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smalls-words · 2 years ago

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Chapter Nine: You Ready to Go to Church?

Summary: Whilst working, Natasha makes a few discoveries about herself. 1 - she's lonely. 2 - people come from all walks of life.

Pairings: Devil!Natasha x Fem!Detective!Reader, Natasha x Wanda, Reader x Steve (exes, co-parents), Yelena x Natasha (sisters).

Warnings: Blood, guns, drugs, death, mourning, therapy. Please let me know if I've missed anything!

A/N: This episode was quite a trek to write but semi-important. I won't be writing every episode of Lucifer for this series but I do seriously recommend watching it.

Series Masterlist

*not my gif*

The partying devil lay flat on the therapist’s couch, explaining the events of last night in great sensual detail. A pizza delivery boy getting his first experience on the job in a lingerie party, the party itself having three Brittanys, or Brittanies if you wish, and drugs, sex and alcohol of course.

“But I didn’t join them. Three Brittanies in a jacuzzi, three! And I didn’t join them.” Natasha grumbled, dressed in one of her more flattering suits that had a black, lace-hemmed corset top beneath her suit jacket, the buttons undone and tempting the doctor on the other side of the coffee table.

“Why do you think you didn’t join them?” Kate asked, sitting up straight in her chair with a neat pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, her raven locks tied back in a bun.

“I don't know, Doctor. That's what I pay you to figure out, isn't it?” Natasha huffed, sitting up.

“Have you ever considered that all of this… excessive partying… may be your attempt to fill a void?” Kate offered. “‘Attempt’? I filled five voids last night.” The devil smirked, folding one knee over the other.

The doctor sighed. “That’s not what I mean.” When Natasha looked at her with a confused expression, Kate further explained. “A void in your emotional life. You sound… lonely, Natasha.”

The redhead almost cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy. “‘Lonely’? Have... have you been listening to a word I've said? I am never alone, I'm constantly surrounded by people, you know? I party whenever I desire, my bed is never cold.” She said with an exasperated sigh.

“Natasha, being alone and being lonely are two entirely different things.”

“Are they?”

“Of course. You may be surrounded by others, but… do you truly consider any of those people your friend? A peer you respect, someone you like to spend time with. Someone… with whom you share a meaningful connection.” Kate softened her voice, seeing how this was new territory for Natasha.

In classic devil nature, Natasha smirked. “Well, you and I connect quite well.”

Kate immediately shut it down. “I'm talking personally. …What about Wanda?”

Natasha’s smirk fell flat. “No. She and I are on the outs, I'm afraid. Long story filled with betrayal. You actually make a cameo in it.”

“How about Detective Valeria? Do you consider her your friend?” The doctor replied, staying calm despite the frustrated woman in front of her.

“Well, quite honestly, I... I'm not sure what we are.” She murmured.

Kate smiled gently. “Why don’t you try finding out?”

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After her therapy session, Natasha made her way back to Lux to enjoy a glass of her newest scotch ordered from Scotland, though it didn’t help that someone was already there. As she walked along the corridor, Wanda came running up the stairs in a strapless dress and thigh-high fishnet stockings. “Natasha? Listen, can we tal-?”

“I don't have time for traitors.” Natasha cut her off, her words almost a hiss.

“Look, I get that you don't want to talk to me. But someone else is here to see you for a favour.”

“Not in the mood, Wanda.”

“Trust me.You don't want to miss this one.”

When Natasha finally looked down at Wanda, there was a flash of demonic happiness in her eyes. Her irises glowed their swirling red, and she gently turned Natasha’s head by her chin to see a man waiting for her in the main club area.

“Be gone.” Natasha muttered to Wanda, a simple wave of her hand before Wanda made herself scarce.

Natasha slowly came down the stairs, tying up her hair whilst she buttoned up her suit jacket. If this was official business, she’d look official for it.

“You wanted to speak with me?” She declared herself known to the man.

As he stood, his bald head and dark skin tone reminded her of someone she knew by blood. He wore a suit, much like her own, though far more formal - and she didn’t wear a clerical collar either.

“Natasha Romanoff. I’m Father Frank Lawrence.” He introduced himself politely, a smooth slick to his baritone voice as he held out his hand to shake.

She didn’t shake it, instead chuckling. “A priest walks into a bar. I've heard this one before. Never seen it, though. At least, not here.”

She dawdled around to the other side of the bar, pouring herself some whiskey since the scotch had yet to be unpacked. “Padre, how did you of all people find me?”

“Don't let the collar fool you.” He gestured to it minutely. “I have friends from all walks of life. And some of these friends tell me you're the woman to see when you run out of options.”

“Ooh, what kind of nasty trouble have you gotten yourself into then? Pinched too much from the collection basket?” She teased.

“I'm here about a neighbourhood youth center.” Father Frank explained.

“Sounds dreadful.” Natasha grumbled, sipping the whiskey.

“It is... especially when you realise it's being used as a front for an illegal drug operation. The center's director, Lenny Arietta, is recruiting kids from my church to move his product.”

She tsked. “Ah, so this is about young boys, of course it is.”

“One in particular. A kid named Connor. He's had it rough. Lost both his parents at six. Bounced from home to home, some juvie. But deep down, a good kid.” He paused and pulled out his cell phone, a picture already loaded once unlocked.

The devil put down her whiskey and studied the image. A white young male, no more than 16 or 17. A blue beanie covered blonde hair, a grey shirt with a skull on it and blue collar hems, whilst he had a black zip-up hoodie with white drawstrings.

“So, diddling this one, are you?” She asked, handing the phone back.

He chuckled dryly, taking the phone back. “How about I not dignify that with an answer, and instead ask my favour?”

“Thank fuck, I was wondering when you'd get to it.” She grumbled, pouring another glass of whiskey.

“I want you to talk to Arietta before Connor gets involved.”

“And why not go to the police? Got something to hide, do you?”

“They were useless. Couldn't find anything on Arietta.”

Natasha felt a bit protective when he said that the police were useless. She knew that if you had been given this case, you would have tried your damned hardest to solve it. She just knew it.

“Why not ask your boss then, hey? The Almighty Himself.” She smirked, pointing at the ceiling but not looking at it.

“I already have.” He answered.

“Oh, no luck?”

“On the contrary - I believe he led me to you.”

She chuckled heartily. “Oh, I highly doubt that. So that's it, is it? Stop a drug ring to help some kid get out of trouble.”

Father Frank sat down as Natasha rounded the bar again, coming closer to him before she grinned lightly. “What's in it for you? What is it you really want? That dirty dark desire I can see you struggling to hold in.”

She watched with glee as her mojo worked on the priest, his eyes glazing over slightly. “What I really want… is to put my fist through Arietta's face.”

“Ha! And there it is. Wrath.” She grinned deviously, pleased with herself. “Ooh, not so high and mighty now, are you?”

“We all have demons inside.” He murmured, like he was shamefully admitting that fact.

She shrugged. “My demon tends the bar. So come on, what else are you hiding? Hypocrites like you always have something.”

“You don't know anything about me.”

“Oh, I know plenty. You and I are natural sworn enemies.”

He sighed. “Let’s cut to the chase - you gonna help me or not?”

“My answer to you, Father, is a big fat no. Handle it yourself.” She said, mocking his title before she walked off. “Wanda?! Are the Brittanies still here?!”

“No - but Valeria called.” Wanda echoed through the halls.

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“You're lucky I don't have any active cases, or else I'd send this to Narcotics.” You grumbled as you walked with Natasha up the ramp of the youth centre, dressed in your black jeans, jacket, a blue-black striped long sleeve with your badge and gun in its holster.

“Narcotics? No, no, no, no. I don't give a damn about the drug dealer. We're here to investigate the priest.” Natasha clarified.

“Priest? I thought we were here to talk to the youth director.” You raised an eyebrow at her, questioning her motive for this case.

“We are. To get dirt on the priest. He must be hiding something. And what better way to stick it to dear old Dad than prove that those who speak on His behalf aren't as virtuous as they pretend to be?” She grinned.

You sighed as you approached the youth director’s office. “You thought it'd be a good idea to rope me into your imaginary family feud? Great.”

“Look, am I mistaken or do you catch bad guys? Now, this priest is up to something. Something nefarious... I can feel it.” Natasha said, looking at the passing children with a slightly disgusted expression.

“Last I checked, your feelings don't count as probable cause.” You remarked, knocking on the double doors to the office.

“Well, isn't the fact that he came to me probable cause enough? Or I could just interrogate this youth director by myself.” Natasha shrugged, knocking the door before you could stop her.

“No, just let me do the talking. Mr. Arietta?” You called through the door, checking the handle to find it locked.

“Hmm. Well, if I were trapped in here with these vile children, I'd lock my door as well.” She smirked. You bent down and looked through the small glass gap of the door, scattered papers littering the floor as well as some knocked over science glassware. But just when you were about to pull away, you spotted a pair of legs lying face down on the floor.

“Back up.” You muttered to Natasha before you raised your foot and kicked in the door, the lock snapping on its way open.

“Well, Detective.” Natasha grinned before following you inside, momentarily staring at your legs and wondering about the strength they held.

“Look.” You said, alarmed at the sight of Arietta’s limp form on the ground.

