of a cat sizing up its prey.

“uh... maybe,” you say. you honestly don’t have an answer yet. “i have to run though, i’ve got another class to get to.”

“don’t be a stranger,” he grins, “you’re gonna need a lot of help if you wanna graduate.”

you shoot him another glare as you swing your bag over your shoulder.

“i’ll think about it.”

he's still smirking at you as you walk out the door.

—

as much as you’d like to deny it, there’s not much to think about. none of the other chem tutors are available when you are, and there’s no way you’re passing the class without the extra help. and, as insufferable as he is, kuroo did help you get through your entire first week of homework successfully.

of course, you still resent having to rely on some nasty ass, pompous business major to mansplain chemistry to you every week so you can graduate. well, technically it’s not mansplaining since you don’t actually know anything about chemistry. and you technically also asked him to do it. but god, does he have to be such a dick about it??

it’s just an hour or two once a week, you reassure yourself, you can put up with it.

this is easier said than done, of course. the following monday, you begrudgingly approach the same classroom, empty except for one (1) chickenhead douchebag, who promptly stares you down with the most shiteating smile you’ve ever seen.

“oya oya~ look who decided to come back!” he croons.

“don’t flatter yourself, it’s not like I had much of a choice,” you respond flatly. why is he still looking at me with that dumb expression?

“true, there’s no way you’re passing on your own.”

“listen,” you reply pointedly, “some people have better things to do than worry about how many neutrons are on hydrogen or whatever”

“hydrogen doesn’t have any neutrons.”

“COOL!!!! i just want to graduate!!”

“well then you’re gonna need to know that hydrogen doesn’t have any neutr-”

“ALRIGHT, i got it,” you huff, “can you just… help me figure out this balancing equations shit? WITHOUT being an asshole about it?”

“hmm… sorry, i can only accept one request at a time.”

this is gonna be a long fucking semester.

a/n: eeeeee this is the first time i’ve actually wholeheartedly attempted to write a fic in lord knows how long (possibly ever?? idk them memories repressed) and my first time posting my own writing so i hope y’all like it !! everybody who’s ready to see me trash talk k*roo t*tsuro say way ho

[austarus]

Harry Wells x Reader Amending Past Actions

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @moonymartell

*Set Post-s4 but before s6, with the revelation of Harry’s cube message that Cisco and Caitlin had found in s6. I think that makes sense. Anyway, just humor me ok? I miss my grumpy and soft scientist.

Word Count: 3350

“Dad, we can’t just let that meta get away with Syberon Labs’ technoscope.” Jesse spoke in a hushed manner as to not let other wandering ears to hear her their conversation. The undergrad had trailed right behind her father as the taller Wells made his way to his office. Harry pressed his thumb on the fingerprint scan against the wall beside his door, unlocking the system to reveal an intricate pass-code sequence as well. Harry mused to himself that it’s a miracle he managed to re-learn and memorize the security code. The dark-haired man had to ensure that no one except him, you, and Jesse were able to enter his area of isolation and Time Vault if there were to be maliciously rampant around the city like Zoom. The young speedster paused until they had fully entered the office and closed the door. The dimness of the room brightened up due to the motion-sensory had had installed years ago. “We have to let the board understand the amount of damage that meta can cause even if the tech isn’t linked to their powers.”

“Jesse, while I do appreciate that you keep me around for your meta-hero work, in this case my hands are tied. I can’t speak on behalf of the science anymore.” Harry replied as he pulled off his bag from his shoulder to set it beside his desk. Long legs moved to take a seat at his workspace, Harry unbuttoned the black buttons of his suit jacket. He had an earlier demonstration pitch to make with speaking to him in his ear for the science-y parts. The not-so-genius CEO inwardly sighed at the amount of proposals on his desks. “I’m not what I once was.”

“What if you could?”

Blue eyes ceased scanning the stack of papers he held in his hand. Harry gently laid them back down the cool glassy surface. “… What are you saying?”

Jesse took a step forward in front of her father’s desk, taking a breath in to resist the urge to accidentally speed-talk her lightbulb moment whenever she got excited. “What if we enhance your neural firing up to the intricate speed that it was once at in each your nervous cells? Therefore, amplifying your neural functions to compensate for cognition and analytical/systematic processing within certain parts of your brain. We’d also have to certify that other areas of your brain are also matching the same speeds before the Enlightenment accident so that we don’t get an overcompensation of neural stimulation. If we increase the firing rate to the adequate speed without causing your body to overstimulate or overwork itself biochemically then we should be able to get your mind back to what it once was. That means we’d also have to know your body’s precise neural chemical levels to see if we need to inject increments in order to compensate for the firing rate values while balancing the fact that we’d have to scan your brain for any traces of dark matter or sub-particles. I’m sure you’d documented your initial firing rate along everything else before you did the tests on the Cerebral inhibitor back on Earth-1.”

That’s my Jesse Quick. Harry had watched his daughter with wide eyes as she spoke confidently. Pride swelled in his chest even though he found himself nodding to the gibberish that came out of her mouth. I should have been able to understand all of that… “Honey.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you-

“-I love you too, dad-”

“-but, and I can’t believe I’m saying this- but in English, please.” This is probably how Joe feels every time Barry and the others spoke with me about science and physics and all that.

“We’re going to speed up your brain back to what it once was.”

“No.”

Jesse blinked at her father’s sudden response. “What? Why?”

Harry stammered before responding, running a hand through his unusually groomed hair. No longer unruly without the anxiety from problem-solving each meta incident or the next big bad. “I’m not- I can’t do that again. Something’s going to go wrong and… I can’t put you through that like I put (Y/N) and the Team. I lost myself, Jesse. I can’t go through all of that- that helplessness again.” Jesse watched her father with a pained expression before casting it downwards, the subtle guilt of not being at her father’s side when all that had gone down. I could have prevented his pain. Was the one thought that rang within the depths of her mind each day.

“Dad, I refuse to accept the fact that there’s nothing that we can do.”

“Jesse-”

“(Y/N) will even be here to monitor your neural and physiological vitals. She’ll be the green light if things go smoothly.”

“Jesse-”

“Just let me try. I can fix you.”

“Jesse!” Harry slammed a hand down on the desk, the harshness of the impact caused a picture frame to fall and shatter. The older Wells rubbed his face before massaging his temples. Don’t give me hope from what I had sorrowingly lost. “Stop, please. It’s not going to work. I’m fine with everything as it is now.”

“But are you content?” Jesse asked with pleading eyes. Harry looked up at his daughter before tilting his head off to the side. Finally, his gazed locked back on her.

“It’s better than being a blank slate or dead.”

“But are you content, dad?” Jesse asked once more, stepping over to pick up the fallen and cracked picture from. It had been of him and you and Team Flash last Christmas. His first Christmas with them. She handed her father the frame with a sigh. “I’ve seen you… stay up late at night wandering the labs, picking up your old notes, and trying to rework things at home until the early morning. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your intelligence back.”

“My intelligence doesn’t define me, Jesse. You need to understand that. I’m balanced now, that’s good enough for me.” Is it though?

“It doesn’t define you, but it’s something you value, dad. You’re my dad. My badass dad, who fought in the War of the Americas. Who jumped breaches to find a way to save me from Zoom while trying to keep the others safe by dropping hints. Who’s stubborn and prickly but ended up making friends on Earth-1 that you now consider family more than ever and met the one other person you’d sacrifice everything in life for. (Y/N). Your skill, intelligence, and determination brought you up to that point. Brains and brawns always win the fight, brawns can’t do it alone. I just-I just want to make you happy.”

“…”

“Dad, do you trust me?”

“You know I do, Jesse.”

“Then let me try.”

“Okay,” Harry grumbled as he leaned back and cracked his stiff neck, he adorned a serious expression on his face. “But we keep this between us. I’m already receiving backlash from your hero group as it is just being present at my own Labs.”

“Don’t worry about them. Oh, and one thing.”

“Hm?”

“Did you tell Cisco and (Y/N) about my team?”

“Yes?”

“Did Cisco come up with a name? Did (Y/N) approve?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah! So did they?”

“He might have rattled off a few names. One of them was probably Jesse and the Quicksters.”

“Not bad, I like it.”

“Don’t get any ideas.” Harry lightly scolded Jesse, who cheekily grinned at him.

“I won’t, I won’t,” the young speedster observed her father carefully as he moved past her to a desk space. Unlocking it, the Earth-2 Wells pulled out various notes and finals a blueprint model. Jesse padded over to stand across her father as she eyed the papers. “What’s this?”

“These,” Harry started, “are all the notes and things I had with me about the Cerebral Inhibitor. The blueprints are of mine and Cisco’s as well as the ones I snagged from Marlize after she had left the labs, who made readjustments to regain my intelligence.”

Jesse had already picked up the up-to-date notes by Marlize then the blueprints. She wasn’t even going to ask her father why he even had those in his possession because some part of her felt that he had been contemplating this too. “This is some A-class sloppy work, no wonder you weren’t able to fully get everything back.”

“Think you can outdo her.” Harry quirked a playful eyebrow at his daughter, who only returned the gesture. Jesse’s mind already had been making mental notes on the kinds of improvements that needed to be done.

“Hell yeah I can. I’m a Wells after all.” The speedster grinned up at her father, taking a seat on a spare chair and already sifting through the baroque equations and mathematical language.

Nothing lifted Harry’s spirits more than having his daughter beside him, their relation had been sewn back together. Harry left his daughter to jot down and hypothesize the necessary medications needed. Knowing my daughter, she’ll want to create the Cerebral Inhibitor from scratch. Harry took a seat at his desk once more, taking up paper after paper and analyzing the business proposals sent in. He may not have his intelligence anymore, but that does not necessarily mean he can’t run the business side of STAR Labs. Jesse was currently managing the science and analytical research side. But is this really going to work?

***

Harry covered his yawn as he set down the paper packet and pen in hand. Glancing over, he noticed that he had been working away for nearly 3 hours. The war veteran reclined back on his comfy leather chair as he stretched his limbs. His eyes wondered over to Jesse hunched over, speedily working through the notes as sounds of furious scribbling filled the silent void of the office today. With every intention of getting up and taking a walk through the Labs to get the blood flowing, Harry stood up and loosened his collar.

Blue eyes widened as a breach opened. Jesse’s ears had instantly perked up and, like the speedster she is, she raced to be beside her father in a defensive position. Spluttering sounds emitted from the breach as a very disoriented Wolfgang Wells stumbled out and onto the ground. Jesse looked thoroughly confused as did Harry. The doppelganger cowered on the ground in fear as more spluttering sounds signaled another emerging traveler. Harry watched you pop out of the breach.

“Hi,” You sent a friendly wave to your boyfriend and his daughter along with a cute, innocent-looking smile.

“(Y/N)?”

“One sec,” you held out a hand to them before yanking Wolfgang up by the back of his collar with all your might. Instantaneously, you twisted the German man’s arm back tightly behind him and locked Wolfgang in place adorning a threating sort of smile on your face. Harry blinked a few times as to what the hell was going on while Jesse crossed her arms and observed in amusement much to Wolfgang’s chagrin. “Ok, so let’s try this again. What do we saw when we’re wrong about judging others and their misfortune?”

Wolfgang sneered at you when he had tilted his head make eye contact with you, “You’re joking, rechts?” Your smile dropped astonishingly at his response. A darker look in your eyes as you kicked the back of his knee causing the older man to yelp and fall to bend uncomfortably. Harry ‘tch’ed and winced at what he witnessed. Jesse covered her mouth and hid her laughs at your chosen course of action. “It was wrong for me to do that.” Sie wird mich töten!

“And?”

“Und vhat?” You kick the back of his other knee and dug your fingers in the pressure point of his shoulder muscle, allowing the man to succumb on the ground on his knees. He groaned out in pain. “Und I’m sorry for kicking you out of the Council.”

“What. Else.”

“I shouldn’t have laughed at your face for losing your intelligence. It was a horrible thing for me to do. Können Sie mich jetzt gehen lassen?” Bitte, erbarme dich.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You grinned a bit sadistically at him, letting him go and pulling the Breach Extrapolator. Once it was open you grabbed the flinching man and shoved him back into the breach to his Earth.

You turned around and your sweet disposition had returned, sunshine and all. As if the menacing persona you had adorned vanished in a matter of seconds when that breach had closed. Throughout the entire exchange Jesse had spared a glance at her father to literally see him making heart eyes at you and a gentle smile on his face. Harry won’t even deny that your entire gesture had warmed his heart with one thought running through his mind. That’s my wife. That you had gone through the trouble to do all of that for him. Harry’s twinkling eyes never left you and Jesse just rolled her eyes at her dorky father. A smirk had bewitched its way onto his face as he stepped away from his daughter and towards you. You felt heat crawl its way to your cheeks at the hidden look behind his eyes. His arms instantly wrapped around you, holding you tightly to himself as you reciprocated the gesture of affection. You kissed the side of his head, your insides ballooning to maximum capacity.

Pulling away, Harry couldn’t help but tease you, “To what do I owe the great pleasure of Persephone coming all this way to visit my humble abode.”

“I’m so telling Cisco that you’re using his nerdy mythology reference for us.”

“Humor me this one time, will you?”

“You do know that Persephone means Destroyer of Light, right?” You gave him a quirky look, your arms loosely wrapped around him.

“I know, but it seems like the Destroyer of Light has a particular soft spot for a man like me.” Harry just wiggled his eyebrows at you causing the both of you to giggle like dorks. You leaned up and rubbed your nose with his.

“Ugh, you guys are gross. Sickeningly cute, but still gross. Just kiss already so I can give hugs.” Jesse pipped up with a gagging expression. Harry chuckled with pink cheeks and leaned down for a quick kiss, much to your disappointment before Jesse shoved her father away from you. You gave the young speedster the biggest of hugs because you truly did miss her presence and enthusiasm. “(Y/N), that was badass. I didn’t know you could even get that angry. And like, not just anger that my dad normally has when he gets frustrated that something’s not working- silent anger. I’ve been told that’s the worst and most malevolent kind of anger.”

You rubbed the back of your neck when the both of you had turned away, a sheepish laugh falling off your lips. Music to Harry’s ears obviously. “It usually takes a lot to get me that made.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side. I may be a speedster and everything, but ‘hell hath no wrath than a woman scorned’.”

“I don’t think that’s really possible for you to do, Jesse.”

“Jesse?” Harry interrupted before the speedster could go on rattling off, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah?” Her father gave her a pointed look before signaling with his head simultaneously towards the direction of the door. “Right, yes. I have to go… review a few projects for class. 3 Majors and all- Anyway don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and always use protection kids-” You blinked, and Jesse was gone in a flash of yellow-green lightning. Your cheeks as well as Harry’s lit up at her last statement before she left the office.