You knelt down, stunned at the pool of blood by his head, and pressed two fingers to his carotid artery. “He's dead.” You uttered before pulling out your phone and calling it in.

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“M.E. puts the time of Arietta's death between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning.” You said to Natasha as she stood by you, crime techs working the scene methodically.

“Cause was multiple hits with a baseball bat. There are some abrasions on his face, so it looks like he struggled before he died. And I found this.”

“Ooh, what's that?” Natasha cooed like a pirate finding treasure, taking the small device but being careful to keep her fingers on the latex glove around it.

“It's a voice modulator. Hey, can you not do that?” You grumbled as she spoke into it.

“Detective, I am your father.” Her voice came out deeper and incredibly modulated, her chuckle afterwards making you shake your head.

“It's not a toy, Natasha. It could be evidence.”

“Well, I'm impressed. Looks like the priest handled it himself after all.”

“We don't know if the priest did this.”

“Well, maybe you don't.”

“Detective Valeria?” A crime tech called for you at the door just as you were about to get annoyed with Natasha.

You handed off the voice modulator to a crime tech and went to the door, a person waiting for you yet you didn’t wait for Natasha to follow.

“Hey, you're the head counsellor, right?” You said just as Natasha went under the tape.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Eric Doyle.” The man introduced himself, an overweight yet ‘gentle giant’ nature to his stature with a cropped haircut, a grey polo and jeans on whilst a clean watch was clasped on his wrist.

“Any idea who might've done this?” You asked him, folding your arms.

“No. I mean, everyone liked Lenny. He was a good boss.” He replied.

“So, he had no enemies whatsoever, no? Especially any who wear clerical collars?” Natasha snickered lightly at her obvious meaning.

Doyle’s face showed that he recognised the name. “So you know about the priest.”

“Oh, yes.” The devilish woman nodded, excited now that there was another lead in her favour.

“Yeah, that guy's always coming around here and getting into arguments with Lenny. But he's a priest, so… not much I can do about it.”

“Right. Mr. Doyle, where were you between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning?” You questioned, getting on with it.

“Uh... here. In counselling sessions with, uh, Nikki and Connor.”

“Connor? That's the altar boy from the priest's photo.” Natasha murmured.

Behind you, two officers were keeping away two teenagers. As you approached, you relinquished the officers and asked them for their names. Funnily enough, they were Nikki and Connor.

“So, is it, is it true Mr. Arietta's dead?” Connor asked slowly.

“Well, duh, dumbass.” Nikki scoffed, dressed in very emo-esque clothes, particularly the ‘SKATE OR DIE’ on her shirt next to a Dia de Los Muertos skull.

“It is. Yeah. Did you know him well?” You asked, trying to be gentle.

“A little, I guess. He- he- I mean, he ran the place.” Connor shrugged.

“Do you know if Mr. Arietta was involved in any drug activity?”

“Drugs?” Nikki laughed. “I mean, I wish he was. That would've made him more interesting.”

Natasha chuckled. “Okay. Enough about the dead guy. Tell me everything you know about Padre Pederast.” She pointed at Connor.

“Who?”

“Father Frank. Did you see him do this? Do you think he's capable?” She sighed, annoyed at his young teenage boy's mind for not catching up.

“Father Frank? Kill Mr. Arietta? No. No way.”

Nikki scoffed. “What do you mean "no way"? The guy's a creeper and totally obsessed with you.”

“He's just overprotective. Ever since my parents died, he feels like he's got to watch out for me or something. But he's a good guy. He's just a little... just a little annoying.” Connor shrugged.

“See? Annoying.” Natasha looked at you.

“Mm-hmm.” You lazily answered her. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Uh, he... Here this morning.” Connor stuttered.

“Yeah, preacher seemed pretty pissed.” Nikki added.

You sighed, thanking the two before you went with Natasha to the station to look up the preacher, using the devil to help ID him visually.

“That's him. Frank Lawrence. The most evil of people have the most normal names, I've experienced. Beware anyone named Keith.” Natasha warned you, to which you nodded sceptically.

“Well, his criminal record's pretty extensive. assault and battery, disorderly conduct, drug charges.”

“See? Not very priest-like.”

“But nothing in the past ten years.” You added, searching the screen to find a very important document. “Ah, a restraining order filed by Lenny Arietta last week.”

“Ah, well, it's funny how Padre Punchy failed to mention a restraining order.” Natasha snickered. “Please tell me now we have enough to bring this priest down.”

“We have enough to bring him in. You ready to go to church?” You grinned, grabbing your jacket.

“Bringing down a priest is the only reason I ever would.”

“In. Bring him in.”

Natasha rolled her eyes lightly. “Yes, bring him in so we can bring him down. You’re no fun sometimes.”

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In the underground police parking lot, Malcolm stood and waited impatiently for his visitor. “I know you're there. What, are you watching over me? Like my own guardian angel.”

From the shadows, Yelena appeared, expressionless, in a neat blue suit with a white corset top, along with a few simple-banded gold rings on her fingers.

“Yeah. Grumpy guardian angel.” Malcolm mumbled.

“Forgotten about our deal, Malcolm? Because I brought you back from the dead for a single purpose.” She said, her accent making the man uneasy.

“Yeah, about that, I've... been meaning to ask. Why me?”

She raised a single eyebrow. “Why you?”

“Yeah. I mean, uh, I must be something special for you to go to all that trouble.” He grinned.

She chuckled darkly. “Don't flatter yourself. You're simply… in a unique position to do what I need done.”

His ego deflated at her words. “'Cause I'm a cop.”

“That, yeah.” She nodded, circling him. “And because… I know you'll do anything to avoid going back to Hell.”

When she stopped behind him, he stiffened at her breath on his neck. “Now, stop bothering me with these questions and just finish the task I've given you.”

Malcolm stepped forward to get away from her, turning whilst chuckling sheepishly. “Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm already on it, all right? Everything's going according to plan.”

Yelena began to walk away before she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Don't keep me waiting. Patience…” She chuckled. “She is not one of my virtues.”

Malcolm sighed, closing his eyes. “I promise you, I... I got this.” He stuttered because when he opened his eyes…

Yelena was gone.

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“Miss Valeria, Miss Romanoff, surprised to see you again.”

“Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world.” Natasha grinned deviously at the priest.

“Father Frank, when was the last time you saw Lenny Arietta?” You asked him, ignoring Natasha’s jokes.

“This morning.”

“Despite the restraining order.”

“I answer to a higher authority.” He argued slightly.

“Not today you don't.” Natasha sang teasingly.

You gave her one glance and she rolled her eyes, putting her hands in her pockets as she let you question the priest. “What happened when you saw him?”

“We exchanged words. Things got a little heated.”

“What were you fighting about?”

“That altar boy of his, of course.” Natasha chuckled.

You ignored Natasha again. “Why were you fighting over Connor?”

“Because I'm worried that Arietta's gonna pull Connor into his drug ring.” He said, the words suspiciously identical to his last reasoning.

“So, what, you give him a right hook?” Natasha smirked, pointing at his bandaged hand.

Father Frank lowered his head. “Sadly, I did.”

“And then what?” You asked, folding your arms.

“And then I left.”

“Ooh, no, no, no, I think you skipped a part, didn't you?” Natasha chimed in. “You know, the part where you beat him to death with a baseball bat?”

“He's dead?” Father Frank asked, shocked. “Oh, Heavenly Father.” He murmured, painting the cross on his chest.

Natasha rolled her eyes (it seems she likes doing that). “Oh, come on. How gullible do you think we are?”

Father Frank shook his head. “I had troubles with the man, but he didn't deserve to die. And I certainly didn't kill him.”

You sighed, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Can you account for your whereabouts between 11:30 and 12:00 this morning?”

Father Frank thought for a moment. “Uh, I was here. Taking confessions. Mrs. Madison had a lot to say, took up the whole hour.”

Natasha sighed. “By chance, does Mrs. Madison have a limo driver?”

The priest looked at her, confused at how she knew that. “She does.”

“Damn. Just spoke to his alibi.” Natasha said to you.

“You- What?” You muttered.

“The MILF in confession.” She added, pointing to the confession box where a woman stepped out, fixing her ruffled hair and dress as well as her lipstick.

You sighed, poking your finger on the bridge of your nose three times in frustration. “Oh, great. Yeah, as much as I'm sure that followed protocol, I'm still gonna have to question her myself.”

You turned to the priest. “Father, I'm gonna need you to come into the station for a statement.”

After Father Frank collected his jacket and valuables, you and Natasha walked with him outside of the church to your cars. However, your head perked up at the sound of screeching tires, and you spotted a handgun being pointed out of a car window.

“Get down!” You called out, shoving Natasha and Father Frank to the ground before getting down yourself.

A full round unloaded from the gun, a stray bullet hitting the bus stop shelter glass before the driver took off. You jumped up, and though you tried, you could not get a full plate number off of the speeding car.

“And you wonder why I don't go to church.” Natasha sighed, readjusting her suit and corset top.

After three police vehicles turned up and cornered off the church main entrance as a crime scene, you went inside to talk to some people. You sent a crime tech to search the partial of the plate you had, along with the model of the car before finding Natasha by the pews.

“So I spoke to Father Frank's alibi. Checks out. He was in confession with Mrs. Madison from 11:00 to 12:00. He's not our guy.”

Natasha sighed. “Well, maybe she's lying. I mean, you know the sort of people that go to church. Sinners.” She tried to joke, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood.

“Lab results from the voice modulator came back empty. No prints, no DNA. Whoever did this is good.”

“What, so you think this shooting and the youth director's death are connected?”

“We know they have at least one thing in common.” You said calmly, walking up to Father Frank as he sat in the front pew.

“Father, you will be relieved to know that no one was injured.”

“Oh, thank God.” He sighed in relief.

Natasha grumbled. “Please don't.”

You looked sternly at the priest. “Now, Father… this wasn't a random attack. They were shooting at you. But you don't seem surprised. What aren't you telling us?”

He stood whilst pulling out his phone, holding it out and putting it on speaker. “Keep your nose out of our business or else.” A distorted voice came through before the voicemail ended.

“The voice modulator from Arietta's office. You should have gone to the police with this.” You scolded lightly.

“I assumed it was Arietta, and I'm not afraid of him. But if it's The Spider…” Father Frank trailed off.

“Spider?”

“I've heard whispers of another dealer trying to take over Arietta's business. People call him ‘The Spider.’ Scary, violent reputation.”

“Do you know who this Spider is?”

“I don't.”

You studied him for a moment. His eyes couldn’t meet yours and his shaking head showed fear. “You're holding something back, Father. I can tell.”

“I have a confession to make.” He hurried out.

“Finally!” Natasha cheered. “Well, the truth will set you free... isn't that what your beloved book says?”

“I lied when I said Connor was in danger of becoming involved. He already is. Dealing for Arietta.”

“What, that's it? Oh, please don't tell me that's what you've been holding back all this time.” The redhead looked disappointed.

“Wait. If Connor's already in deep, why go to all this trouble to protect him?” You asked.

“He's had it rough. Thinks he can only rely on himself. He's a good kid, Detective. There's still hope for him.”

You shook your head. “Father, you were today's target. We need to worry about your safety first. Do you have a place to stay? We can offer police protection.”

“I'm fine right here. This... is my sanctuary.” He sighed, sitting back down.

“Well, your sanctuary just got shot to high heaven, Padre.” Natasha chuckled. “But if you're looking to lay low, I believe I know just the place.”

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Natasha smirked at Father Frank as he sat in the same booth he met the devil in, strippers dancing in front of them dressed as nuns… initially. They had kept the veils and coifs on, but underneath was nothing but dark red lingerie as they danced to Do Ya Thang Girl by DJ Jubilee.

“Thought this might make you feel more at home, you know.” Natasha smirked at the priest as she sipped on her scotch.

“Sure you did.” Father Frank chuckled.

You walked past the strippers and into the booth, sliding in next to Natasha. “Hey.” You greeted her, to which she gave you a gentle smile.

“Malyshka.” She greeted you back.

“So, partial plates from the shooter's SUV came back with a couple matches. But this is interesting, one of them was recently reported stolen outside the youth center.”

“Oh, so you think someone inside's responsible.”

“I think it's too much of a coincidence not to be, but I ordered traffic cam footage, so hopefully it'll show us who was driving.”

“Hopefully.” Natasha grinned, her eyes falling onto the stripper in front of her.

Your eyes even had a little wander before returning to the task at hand. “Couldn't resist, huh?”

“Well, the man deserves some fun.” The devil grinned.

“Or you still want to prove he's a hypocrite.

“Well, what can I say? Temptation's in my nature.”

Natasha’s eyes fell onto yours and you held her gaze for a moment. In that moment, you felt safe, like being in this lustful partying bar was the safest place on Earth purely because Natasha was there.

“Hmm. And how's that working out for you?” You grinned, looking at Father Frank.

His head was nodding along to the music, his hand tapping on his thigh. Natasha seemed confused by his clear delight at the sensual song. “Padre, does this not bother you?”

“What can I say? I love this song.” Father Frank chuckled.

As the night dragged on, the three of you were having a wonderful time. You even had a drink with them, Natasha ‘accidentally’ making herself sit on your right whilst Father Frank was on your left, keeping you safe.

“You sure you're gonna be okay in here, Father?” You asked, the case coming to the forefront of your mind.

“This? Oh, absolutely. I grew up in places like this.” He excused.

“Oh, I find that hard to believe.” Natasha snickered, sipping on a new whiskey flavour.

He shook his head at her before his posture looked like he was starting a story. “No one's born a priest. Before the cloth, I was just Frank Lawrence, a touring musician.”

“Really? Let me guess... cowbell.” She replied.

“Close. Piano. Good old rock and roll. Opened for Dylan, Bowie, the Stones…”

“The Rolling Stones?”

“Yep. It was a crazy time, let me tell you.” Father Frank chuckled. “I was a lot like you, really.”

As Natasha finished her whiskey, she shook her head with a wry smile. “That's literally impossible.”

“Thought the fun would never stop.” He sighed, a sad expression filling his eyes. “Then, uh…”

“Father, you don't have to…” You murmured, putting a comforting hand on top of his injured hand’s wrist.

“No, no, no, no. Go on.” Natasha interjected.

The priest nodded, giving you a comforting smile. “Car accident. Ten years ago. I was travelling with Connor and his family. Uh, Connor's dad was a drummer, we used to play together. Another car swerved into our lane and, uh… Connor lost both his parents that night.”

Your expression fell into a remorseful one. You couldn’t imagine losing someone like that.

“My daughter was with us, too. She didn't make it, either.”

Let alone your child.

“Thought I'd seen some dark days. Nothing compared to losing my little girl. My heart just... cracked right open.”

His whole body went still. His eyes didn’t blink, his chest barely moved. The memories were as fresh as yesterday’s breakfast for him, even if they were a decade ago.

“That pain…” You muttered, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry, Father.”

“Well, you must have been awfully angry at your beloved God.” Natasha said, a slight anger to her tone but not directed at Father Frank.

“I was so... untethered. Lost. Turning to Him is what saved me.” He replied, wearing a fake but gentle smile.

“So... hold on. God stole your spawn and then you decided to worship Him?”

“I can't really explain it, but somehow it made me feel that she was safe. That's when I discovered my faith. The church gave me purpose. It was there that I crossed paths with Connor again. Me, a parent without a child; him, a child without a parent.”

You smiled softly. “You connected with him.”

He nodded. “We might not always understand it, but God has a plan.”

Natasha sighed. “Yes. I know. But why does everybody always think it's a good plan?”

Suddenly, your phone began to ring and you cleared your throat from the emotion that Father Frank’s story had brought up. “Please excuse me, Father.”

He nodded, though you didn’t need his permission, and you left to take the phone call.

“So, can we just go back to this absurd notion that you and I are in any way similar?” Natasha asked.

“You're right. We're not.”

“Thank you!”

“I'm probably a much better piano player than you are.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow before she looked around the club. Her piano was in the centre of the floor but it was too packed and loud for the two. She turned to the human bartender and told him that she’d be upstairs if you needed her.

“Well come on then, Padre. Let’s test your silly theory.” She smirked, leading him up to the penthouse.

Of course, she let Father Frank play first, his fingers dancing over the keys with the practised grace of an experienced player; though, Knocking on Heaven’s Door wasn’t wonderful for her ears.

“D-Do you know anything that doesn't make me want to, you know, impale myself? Like, uh... Something more upbeat. Something a bit, um... I mean, like, uh…” She shrugged, sitting down on the top side of the piano seat.

Immediately, she grinned as a song came to mind, playing a wilder melody of Mess Around by Ray Charles.

“Oh. I think I know what you mean.” Father Frank matched her grin, beginning to play the bottom side of the song in a similar jive and rhythm.

“Something like that?”

“Yeah.” She smirked.

“Okay.”

As they played, Natasha was impressed. “Father has got soul.”

“You ain't seen nothing yet.”

“Oh? Would you like to take the top?”

“Why not? Excuse me.”

As they swiftly swapped places, with Father Frank playing a glissando up the keys whilst Natasha spun around him to sit on the bottom side, she laughed heartily.

Though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was having fun with this soulful priest.

It was then that you appeared in the elevator, though neither of them noticed. You were happily surprised by the sight before you, tapping your finger in your pocket to the rhythm as you came to lean on the bar beside the piano. After a few more seconds of playing, Natasha noticed you out of the corner of her eye and immediately stopped playing.

“Oh.” Father Frank chuckled, looking between the two of you.

“Hi.” Natasha said after clearing her throat, putting her stoic face back on.

“Hi.” You greeted softly, giving her a knowing warm smile as if to say ‘I caught you having fun with the priest, hypocrite’.

Natasha cleared the air with her shrug. “Yeah, well, I suppose that wasn't completely terrible.” She directed at Father Frank.

“Not completely.” He laughed, patting her shoulder gently.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Father Frank's story about The Spider checks out, and I got a lead so we should go.” You said, looking at Natasha.

She nodded and grabbed her jacket, patting Father Frank’s shoulder. “Well, you stay here. You need the practice.”

And the two of you left with the priest’s hearty laugh echoing in the penthouse.

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Upon exit of your car into a hidden skate park, you walked beside Natasha and mentally noted how she scanned the premises. “I talked to Narcotics and one of their CI's said The Spider's rumoured to hang out here.”

“Well, I don't know why you had to bring me along.” She said.

“What, are you anxious to get back to your new friend?” You teased.