“Man, I really wish I had superspeed,” you sighed at her rushed exit, leaning into Harry’s side. He rubbed your arm gingerly.

“Really?”

“Well yeah, think of all the things Barry normally gets done.”

“Yet, he still manages to get his ass handed to him by metas. Every time.”

“True.”

You moved your gaze up and locked eyes with those beautiful azure ones. “You breached over just in time.” Harry took your hand gently and brought you over to the couch. The dark-haired man dimmed the lights in the room, mentally knowing that he deserves a break right now and obviously he wasn’t going to waste time working when you’re currently in the same vicinity as him. You sat close to one another, just automatically cuddling together in each other’s arms on the couch-bed. Harry took one of your hands once more and kissed the back of it before moving to peck each fingertip on your hands. You raked your teeth over your bottom lip as you eyed him with a half-lidded gaze. “We need to talk, babe.” He whispered softly.

“You think so? If anything, I also think I came at the right time. I actually get to see you in a suit again.”

Harry paused with a confused look. “You don’t like my usual casual look.”

“No, I do. I love it, really. I’m just…”

“Just?”

“Really I think you’re sexy in a suit but in reality, you’re handsome in literally anything you wear especially when you roll up your sleeves when you work on something and all that jazz.”

Harry blinked a couple of times, trying to process your rapid-fire rambling response. A soft smile graced his face and he shook his head at you. “I assume that my suit shirts will also be on the list of things you steal from me this time around before leaving to Earth-1.”

“I don’t steal. I borrow.”

“Uh huh. Then can you return those sweaters that you borrowed.”

“That depends, will you actually be sleeping over at my place this time around?”

“Well, that depends on what’s in it for me.”

You kissed Harry’s nose before winking at him. “I was thinking of cooking dinner together. Jesse included as well and- I don’t know- go out for a walk in the city and then we can come back home and do stuff…”

“Do stuff?”

You nodded shyly under his smug face, before switching the conversation. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Jesse believes she can fully restore my intelligence. Not just basic necessities to be a functioning and thinking human being.” Harry ran his fingers through your hair. Confusion crossed your features momentarily as you pulled back to fully look at your boyfriend. You opened your mouth, but Harry beat you to it. “Don’t ask me about the details but- She thinks she can speed up my brain to properly retain its normal function. Before Devoe…” Harry trailed off and you saw the pain flash through his eyes.

You took in a breath and contemplated your next words. “If this is what you want, then I will be here. Every step of the way. If Marlize couldn’t do it, Jesse can.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I believe in Jesse, she’s your daughter after all. Brilliance, character, and tenacity.”

His strong jaw had softened as his lips turned up into a beautiful smile with mesmerizing blue eyes. The sight caused your heart to beat harder in your chest. “You really are the Persephone to my Hades.” You felt jittery under his heated gaze.

“Harry, I would eat as many pomegranates just to stay by your side, oh great kind of the Underworld.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘yes’ if I were to propose?”

You held your breath in the tender moment before breathing out your response. “Yes.”

Blue eyes sparkled at your response. Harry peppered your face with kisses as giggles left your lips and small acts of adoration were exchanged. “Then as long as you’re in my life, I will be content.” You cupped his face and planted a sweet kiss on his anticipating lips. Harry smiled against your mouth and nipped gently at your lips. The tiny dark velvet box didn’t seem to bear as much weight as it initially had a few months ago in Harry’s pocket anymore.

German Translation:

Rechts?- Right?

Sie wird mich töten - She is going to kill me!

Bitte, erbarme dich. – Please, have mercy

[cx-shhhh]

ficlet for exr, grantaire making enj coffee and groggy enj 👀 domestic fluffy bullshit that we LIVE for

I actually had all one thousand words of this written before, featuring kid OCs.

With a groan, Enjolras blinks his eyes open and immediately reaches out to search for his husband. Usually, Grantaire would be curled up tightly and burrowing into Enjolras’s arms, but this morning apparently is an exception. Still shirtless and in sweatpants, Enjolras drags himself into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee and trying to shoo away the last dredges of sleep. A squeal causes him to wince a little.

“Daddy, put a shirt on!” Adrienne Enjolras-Grantaire shrieks as she hurries to cover her eyes. Enjolras tackles her in a hug and tousles her dark, fluffy hair. He does, however, comply and tugs on a random t-shirt that stretches around his broad shoulders. From the stove, Grantaire is very obviously trying to hide his smile by turning around when Enjolras lets go of Adrienne and approaches him. 

“I didn’t get to wake you up with a kiss today,” Enjolras pouts while wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist. Grantaire is wearing one of Enjolras’s red sweaters, sleeves too long and flopping over his hands. “It’s the highlight of my morning, seeing you all cute and sleepy before Alex barges in.” 

As if right on cue, a wild Alexandre Enjolras-Grantaire appears and asks, “Dad, Papa, what’s for breakfast?” 

Grantaire turns in Enjolras’s arms and gives his cheek a quick peck. He turns to his son and replies pointedly, “Muffins, sweetheart. If your father ever wants to let me go, I can get them out of the oven.” 

His statement is met with excited whispering, and Enjolras smiles and hugs Grantaire tightly. “I love you so much.” 

“I’m not sure if you’re talking about me or my muffins, but I’ll take it.” 

“Definitely your muffins. But you’re not so bad either.” 

Grantaire tries to shove his husband away with a hand to that infuriating face of his, but Enjolras, smooth bastard that he is, catches that hand and brushes a kiss to Grantaire’s knuckles. Even after a decade and a half of marriage, Enjolras will never fail to bring a blush to Grantaire’s face. He takes a sip of coffee and kisses Grantaire. Excited whispers about muffins turn into groans about how gross they are. 

The timer dings, so Grantaire pulls on ridiculous oven mitts, squeezes out from between his husband and the counter, and takes out a tray of perfectly shaped blueberry muffins. Alex and Adri don’t even try to hide their joy and immediately begin squabbling over who gets first pick. Before either of them could do anything, Enjolras reaches out and snags one, taking a bite and humming in delight. To the looks of shock on his children’s faces, he puts on a stern face and tells them, “I may advocate for equality in this household, but arguing over trivial matters like this gets you nowhere, as your other father likes to remind me.” 

Grantaire leans over the back of his husband’s chair and gives him a sweet kiss. “Don’t be such a hypocrite, dear. We all know you would also start a fight over my muffins. Nobody else stands a chance against you when you put your mind towards something.”

“Okay, fine. But are you really complaining?” Enjolras asks as he pulls Grantaire into his lap. “I like to think your muffins are as important as government corruption or animal abuse.”

Alex and Adri listen in on their parents’ conversation, both chewing thoughtfully without uttering a word. Their friends at school talk about their parents, but none of them seem nearly as sappy and in love as Enjolras and Grantaire. Must be the perks of having two dads.

They eat together as one happy family, and Enjolras does the dishes before going back to the master bedroom to change into a suit. Grantaire sets up another canvas in his studio after making sure the kids were dressed for school. When Enjolras emerges from their bedroom, tie still untied, Grantaire makes his way over and knots it expertly with deft fingers. He leans up for a kiss and Enjolras complies, embracing him tightly. “Alright, Professeur. We can’t let you or the kids be late, now can we? Alex, Adri, come give Papa a hug!”

They comply, and Adri even kisses his cheek before wiping her mouth. “Your stubble is scratchy, Papa.”

Grantaire laughs and squeezes his daughter. “Don’t get in trouble at school,” he tells her, but bends down to whisper, “although Daddy and I won’t be too upset if it’s for a noble cause.”

Enjolras snorts, but Grantaire is already moving on to ruffle Alex’s golden curls, ignoring the teenage boy’s protests. “You, sweetheart, are too much like your other father. And not just because you look like him. Now, give me a kiss?”

Alex, already taller than Grantaire, leans down to kiss his other cheek and almost immediately wipes his mouth with the same protests as his sister’s. His father wipes away fake tears. “Why are all of you so tall? You’re gonna leave your poor Papa behind.”

Identical blue eyes roll so hard that they risk falling out of Enjolras and Alex’s heads. Enjolras presses one last kiss to Grantaire’s lips and tugs him into a quick hug before grabbing his suit jacket and hustling their kids out of the door. “Love you, bye.”

“Yes, okay, SHOO before you’re all late!”

Enjolras walks Alex and Adri to school, bending to kiss his daughter’s head and hugging his son. When he reaches Sciences Po, he slumps into his desk chair to take a breath before his first students arrive. He checks his phone to see that he’s received a picture from his husband. It’s a selfie of Grantaire in front of the remaining muffins they left on the table. His blue eyes are shining with mirth, and the accompanying text reads, “They’re kinda cute. Like you and the little muffins we managed to raise together.”

Enjolras, feeling sappy and terribly smitten with the man he married, types out a fast reply. “Don’t worry. You’re cuter, my love.”

Tooth-rotting, I swear.

[barrybluejeansandbestjeanist]

Notes on the Artemis Fowl movie by yours truly.

Bear in mind I wrote these while watching the movie. There’s a lot of them.

1. If you think the police and/or reporters would ever be anywhere near fowl manor you’re wrong.

2. Mulch isn’t bad so far but he’d never be caught by police. 

3. Is our first introduction to Artemis him running? I think not thank you very much. 

4. Plus it looks like he’s going to do some water sport. Also wrong.

5. Surfing!!??!!?

6. Artemis doesn’t have even close to the coordination to do that.

7. I don’t even think he knows how to swim. 

8. He doesn’t love Ireland.

9. Of course he doesn’t love school! Have you seen his teachers’ remarks on him? They aren’t nice.

10. It was a boys-only school but that’s definitely one of the smaller offenses.

11. He did do the chess thing if I recall correctly.

12. Same for the opera house.

13. He didn’t clone a goat or name anything Bruce.

14. Unusual is an understatement. 

15. Dr. Po?!

16. Fake chair! Yeah!

17. That exchange from the Arctic incident wasn’t a bad choice to include. Too early though I think. We’ll see how the rest of the movie goes. 

18. He’s got blue eyes. At least there’s that.

19. He doesn’t have a biography!

20. His mom isn’t dead! Disney is just scared of showing mental illness.

21. If you think Angelina Fowl can’t control Artemis you’re wrong. She calls him Arty for god’s sake. He loves his mom.

22. Mysterious absences my ass. He’s the one that should be presumed dead.

23. “This is a sensitive area doctor” sure.

24. Fake chair ftw. 

25. The burden of his father’s name?! He’s proud of that name.

26. This scene wasn’t so bad. We’ll see how the rest of the movie fairs.

27. Who does he think he is? He Artemis freaking Fowl!

28. Skateboarding! I’m about to have an aneurysm.

29. Also, why is he wearing jeans? Get this man a suit!

30. He did not like being at home with his dad. Not in the first book anyway. His parent being out of the way allowed him to do what he did.

31. His dad’s actor looks good for the part.

32. His father is a criminal. World-famous. He did not just deal with antiques and rarities.

33. His dad also didn’t care for fairytales.

34. Music’s nice I guess. 

35. Why is arty wearing a hoodie?! He would never!

36. Artemis was not taught about fairies. He discovered them himself with basically no help.

37. So much physical contact between Artemis sr. and jr. No.

38. His dad did not believe in any such legends.

39. They shared only a passion for crime and that didn’t even last.

40. He wasn’t determined about any such thing. See point 36.

41. He wasn’t preparing Artemis for anything like that.

42. Fairy stones? What are those?

43. There was no peace made between humans and fairies.

44. Tuatha De Danaan? What is that?

45. Artemis would want to get to the point I guess.

46. His work was not coming to an end. What is going on? Can we meet Holly soon?

47. I’m ten minutes in and suffering.

48. Artemis wasn’t really one to smile unless things were going his way.

49. You are a child! You are still a kid! You’re like a literal baby still!

50. The whole point of him being 12 in the books was that he could still believe in magic as well as science. Wtf is going on?

51. I do know the Hill of Tara.

52. I take issue with “all I really want is to believe in you” but I don’t have time to get into it here.

53. He’s still wearing a hoodie. >:(

54. Hugging his dad. No.

55. I will accept the helicopter on the front lawn if only because it seems one thing that could’ve happened in the books. 

56. Where are the Butlers? Why are neither of the fowls being guarded? I need more Juliet and Butler in this movie NOW.

57. And Holly.

58. Pretty sure they don’t have a lighthouse. Also, pretty sure fowl manor wasn’t next to the ocean.

59. Might’ve been near a Forrest. I don’t quite remember.

60. Legos?! LEGOS?!??!!

61. Also, star wars? I don’t think Artemis has ever seen a sci-fi movie. He’s too busy making them a reality.

62. Artemis would also not sleep with a book.

63. Why did Butler’s name in the subtitles appear as Domovoi? You know there’s a whole thing about his name and why Arty doesn’t know it right?

64. So his dad disappeared. Not bad. A little late but okay.

65. Everyone has already aired their grievances about Butlers actor so I shall refrain from doing so as well. I’ll just say one word and leave it at that. Eurasian.

66. Also, fowl manor doesn’t look bad. I can accept this house.

67. No no no. No one should be calling him Domovoi. Only Butler.

68. Also, that isn’t the training he had.

69. He is the butler though? I mean. Only sort of but like. ???

70. No. You could not call him Dom or Domovoi. 

71. Very large man in a suit is slightly acceptable.

72. He could totally snap you in half but not without good reason. Come on, guys. He’s a nice guy. Scary, but nice.

73. Like, the dude cooks and gardens and whatnot. How is that not nice?

74. Also, I’m still hung up on the goat thing. Like I don’t deny that he could clone a goat but why on earth would he name it Bruce. Is it a Batman reference or something? I don’t understand this movie.

75. World wide manhunt? Pardon my doubt.

76. Superyacht? Owl star?

77. I get it. It’s a stupid pun.

78. I guess the South China Sea is close enough to Russia.

79. Again. Not an antiquities dealer.

80. Robberies? He ran a criminal empire!

81. Not sure how one would go about stealing the Rosetta Stone or why but sure.

82. I’ve never even heard of Boru’s Harp.

83. Nor the book of kells.

84. Why are you calling Butler Dom???

85. Yes! He is a criminal mastermind! Thank you for slightly acknowledging that!

86. Also, Artemis is not that rash.

87. He’s your dad and a criminal.

88. Why must Disney do this to my boy? He was an incredible character, smart, cunning, and a criminal and now he’s just a sort of smart kid. Lame.