She scoffed. “Please. The Devil friends with a priest? That's absurd.”

“It's absurdly adorable. You know, it's okay to admit you like the guy.”

“He's everything that I stand against, Detective.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes we get along best with the people we're most different from.” You shrugged.

As you scanned the place, Natasha observed you. You looked tired, a bit frazzled even. when she saw a man looking at your ass, she took a step towards you, glaring at him with the fury of a thousand suns.

If only her eyes were glowing. That would shock him into being a decent member of society.

“Look.” You said, pulling her out of her glare to look through the crowd.

“Oh. Little Miss Sunshine from the youth center.” She chuckling.

“Yeah, Nikki.”

“What's that she's doing?”

You watched her hands move swiftly between people before sighing. “Drug deal. And a smooth one. Maybe she's The Spider.”

“Ooh, black widow, then. Lovely.” Natasha grinned, about to stride forward and confront her but you held her back.

“Wait. She's giving it to someone else.” You muttered, pulling her back.

You pressed up against her chest, trying to minimise your visibility from Nikki. Natasha looked down at you, perplexed, her cheeks a little red as she tried to keep it down.

“To Connor.” You realised, seeing the boy accept the money from Nikki.

Then his eyes fell on you. With fear or rage or something in his eyes, he pulled out a gun and shot into the ceiling, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

“Get down!” You yelled, pulling out your own.

Though the crowd was working against you as you tried to squeeze through a gap between the people rushing out of the fenced skate ramp and the fence itself. You raced through the back door where Nikki and Connor went through, but the alley was empty.

“Gone. Great.” You sighed, putting your gun back in your holster.

“Why was the black widow giving her cash to altar boy?” Natasha asked, checking the alleyway with her glowing eyes as you checked your ringing phone.

“You never want to carry dr*gs and money on you at the same time. Makes you a target.” You opened your phone. “Or because Connor's The Spider.”

Natasha stopped glowing her eyes, satisfied that nobody was nearby, and looked back at you.

“Traffic cam footage.” You showed her your phone, a clear photo of Connor in the driver’s seat with a gun in hand.

“Ah, from the church shooting. So the boy the priest was trying to protect is the one who tried to kill him? Well, isn't that an ironic kick in the cassock?”

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When you returned to Lux, Father Frank was evidently shocked at the news by the way his hands shook whilst he held your tablet in his hands. “This doesn't prove Connor's The Spider.” He said firmly, giving you back the tablet which had Connor’s photos on it.

“It's pretty damning, Father. And it's enough for the APB that just went out. Connor's been declared armed and dangerous.”

“Armed and dangerous? The boy needs to be helped, convinced to turn himself in.”

“Father, he shot at you. He fired into a room full of kids.”

“Yes, but he shot up, didn't he?”

You sighed, knowing he felt for this kid as if he was his son. “We'll do everything we can to bring him in peacefully. I promise you that.”

Father Frank sighed too. “If you'll excuse me, I... need some air.”

Natasha wandered over with three drinks of whiskey in her hands, offering to the priest but denied. She then turned to you, smiling gently. “Drink, malyshka?”

You shook your head. “I have some digging to do. Will you watch over him until I get back?”

“What?” She huffed. “You want me to babysit the priest?”

You smirked as you retreated into the elevator. “I babysit you all the time.”

Natasha mumbled grumpily to herself as she walked towards her balcony, standing right next to Father Frank as he held a cigarette in the other hand.

“Need a light?” She offered.

He chuckled dryly. “No, thanks. Quit years ago. Still enjoy the ritual, though. Always keep one on me.”

She nodded, putting her lighter back in her pocket. “Please tell me you didn't come out here to talk to Him.”

“God? Why not? This is as good a spot as any.”

Natasha laughed, shaking her head. “Right.” She did pause though, looking at him with curiosity. “Does He, uh... does He ever talk back?”

He was quiet before answering. “I don't need to hear Him to... hear Him. If you know what I mean.”

“Well, yes, He never talks to me, either. Listen, um…” She said to quickly change topics. “Sorry about the altar boy. Surely you know you're not to blame. I mean, some people are just... beyond saving.”

“That's where you're wrong. There's still hope for him.”

She sipped on her drink, giving him a doubtful expression. “He shot up your church, he's most likely running a drug ring behind your back, and, oh, yes, killed a man.”

“I don't believe that.” Father Frank countered.

“Look, what if it's true?”

“Then he needs me even more.”

She scoffed, looking at him like he was a freak. “How can you still have faith in this boy?”

“God has faith in him. In all of us. Even in our darkest moments.”

“Oh, you really believe that.”

“I do.” He answered back quickly. “Why don't you?”

Her face fell stoic once again. “Because He didn't have faith in me.”

“Hmm.I felt that way once, too. But now I know, deep in my heart, God has a plan for me.”

“Oh, His plan for me was quite clear.” She scoffed, glaring at the cloudy sky for a moment.

“How do you know it's finished?” The priest chuckled.

Natasha stood there in silence, pondering his words and views. In her head, it possibly made sense that the plan for her wasn’t over. But the hatred and betrayal in her heart threw that thought into the garbage disposal, hoping that it could be as easily forgotten as it was learned.

“Excuse me. One of my parishioners, uh, a lot of them are still upset about the shooting.” Father Frank held up his phone.

Yeah. Don’t… Don’t worry about it.” She muttered, leaning on the balcony as he entered the elevator to take the phone call.

Pressing the ground button with determination on his face.

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After finding out Father Frank was no longer in Natasha’s custody, you quickly drove to the club and found Natasha.

“Why would he do that? Why would he just run away?” You scoffed, collecting the devil to the bar.

“Wanda, the priest, have you seen him?” Natasha asked the demon at the bar doing stocktake.

“So you're talking to me now?” She said bitterly.

Natasha glanced at you before glaring her glowing eyes at Wanda. “Have you seen him?!”

Wanda relinquished and bowed her head slightly, just enough for Natasha to be pleased and stop glowing her eyes. “He was down here on his phone. Heard him talking to someone named Connor. He left to go meet him.”

“He left? Where to?” You asked, though Wanda ignored you.

“Maybe he's trying to convince Connor to turn himself in.” You said to Natasha.

“No. He's probably trying to hide the little miscreant. Put his faith in God, not the police.” She scoffed.

“Why do you care about a priest?” Wanda sneered.

“I don't.” Natasha bit back, tempted to glow her eyes again.

“Where would he hide him? Where would he hide Connor?” You muttered to yourself.

“Somewhere he considers safe, I assume.” The devil shrugged.

It clicked in your head. “Sanctuary.”

You stormed out to your car, thankful that the valet hadn’t moved it, and jumped into the driver’s seat. You kept your lights and sirens off, and drove quietly along the street to the church.

“Malysh.” Natasha said quietly, trying to steady your shaking hand by putting hers on top. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to get involved with a shooting again? Jimmy did a number on your shoulder.”

You looked over at her briefly before driving, though not moving her hand from yours. “I’ll be okay. I did some extra exercises at the department.”

“Okay.” She said, though still worried.

As you stepped out of the car, you stormed up the stairs and pulled Natasha in behind you. “Behind me, always. You are not getting shot on my watch.”

You leaned in by the window of the front entrance door, seeing Father Frank with his hands in the air, with Connor pointing a gun at him. You snuck in quietly through the door, crouching to the floor so that you were no higher than the pews.

“You don't want to do this. I know you. This isn't you.” Father Frank reasoned with Connor.

“Sorry, I don't have a choice, okay? I have to do this.”

“I get it. You don't think you can rely on anyone else to survive... but you're not alone. I'm here for you, whenever you need me, son.”

“I don't need you! Okay? I don't need anybody!” He said, with a strained tone to his voice.

“Go on, then, shoot the altar boy.” Natasha murmured in your ear. “In the leg or something, obviously.” She added after you shushed her.

“Just do it, Connor. Pull the damn trigger already.” A voice said before a familiar face came from the right side of the church.

“That's Eric Doyle. That's our Spider.” You realised.

“The counsellor.” Natasha muttered.

“You know, Nikki… I trust her. But you? I think you're too attached to this preacher. You're gonna have to show me that you're not.” Doyle spoke to Connor, like a devil on his shoulders.

“No shot from here.” You told Natasha, moving closer to the scene.

“I know you, Connor. That drive-by, you intentionally missed me, didn't you?” Father Frank asked calmly.

“Stop talking. Please.” Connor whimpered, his hand shaking around the gun.

Doyle sighed. “Make him stop talking. It's really easy.”

“You couldn't do it then, and you don't want to do it now. God's giving you a second chance right here.” The priest whispered, trying to coax the boy towards him.

“E-Enough with the sermon, preacher! Connor, just shoot this son-of-a-bitch already.” The Spider huffed.

“Just follow your heart, son. I have faith in you.”

You slowly crept behind the front pew, gun in hand and eyes lasered onto Connor’s gun.

With a few trembling breaths and shaky hands, Connor lowered it and faced Eric. “I can't do it, Doyle. I'm sorry.” He said, dropping the gun.

Doyle sighed. “I'm sorry, too, kid. I can't allow weakness, not when I've just taken control.”

As he pulled out a gun, Father Frank pulled Connor backwards and behind him, stepping in front.

“No!” He yelled as Doyle fired the gun.

Straight into his heart.

You shot Doyle in the stomach, rendering him useless as you kicked away his gun. He wouldn’t die, though he would hurt.

“Hands up. Get down on the ground.” You told Connor, trying to be firm but gentle as he did exactly as you asked.

“Father!” Natasha yelled, rushing to his side. “No, no, no, you idiot! The bloody hell were you thinking?!”

“This is Unit 831 at St. Morgan's Church. We need two ambos, code 4.” You called into your phone, putting the phone down but letting it continue.

“Don't go anywhere, you moron!” Natasha growled at Father Frank, his suit quickly becoming sticky with blood as she put pressure on the front and back of his chest.

“It's okay. I'm not afraid of dying.” Father Frank muttered, spitting out some blood.

“Well, you should be. It's really boring where you're headed.” She said, pulling off her jacket and pressing it against his chest.

“I hope so. I've had enough excitement for one life.” He chuckled.

“Stop talking like that. You've got more to do here. You've got more people to annoy.” She said, her voice becoming shaky.

“Pressure on the wound, Natasha.” You told her, keeping your gun facing Doyle.

“I am!” She growled. “Just come on, Frank, stay with me, stay with me.”

He groaned as she adjusted him in her grip, time ticking by as all they could do was wait for an ambulance. Natasha had no first aid experience, and you didn’t have any equipment necessary for such a wound.

“Oh, uh... at first… I didn't understand why God put you in my path. But then it hit me.” He chuckled, blood spilling onto the cuffs of Natasha’s long sleeve shirt.

“Maybe... He put me in yours.”

“I… highly doubt it. He gave up on me a long time ago.”

“You're wrong, Natasha. Remember… your father... ha-has- has a plan.”

“My father?” She asked, confused.

“Yeah.”

She realised what he meant. “You know?”

Lightning flashed and thunder clapped above the church as she looked at the blood spilling beneath Father Frank. Though when she went to speak to him again, his eyes were in the back of his head, lying limply.

“Frank? Frank!” She yelled, still keeping pressure on the wound.

Though it was futile.

“Frank.” She whispered, lying him down on the ground.

Tears pricked her eyes as she closed his, looking up at the ceiling briefly before her sadness became anger. Frank was a good man, a loving father figure to Connor, but someone preyed on him.

“Natasha…” You murmured, trying to get her attention.

She looked over her shoulder at Doyle, blood seeping into his shirt and zip-up hoodie. “Time to pull the legs off The Spider.” She seethed as she walked over, picked him up and held him two feet off the ground by her hand around his neck.

“Natasha, stop!” You yelled as Doyle choked.

“Why did you do this?”

“I don't know.”

“Why?”

“He was bringing too much heat!”

“Why?! WHY?!”

Doyle’s choking began to grow quiet, his hands weakly scratching at Natasha’s hand on his neck.

Natasha, stop. Father Frank wouldn't want this.” You said, your breath shaky as you saw the scorned woman.

“Stop.”

She yelled out in anguish and let Doyle drop to the floor, not caring for his safety as his legs crumpled beneath him and he gasped for air.

You quickly came to her, holstering your gun as ambulance and police arrived outside. “Natasha…”

Her whole body went still. Her eyes didn’t blink, and her chest barely moved.

You watched her retreat out of the church towards the crime techs, speaking her part of the scene before you did the same. After what seemed like half an hour, you watched Natasha leave the scene in her car, with one of her valets at the wheel.

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Resting at home with Steve on the couch beside you, you turned the TV off and sighed. Steve, I know I wanted to talk, but, um... my mind, it's just…”

“Somewhere else?” He murmured, looking at you with a small smile.

“Yeah.”

He sighed. “Yeah, mine, too.”

“Can we do this another time?” You asked, smiling softly.

“Yeah. No problem, Y/N.” He answered, gently kissing your forehead.

He agreed to stay at the house to watch Peggy whilst you drove to Lux. You had seen the emotion in Natasha’s face, how hard her heart had shattered when Frank died.

As you entered the club, you smiled at the security guards who knew you by memory now. You casually made your way to the elevator, dressed in your work clothes but jacket in hand. As it opened, you smiled gently as the keys to Knocking On Heaven’s Door played from the piano.

You watched her for a moment, listening to how she played. The liquor in her glass told you she’d been there either for a moment or for hours, since there was a bottle beside the glass.

You were tempted to hum along but instead put your jacket down and walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to get her attention.

She immediately stopped playing and looked at you - with every ounce of attention she had.

“Hi.” You said softly, your hair hanging down like a beautiful waterfall for the redhead to admire.

She didn’t know what to say for a little while, but when you sat beside her on the piano chair she spoke. “Bit late for a new case, isn't it?”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “I'm not here for a case. I'm here for you.”

“Oh. Really?” She smirked, leaning slightly towards you as she tried to use her mojo.

“Yeah. Thought you could use a friend.” You murmured, gently brushing some hair out of her face with a focused expression before looking at her again.

She exhaled softly before clearing her throat. “Do you play?”

“Mm. No. No, I don't.” You replied with a light smirk.

“Come on, you must know something.” She insisted.

“No. Uh... All right, well... let me see. I had three years of lessons… and this is all I remember.” You said, beginning to play the melody to Heart and Soul.

Natasha laughed heartily. “Surely, you must be joking.”

You stopped, shaking your head at her with a cheeky grin before playing again. To Natasha, you had the funniest little expression of focus, your eyes carefully looking at the keys to remember.

“Alright, then.” She muttered, beginning to play the accompaniment to it.

Through the night, you sipped on her drink and she gladly refilled it when necessary. Fatigued and warm from both the alcohol and Natasha, she took you to her bed and let you rest in it for the night.

“Goodnight, malyshka.” She gently kissed your forehead, heading out to her balcony for a smoke.

She looked out onto the marvellous landscape of the city, lifting her lighter to the end of her cigarette but it would not light. In frustration, she threw the lighter off of the balcony, not caring who or what it hit when it landed.

She glared up at the sky. "You... you cruel, manipulative bastard! Was this all part of Your plan? It's all just a game to You, isn't it? Well, I know punishment, and he did not deserve this." She gestured to her sleeves and the bottom of her shirt, covered in blotches of Father Frank's blood.

"He followed Your stupid rules and it still wasn't fucking good enough! So what does it take to please You? Break Your rules and you fall! Follow them and you still lose?! Doesn't matter whether you're a sinner! Doesn't matter whether you're a saint! Nobody can win, so what's the point?!"

She leaned her elbows on the balcony railing, her head folding down into her chest. "What's the fucking point?"

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As midnight struck across town in a 24/7 diner, Malcolm sat with six plates of food around him and two empty milkshake glasses, another only half-full.

“Enjoying the life I gave you?” Yelena’s deep voice popped up from next to him, giving him a fright.

“Hey... did food taste this good before I died? ‘Cause I don't remember it being this friggin' delicious.” He chuckled, the angel beside him looking him straight in the eye.

“I don't care what you're doing with your new life, Malcolm... except for what I've asked of you. What's taking so long?” She questioned lightly, like she was his friend.

“Come on, come on, chill out, Yelenalady. Here, have some waffles.” He smirked, sliding over a plate of three waffles with strawberries and cream piled on top, though slightly melted.

After a flash of lightning outside, she was whispering right in his ear in a taunting voice. “Do you want to go back, Malcolm? Because I can make that happen.”

She watched the fear in his posture grow, his appetite slowing as he held a burger up to his mouth but didn’t bite it. “Yes… you're remembering it now, aren't you? I bet your 30 seconds in Hell felt like 30 years.”

Her voice became stern. “Imagine what eternity would feel like.”

“I'm sorry. Okay? Sorry. Look… I got it. An untraceable gun. It won't come back to me. I'm ready now.” He stammered out, showing a small pistol that had been removed from evidence, still in its bag.

“Good.” She smiled, patting his shoulder gently.

He cleared his throat. “So who do you want me to kill again?”

“Her name... is Natasha Romanoff.”

#smalls words #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasharomanoff angst #natasharomanoffxyn #natasharomanoff x reader #natasharomanoffimagine #natasharomanoff #devil of my word #domw au #devil!natasha romanoff #detective!reader

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twc-thoughts-you-didnt-ask-for · 5 years ago

Note

yoooo can you tell me abt the detective in your header? n can i also ask how you like to make ocs? like, when i make characters i usually take one of the ugliest parts of me n one thing abt me that is nice then just build them up from there. whenever i think of making twc detectives i usually pick an li first and ask myself, "what kind of person would i think make a/n/f/m happy" then build it up from there, i kno the detectives will be compatible regardless but i love the idea of pairing f (1/2)

(2/2) with someone genuine and trusting so f wouldn't have to go througj the "being hurt cause the detective chose to hide their relationship" thing, idk im just really passionate about twc and it's nice to see a blog like this, pls keep it up :)

Apologizing in advance for the long post, I’m on mobile and don’t know if you can do a “read more” on there.

I am working on changing the art in the profile picture because I just changed how she looks lol

Honestly, I’m really not well versed in making OCs for things I’m a fan of. I can only think of my detective and an apprentice (The Arcana related) and that’s about it.