89. I swear if this “raspy voice” is opal I will be so disappointed.

90. What is this? Artemis is supposed to be kidnapping fairies, not the other way around!

91. What is this Aculos and why should I care about it?

92. Also, why isn’t it Christmas? You could at least set it in winter. For crying out loud.

93. That isn’t word for word Artemis. I know you can remember it exactly.

94. I’m starting to think Orion is better than this fool.

95. Why is he wearing a hoodie?!??!???!

96. Just going to have a secret basement full of whatever secret stuff shoved in there because of course.

97. Also. As if butler would know about any of this.

98. Bunch of bottles of water. Okay.

99. ‘Cause Artemis Sr. totally knew about the fairies. 

100. This is a stupid basement.

101. I’m so done with this.

102. Ah yes! An important journal! Predictable.

103. Stupid poem. Stupid way of finding the journal.

104. That was opal I see. I’m dying.

105. Beechwood. Isn’t that guy related to Holly or something? Also, not from the books.

106. Yes, Arty fairies exist. Surprising no one.

107. I like how they made the city look I suppose. And they kept the name the same. Of course, it must be noted that not all fairies live in haven. There are other cities.

108. Why is holly a baby? She shouldn’t look like a child. Also, tons of people have already spoken on holly’s appearance as well so I won’t say anymore.

109. Koboi mentioned. It was totally opal.

110. The fairies don’t look bad either. Though I don’t know if the little things are supposed to be goblins or what?

111. I guess not. These goblins also seem way too smart.

112. “You and I would make a great team” foreshadowing.

113. I do think mulch being taller is kinda funny.

114. Briar Cudgeon looks about how I expected. Do you think he’ll get his face melted?

115. Opal and Cudgeon working together. Unsurprising if a bit early.

116. You spy or you die. The CIA’s motto.

117. L.E.P. Recon. Nice.

118. I’m also not going to address the changing of roots gender and the fact that Holly is supposed to be the first female officer because again, many people have spoken at length about that. Still upset though.

119. Kelp and Verbil are around I see.

120. What is the Aculos? Like I get that it’s a weapon by why should I care?

121. Also, I think Root should be smoking.

122. Holly’s father? Why should he matter or even be a part of this?

123. They kept Holly 84. Good.

124. Reinforcements? Juliet?!!!!

125. She’s 12? She’s supposed to be sixteen! No!

126. Niece!!!! She’s supposed to be his sister.

127. Also, screw Disney for changing the fairy alphabet so we can’t read it.

128. Artemis should be able to decode it though. He’s not much of a genius, is he?

129. Foals needs a tinfoil hat and should look way way nerdier.

130. Troll! Time! Yeah!

131. Yeah! Lava chutes!

132. Foaly’s CGI is a little wonky but whatever.

133. So that’s why Holly’s father is important. Stupid.

134. The executors. You mean the council.

135. Don’t just fly over the surface unshielded, you dolt!

136. Butler your camouflage sucks ass.

137. Butler wouldn’t complain.

138. Butler’s eyes are freaking me out. No one’s eyes look like that.

139. The LEP helmets are stupid looking.

140. That isn’t what a troll looks like. Stop it, Disney.

141. Time Stop. Not a time freeze.

142. The magic looks cool.

143. That’s not how a time stop works. But at least it looks cool.

144. I suppose I can accept that’s how they do mind wipes.

145. “This is a strange wedding” is the best joke so far.

146. Why are none of the fairies shielded?

147. Holly has such boring motivation.

148. You shouldn’t just read your dad’s journal Arty. It’s rude.

149. I’m so over arty’s dad already knowing about the fairies as well as this beechwood fellow.

150. Why does this Aculos exist? If it’s so dangerous, why not get rid of it?

151. Opal Koboi. Finally. 

152. Like Arty would ever dress like that. He’d still be wearing a suit and be spotless.

153. “They’re real.” No kidding!

154. Fox!

155. I’m surprised they included trying and succeeding to shoot holly.

156. Kinda wish they’d kept the bury an acorn to get magic thing but small fish and all.

157. Now it’s starting to remind me of the real Artemis Fowl story.

158. Cudgeon is slimy and annoying and I’m here for it.

159. That’s a shitty looking cage.

160. “Not happy” I wonder why?

161. Reflective glasses! Yes! Give me the fowl crew in cringey reflective sunglasses.

162. The Mesmer is done nicely. Love Juliet’s glasses.

163. A flannel and reflective sunglasses. That classic Artemis fowl look.

164. So he did decode their language.

165. The acting isn’t terrible. 

166. Most humans are afraid of gluten how do you think they’d handle goblins is a good line.

167. Again. Not how time stops work but okay.

168. So let me get this right. Instead of the fairy bible which Artemis poisoned a fairy to get they just replaced it with his dad‘s journal. great.

169. Don’t give Artemis a weapon! He’s gonna cut his own arm off!

170. The time freeze does look cool though.

171. I can appreciate them gathering on the beach. That’s kinda cool.

172. Finally a suit! Get this kid properly clothed!

173. Though that tie is a little sus. Why’s it so skinny?

174. That fight scene wasn’t too bad. Again Arty is definitely not supposed to be good at anything physical but it’s whatever.

175. Flair for the dramatic? This is hardly as dramatic as the book.

176. I hate opal’s voice.

177. Waged war on your people? That was 10,000 years ago!

178. Opal’s motives are also super boring.

179. I’m sad we don’t get to see arty practicing his evil smile in the mirror.

180. In one of those pots. From under the rainbow. Fun.

181. Glad they kept the whole while I’m alive stipulation. 

182. Glad to see the goblins still have fire powers.

183. These goblins really shouldn’t be so smart.

184. I hope we get to see mulch unhinge his jaw soon.

185. I do like mulch.

186. This heart to heart is stupid. Artemis wouldn’t trust holly just like that me thinks.

187. I like that mulch is up on all the human pop culture. I do wish he’d make a Gordon Ramsey reference though since he likes him.

188. Mulch not wanting to be tall is excellent character motivation though.

189. Now this is the heart to heart I needed.

190. Is he gonna unhinge his jaw?! I’ve been waiting for this the whole time!

191. Yeah!!!!!!

192. Eat that dirt!

193. Mulch!

194. “What would your parents be?”

195. A really really big dwarf.

196. Sick safe. Nothing mulch can’t handle.

197. That definitely isn’t what I expected from mulch’s hair but that’s okay.

198. Yeah! Holly punched Artemis! Now there just needs to be a lollipop remark.

199. Is that the Aculos? It looks stupid.

200. Also, I do appreciate the inclusion of the iris cam.

201. Opal, you’re so boring.

202. Cudgeon is taking over. Kinda wish it was of his own will because that’s more interesting but whatever.

203. Troll time part two. I doubt butler is going to almost die fighting it. Maybe he’ll wear a suit of armor though. That’d be cool.

204. How is it we’re an hour in and only just now get a d’arvit? Surely many other scenes warranted that.

205. I do like that mulch pickpocketed butler.

206. Don’t just stand in front of the door when A Troll is about to be sent in!

207. The wings do look really cool though.

208. Also, Juliet really shouldn’t be trying to fight a troll.

209. I mean. None of them should but you know.

210. Mulch eating the Aculos is very in character. I’m glad Artemis’s bedroom is being destroyed. It was terrible.

211. While I don’t care for the way the troll looks (Far too human, not enough claws and venom) the amount of destruction it’s causing is appropriate I feel.

212. I guess that’s how the fight can go. 

213. Also, Juliet is so smart and strong yet she can’t pull herself over a ledge? Pathetic.

214. Don’t move butler to a completely different room! He’s got a back injury! You probably just made it worse!

215. Butler isn’t going to die. This is stupid. 

216. Trouble doing the lords work. 

217. I told you butler would be fine.

218. One of the times Butler would nearly die. If we’re following the books then more should follow.

219. Also what is this room they’re in?

220. Butler would not be ashamed to cry.

221. I’m living for everyone’s reactions to where mulch stored the Aculos.

222. I like the way it looks when they get grabbed by the time stop. 

223. She’s gonna save Artemis. Obviously.

224. I like the way it looked when the time stop broke.

225. “Breaking every rule in the book” we haven’t even seen your book! Just his dad’s stupid journal.

226. He and holly should not be friends yet. He kidnapped her!

227. Ooh, forever friends how sweet! Get fucked. Both of you.

228. Now are we in Russia?

229. Opal annoys me so much.

230. So are you trying to tell me that this Aculos is the movie’s version of the book? Holly’s saying that poem.

231. This isn’t how magic is supposed to work.

232. >:(

233. I will admit it looked cool. Begrudgingly.

234. Your dad isn’t dead.

235. He’s in the secret basement that still exists for some reason.

236. Also, I didn’t note this before, but I doubt Arty ever called his dad, dad.

237. Opal is thwarted. 

238. Why she so ugly looking? Pretty sure she was supposed to be pretty.

239. This is so stupid.

240. Opals accomplices, you mean those two dunderheads she had helping her?

241. How are there still fifteen minutes of this torture left?!

242. Again. Butler would not be ashamed to cry.

243. Just wait until Artemis gets magic of his own.

244. I’m so tired. It’s 12:14 at night and I just want this torture to end. Please god just let the credits roll already!

245. And now they’re famous. Whoop de do. Just tell us how mulch gets captured and escapes and end the movie. That’s all I ask.

246. You know he hasn’t been referred to as Artemis Fowl the Second throughout this whole disaster. What a slight to him.

247. Ray bans.

248. Oh yeah. Brag to opal. Great idea. 

249. Criminal mastermind. Juvenile Genius. Same difference.

250. Why is his tie so skinny? 

251. Is he gonna fly the helicopter?! Finally something in character!

252. Now just let mulch escape and finish this godforsaken nightmare!

253. Fowls? Protecting us? Pardon me while I laugh.

254. They do the unhinging of mulch’s jaw nicely.

255. And now they mission impossible him out of there. Perfect.

256. I’m dying. Let it be over. Please.

257. No more!

258. Fly off into the sunset. Of course.

259. Thank god! Credits! I’m free!

260. And another thing! They didn’t have the follow-up scene with Dr. Po! That would’ve been a way better ending! And you can’t just have one scene without the other!

[lakesandquarries]

Baby Shoes - Chapter 2

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He’s been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn’t have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa’s newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey’s dad au.

title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books.

AO3 Link

He stays away from the Biological Research department for three whole days before curiosity gets the best of him. Work is the only thing that’s a suitable distraction, and his current work is frustratingly easy. He’s supposed to be moved around departments, placed on whatever project is most difficult, but currently he’s just helping design a new line of robotic limbs. It’s almost an insult, frankly.

He tests the springs on the arm one last time, determines that there’s nothing more he can do today, and leaves.

The trip to Biological Research is a short one, but once he’s there he’s reminded of how confusing it is. The scientists seem less frazzled today, at least. He winds up in a hall filled with desks, some kind of office space perhaps? Most of them are empty or occupied by very stressed looking scientists, but he spots one young man with blond hair sitting at a desk playing with a slinky, and makes his way over.

“Excuse me,” Bubby says, clearing his throat. The young man straightens up, accidentally launching his slinky across the room.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles as it narrowly avoids hitting someone.

“You might wanna pick that up before someone trips on it. Or, don’t, it’ll be good entertainment.”

The man snorts as he stands up, grabbing his slinky and dusting it off. “Maybe. Not worth risking my job if the wrong person slips.” He holds his hand out to Bubby. “Dr. Dekkard.”

Bubby shakes it warily. “Dr. Bubby.” Dekkard’s eyes widen, and his grip tightens.

“Oh, shit! You’re the -”

“Ultimate Lifeform, yes.” He smiles at Dekkard, showing off his slightly sharper than average teeth.

“Damn, what - what are you doing here? I was told you were working in the Robotics Department.” He releases Bubby’s hand, shoving his own into the pocket of his lab coat, the other still fiddling with the slinky.

“I am. I get curious.”

“I dunno, most of the sh - uh, stuff here is pretty boring.”

“You can swear, Dr. Dekkard. We’re all adults here.” Probably. Dekkard has the look of someone too young to be working at Black Mesa, still innocent and excited about the possibilities of science. The spark in his eyes will be gone soon enough. “I had...an encounter here, the other day. There was a subject that escaped, apparently?”

Dekkard nods. “Yeah, XEN-3. Don’t know much about it - some kinda shapeshifting alien? It’s supposed to be really dangerous, though. Bit a scientist a while back and nearly killed the guy.” He shrugs, taking his hand out of his pocket so he can move the slinky between both hands. “I only started here a month ago, I don’t know much about it. It keeps trying to escape though, the guys in charge are pretty pissed.”

Bubby purses his lips, thinking. “Maybe they need a new perspective. A better perspective. Who’s in charge?”

“Dr. Zeki. She’s - I think she’s free right now? I can show you where her office is.”

“Yes, please do.” Bubby straightens his lab coat. Dekkard drops the slinky on his desk before leading Bubby down one of the many identical corridors. They stop after reaching a door with a plaque attached to it.

Dr. Amelia Zeki, Head of Biological Research.

Dekkard knocks on the door. “Dr. Zeki? I’ve got someone who wants to see you.”

There’s a sigh on the other side. “Send them in.”

“Alright, well. Good luck. Uh, nice meeting you. I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” Bubby says. He hopes he doesn’t. He hopes Dekkard quits within the next 20 minutes and finds somewhere else to work that isn’t this shit hole.

He opens the door to Zeki’s office.

Behind the desk, looking over a stack of papers, is the same woman he saw the other day. The one who shot Benrey in front of him. This is the same person in charge of their well being?

“Well?” Zeki asks, looking up at him. “I assume there’s a reason you’re here, but I’m busy. I don’t have time to wait for you to say something.”

“I had a few questions. About the - the subject I encountered the other day.”

“XEN-3?” She puts the papers down. “Did it bite you or something? If so, you’re gonna need antibiotics immediately, it -”

“It didn’t hurt me,” Bubby says sharply. “I only encountered it briefly, but it seemed perfectly docile.”

“You’d better hope you don’t encounter it again, then, because I doubt you’ll get that lucky twice.”

“That’s what I came here to ask about, actually. I’m - well, the current project I’m working on is far below my usual standard. I’m hoping to find something more...challenging.”

Zeki raises an eyebrow. “And you want to deal with the violent shapeshifting alien?”

“It’s certainly a challenge, isn’t it?”