My detective is really well rounded personality wise, I think, that she really works with any of the members of UB. Mason was my first route, so initially I made my detective super friendly and optimistic because I LOVE couples that are just complete opposites of each other. It just so happens that my detective was like one size fits all to me, whereas I usually make one OC per route specific to each character.

After having the mindset from the first play through of what she looked like and how she would respond, the personality traits just stuck. I also realized that it suited most of UB for me.

For Adam, he’s so short with everybody and distant, that I really liked the idea of having a detective that took that in stride and was warm towards him to soften his edges. I also like the dynamic of them being the perfect duo in any situation. Whatever one isn’t equipped for, the other one can handle. Especially since they’re both leaders.

For Nate, I really liked my detective because she shared the same views as him on a lot of things. Nate is pretty unique in his kindness and morals and it doesn’t really seem that most of UB agrees with his ideals so I think he would revel in someone who did. I really want Nate to recieve all the warmth he puts out into the universe. 🥺

For Felix, it more or less the same as Nate in terms of needing kindness. For me, not only does Felix need a partner I’m crime, but he needs someone that he can bask in the warmth of. My detective is definitely silly enough to join in on antics, but she’s also caring enough to see when he just needs someone to be with.

For Mason, I kind of already said the background on that. I love opposites attract and there’s something about him seeing this ball of sunshine and being like “pls no anything but that” when he has feelings for her has me weak. Based on his reactions to certain options, he also gets really thrown off by genuineness and kindness so I want him to have someone who are those things. I think Mason needs someone who can see past face value, endure the resistance he puts up, and asks nothing from him.

I think the idea of kindness being strength is something that all of UB will come to appreciate and acknowledge in time (save N who is already been knew lol)

#again sorry for such a long post #i am tempted to go into more detail on my detective if people want to hear it lol

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save-the-villainous-cat · 3 years ago

Text

#12

Their hands were shaking.

The hero had spotted the villain and all their body could manage to do, was making their own hands shake.

Unsurprisingly, the villain was on their favourite rooftop to cause mayhem. Surprisingly, they were alive.

“You!” the hero said, no, shouted. With a turn of their head, the villain made the hero almost stop. They looked beautiful and healthy. They looked alive.

And they smiled. They had the brightest of smiles, almost addicting, almost enough to make the hero forget how hurt they were.

“Me?” the villain asked ever so innocently. They turned fully around and stood up from where they let their feet dangle over the edge of the building. They had something casual about them, just as they always had.

No.

This wasn’t the villain. This couldn’t be them. Half a year ago, they had taken their last breath in the hero’s arms. Now, they were standing in front of them, breathing anew.

The hero was on the verge of tears by now. Something poisonous started to grow in their throat. If this was the villain and no hallucination nor projection of some kind…

“You!” the hero repeated, more broken than before. They stopped in front of the villain, tempted to slap them across the face. To stop themselves from doing such a stupid thing, the hero clenched their hands into fists. The amount of emotions that swept over them was simply too much.

Then, the villain touched them.

They raised their hand and went over the hero’s cheek with their thumb. They even found apparently enough compassion to wipe a tear away. Their skin on the hero’s was the only thing they had been wishing for the past few months. And now that they had precisely what they wanted, they realised in the exact moment, in the sheer rawness of this abstract branch of possibility, that this, was in fact real.

Absurdly real. But this was them.

“Hero, I am sorry-”

“You left me.”

This was the only explanation. This was the only possibility. A cheap trick enough villains in this city had done before.

They hated the villain for being so arrogant. They hated them for leaving them. Through their blurred vision they could make out the few details in the villain’s face they loved so much. The hero cursed themselves for noticing.

“What did you do? Fake your own death?” The villain’s face adopted something deeply sad. Something, the hero had never seen before. Unless they looked into the mirror, still two months after the villain’s “death.”

“Actually, I died. Leaving someone implies there is some kind of choice in the first place. People tend to leave because staying is worse. However, dying isn’t usually something you get a say in.” Smart ass. As so often. They stepped towards the hero, directly into their personal space and their stupid little heart started to break when their nemesis spoke the next words. “Believe me, I would have never left you if I had been given a choice.”

The hero didn’t answer. How were they supposed to?

They just wanted to hold the villain and never let go of them.

“Someone brought me back to life two days ago, that’s all I know. I woke up perfectly fine, as if all had been a bad dream. At first, I thought it was. I was laying in my own bed, nice and clean. Everything was alright. I had a small headache, nothing else. But when I stepped into my apartment, I noticed the dust first. Then, l I turned my phone on and discovered I had lost the last six months of my life.” Oh. Oh.

“I don’t know who that someone is, though. I thought you did it but if you had that kind of power, I think I would have woken up sooner.” That was correct. They would have.

The hero’s muscles relaxed and their brain jumped into detective mode.

Someone with the power to resurrect the dead, running around waking up a villain out of all people seemed rather…deadly. How could someone like this go by unnoticed?

Maybe they hadn’t. Maybe, this was the first time.

Before they could lose themselves in a spiral of thought, the hero looked at the villain again.

The hero’s anger abated when the villain’s innocence dawned on them. They hadn’t betrayed them. They hadn’t even lied to them. They had been killed and woken up a few months after.

This wasn’t even remotely plausible. But the hero was ready to solve this puzzle.

They had always been a fan of whodunnits, anyway.

#writing snippet #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #not satisfied with that one. at. all #I’ve had better days

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miizpah · 4 years ago

Text

daddy | suna rintarou

anon asks : Idk if you are taking requests 🥺! But was thinking of a suna x reader fic where they try for kids. I think daddy suna would be so cute with kids 😭🤚🏼

post timeskip ‼️

tw. breeding kink.

authors note : 🥺 requests are always open 🥺 and not me in the middle of changing up my writing theme and style 😖 this is probably the tamest request i’ve gotten, and i’m actually excited for this. daddy suna? stop b4 i froth into orbital. idk if you’ve wanted this smutty, but i literally can’t just write fluff 😔 pls enjoy!

not me changing up my writing style, i’ve been practicing with actually adding in some details and imagery — can’t believe english was my best subject 🙄

If being honest, you had always loved kids. Their tiny little fists and small pudgy feet, and the way they would run to their loved ones in pure excitement. It always clenched at your heart, making you loose your breath and your head becoming lightheaded. You wanted that, to have your own kids running up to you in excitement, screaming your name and hugging your legs. It was wholesome, beautiful, and you were a sucker for wholesome things.

You’ve thought of bringing it up with Rintarou, your want for children. You had the space, living in a big house with multiple spare rooms and baths, big open space for the living room and an even bigger backyard for the children to play. You had it all mapped out, really, the rooms you would need to baby proof, the room that you would set up as their nursery. Hell, you've already picked out a unisex theme for your baby's room. But, despite all of that, you had no clue what Rintarou would say.

He was in his prime, a pro volleyball player for the Reijins, he spent more time practicing and traveling for games than he did stay at home. And, you were only mildly okay with that fact. You too had a demanding job, and while you didn't travel as much as Rintarou, you still traveled.

Which brought you to your next thought. Both of you were too busy to have children, his job was demanding, your job was demanding, the baby would be more demanding. This was the only clear reason you were holding back on asking Rintarou on how he felt about children. Well, that and you’re kind of scared of what he would say. You knew some men would run at the first sign of responsibility, your dad being one, and you really did not want to put your marriage on the --

You shook your head at that dumb thought. He married you, he wouldn’t have married you if he didn’t want the responsibility of possible children in the future.

Sighing to yourself, you look at the clock in your home office, deciding that starting on dinner now would be much better than later. You submitted your response to your boss via email, powering down your desktop and exiting your office.

Hmm, what should I cook? You thought absentmindedly. Wait, I should... You smirk.

Only thirty minutes later, dinner was finished and set on the table, and you began to execute your plan.

...

“I’m home,” the tired voice of Rintarou came from the foyer. He stepped out of his training shoes clumsily, slipping into his house slippers before dragging himself inside the house fully. His hand clutched the straps of his gym bag loosely, eyes more hooded than usual.

He searched around for his pretty wife, looking into the living room, only finding your phone and the tv on playing some western movie with a... clown? He searched the kitchen and dining room, finding the dining table set and hot food steaming from dishes. It smelt delicious, and almost restored his energy, almost.

On the way to your room, he dropped his gym bag in the wash room, before dragging himself up the stairs. “Y/N?” He called.

“Rin?” Your voice was muffled, but could easily be detected. “I’m in our room!”

The room door was pushed open, revealing his pretty wife, in the middle of sliding on a black satin night gown. Rintarou paused in the doorway, seemingly seeing his energy levels rise up quickly. You noticed, grinning slyly to yourself before turning around.

“Welcome home, Rin,” you smile coyly. “How was was practice?” The night gown you wore was on the shorter side, allowing your supple thighs to be seen. Underneath the gown, you wore a red lingerie, with thigh straps connecting to the thong. You knew how much he loved seeing you in red.

“It was... It was fine,” Rintarou struggled a bit, eyes never leaving the way your breasts seemed to just sit there. His mouth watered. “What’s all this?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, looking down at your attire. “Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. Get showered, Rin, dinner won’t be hot for long.” With a kiss on his cold cheek, you sashayed away.

I could bring it up during dinner. You thought with a firm nod.