She looks back at her papers, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “We have it pretty heavily restrained at the moment, and it would be nice to have someone who can interact with it without getting attacked.” She pushes her chair back from the table and stands up. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Fine. You can come see it.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

How does anyone find their way around this place? The hall Zeki takes Bubby down is identical to every other god damn hallway in this shitty department. She leads him into a room with a large glass partition, separating the subject from the scientists. One-way glass, he assumes. Bubby steps forward to get a better look, and his blood goes cold.

There’s no cage like he’d seen a few days ago. This is an entirely new enclosure, a different room than before.

It’s worse. They replaced the cage with heavy chains and shackles. The presumably cold metal clamped around Benrey's wrists, ankles, waist, with even their tiny neck being held by the restraints They’re flopped over, the chains the only thing keeping them upright, and their eyes are open but vacant.

“Are - are they alive? ”

Zeki nods. “Thing won’t stay dead. No matter what we throw at it, it just heals itself. Total reset.”

“I -” he wants to strangle her. He thinks back to just a few days ago, Benrey clinging to his shirt, impossibly grateful for the simple gift of a name.

“It’s not sentient,” Zeki says. “It just imitates what it sees. It’s not like you , Dr. Bubby.”

But it is. It’s exactly like him. He remembers days spent floating listlessly in his tube, wishing for something, anything to happen. Even some kind of experiment, because at least then he wouldn’t be alone. Days spent slamming against the glass in a feeble attempt to break it.

He swallows down the words he wants to say. “If they’re a shapeshifter, how are chains supposed to keep it in place?” Bubby asks, stepping away from the glass and forcing himself to look away.

“It’s not impossible, but it’s harder. We keep the cuffs tight so it can’t expand without hurting itself, and getting smaller seems to be more difficult somehow. It’s only a temporary solution, though. We’ve been hoping to study the shapeshifting better, but it’s tricky.”

“I understand you also have an...escaping problem.”

She clenches her jaw, muscles in her neck twitching. “Only a few times.”

“Over how long?”

“Five. Five times in three months.”

“Hm.” Bubby steps forward, touching a hand to the glass, then walks a slow circle around the room. “There might be a better way to prevent it from escaping.”

Zeki sighs, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Let’s hear your idea.”

“You could always try to improve its living situation. Give it some incentive to stay.”

She shakes her head. “Its first cage was fine . It’s just being difficult.”

“I know you said it’s not sentient, but -”

“It’s just mimicking us. It doesn’t understand what it says, or what it does, or any of that. It’s from Xen. All it wants to do is kill and eat, and sometimes that means a little bit of acting.”

“It must’ve chosen this form for a reason. Humans are, to put it plainly, shittily designed when it comes to killing and eating. So why not try treating it like a human?”

Zeki eyes him again, studying him as intensely as he’s seen her stare at Benrey. “You’ve got some kind of attachment to it.”

“I find it interesting. It’s more of a challenge than robotic arms. ”

Another long moment as Zeki stares at him. “You know what? Sure. Fine. I’ll clear it with the head of Robotics, see if we can borrow you over here. I’ll give it a try. But Mr. Bubby, I do hope you remember your place here.”

“That’s Doctor Bubby,” he snaps, straightening up to his full height. He’s nearly a full head taller than her, yet can’t shake the feeling of being looked down on.

“Like I said. I hope you remember your place.”

[cameronspecial]

King of CSCC (Prologue)

Pairing: Rich Kid! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: When Y/N gets a scholarship to attend Collegialiter Schola Currere Cucurri, a prestigious boarding school in England. She’s very studious and organizes, everything needs to be a certain way for her to be happy. Tom is the resident fuckboy at school and,  with his daddy being the richest man on earth, he practically owns the school. What happens when Tom falls completely in love with Y/N, but she doesn’t want to be with him because of his reputation.

Words: 2 159

Y/N stands in front of the massive brick building with beautifully and neatly done cobblestone tiles on the roof. From where she stands, Y/N could see that two big towers and two smaller ones are attached to the main building of the school. To her left, a soccer field and to her right, a rugby field with an outdoor running track. Behind the soccer field, she could see a big rectangle building that, from what she read about the school, must be the school’s gymnasium. Y/N couldn’t believe that she is actually here in front of Collegialiter Schola Currer Cucurri which is Latin for something she couldn’t remember anymore. It’s the best school in the world, the only people that could attend the school are the elite, rich and famous, but once every year, the school awards a scholarship that covers everything (laundry, meal plane, books, uniform, etc) to one lucky student going into their 11th school year. The chosen student has to be the best and brightest out of all the applicants and this year, it just so happened to be Y/N L/N. She has been working her whole life for this and now her dreams for a better future are finally coming true. Her home life in Toronto wasn’t the best in terms of education. She didn’t learn enough at the public school she went to, so when she saw the opportunity to attend the most prestigious boarding school in the world, she jumped at the chance to apply. It also helped that she’s always wanted to live in England. She finally manages to shake off her nerves and walks into the school.

Upon entering the school, Y/N notices how much cleaner and how the equipment is so much better than what she had back at home. The hallways were empty seeing as it was the Saturday before school started, so she is all alone in the school. After a few minutes, she manages to find her way to the principal’s office while struggling to bring all of her bags with her at the same time. The new student gently arranges her bags near the door to make sure they are not in the way, then she lifts her hand to the door and knocks. “You may enter,” an authoritative voice instructs her. Y/N enters to see a middle-aged woman sitting at her desk looking over some documents with her glasses balancing off of her nose. The older woman looks up at the sound of the door closing and motions for Y/N to sit on one of the chairs in front of her desk, “You must be Miss. L/N, our scholarship winner.” Y/N nods her head to show her agreement, she isn’t going to lie, but she is a little intimidated by the principal. “Alright, classes start on Monday at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Miss. Daniels should already be at the front office waiting for you. She’ll be your guide for the day. Here is your schedule and some other information you might need. If you have any questions, then you may ask Miss. Daniels and I would also like to inform you that if your marks slip even by a percent that you will lose your scholarship. Is that clear?” Ms. Sinclair informs the pupil. “Yes,” Y/N answers quietly because she’s slightly terrified with how cold the principal seems. “Good, you may address me as Ms. Sinclair and nothing else. You are dismissed,” Ms. Sinclair demands. Y/N quickly gets out of her chair and goes towards the door.

Y/N grabs her bags a little bit more easily now that she knows how to handle all of them and makes her way back towards the front of the school where she saw the front office. When she gets to the front of the school, she notices a girl around her age waiting in front of the office. The teen notices Y/N approaching and immediately rushes to help her with a smile on her face.  “Hi, you must be Y/N L/N. I am Delilah Daniels and I’ll be your tour guide. I’ll give you a tour of campus, then I can help you move into your dorm if you’d like. You don’t have to worry about your bags, I’ll call the concierge to come get them and bring them to your room. Now, the first stop is going to be the science labs where you bio and chemistry,” Delilah introduces herself. Y/N notices that Delilah has a British accent that is as smooth as butter.  The girls place the bags near the entrance and shake each other’s hands, “I am Y/N. Nice to meet you. And the science lab sounds like a great start.” Delilah makes a quick call to the concierge, then they walk down the hall to the left and up the stairs to her biology lab. “Now, upstairs to the left is the science wing, so you have all the science labs up here. Your bio lab is in room 203 and your chemistry lab is in room 220,” Delilah starts off, “Let’s head over to where you are going to be taking geometry and algebra, which is on upstairs on the right side of the also known as the mathematics wing. This term you’re only taking geometry, algebra, biology, and math. Next term you’re taking media arts, English literature, French, and psychology, right?” Y/N nods along to what Delilah says, “That seems right. Your last names Daniels right? As in your parents are Anna and Maurice Daniels, Daniels? They own practically every chain hotel I can think of.” “Yep, those are my old folks. They could be a little hectic and gone, but they have always been there for me when I need them and I know they love me. That’s all that really matters, right? So what do your parents do for a living? You live in Toronto right?” Delilah questions the new girl. “Yeah, I do. My mom works as a social worker, she tries to help kids in the system. My dad is a baker, we actually live on top of the bakery he owns. My little sister and brother always like to head down to the bakery at the end of the day and steal whatever leftovers are left. Do you have any siblings?” Y/N explains. “No, I am an only child. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but that’s alright. I would love to live over a bakery! The smell of freshly baked pastries would waft into the house and it could smell like freshly baked croissants every day. The math wing is just around the corner,” Delilah rants a little as they head over to the math wing.

When they rounded the corner, two other people were rounding the corner at the same time. A collision would have happened, but Y/N’s quick reflexes stopped them from crashing. In front of the two girls were two boys about their age wearing Versace, Prada, Gucci, and some other clothing brands that Y/N could never dream about owning. The boy on the left is taller than the boy on the right, he has dirty blonde hair and clear blue eyes. He’s handsome, but the boy on the right is the show stopper for Y/N. He has dark chestnut brown hair that matches his eyes. His nose is a little cricked and his lips are a little thin, but she liked how the nose made him look rugged and how his lips still looked perfect to kiss. His jaw looks so sharp that she believes is she were to run her finger along it she would cut it. No matter how badly the young girl wanted to go on a date with him, she knew about who he is and what his reputation is. He’s the infamous Tom Holland or as the tabloids like to call him, Holland the Lady Killer. His motto is hit then quit it and that really isn’t what Y/N is looking for. “Hey, just who we were looking for! I told Haz that you’d be showing the scholar bee around the school. You’ve always loved to meet new people. Thought we’d come join you seeing as this year’s scholar bee is a female and not another boring ass dude. So does the little lady have a name?” Tom inquires slyly as he makes his way over to Delilah and slings his hand around her neck. “My names Y/N. What’s it matter to you?” She snarls not liking what he said at all. “Damn, you got a mouth on you. I like a girl who isn’t afraid to talk back. Well, I guess it’s my turn to introduce. I am Tom and this div beside me is Harrison,” Tom tries to say in the most charming voice he could. Y/N just scoffs and keeps walking, “Whatever. Nice to meet you, Harrison. Now, let’s head over to the mathematics wing.” “Looks like we finally found someone who can resist Tommy’s charm,” Haz whispers to his two comrades as they follow Y/N down the hall.

After finishing the tour of the campus, the four newly acquainted friends headed over to Y/N’s dorm so that they could help her unpack. “Okay, everything is labelled clearly so it shouldn’t be too hard trying to figure out where everything should go,” Y/N elucidates while tying her hair back and picking up one of the boxes that was labelled closet- Hoodies and Shirts. Everyone went to work on cleaning out the boxes while they worked they talked, reminisce about old stories, joked around, and listened to some music. Symphony by Clean Bandit played on her phone and Y/N started swaying to the music. “I’ve been hearing symphonies before all I heard was silence. A rhapsody for you and me, and every melody is timeless,” she sang as she organized the books onto her bookshelf. Tom looks up from the clothes he was folding for her and stares in awe of her voice. To him, she sounded like an angel and all he wanted to do is listen to her sing all day. He may not have noticed it, but the whole afternoon he found himself noticing little things that he liked about her and he just wanted to be closer to him. He liked how she had all these random facts and how she could joke about anything and everything. He liked how organized she is and how she hasn’t fawned over her this whole afternoon. Y/N places the final book onto the shelf and looks over at everyone, “Alright, I can finish putting the clothes away after dinner. Why don’t we get something to eat? I read on the board that it’s taco night.” Everyone voiced their agreement and started to make their way over to the door, but before Y/N could leave, Tom gently tapped her on the shoulder and asked if he could talk to her. “Sure,” she tells him. Tom stands straight and fixes his jacket nervously, “I was wondering if we could restart. I know, I was a jackass, but I would really like to be friends with you. Plus, I know you, Deli, and Haz get along well and I really don’t feel like being kicked out of my own friend group.” Y/N smiles at Tom to show him that everything is alright. “Tommy, it's fine. Sometimes people start off on the wrong foot and that’s fine. Let’s start, over. Hey, I am Y/N. I don’t believe I got your name,” Y/N says nicely as she sticks her hand out for Tom to shake. He chuckles and takes her hand, “It’s Tom, Tom Holland. You may have heard of me. My dad owns the world’s best phone company as well as several other companies you may have heard of.” “Okay, now you just sound like cocky. How about we just head over to the mess hall and call it a day?” Y/N suggest as how she links their arms and walks off to the mess hall.

When dinner was over, Y/N was feeling a little jet-lagged so she headed back to her dorm to get some sleep while the other three decided to head to the game room. They were playing pool when Harrison decided to bring up the conversation. “So you and Y/N…” he wonders out loud as he aims the queue at one of the balls. Tom leans on the wall and retorts, “Nothing is going on between us. We are just friends that’s all.” Delilah snorts and laughs, “Yeah, right! I noticed your side glances at her, but I’ll let you deny whatever you want if it helps you sleep at night.” Tom just shakes his and continues the game without mentioning Y/N again, but that night when he was trying to get to sleep all he could do was think back to the conversation they had in the game room and Y/N’s angelic singing voice.

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I hope you guys enjoyed and I would love to hear what you guys thought!

Taglist:  @bookgirlunicorn  @itsjstz  @rachaeldonnaspiteri1  @madithemagicalfangirl  @glcssyholland  @marisophie  @truestrengths @mjsholland @iwastornsincethestart @saltysebastianstan @loxbbg @linnyalou @scoobieboobiedoo

[happybeeps-nat]

header by @ao3commentoftheday​

Alternate chapter 2 for You Look So Alive words: 3,401 (yep, I never ended up using them. I’m the worst) context: picks up right after Finn and Poe separated in chapter 1, Pe goes home with Bee-Bee A/N: this is for @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby​, completely unedited, I didn’t even read through it again before posting so I’m sorry lmao please bear in mind that there’s a reason I abandoned this

“Pa, we’re back,” Poe called as he pulled off his shoes and put his keys in the little bowl like the responsible adult he almost was. He followed Bee to free her from the harness and lead and stashed them in their rightful place.

“I’m in the kitchen,” his dad called back, followed by the distinctive clatter of him obviously trying to sort through their mess of pans.

Poe looked at the clock above the door. It was only 5:17. Wasn’t it a bit early for dinner? He decided to go see what his dad was up to.

And really, there he was, several pots and pans on the stove, apparently trying to figure out what pan to use for whatever he had planned next.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Are we expecting guests?”

His dad nodded while stirring something that smelled like his dad’s famous chili, then moved to chop veggies before checking the oven. “Yeah, turns out we are. Leia and Han are coming over for dinner.” He sounded tense, even pissed, and Poe was massively confused. Leia, Han and his dad were like Snap, Jess and he. Best friends and always up to spending time together even though their schedules didn’t align as often as they’d like.