Rintarou’s eyes were hot on your skin, never once looking down as he ate his food. His hair was damp from his shower, and he had forgo putting on a shirt, which he knew would make you go slightly feral. It wasn’t your fault that you liked to admire your husband’s hard work, via his abs.

“So,” you started, sipping from your glass. “What all did you do at practice today?” You ask, sitting the glass down and finally meeting his narrowed eyes. You could practically see the desire rolling off of him.

“Serving,” he humored you, bringing his chopsticks to his mouth and eating the meat and rice. He chewed exaggeratingly slow, eyes locked onto yours, finally he swallowed. “A bit of blocking, I’m working on a new technique.”

“Oh? And, will I see this new technique?” You sit your chin on your palm, sitting your chopsticks down and giving him your full attention.

“You will,” he nodded, smirking slightly. “At the game on Sunday.”

“Hey, no fair,” you whined, lips pouting slightly. “I want to be the first of your fans to see the new technique.” You were joking, trying to lighten the suffocating mood.

Rintarou rolled his eyes, waving you off. “Number one fan behavior.” You giggle at that, leaning back in your seat. “And, you? How was your day?”

“I had to finish my project today,” you answer. “Not to be overly cocky, but it was perfect if I do say so myself. Boss will just have to give me that promotion.”

“It was that good?” He finished off the last of his food, nursing his glass of wine.

“It wasn’t just good, baby.” You said, a smirk on your lips and pride in your eyes. You were passionate about your job, and with that promotion, you would become director of your own branch. “It was perfect.”

If you became director, you wouldn’t have to travel anymore, you could even work from home. It was perfect. You had to get that promotion.

Before long, both of you had finished off your drinks, washed and put away the dishes, and found yourself lounging in the living room. It was quiet, the only sound being the tv playing a western reality show, Americans were crazily entertaining.

Rintarou was rubbing slow circles with his thumb on your smooth, hairless leg, which hadn’t been hairless early. His eyes were trained on his phone. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Hey,” you said, quietly but enough to get his attention. He only hummed, eyes not leaving his phone. “What do you think about kids?”

Rintarou looked over to you almost instantly, a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He almost looked feral. “Right now? Is this a new way for asking for sex?”

“What?” A laugh startled out of you. “No! I’m saying I want to have your babies.”

“But that entitles sex? Just say you want sex.”

“Oh my God... I want to have kids, little fucking people running around our house calling us mommy and daddy.”

“...I heard you the first time,” Rintarou looked away. “But we have to have sex for that.”

You take in a deep breath, eyes rolling. “Listen, Rin. I know we have to have sex, but I am asking you do you want kids?” You explain simply.

“With you, I want lots of kids.” He looked back to you, eyes wide and honest.

Your heart clenched, painfully. A breathtaking smile appearing on your lips. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now come ‘ere, we need to do the sex.”

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What’s the best position to get pregnant in?”

“I-”

“You know what, who gives a fuck? I’ll just plug your hole or something.”

“I’m- What the hell goes through your mind?”

Laid against the cotton sheets, you look downward as Rintarou slides his hands against your thighs, tugging on the thigh straps harshly and causing them to snap back. A soft moan escape your lips, the small twinge of pain being the start of what was next to come.

“So pretty, baby, got all dressed up for me, hm?” His words are hot against your lower stomach, placing a teasing kiss above your pelvis. “Silly little wife, tempting her husband all night.”

You whimper, legs spreading a bit wider as he settled himself between your thighs. His fingers hooking underneath your garter belt, easily unbelting it and throwing it away. His kisses trail down further, pressing a soft kiss against your clothed heat. “You smell so good, angel.”

“I need you, Rin...” You whine, faintly wiggling your hips.

“Patience, silly wife.” His hands grip your thighs, spreading them as he sat on his knees. “You’re soaking through your panties, baby.” A hand comes down, lightly slapping your clothed cunt. You whimper, bringing a hand down and gripping his wrist. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“Please, Rin. Just fuck me already!” You whine loudly, moving your hips against his palm.

“Shit, okay,” he pulled his hand away, using both to pull your panties and thigh straps off. His eyes fluttered once your sopping cunt was revealed, messy and dripping, and just for him.

You can only hum in appreciate at the stretch in your thighs as Rintarou pushed them to your chest, folding you into a mating press. Within seconds, he’s pushing into your cunt, stretching you wide. You could only lay there and take it, your gummy walls tight around his cock.

Head falling back against the pillows, you moan as you feel him still sinking into you. The position was new to both of you, and was hitting spots that you’ve never felt before. Your hands were gripping his biceps tightly, eyes fluttering close and mouth falling open as more moans spilled.

“D-deep,” you muttered breathlessly, opening your eyes and locking eyes with his. “So good, Rin~”

He smirked before leaning down and slotting your mouths together, swallowing each other noises as he finally sheathed deeply inside of you, kissing your cervix softly. Your tongues tangled together, causing your salvias to mix and dribbling between you both.

Steadily, he pulled back, cock dragging against your tight walls. Lips still locked, he pushed back in, swallowing your cries of pleasure. You pulled away then, licking your lips and taking a deep breath.

Head bowed, and eyes locked on your drooling cunt, he started to thrust at a slow pace, seemingly fascinated at seeing his cock sink into you at a new angle. One of your hands came up and tangled into his dark locks, head falling back against the pillows as you slowly fell deeper and deeper into a delirious state.

“Fucking sexy the way your messy cunt take my cock,” he looked up then, your hand falling from his hair. “My messy wife, hm?”

“Rin, faster-” Was all you could say, the slow drag of his cock fucking you into a state of dumbness.

He smirked then, liking the state you were in. His hips pulled back, and with a sharp thrust, he was fully sheathed again.

Breath warm against your cheek, he began to fuck into you like a man possessed, his hands enclosing around your wrists and pressing them against the bed. Your moans mixing with the lewd sounds emitting from your cunt, creating a symphony that only proved to make you both feral.

“Going pump you full, angel, shit.” Rintarou whispered breathlessly against your ear, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine, moans growing louder. “Fill you to the brim with my cum, going to feel it for days.”

“Yes,” you keen, gummy walls fluttering around his cock. “Pump me full, Rin. Want your cum so bad.”

“Shitshitshitshit,” he groaned, leaning back and pulling out. Easily, he turned your body around, dragging you to your hands and knees, and entering your cunt in all the same second.

You didn’t have enough time to register before he’s hammering into you, causing you cry out loudly, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck, fuck!” His hands bruised against your hips, holding them tightly as he used them as leverage to pistol into you.

“Gonna fuck so many babies into you,” he spat, slapping your ass cheek harshly. “Gonna look so beautiful swole with my child, fuck!”

You whine loudly, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Rin, I wanna cum!”

He seemed to easily find your spot, the one spot that never fails to have your body shaking, muscles tensing up, and you screaming his name.

“Ah, ah, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Rin!” Your fluttering walls tighten around his cock, body tensing as you cum. Your hands gripping the sheets so tightly, head bowed against the bed and back arched down.

“Damn, you’re so sexy, angel.” He groaned, spilling deep within your cunt. Both of you left breathless. “Don’t move, and you better not spill an inch of my cum.” He said, slowly pulling his cock free.

You sat there, catching your breath, and clenching your walls as tight as you could without relaxing. You flinch when you feel a cold metal rub against your sensitive clit. “Relax,” Rin muttered as he pushed the plug against your hole, you did as told, and slowly he pushed the plug inside to the hilt.

“Shower,” you groan, standing with the help of Rintarou.

“Shower sex?”

“Rin, you just plugged me.”

“You have another two holes.”

“I will kill you.”

“So... no head?”

note — not me tryna to reference a vine at the end, lmaooooo. i hope anon liked this, :)!! i’m not the best at breeding kinks. 😔 not edited 😔

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #✨.requests.#🌚.dirty #suna smut #suna x reader #suna rinataro #tw.breeding

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

Note

I agree that Aro definitely is not straight, but if he is gay and not bi, why window shop for a wife? If he wanted a partner for some reason, why not find a male one? It was a different era, yes, but are vampires really homophobic?

So, for this meta, we’ll have to get historical. Before we do, keep in mind that while I know Ancient Greece better than most, having studied it (introductory level classes only, mind), I don’t know it well enough to be any kind of authority on the matter. History, more than any other discipline I can think of, is not respected as an academic field, and people with poor to no understanding of historical hermeneutics will make very bold assumptions that they then have too poor understanding of history to realize are bullshit. This is a disclaimer because I don’t want to join in on the chorus of authoritative-sounding people on the internet with no verifiable credentials who spout things about history that are then taken to be gospel truth by readers because the author made it sound good.

More, I say this because your question is asking me to explain the morality and social norms surrounding a character from 14th century BC Greece. And this man would not, for the record have been Ancient Greek, he would have been Mycenaean Greek. Very quick history lesson: Mycenaean Greece was a flourishing society that suffered a downfall, Greek civilization fell into its very own dark ages, until around 800 BC when Greeks began forming what would become the Ancient Greece we know and love. This in turn means that I can’t very well read up on the marital and sexual norms of Ancient Greece when I’m researching for Aro, because he was five hundred years old already when Ancient Greece became a thing.

And your question concerns cultural history. And for that we’re going to have to look at how we know the things we know about history. How history is studied.