“Is that not a good thing,” asked Poe, frowning.

“Oh, it is. Let me just--“ he stirred the pot some more before grabbing a fresh spoon and checking if he was satisfied with the taste. Then he took another spoon and put it in the pot right next to it and offered it to Poe. “Try this, this is the one for you and whoever else is veggie or vegan.”

Poe did. It was delicious. As always when Kes Dameron cooked, which was almost every day under Poe’s watchful eyes so he could learn some tricks. “Mmmh,” he nodded. “Very good. And it’s vegan, yeah?” Poe was a bit confused there, he wasn’t vegan and neither were Han or Leia.

“Yeah, don’t know everyone’s dietary preferences, so I though better safe than sorry.”

“Everyones? Paps, what’s going on? Who’s coming for dinner?”

Kes looked at the clock, turned down the heat on the two pots and oven to pull out a bunch of self-made tortillas. They always put them in the oven twice but not too long or they’s get too dry. Really, his dad cooking was more of a science than anything else and Poe usually liked to watch him be very concentrated. Now, though, he wanted answers.

Kes closed the oven and finally turned to look at his son, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked Poe up and down and frowned slightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Poe dismissed. “So, what’s happening? What was it with the phone call earlier? Why are you preparing dinner for, like, ten people?”

“Leia called me earlier,” his dad began to explain, turning back around to check if everything was okay, if the heat was off and if it was safe to leave the kitchen. Then he gestured for Poe to follow him into the living room where Bee-Bee was excited to see them but didn’t move from her place on the couch, pretty sure that Poe would come to her. And he did. He was easy like that.

“So, Leia called,” Poe reminded his dad, hoping he would keep going.

He nodded. “She told me Luke was back.”

“Luke?” Poe frowned. “Wait, you mean… uncle Luke? Leia’s brother? He’s still alive?” He felt incredibly stupid to be asking that, because obviously he was still alive, man. It’s just that for years nobody had seen him or heard of him. “It must be, like, what? Ten years?”

“Eleven,” his dad sighed and ran a hand down his face. “He didn’t call, didn’t leave a text or a note. Just disappeared on us and comes back eleven years later, apparently with the brightest smile on his face and two kids in tow.”

“Excuse me?” Surely, that was a joke.

“Yeah. Apparently, he decided to adopt. Because apparently, he can do that now.”

Poe didn’t know what to say but also didn’t feel the right to judge Luke. He had last seen him when he was seven, right after… well. Right after his mother died. He took a deep breath and really, really didn’t want to judge Luke.

“So he has two little kids now, lives here again, and they’re all gonna come here for dinner to have an awkward and possibly bitter family reunion?” he clarified.

“Yup, seems like it. Leia wanted neutral ground. She doesn’t know me if she thinks I’m neutral ground for Luke fucking Skywalker.” The bitterness in his voice, the barely suppressed anger kind of broke Poe’s heart a bit because he knew where it was coming from.

“Paps, hey. Maybe he can explain.” Poe moved to sit beside his old man, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “Let’s just see what happens, okay? Maybe it won’t be too bad. And if it does get bad, this is your house, feel free to kick him out whenever you want to.”

At that, his dad grinned. “You’re right, I’ll just be a real Dameron and kick his ass if I smell funny business.”

“That’s the spirit,” Poe laughed.

After a while, his dad added, “They’re not little kids, though.”

“They’re not?”

Kes shook his head. “From what Leia told me, they’re your age.” He shrugged. “But I guess we’ll see anyway, he’s bringing them along.”

Yeah, that made sense… Poe didn’t really know how to feel about everything he’d just learned. But he tried to be open to anything, maybe Luke was this really cool and outgoing and charming guy and the adults would forget all about being mad at him. And maybe his kids were cool, too, and they’d all be having a good time.

Speaking of a good time! “Hey, is it still cool if Jess and Snap are coming?”

Kes grinned and got up. “Sure, I’ll make some more churros then.”

Poe laughed and stood as well, stretching his back with a groan. He found his dad looking at him, his head tilted, squinting a little.

“Poe. You sure you’re okay? You look beat.” Hah. The irony.

“I’m fine, paps, really. Just tired. And I really wanna go out and cuddle with Bee in the garden for a while. Call me when you need help in the kitchen or wherever?”

“Will do. Call me when you wanna talk about it?”

Poe huffed a laugh but nodded. “Will do. Thanks, paps.”

And as much as he wanted to go lie in the grass with his dog and not be a person for a few minutes, what he needed right now was a hug. So he went in for one, wrapped his arms lightly around his old man and felt him hug back tightly, making Poe tighten his arms, too. Dameron men were always down for hugs and Poe loved it, especially now. His dad was just a few inches taller than him but it always made him feel like he was just a little boy being held safely in his dad’s arms. Nothing could get to him here, nothing could hurt him here, not even Ben Solo. It was weird, it was probably stupid to be feeling that way about his father’s hugs at 18, but he didn’t particularly care about that. Society telling him it was stupid would probably only be one more reason for him to hug his dad, so there was that.

After a while, they let go of each other and Kes gave him a sort of bittersweet “I am your father and I love you but I am worried about you, son”-smile before returning to the kitchen.

“C’mon, Bee, let’s go outside and lie in the sun for a while,” Poe said to his already very excited dog. She yapped and seemed very happy at the prospect of just lying in the sun and getting all the scratches and belly rubs from Poe.

And so they lay there in the warm, soft grass. Poe on his back with his eyes closed, Bee-Bee next to him, her head on his chest, enjoying his gentle strokes and scratches. Lots of people didn’t think dogs could purr but Bee-Bee was ready to prove them wrong as she was practically vibrating, and Poe just loved her a lot, okay.

He was feeling calmer by the minute, breathing slowly and evenly, his eyes closed against the world and feeling safe again. Sometimes he was pretty sure his dad was watching them through the glass door leading to the garden but he was too comfortable to move and see if the was right, trusting his dad would call for him if he needed help.

After a while – it could have been an hour or five minutes, Poe didn’t know and he was pretty sure he nodded off once or twice – he did call, asking if he could prepare the table outside because there was more room in their garden than anywhere else in the house. A delicious smell tickled his nose which definitely made getting up easier. As he stood, so did his loyal, wonderful dog, looking up expectantly, and he smiled.

“Stay, Bee, I’m gonna be right back.” Before he went inside, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head and scratched behind her ear again. “Good girl,” he cooed when she returned to lying in the grass, her watchful eyes never leaving him.

Poe went to wipe down the table and chairs before getting the cushions to make them more comfortable for their guests. “Paps, how many people are we gonna be?”

“When are Jess and Temmin coming again?”

“Not until after dinner, you know them,” he called back from where he was fastening the cushions.

“Then it’s Leia, Han, Luke and his kids, you and me. That makes seven.”

“So Ben is not coming?” Poe asked just to be sure.

“Is he ever?” his dad grumbled, and Poe could not answer from the sheer relief he felt. Ben was not coming. He was probably out bullying another kid who wasn’t white, rich and hetero. Idiot Nazi piece of shit.

“Poe?” his dad called again.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you could help me set the table, the plates are already on the counter.”

“Yeah, sorry, that one chair gave me trouble,” he tried to deflect from his actual thoughts.

Thankfully his dad did not press and either chose to ignore him or really had more pressing matters to attend to in the kitchen.

Before long, Poe had set the table, prepared the other chairs so they would be clean, warm and comfortable, and helped his dad chop the rest of the vegetables into small bits for the burritos they were going to have for dinner.

6:30 came sooner than either of them had expected and just as the clock went from 29 to 30 the doorbell rang. Wow, someone sure loved being exactly on time.

“I’ll get it, can you put the tortillas in the oven again, por favor?” Kes said, wiping his hands on a towel and greeting their guests. Poe hoped his dad opening the door and dealing with the first inevitable awkwardness would lighten up the whole situation a little. So stayed back happily, preparing the tortillas and checking if the salsa and kidney-bean mix in the pots was warm enough, careful not to let it get too hot.

He could hear his dad and their guests, obviously, their house was not exactly spacious. Leia and Han were there and had apparently brought a bottle of wine that was way too expensive, so his dad made a fuss that Leia chose to ignore. And then there were other voices, strange voices that struck him as familiar in a very weird way. Must be Luke then. It made sense for his voice to be strange yet familiar, it had been eleven years after all.

They hadn’t really moved into the house yet but stayed in the hallway, probably still by the door, and Poe if Poe weren’t surrounded by delicious food, he’d think he could smell the awkwardness in the air. It was very unlike Kes Dameron to let any kind of awkwardness last more than two seconds, and this situation was a testament to how much Like Skywalker seemed to unnerve him. And Han and Leia, too, since nobody spoke for a while.

Well, couldn’t have that! “Dinner’s almost ready! Paps, get our guests something to drink and go outside, I’ve got this!”

That seemed to do the trick. There was a bustle as Kes led everyone outside and asked for their drink orders. After all, he took a Dameron Dinner very seriously, even though it was a very common occurrence. His dad was a picture-perfect people person. And Poe apparently into alliterations. Huh.

Poe took the tortillas out of the oven and covered the plate so they would stay warm, and filled the contents from the pots into bowls. He balanced the two plates of tortillas on one arm and grabbed one bowl of salsa-mix to bring them outside while his dad carried a tray with drinks after him.

He greeted their guests with a charming smile but concentrated on not being an idiot and dropping anything. “Good evening, everyone. I’m Poe, I’m your server tonight,” he joked as he set down the dishes. “Let me just get the rest and I’ll be all yours,” he added before he disappeared again.

He grabbed the last bowls and something to drink for himself before heading out again to properly greet everyone.

This time, he nearly did drop something. Because there, sitting next to who must have been Luke his daughter – a very beautiful girl – sat the boy. His boy. The boy who saved him!

“Poe?” his dad asked, a concerned frown on his face and Poe realised he had stopped in his tracks. In the door. And he was staring. At the boy. The beautiful boy who was looking at his plate and didn’t look like he wanted to be around a bunch of strangers in a stranger’s house.

“Yeah, sorry, hi everyone!” he grinned and set down the last bowl. Then he moved to Leia, greeting her first with a quick hug that could have been awkward for anyone who was not Poe Dameron, Master Of Hugs.

“Hello, Poe, so nice to see you again,” she smiled up at him from where she was sitting in her chair.

“You say that now,” he winked. “Just wait until tomorrow, you’ll wish you wouldn’t be seeing me all that often, General.”

She swatted at him and rolled her eyes. “Just keep out of my office a little more than last year, Dameron, I swear to God!”

Poe laughed. “No promises, ma’am.” Then he moved on to Han who gave him an eyeroll and a handshake, which was their usual greeting. Sometimes Poe thought Han didn’t really like him, but they had their moments. He’d figured a while ago that Han was just a grumpy and cynical person in general.

Then he reached Luke who actually got up again to greet him. Or he thought he did. But Luke was just staring at him. “You’ve really grown up, hm?” was all he said, awe in his eyes, realisation, and maybe something a little sadder.

Before Poe could say something, he heard his dad clear his throat and mutter something but he didn’t quite catch it. He ignored him and smiled at Luke, willing to give the man a chance.

“Well, you’d think that, but in here,” he tapped his temple, “I’m still that little boy that gets himself in trouble. So if I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Luke grinned, then laughed which sounded a lot like relief and pulled Poe into a hug that he reciprocated gladly. He didn’t seem so bad – he laughed at Poe’s jokes after all.

“I’m Rey,” the girl sitting beside Luke said and raised her hand, clearly expecting him to shake it. So he did.

“Poe. Nice to meet you, Rey. I love your hair,” he remarked and while he usually tried to make strangers more comfortable by complimenting them, he really absolutely did love her hair. Three buns of exactly the same size, it seemed.

She grinned and blushed a little, taking her hand back more slowly than she had reached out. “Thank you, Poe,” she said and she really sounded flattered and happier, less tense than just a second before.

And then he moved on. To the boy who was not just in Poe’s garden right after meeting him in a less than flattering situation! Nope, Poe must be dreaming or something. He fell asleep earlier and this was a dream, because the boy was now looking up at him, an eyebrow raised, and a little smile on his face.

“And you are?” Poe asked with an air of what he hoped was nonchalance, smiling politely at the beautiful boy and his big dark eyes.

“Finn,” he answered, very amused or intrigued or shocked or maybe all of the above.

“Poe, hi.”

“Hi, Poe. Nice to meet you,” he grinned and Poe actually felt heat rise in his cheeks. This was not happening! He couldn’t decide if he wanted to be happy or embarrassed or curious or all of the above. And he was staring at the boy, a grin plastered on his face, and Finn was staring at him, too, a very similar grin dancing on his lips. And this was not happening!

“Well,” his dad cleared his throat again and Poe realised everyone was staring at them, curious looks of confusion and even amusement on their faces – or in Leia’s case, a smug smile Poe couldn’t get behind. “Let’s get some food, shall we?”

And so the Dameron Dinner in capital letters, because everything was home-made and his dad a magician in the kitchen, began. “This looks very delicious, Kes,” Leia praised as she grabbed a tortilla and helped herself. There were nods of agreement from all around the table.

“Thank you for this, Mr Dameron,” Finn said and Poe’s heart raced because his voice was so smooth and the smile he gave his dad was so genuine and sweet.

“Stop it with the formalities, I’m Kes to you! And no problem, kid, I hope you’ll like what Poe and I made.”

“Oh, you helped?” Finn asked, curious. And Poe knew exactly where he was coming from.  When did you manage to help with that between getting the shit scared out of you and getting punched in the gut. Twice.

“Nah,” Poe shook his head as he swallowed a bite of his burrito. “He just likes to share the praise. I literally just set the table, al the magic happening here is his fault.”

“You did help, though,” his dad insisted and Poe rolled his eyes but smiled. And Finn smiled, too, carefully taking a bite of his burrito and managing to keep the thing from falling apart.

Luke and Rey looked a bit overwhelmed and unsure of their technique, so Poe felt obligated to show them how to eat a burrito and not make a mess of themselves. He was met with grateful smiles and just so nobody would feel too bad, he loosened his grip a little, causing a bit of salad and cheese and salsa to fall on his plate. One of the two only plates who had until then been very clean.

Naturally, his eyes moved to Finn. Not because he was, like, drawn to him or something, nope. Only because they were sitting opposite each other and really had no choice but to meet each other’s eyes again and again. Because Finn was looking at him, too. And he was smiling a soft smile like he knew exactly what Poe had done just now. That soft smile of his, it was making Poe feel bold above all else. Still meeting Finn’s eyes, he winked at the boy, who looked away immediately, trying to suppress that sweet smile of his from happening, and Poe was sure he saw a flush a little. Although he could not be entirely sure with that wonderful dark skin of his. Anyway, a boy could dream.

[vivwrite]

With the Ghost of You(When the Sun Goes Down We All Get Lonely)

Maybe he’s just imagining, maybe its just another fantasy he pictures, but Luke seems semitransparent, a halo casting around his figure, holy, angelic.

“The night was very long but it didn’t seem long to the Snow Man; he stood lost in his own pleasant thoughts, and they froze until they crackled.”

or: Ashton meets Luke in a library, and the story tells itself. (AO3 link👇)

ooookay so my first fic for lashton and 5sos . Thanks for reading it. And tbh I'm extremely nervous because English's not my first language. So sorry for the mistakes lol.

One thing: I read Marquez's work in my first language, and I can't find the English version of it, so I translated the title and first sentence to English. There might be a mistake so sorry again lol

-

Ashton has always loved the library.

It isn't the school library, which is always so grand, demure, solemn, much like a robot- no, too cold and inhuman.

What he prefers, rather, is a smaller one run by a group of retired professors. It seems determined to hide itself in the northeastern corner of the campus, made up of three small but never crowded reading rooms. No matter when he walks through the doors be can find lamps shading yellowish circles on wooden tables, rows and rows of bookshelves up to the ceiling, and seats, beside small windows where the sunlight outside leaks in just perfectly on sunny afternoons.

To him it's always a getaway, a secret hiding place from the stressed and sometimes too fast school life, the only friend he can turn to when he isn't that enthusiastic about life, a comfort when facing another rock bottom. He's already studying a too rational subject; he'd love spending some time being just sensitive in here.

He'd spend hours and hours wandering among the bookshelves, picking one when he feels like it, skimming a few pages before deciding to read on or not. By doing this he feels just like a boy on the beach, amazed by an emerald or sapphire brought on shore by waves from time to time- what matters isn't just the book he gets. It's more of the communicating, the chore he gets to strike.

-

Unsatisfactory experiment result, loads of homework, a long and tiresome discussion with the professor about his research orientation- which he thinks is too early for him to consider, but she insists that as he has already got postgraduate recommendation he needs to consider it fully right now- and Ashton finds himself wandering in the library again, walking aimlessly, not for finding books, just to feel the connection.

It is a strange feeling, really, to be connected with books. Most of them on the shelves just seem to be books as they are, silent, quiet, lifeless. But, well, maybe it’s just his imagination- but some particular ones seem to be staring back- especially that one.

His hand automatically moves to pick that book out of the column.

It is quite delicate, a hard back small enough to be held on one hand, the title shimmering under the dim lights.

Ann’s Diary.

He remembers reading it in his teen years.

“Sorry, but that's mine.”

Ashton springs from the bookshelf. The book slips straight from his hand, hitting the wooden floor with a thud, as a boy rounds up from the other side.

He's tall- even taller than Ashton. And quite young, a freshman or sophomore, maybe. He is staring at Ashton from behind those strands of blonde, messy curls falling off to his face, piercing pale blue eyes met with his hazel ones, and that made his breath hitch for a second- although those eyes are definitely showing dismay.

"I... I don't really understand." He tries his best to cover all the confusion and fear- dealing with strangers always makes him uncomfortable (although he can manage it by acting cheerful and shit), especially with a pissed one.

But the boy seems determined to stay silent and on edge. He just flips the first page open, gesturing to a mark on it.

It's a two-word initial. Must have written quite a long time ago, as the lines are a bit blurry and the ink has faded into light gray. But he still recognizes the word, written in Italic, reading "L.H.".

Wait. The librarians never said that there is a place for personal collections.

Before he can ask about it the boy swirls around and walks off, leaving alone a dumbfounded Ashton.

-

He goes to ask the librarians, then the curator(because the librarians know nothing), about books with a L. H. written on it.

"This is a long story, darling, but it's late." Mrs. Hemmings' voice is collected and calm as always, but Ashton can tell that there is something as her eyes are a bit dull, "Maybe the other day."

-

His favorite spot in the library is a small table tucked behind seven rows of bookshelves of English literature(yes, he counts how many bookshelves are there), just besides a small window. Others rarely find it- unless they're crazy for novels by Adeline Virginia Woolf or they're just too bored to do anything else.

That's why he chooses here- There's no disruption, no noise, only the random shuffle for a person searching for books and pages being turned. Being alone.It suits him.

The sound of a chair pulling broke the silence,ripping him from the novel plot- someone has slipped into the chair opposite of him.

Well, fuck.

Ashton lifts his head from the pages, slight agitation rising from his chest, which shifted to utter surprise as his eyes meet a strangely familiar shade of blue.

Before he could say anything the boy blurts out , "Please... I want to explain."

For a moment Ashton just sits there, staring. Thoughts cloud his mind, tangling messily, laying conflicted- He was so senseless but now he seems so sincere! He won't trust his own voice right now, afraid that something stupid pops up all of a sudden. So he decides to just nod, a silent permit for the stranger to go on.

The boy clears his throat, looking a little nervous, "About the incident yesterday... I'm sorry. Got into something stupid and was shouted at all day long- but, I mean, fuck, even that isn't the reason I became such a jerk to you. I'm not trying to defend myself, but please don't be angry... Oh my fucking god, I don't know what I'm saying." He groans, pushing a hand through his curls, messing it up a bit.

Well, isn't that adorable.

Ashton hears himself chuckling, "I understand, no worries. Everyone has a bad day, don't we?"

He watches as the boy visibly relaxes with the reassuring words, a smile slipping on on his face, "Yeah, I guess. Thanks... Um, what's your name, by the way?"

Oh, right.

"Ashton."

"Thanks, Ashton." the boy's smile widens, "I'm Luke."

So the initial does belong to him. The L. H..

It's not until silence falls that Ashton realizes he may have stared at those sea- blue, sincere eyes for a bit too long. Hastily he ducked his head into his novel, flushed, trying to pick up the stream of Woolf's consciousness again.

"Virginia Woolf?" Luke's voice cuts in, and to Ashton's surprise- filled with pure interest.

Everyone else just thinks he's crazy and nerdy fancying Woolf's works.

"You like her?" He can't help but feel hope lighting up.

"One of my favorite!" Luke's literally buzzing with excitement, like a puppy finally getting some fresh air after a long lockdown in the house, "Never found another person to discuss, though. Everyone just say it's too hard to understand and shits."

And with that their conversation swiftly shifts into a heated discussion about stream of consciousness novels, to Woolf, then Proust, Faulkner, all way up the history, even to Freud- and Ashton finds, surprisingly, that they can strike a chord in every part of it- and the way Luke talks relentlessly, smiling so broad, eyes shining and hands waving- tells him he holds the same feelings, same thought, same passion.

His throat's sore- he hasn't talked that much in like, forever- but that doesn't stop him from being smug like an idiot when he leaves the library.

He's been alone for a long time, But it seems that he has finally found someone.

-

He starts to spend more time in the library- first just to do some more leisure reading and writing stuff there, then he starts bring his textbooks and laptop there to finish his homework, then even starts to stay there as long as he neither has classes nor needs to go back to the dorm. Yes, he admits it's kind of strange one's never tired of a library- especially that he has already ploughed through every part since he first stepped into it- but he knows why- a cute boy with ocean blue eyes and a smile is always there now.

It has become a routine. Luke accompanies him every day, sometimes already halfway through a novel when Ashton arrives, while other times Luke shows up merrily when he’s buried in the middle of projects and homework, bringing in a sense of cool breeze and fresh air before peeking over and ushering him to take a break(well sometimes the work has to be done, but Luke’s so sweet that he can’t refuse). Their time spent together is usually quiet, Ashton either typing away on his laptop or on a book, while Luke is immersed in his own novel, just piping up from time to time to discuss the plot or asking about the author. Topic wanders- books, school life, bands, music (seriously, how many same hobbies do they hold?).

They have went through so many fields- Stream of Consciousness to Science Fiction, Agatha Christie to Akudagawa, Shakespeare's Sonnet to Samuel Ullman's prose, but the list still seems far from ending. To Ashton's surprise Luke have read most of the writers not only by representative works but also less- famous chapters- many of which he only knows but has never read. He had thought he's an English Literature student, but Luke amazed him again by saying he studies Math actually- the same amazement occurred again when Luke discovered the chemistry paper Ashton's working on.

He can’t recall the last time he felt this content -Well, he can’t even remember when he has become so silent and depressed, on edge and under pressure.

But seems Luke has already become the solution.

-

Ashton sighs, recoils back in his chair, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes- He never learns the lesson of not leaving your homework to the deadline, fuck it.

Besides him Luke rises his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips, "You finally done?"

He just groaned, eyes shut."I wonder how the fuck you can even finish your homework. You never seem to be doing anything related to math."

"Maybe that's because all can be done quickly if I want."

Smug idiot.

"Wait till you're a post graduate and you'll know what's torture."

"Will quit right after four years, then."

Ashton scowls, cracks open one eye and spares a hand to flip Luke off, to which he ducks away (he always does) and giggles, "You're of no fucking help."

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Don't know. Tell me a story. Or just read something. As long as I'm not thinking my head off about the synthesis route of some stupid fucking molecule I'll be fine."

He heard a light chuckle, "Aye- Aye, Captain, here we go."

The sound of pages turning, Luke clearing his throat, then,"'It's so bitterly cold that my whole body crackles!' Said the Snow Man."

Ashton lifts an eyebrow wearily,"Now you're telling me an Andersen's Fairy Tale?"

"Shh. Shut up and be a good boy. It's my favorite one." then, "This wind can really blow life into you! And how that glaring thing up there glares at me!" He meant the sun; it was just setting..."

Luke reads on, and Ashton finds himself relaxing, sinking into the familiar tale he’s read hundreds of times as a toddler, following the thread of the story, recalling the dialogue, how the Snow Man calls the Old Watchdog “my friend”.

Luke's voice fades for a brief second, then returns, slightly changed, softer, “Then the Snow Man looked, and he really saw a brightly polished thing with a brass stomach and fire glowing from the lower part of it. A very strange feeling swept over the Snow Man...”

Here comes the part- tracing the memory he can still feel it, the confusion when toddler him read to this part, then realization and excitement for no reason when he picked it up again, just for one time, before he come to this city.

He thought a new place brings a new life. That he would finally leave that old black and white town. He thought he knew what life was all about, what love was.

So ambitious, so young, so dumb.

Ashton blinks furiously, shaking the thoughts flooding up away from his mind. He’s here, in his favorite place, with an adorable boy who keeps his company, reading a tale to him. He’s fine, they’re fine, it’s fine.

His eyes lands on Luke.

The small lamp on the table is tilted slightly, soft golden light casting gently down on the boy’s right side, splitting a silhouette, leaving the left side of his face in the shadow. Curls falls off his face, dangling. His long, thick eyelashes turns to an almost-silver color under the light, trembling slightly, dancing altogether with the little particles floating in the air, as those blue eyes, clear as the sunny day but still deep as the sea, moves with each line, each word on the page. Maybe he’s just imagining, maybe its just another fantasy he pictures, but Luke seems semitransparent, a halo casting around his figure, holy, angelic.

“The night was very long but it didn’t seem long to the Snow Man; he stood lost in his own pleasant thoughts, and they froze until they crackled.”

The story’s still going, coming to an end, and Luke’s voice, a little raspy now, is merely above a whisper, like if he tells it any louder the fragile, beautiful tragedy will be destroyed.

“Come out, dear sun! Come often, skies of blue!

And nobody thought any more about the Snow Man.”

And with that Silence falls, a sad love story coming to its end.

For a while they just sits, looking into each others eyes.

The atmosphere’s changed, he knows it, can feel it. It’s a brand new feeling, one he has never felt, the rising urge, the need, the want, to get closer to the boy in front of him, to truly know him, to be with him, go through everything with him, feel the same with him, to like him, love him.

Hesitantly, he reaches out, slowly, hand trembling.

For a moment Luke seems to be on the same page with him, eyes fluttering shut and automatically leaning in, but suddenly he gasps, like being reminded of something he has long forgotten, and recoils back sharply, Ashton’s hand touches nothing but air.

Why.

“It’s late, Ash.” Luke whispered, not looking him in the face, “Maybe the other day.”

-

Something’s changed between them.

Not that the intimacy has changed- no. They still meets at the very table, reading and chatting, Luke still listens to his bickering about homework and fucking lab life- but something’s there, like The Sword of Damocles, hanging dangerously, but both just choose to ignore it.

Luke’s still Luke, sweet and gentle, cute and caring. But he’s somewhat quieter then before- he’s still chatting when it comes to their hobbies, but he always stops abruptly after the topic’s over, cutting the conversation.

It’s only that Ashton’s confused, confused about fucking all of it, confused about why Luke refused his invitation, why Luke takes a step back while he finally decides to step forward. It’s like an invisible barrier is built, all things suddenly turns indefinite without reason.

He hate it. He fucking hate all of it.

It’s only worse that he’s stuck in the library right now- it’s pouring outside, he’s left his umbrella at home, his jacket has no hat, and Luke’s oddly quiet.

He’s reading, more of scanning automatically, mind crowded with uncomfortable thoughts, screaming at him to at least find out what’s wrong with Luke(he don’t know how when they’re in this awkward state), to pluck up his courage and try again(well look what a coward he becomes when it comes to pining), to get this mess sorted (to which he has absolutely no fucking idea).

Fucking shitty day.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed- the sky is darkening, pure black seeping into pale gray, as the window starts to mirror the lighted lamp, making it unable to see the outside.

He hears a sigh, then the sound of book shut.

He can see those clear blue eyes from the corner of his eye, a little dim than usual, like the eyes of a sad puppy, and that almost break his heart. He wants to get close to the boy again, tell him it’s okay, he’s here, no need to keep those shit all alone and stuff- but instead he stares intently at the screen, so hard that his eyes starts to water, cursing himself inwardly.

A pause. Then, “Ash.”

Ashton gives himself a slap in the head, then puts on his most cheery face, “Yeah?”

Luke shakes his head furiously, “Don’t... Don’t act in front of me. I know you’re not well these days, and it’s all because of,” He waves his hand impatiently, then pulls his curls, casting out another deep sigh, “Yes, I... feel there is something I need to explain.”

And again he finds himself lost of words, exactly like the last time Luke made an explanation. But Luke’s acting different- strange. He’s frowning, shifting in his seat, hands tightly clasped together, teeth tugging at his lower lip, eyes filled with... fear.

Luke has never gone frightened in front of him.

“Hey, hey.” He reaches out, trying to grab Luke’s hand, but the boy squealed and pulls away abruptly again- so he just sighs, being as comforting as possible, “It’s okay, Luke. All okay.”

Finally the boy seems to have made the decision. He points to the book he just finished, which is lying on the table now, “The second short story.”

“You’re making me a puzzle through Marquez? Typical.” Ashton picks up the book, checking the writer. He’s trying to make a joke, but it came out weak and not funny at all, as Luke just sighs again and rests his head in his hands.

“I don’t know how to say it, so.” God, he hates how Luke’s voice sounds, all hurt and in pain.

“Luke, I mean, I’m not forcing you, but you know you can tell me everything-” panic’s rising, and he feels the urge, that they’re coming to the crossroads-

“Um, Ashton?”

He’s never hated life- the approaching librarian as well- more than now.

“Yes?”

She comes to stand beside him, a hand on his shoulder, “It’s ten now and we’re closing in five minutes. You need an umbrella?”

“Um, just a minute. We have something to discuss. I promise it’ll be quick.” He gestures to the seat across the table, where he knows Luke’s sitting.

He expects a nod, but her face is puzzled, coated with a layer he can’t read, “We? But Ashton, there’s no one across the table.”

“What?”

His head whips around, so quick that he thinks he must have strained his neck. He closes his eyes, then opens them again- yes, Luke is sitting right there, in the chair, totally frozen besides the nervous act just now- but he’s there.

“But...”

She only shakes her head, “You’re the only one here all day, Ashton. No one else feels like coming on such a stormy weather.”

With that she leaves.

Ashton turns back to Luke frantically, “What the hell-”

He’s met with a stony face and watery blue eyes. Luke seems defeated and in total grief.

“Tell me, Luke. Tell me!” Panic overcomes him, his voice three octaves higher than usual. It can’t be real, it’s just his fantasy, things like this can’t happen in real life...

Luke holds out his trembling hand, and very slowly, reaches over, linking it with Ashton’s.

A wave of icy cold rises up- from his feet up to his spine, overwhelming him, drowning him, making his head dizzy, the world turning, the sense-

The sense of not being touched.

Luke’s hands go straight through his.

“Because they can’t see me.” The silhouette figure whispers, voice barely audible.

“I’m not as real as you see me, Ash.”

-

The next three days come and go like a blurry scene.

Ashton remembers it just vaguely- he remembers fleeing out of the library, running alone the dark campus path till his chest burns and every breath becomes a burden. He remembers the rain, pouring down and hitting him relentlessly, flowing off his face, mixed with some warm fluid he didn’t dare to think about. He remembers walking back to the dorm, all worn out and broken down, throwing himself on his bed and crying till weariness finally came over. He slept, then woke, then ushered himself into sleep again, like only in dreamland he could forget all of it, until he was really not able to sleep anymore.

He pushes himself up from his bed and stumbles into the bathroom, eyeing himself in the mirror. He looks like shit, even worse than a hangover, purple bags hanging from his eyes and hair sticking in all directions. He sighs, turning to walk from the bathroom, cursing as he nearly trips over something on the ground- but the word died halfway in his throat.

It’s that book. The Collection of Marquez’s Short Stories. He must have thrown it on the floor that night.

Ashton swallows, hesitant- he’s not that sure if he’s ready to face it, that memory, that typical boy- but his hand does it for him, already flipping through the pages.

The second work, what is the second work......

He sees the title.

Someone Messed up the Roses.

He takes in a breath.

Today’s Sunday, the rain’s stopped, and I want to pick some red and white roses to my grave...

His eyes is welling up, but he reads on, about the story of a boy’s ghost and his sister, a wish never coming true, a story of love and regret.

There’s a note, written in Italic, at the corner of the page, end of the story, black ink suggesting it’s freshly written.

You have given me the happiest moments my whole life and beyond life, Ash. It might be like a cheesy novel, but I love you and I’m sorry.

Luke Hemmings

He’s crying before he knows it.

“Fuck, Luke.”

-

The scenery outside the window’s changing, fading from concrete jungle to fields and woods. On the end of the road, a hill’s approaching.

He’s sitting in the bus, hand clutching at Marquez’s Collection and a piece of paper- a piece of paper Mrs. Hemmings gave him, showing a route to the place he wants to go.

The vehicle stops and Ashton stands, hopping off the bus, going for the iron door just beside the muddy road.

He pushes it open, the rust on it sticking on his hands, the scent of soil coming up to greet him. As he keeps walking stones appears- delicately carved, yet lifeless.

An oak. That’s what she told him- an oak beside him.

He lifts his head, looking around, and found it- an oak, already tall, rising from the soil, pointing straight to the pale-gray sky.

Uncertainty and fear echoes in the back of his mind, trying to stop him, as he just goes on.

He’s already experienced lost once. He doesn’t want to lose it again.

He stops in front of the oak, hesitates before sitting down, cross- legged.

“I don’t know what to say, Luke.”

He stops, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“A part of me is telling me to forget all this, deny it, wave it off as a dream. It’s all just a fantasy, something I pictured, and I’m supposed to, I should...”

“But, Luke, every minute spent with you is so real.”

“They would say I’m crazy, everyone will; I mean, who would believe a person falling in love with someone already gone- and supposed to be in the state of nonexistence? But... you’re like someone I finally found, a person in this world who could understand me... Who I’ve searched for my whole life.”

He sniffs, blinking away the tears welling up, “You know, during my years alone I’ve learned about not to expect, not to hope; but you... you bring the difference, like a light suddenly cracking in. I mean... if you’re there, if you’re really there... please, just please, give me something to hope, to wish for, and don’t just go away like that.”

“Because I’m so lonely,” He finally let it slip, “So lonely, Luke.”

A soft wind picks up, leaves rustling, like an answer. But as he listens on everything just stays silent, like they’ve always been forever. No silhouette, no soft voice belonging to a boy.

The sky’s getting dark, so he just pushes himself up and leaves.

-

He continues with the life. Attending classes, finishing homework, finally deciding his research orientation. His professor says something about “A big step” and “I know you can do it”, which he just brushes it all off, not truly listen.

He continues to go to the library- but not sitting in that very table anymore, and just stays there for less then an hour each day. He’s read Someone Messed Up the Roses again and again, like all of the other works have suddenly lost their attraction to him.

The pages are all dog-eared and worn out, but he just goes on with it, flipping the pages, ready to read the short story for like the twentieth time.

“I wouldn’t treat a book like that, you know.”

He jumps from his seat, eyes widening, turning around.

Someone turns up from behind the bookshelf.

Messy curls, sea- blue eyes, the lips curling up in a slight smile.

It’s like a dream. He’s in a dream.

Like he can read Ashton’s mind, the blonde walks straight up to him and extends his arms, wrapping him into an embrace.

He feels warmth.

Still no feelings of being touched, the figure still semitransparent, but warmth.

“It’s real. Don’t doubt it.” Luke’s voice is soft, reassuring, barely above a whisper.

Just like he remembers.

The warmth doesn’t fade, like when he’s standing under the afternoon sun, closing his eyes, feeling the hope coming up.

He finally believes it- tears are sliding down his face before he knows it.

“Luke."

[goodproofingwater]

Chapter 13 | Tinder Tommy

Word Count: 2522

Taglist (if you would like to be added just ask!):

@a-dorky-book-keeper @ishoutmarcoandyoushout @idesiretomhardy @theamuz @blinderscaps @peakywriting @justanothershelby @contemporary-mary @auroravipers @moonyscardigans @peakysxshelby @miss-shelby-barnes @vintage-fantasyyy @ly—canthrope @morgan-1830 @i-love-you-green @l0tsofpennies @exploringmycosmicsoul

Notes: 

Thank you all so much again for being so patient! I am going to go back and number all the chapters so they are easier to read through, hence the name on this one being a chapter name and not a wordy name (i am so bad at those!). Anyway, please feel free as always to send me any feedback or questions or comments on Tommy or his girl!

You are left with nothing but filthy texts as Tommy’s workload increases to the point where he barely leaves the office, and you wonder on more than one occasion how he would react if you showed up at his office and offered to help him to relax. But you hold back.

You know that this new relationship, if you could call it that, hangs in a very delicate balance of respect, business and lust, and although the more you learned about him the more you saw yourself feeling more than just the need to get on your knees for him, you don’t want to do anything that could change the way he feels about you. At least not until he is more clear with his own intentions as to where this is going.

And so when Jonathon walks into your office and asks you to make yourself free for a meeting at 2pm the next day, you feel a flush of arousal at the thought of being under Tommy’s keen gaze once more.

It had been weeks since you had seen him, and you dress in a white shirt, black pencil skirt and heels for the meeting, pushing your hair back into a slick ponytail in an effort to look professional in case your expression gives away just how interested you are in the man you failed to mention you were sleeping with.

Heels click along marble floors as you walk into what feels like an entirely different world. Shelby Company Limited’s headquarters were not at all what you had been expecting as you got to know a man who was so fond of whiskey and cigarettes. It’s front facing wall was made up entirely of glass, the white floors matched the white marble reception desk which you approached with caution, allowing Jonathan to take the lead as you did your best to hold your jaw tight as you looked around.

Everything that wasn’t white was silver, steel or black save for a huge painting of library shelves which had been composed in such a way that it looked 3D. As you moved towards it clipping the small visitors tag to the black suit jacket you had chosen to wear, it looked as though you were walking through the stacks. It was only when you were standing next to it that you saw the blocks protruding  from the canvas, and you had been so transfixed you hadn’t heard him approach.

“Interesting isn’t it?” His voice is like silk against your ears, delicious and enticing even when he has his professional face on. “I bought it at an art fair when we moved into this office specifically to entrance those waiting for a meeting. I find it has a way of affecting someone’s mindset.”

“Affecting someone’s mindset how?” You answer without thinking, Jonathan’s eyes darting to you as it seems you disrespect one of the most powerful men in London by talking without a proper introduction. Tommy’s eyes bore into yours, his tongue running along the back of his teeth as his lips remain slightly parted, forcing you to remember how he looks at you as you take him deep in your throat.

“Usually in my favour” is his response, and the eye contact lingers for only a moment before it’s broken by Jonathan holding his hand out.

“Good to see you again Mr Shelby.” He offers both of you a strong handshake as you introduce yourself, a small smirk washing over his lips as his thumb grazes the back of your hand in a way that lets you know he’s enjoying playing this game. That he understands from the short conversations he’s had with your boss that you have not told him the full extent of your ties to Shelby Company Limited.

“Likewise, but I will say Jonathan that you’d be seeing me a right side more if you had accepted my offer.

Jonathan’s smile falters, transforming into something you had never seen before, something fake and on the verge of a grimace as if he had been expecting the jibe, but not so soon or in front of company.

“Well while I’m always willing to help Mr Shelby my answer remains the same. I have loyalties to my film and I won’t be leaving any time soon.”

“Shame” he speaks, but he looks bored, as if this was a well rehearsed dance that he was eager to get out of. And maybe it was. Perhaps this very conversation happened much more regularly than you knew.

Just when you were about to step forward to prompt the men into moving, Tommy’s gaze turned to meet another man you had not heard approach regardless of the echo of the hall.

He was inches taller and years younger than the man you had been used to dealing with, a familiarity dancing on the features of the two men made you wonder if this was the younger brother he spoke of when you first met. His shoulders were broad and strong, his back straight and the air of superiority that radiated off of him was infinitely more frustrating than that of his older counterpart.

The younger man wasted no time in running his eyes up and down your body, his gaze hungry and although you could almost feel the smirk willing to form he kept up appearances.

“What time do you call this, Michael?” Tommy shook his arm to force his sleeve down as he made a show of looking at his Rolex, one which you shouldn’t know that he slept in, one which had left marks on your stomach where he had held you flush against his body.

“Sorry Tom had some acquisition orders to sign off and thought it best to get them rolling before this meeting. Michael Gray. Chief Accountant.”

He holds your hand a beat too long and Tommy notices, guiding the three of you into a lift which looks like something from a science fiction film. The floor is a giant light box, mirrors making up two walls and doors on the other two, and Tommy taps a small fob to an almost invisible black circle to force the box to move.

As Jonathan deals with the pleasantries you wonder how much Tommy has told his Chief Accountant. Does the man who is making no attempt to hide his lust know that his boss had you on your knees less than a month ago? He doesn’t show signs of recognition, only a lack of respect in the form of his eyes taking in every inch of your body that he can.

You get to the floor in under a minute, your stomach curiously okay for such a short flight up 26 floors and you are about to comment when the doors open into something the polar opposite of the reception.

Mahogany radiated from every inch of the room, the desks on the main floor large and important, each of them with an old fashioned green lamp and a chair to match. It felt like hundreds of staff as you walked past rows of desks, each member working on laptops and screens which vastly contrasted the desk beneath them.

The mixture of antique and modern was something that shouldn’t have worked but it did, and you were slightly dazed by obviously amounts of money which had been pumped into things which could easily have been bought for cheaper.

The wall of windows remains, and Tommy leads you toward it before turning left through a set of mahogany doors marked “Managers Suite”.

A large break out desk, also mahogany, sits in the middle of what could only be described as a small hall and two regal looking doors lined each wall, with one double set matching those that you had just come through sitting at the far end of the hall, elevated by a few steps.

There were less people here, but you could see the resemblance between some of them immediately, eyes which matches Tommy’s gazing up at you from a younger version of him, being attractive clearly running through genes.

Tommy led you through the double doors which sat upon the raised platform and into an office filled with more mahogany and polished brass, the wall of windows extending across the back wall of his office with blinds had drawn to fight the glare which must easily catch the screen on the laptop which sat on the huge mahogany desk.

But he did not lead you to the chairs which sat opposite, rather to the small square table which held steaming cups of coffee, a white sugar bowl piled high with brown sugar and a small milk jug to match. Each of the cups were decorated ornately, and were sitting on matching saucers.

You sat on the chair opposite Tommy, with Michael on your left and Jonathan on the right, and you listened as your boss and Tommy discussed formalities.

You could feel Michael’s eyes on you as you did your best to pay attention, and you glanced over at him only once his name was mentioned.

The small smile which washed over his features at your eye contact made your pulse race, his tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip making you swallow thicker than you would have expected especially with Tommy sitting so close, and it’s the older man clearing your throat which diverts your attention from the younger.

“Why don’t you derail the case for us, Mr Gray” Jonathan speaks, and Michael tears his eyes from you to speak to the lawyer, unveiling a tale of a woman who is spreading a rumour that he sexually assaulted her while they both drank at a bar. The story went on that Michael was with several others, including a man of great influence; Jeremiah Jesus, who saw the woman happily partake in the flirting and touching, and a woman, Polly Gray (who turned out to be Michael’s mother) who overheard the woman scheming to “take Michael for millions” by pretending otherwise.  

It wasn’t long before Tommy began to bring you solidly into the fold, asking for your opinion on matters that otherwise would have been left to Jonathan, knowing that the lawyer would not be able to refuse his whims considering the cost of the service. And the best part was that instead of being incensed that he was losing control, Jonathan seemed incredibly impressed by how you were dealing with it.

“Well the thing about defamation claims Michael is that you have to prove that they’re not true.” You hope the implication in your words isn’t too much, but the silence which stretches as they wait for you to continue speaks volumes.

“I’m asking you if you did it” His leans back, confidence injected into his every move

“Do you really think I would do something like that?” You’re glad for the smirk on his features only for the satisfaction which comes from wiping it away.

“Yes. So did you?” Your fire takes him aback more than anything else, and his eyes dart between your questioning gaze and tommy who pretends to stroke his face in an attempt to hide his smirk.

“Like I said” Michael continues, clearing his throat and leaning forward to take his coffee cup and sip, “there’s proof I did nothing of the sort. And I would never treat a woman like that” The second sentence seems to come as an afterthought, his eyes meeting yours as he says it, and you bite your lip as you move your gaze to Tommy who has gone from smiling to serious in the space of a moment. His eyes met yours as his thumb dragged along his bottom lip, and Jonathan spoke to Michael as you practically felt Tommy undress you with his eyes, dominance filtering through his body language as you failed to hide your attraction to his cousin.

The tension was broken as Tommy fixed his attention to the task at hand, and as the meeting came to a close you began to realise the full weight of what you had done by introducing Jonathan to the idea of helping Shelby Company limited. But It wasn’t until after you had exchanged business cards and loaded goodbyes and you were walking across the courtyard having left the building that you realised its effect on your career.

“You were excellent in there,” Johnathan smiled, “I get the feeling that this is the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership”

And although he was offering you drinks and lunches to say thank you for such an affluent deal, all you could think about was when you would see Tommy again is a less professional capacity. And, if you were being totally honest with yourself, what it would feel like to be bent over that huge mahogany desk.

-

Tommy couldn’t help but watch as the gorgeous figure hugging skirt you chose clung to every inch of you, slowly testing his patience, slowly driving him crazy with the thoughts he had to bat off in an attempt to stay professional. Your hips moved as if in time to music toward the lift, and you shook hands with him and Michael, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him more than it had done when he had woken up next to you.

Something about being in this professional setting, or something about the hint of jealousy he felt as you eyed his cousin, had him keen to book in another date, another tryst, another excuse to touch and lick and kiss you.

When he had finally returned to the managers suite, he grabbed Michael’s arm before he had the chance to disappear into his office. It was not lost on him that Michael had been looking at you the way he had, and although he was a man who was not the exclusive kind, he was also not okay with sharing.

“Don’t even think about trying to fuck our lawyers strategist” he takes he professional angle, but the smirk which spreads across Michael’s face tells the older man that he doesn’t care for professionalism in this instance.

“But she’s—“ a moment of realisation washes over the blonde, and his smirk turns into a grin before he speaks louder than Tommy would have liked, “that was the girl from your phone wasn’t it? The one who’s been sending you nudes?”

Tommy swallows, lips parted ever so slightly as he lets the silence talk for him, and Michael let’s out a short laugh before he shakes his head.

“Well damn, a body like that and brains too.. I would be an idiot not to try something..”

The grip on Michael’s arm tightens, and John notices, freeing himself discreetly from the conversation he was having with his executive assistant incase things took a turn for the worst.

“I’m telling you Michael. She’s off limits. Both because of the defamation case, and for your own sake.”

But lines being drawn had never done anything but enthuse Michael to break them, and the shit-eating grin remained on his lips as he sneered, “we’ll see”

[jungle321jungle]

As Cold As Stone Part Three

Dante Ekan’s newest case is a twenty one year old murder. It’s witnesses have remained silent all this time. So Agent Ekans seeks to change that.

He pokes, he prods, he bluffs, he lies, and he digs too deep.

But maybe the witnesses were silent for a reason.

Ao3

Tagging: @mae-is-ace @ashensanity

~~~~

Part Three

Dee gave a sigh as he entered the room. “You’ve been in here for what, four days?” 

Remus Prince gave him a wide smile (despite the large bruises on his face) from where he lay on the infirmary’s bed. “And they were boring as fuck!” 

“So you decided to smash your dinner tray into another’s man face to cause a fight?”

“No stupid. I smashed my dinner tray with my dinner on it, into his face to start a fight.”

Dee gave a second sigh, “Did I not tell you that I was going to get you out to show me where the body was? I was just waiting on the paperwork.”

“That sounds more boring than this. And in here I get painkillers!”

“I could tell them not to give you anything.”

The man gave a pout, “Who pissed in your cereal?”

“He was killed here sorta, okay? Can I go back to jail now? It’s cold as balls out here!”

Dee paused overlooking the area. There was nothing horribly special about it. A ring of trees with a decaying stump in the center. As a whole the area was a good distance from where Thomas’ body has been found. There was no way those boys could’ve dragged it that far while still running for their lives. 

The killer must have moved it themselves. 

But why?

It couldn't have been to keep people away from this area, a clear blood trail was left behind. A message maybe?  

“Is there something special about this place?” Dee asked. When he got no reply he turned to see Remus was looking up into the bare trees, “Hello?” 

Remus gave a shrug as he looked back down to Dee, “We used to play over here. Over there. All throughout this place. Can we go now? I’m cold.” 

Dee rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

~~~~ 

Dee gave a frown as he walked into his hotel room. It seemed in his eagerness to get going for the day he had forgotten to leave the door hanger out so the maid wouldn’t come.  

He moved to the desk and picked up the pile his papers had been put in and began to go through them one by one. While but was not what he had been hoping for, perhaps being forced to put things back in order would give him a chance to reevaluate (and maybe he’d find that one blank sheet that kept popping up to leave a note for the maid with her tip). 

After a half hour the room was restored to its former chaotic glory. Papers covering the floor around him spreading outward in a web that made sense only to him.  

But the notepad in his hand proved it worked. 

Because thanks to needing to go through all the files over again he had found an overlooked detail about Logan Ackroyd. Others in Dee’s position probably would have dismissed it entirely, but if one thing Dee was good at its twisting truth. 

“Agent Ekans,” Logan greeted. His face was a blank mask, but his tone showed his annoyance. 

“May I sit?” Dee asked motioning to the free chair. 

“It is a public space... But may I ask why you are here?”

Dee raised an eyebrow as he sat down, “Because I’m investigating the murder of your childhood friend?” 

Dee could already see his patience wearing thin. Good. 

“I meant here in this cafe,” Logan clarified. “If you truly needed to speak with me could it not wait until my break was over?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to speak about it in front of your coworkers. So when they told me you’d be here, I came.” 

The man gave a tired sigh, “What is it you’d like from me?” 

“I was reading up on all of you, and I noticed you had interned at the FBI in college. I was kind of surprised.” 

Logan’s attention was on his tea as he stirred it, “I was a forensic science and criminal justice double major. But what does that matter?”

“Well it’s just kind of crazy that of all the departments... you interned with cold case.”

“Given what happened to Thomas I could not help but be interested,” He shrugged before he took a long sip. “Also, I was interested in how past evidence that was preserved well enough could still undergo testing. Thus, that summer program seemed optimal as I wasn’t sure which of my two majors I wished to take the front career wise. And as you can see I ultimately chose forensics. But I fail to see how this is beneficial to you. I doubt you came to speak to me about how we nearly had the same job.”

Dee paused taking in that mask of a face watching him- taking in the face of the man who was analyzing him so critically yet calmly. Before he gave a sigh and rand a hand through his hair- playing into the role he had chosen, “You need to understand that what I am saying is for the case. I respect what you do, and quite frankly if you had chosen differently we would have worked together. But I have a case to work.”

“I understand.” 

“Thomas’ body was moved,” Dee stated. “After he was killed. It was a fact never released to the public. And supposedly it was put in files with everything else. And yet despite having  all the original documents, that detail is nowhere to be found. When I pieced together that it was moved and got confirmation from the policemen who had responded to the scene, it made me realize those details had been removed.” Dee forced a sigh. “So, given your precious stint at cold case and your involvement in the case I gave to ask... did you alter the files in anyway?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “You think I’d hide that?”

“I'm asking for the case.”  

“Tell me, why would I do such a thing? That would be protecting the one who killed my fr- who killed Thomas.”

“Because you’re scared,” Dee replied softly to which Logan gave a scoff. “When I spoke to Patton he made it sound as if even to this day that someone is watching him. I got similar feelings from the others too. So if you did do it, then it’s off the record. I just want to help bring the murder in. Logan... if this so called ‘Mister Sir’ is still-” 

“I think it’s time you take your leave,” Logan said suddenly. His tone was short, and his voice louder than Dee was sure he had intended. Logan took a breath trying to replace his mask as he spoke again. “I assure you Agent Ekans that I am fine. I can also assure you that I did not violate any policies or commit any crimes.” 

“Logan-”

“I have nine minutes left before I must head back. I’d like to spend them in peace?”

Dee gave a sigh before a solemn nod, “Alright. Let me know if you want to talk.”

When Logan said nothing more Dee heads out of the cafe, and thankfully he made it that long without breaking out into a smile. 

He was getting somewhere. 

And hopefully speaking to Patton Hart again would clarify where that somewhere was. 

~~~~

“Agent Ekans,” Patton said with a forced smile as he stepped out of his classroom to meet Dee in the hall. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to speak to you about the other witnesses,” Dee started. “Ackroyd specifically.”

Patton raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?” 

“You two kept in contact over the years, right?” 

“Now and then...”

“Were you aware that in college he had interned for the FBI?”

“Yeah...”

“Good,” Dee nodded. “He was with cold case during that, and I am also aware that pieces of information were removed from the files on Thomas Sanders’ murder... And I was wondering if he ever disclosed anything to you?”

Patton’s mouth opened and closed in surprise, “Logan would never steal anything.”

“I simply need to consider every option,” Dee told him. “And I understand your allegiance to a friend, and your fear of Mister Sir. But I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

Patton’s face went white but he forced another smile on his face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dee nodded once and moved to leave, “If he does tell you something, or someone else does... I ask that you let me know.”

“Right...”

It was less than two hours later that the call he had been expecting came. 

“You were right Ekans. Records show that Hart texted each of the other witnesses.”

Dee held back a smile, “Even Remus Prince?”

“Yeah, I’ve got his phone here. They're all in a group chat and are planning to meet. You want the time and place?” 

“Please.”

~~~~

A few days later Dee arrived about a half hour early to the location. 

The meeting was to take place at Logan’s apartment. 

Dee sat in his car staring at the apartment building as he watched and waited for everyone to arrive. 

“How long are we going to wait here?” Remus groaned.  

Dee rolled his eyes. He had learned after picking Remus up from jail, that the man seemed to be more annoying off of drugs. He was quieter overall, but somehow he still managed to be annoying. 

“Just turn on the radio,” Dee muttered as he kept his eyes to the door. 

Almost fifty min had passed before everyone had arrived. And once they had, Dee waited longer before he pulled Remus along. He ignored the taller man’s grumbles and approached the building. He made sure to ring the landlord's buzzer, and after a quick conversation with the man he was allowed to head for the apartment. 

He could hear shouting coming from within as he approached.  

“Are you seriously that stupid!”

“What’s stupid is agreeing to come here in the first place!”

“Oooh, may I?” Remus asked. 

 Dee gave a shrug and stepped away from the door as Remus gave a few loud bangs on the door.  

The shouting silenced and there was a pause before footsteps grew closer. When the door opened Dee gave a smile, “I hope I’m not too late.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he allowed Dee and Remus to enter his home. And when they did the other three looked their way.  

Virgil was seated on a couch, and at the sight his gaze lowered to the floor. Patton who sat behind him looked surprised, and Roman who was standing threw up his hands in exasperation, “Of course!”

Dee gave a shrug, “I couldn’t help but see that Remus was invited. So I did my due diligence and brought him. Now, might ask for the truth?”

“There is no truth to share,” Virgil stated quietly. “You’re right. We’re being watched-” 

“Virgil,” Logan warned but he continued. 

“We’re being watched,” he said again. “And not even the FBI can help. Instead you’ve put all of us at risk and yourself. So believe it or not I rather not die, so if you’d take your leave now it would be fucking appreciated.”

“How do you know that I can’t help?” Dee asked him, but Virgil shook his head in reply.  

“You can’t. Don’t you fucking listen?”

“He’s just trying to do his job,” Patton tried setting a hand on Virgil's shoulder, but Virgil stood from the couch. 

“Do you think he cares?” He yelled back. “Do you think he gives a fucking shit about anyone other than himself? I don’t! What happened in the past is that past! And I want to keep it that way! I was the youngest!” He took a deep breath. “I was the youngest and yet I remember every single detail of how Thomas looked when he stopped fighting back... and I don’t want to watch it happen to anyone else. So I’m sorry Agent Ekans. I don’t care if you have to arrest me, the past is past.”

“So elegantly said,” Remus mocked. 

Roman’s eyes narrowed, “You shut up. This is all your fault in the first place.”

Remus gave a casual shrug, as he moved to sit on the floor. “I didn’t tell him to open the case.” 

“Why did you start looking into this anyway?” Patton asked him.

Dee raised an eyebrow, “Because I work cold case? I’m given old cases somewhat at random and try to solve them? Oh, and do be aware that currently all of you are guilty of obstruction of justice.” 

“Add it to my tab,” Remus waved dismissively. 

Dee gave a groan, “Look. I just want to know the truth. Tell me what it is and I’ll be on my way. Who is Mister Sir? And is he the one who killed Thomas?”

“Yes.” 

Quite frankly Dee wasn’t sure which one of them had said it. But a pause had followed before all four were yelling at one another each shouting that whomever had spoken was going to get them all killed. Dee watched them silently taking in all the words he could, waiting for the slip up which would inevitably follow.  

He had watched, he waited, he listened. 

And for a moment his ears perked up at what sounded like a name, but it was lost to the yelling around him. Listening for it to come again, but instead the sound of a child-like voice brought the entire argument to a screeching halt.  

“We promised not to tell.”

~~~~

Part Two - Part Three - Part Four