Historians have two kinds of sources: archeological findings and written records. (I’m aware that oral tradition, like the one carried by the Aborigine people, isn’t technically one of these, but to my understanding it’ll be treated to similar analysis as written records, which leaves us with the two types of sources standing strong.) These sources are analyzed, and we apply various theories and models onto them to make sense of the context they were written in. The more sources we have, the more we can refine or eliminate these theories or models.

More, history is an ever evolving field. There are movements and schools of thought that influence how history is written (marxism in history, that is, history as a class struggle, was heavy in the 60′s and I think until the 80′s), which means that how a certain culture will be perceived today is not the way it was perceived a few decades ago, nor will it be perceived the same way a few decades in the future.

You see why I am daunted by you asking me to give you an answer about sexual and marital norms for a guy who lived 3000 years ago, and I hope you’ll understand why I feel this word vomit is necessary.

Now, the danger with Mycenaean Greece is that it’s a society it’s easy to feel we know a lot about, because it was the precursor to Ancient Greece, and we know a lot about the latter. But, first of, the reason why we know as much as we do about the Ancient Greeks is the Romans. The Greeks wrote about their history, their philosophy, their government, and they wrote plays and told stories. However, that was two thousand years ago and their writings would have been lost to the sands of time if the Romans hadn’t idolized and sought to emulate their society. This meant preserving their written records. This tradition was carried on by the Christians, in part because Hellenistic philosophy was incorporated into Christian philosophy. We have neo-platonism to thank for Christian asceticism, the “mind over matter” cornerstone.

What I’m getting at with all of this is that we know the insane amount about Ancient Greece that we do because of some very unique circumstances, and so we can make very sophisticated theories about what the Hellenistic world was like. It’s still detective work, but not Pepe Silvia type of detective work. This is not the case for Mycenaean Greece. We know a comparative lot about Mycenaean Greece, considering how long ago it was, but there is very much we don’t know.

With Mycenaean Greece, we are dealing with a lot more uncertainty. We haven’t deciphered one of their two writing styles, and a lot of the text we do have is very fragmentary. Coming up with detailed societal models for Mycenaean Greece, and for the 14th century BC specifically, is... well I don’t know enough about what this society left behind to know what historians have to work with, but I imagine they have their work cut out.

More, I haven’t studied this at all, which means that any attempt on my end to research this would be stumbling around in the dark.

One example: the Illiad and the Odyssey, while composed around the 8th century BC, were set in the early 12th century BC, which is nearly Aro’s time period. The Illiad depicts a homoerotic relationship between Patroclus and Achilles, and both works depict a lot of matrimonies, so I wish I could use it as a source. However, not only would this time gap alone make these sources questionable, but there’s also the matter of the Illiad and the Odyssey being transmitted orally, from bard to bard. Changes were made over the years. For example, the technology described in the Illiad is from several eras, as the warriors will be using bronze weaponry in one book and then switch to iron in the next. This game of telephone is what happens when a story is transmitted orally from person to person. So, while it’s tempting to use these works as a sort of reference point, the possibility, likelihood even, that the bards made adjustments to keep the old story entertaining for their contemporary audience is strong.

For this reason, I can’t give you any kind of historically correct analysis on what the marital or sexual mores would have been like in Aro’s time. Even if the knowledge is out there, I don’t have it.

But I can say this, spouses have for the longest time been partners. Men and women got married, even in the gay, gay, Ancient Greece, not just to have children but because they complemented each other, they were partners. Men needs wives, and women needs husbands. And a partner was canonically exactly what Aro was looking for, feelings had nothing to do with it:

After Caius and Marcus had found their romantic attachments, Aro decided to find his own, although rather than finding his other half in another vampire Aro decided to create his own instead. Aro had a certain type of woman in mind and he found what he was looking for in Sulpicia. He successfully courted her and she came to fall in love with him.

As for vampires being homophobic, I think that is for another post about what culture they bring with them into their new life. But to be brief I’ll say that while the individual vampire can be homophobic, there can be no homophobia at an institutional level because vampires have no institutions. And it’s the institutional homophobia that gets ya. It’s what the whole fight for gay rights has been about: secure legislation against discrimination and that protects gay people. (The right to marry and protection from employees firing LGBT employees comes to mind as examples of this.)

So, no one could force Aro to marry a woman.

And I’d go into a rant here about how the prospect of gay marriage, of even identifying as homosexual (the labels homosexual, bisexual, and heterosexual are very new and, to my recollection, were born off of the Western psychiatric discipline as men who slept with other men were diagnosed with homosexuality. I imagine a man from the Antiquity would be confused at the notion that just because he likes to sleep with dudes he shouldn’t get married to a woman), was unthinkable up until very recently, but I just made this obscenely long rant about how I can’t really make these kinds of guesses, so I’m not gonna.

I think being married to a woman and then banging hot dudes who came along suited Aro just fine.

Also, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but - I’m going to encourage history asks. Because this fandom has a bit of a history problem, as a lot of the characters are from different time periods and many feel unsatisfied with the way Meyer handled that. I am by no means a historian, but I know several of the historical periods the characters of Twilight are from well enough to make educated guesses.

So, hit me with your worst.

#WHEW #aro #sulpicia #aro/sulpicia #history #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #twilight #this is very long and I'm tired so I didn't proofread #GERONIMO as they say #hope there are no embarrassing mistakes #also yes I know I just made a pretentious ass of myself #but i'm writing twilight meta on tumblr so i left my dignity behind long ago #doktrajediscovery #ask

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porcelaintoybox23 · 3 years ago

Text

A more thorough review of Sk8 the Infinity

I’ll be focusing on the characters and their development. There will also be spoilers.

1. Gender ratio

Why isn’t there a single female character of substance? Maybe I’m too old to still be holding out the hope that creators will realize men can empathize with women. I desperately hoped that Miya might be a girl so there could be some variety. None of the female characters are adequately developed or focused on. We see no actual grief from Langa’s mother who lost her husband. She only exists to be a sort of soundboard for him. Reki’s family is pretty much dull until his sister points stuff out to him.

The detective…

Even Adam’s aunts could use more development.

Women in this show only existed as prizes or tools.

2. General Character Development

The show, now that the ending haze has worn off a bit, didn’t really develop anyone. Like there was progress, but it felt hollow. Part of me wants to blame the 12 episode limit but I don’t think that’s an excuse. Time was not used adequately. I feel like most of our character can be boiled down to a few words. Langa: Reki Reki: Skating Tadashi: Ainosuke-sama Shadow: Flower shop manager

I find it a disservice to reduce these characters to being fully focused on other people. It limits their character progression and makes them one dimensional.

By the end of the show, I feel like Miya really didn’t have that much growth. Joe stayed the same. Langa, I feel, regressed, and Reki went through the most basic character arc in recent decades. I feel like Reki and Langa’s fight shouldn’t have lasted nearly four episodes out of 12. That time could’ve been used to develop everyone more.

3. Detailed Character Analysis

Reki: Reki was so boring and basic that I almost want him removed from the story entirely. I not going to sit here and lie by saying that the arcs in this show aren’t archetypal, but Reki’s in particular is not unique. He’s happy go lucky, positive, he wears his uniform differently, he’s not too smart or too dumb, etc. I do like him, but he’s so basic that it would be hard to dislike him. The most unique and interesting aspect of his character is his love of skateboarding. Reki clearly reads about the subject, he learns and studies, he LOVES everything about it. Reki brought me into the show and made me care. That is how wonderfully written his passion is.

Besides that…Reki feeling insecure and causing his friendship break up was too drawn out and boring. I want there to be some strife for Reki so he can grow, but I wish it was done in a more interesting manner. Maybe Reki could’ve told Langa directly, in a rage, that he felt insecure. Hell, if you want to keep the arc, make it shorter. Have those two make up a little sooner but let Reki take the time to rekindle his passion. The fight was boring and I knew it would be resolved, so it felt pointless. I’m not against tropes. Sometimes, the best part is seeing how each story executes them differently. Reki just fell flat. Of course he stands up for Miya, of course he gets jealous but comes around.

Langa: Baby boy, I do love this Canadian. Langa became one note towards the end. “Reki” this and “Reki” that…I understand it’s ship bait, I understand the story centers their relationship, but that’s no excuse to limit Langa’s character. I wish during the fight that Langa didn’t lose his passion for skating. I’d be fine if he enjoyed it a little less, but not to the point that was shown. I hate leaving a character’s development dependent on one person, it’s one of my biggest critiques of Fe3h. If anything happens with Reki, Langa will lose himself which is not the mark of a developed character. Show Langa and the rest of the gang more. Develop the relationship between him and his mother. I am an only child, I promise you the loss of 1/3 of my family would be devastating. We’re close knit and I’m sure the Hasewaga’s were too. Let Langa rebel a bit, let him be angry with Reki, let Adam tempt him a bit more to the dark side so when he frees Adam it’s more of a growth moment. Langa rekindled his passion racing Shadow, he wasn’t friends with Reki yet. He wanted to skate against Adam because he love the thrill of competition and getting better. Why does that all leave because of Reki?

Let Langa exist outside of Reki. That would make the pairing stronger. There really isn’t any complexity to it as is. As an introvert, I have been attached to one person but the show goes too far with it. I still have other connections. Miya literally agreed to be Langa’s catdog…why was that dropped? I also disliked Langa being too op at other things besides skating. We get it, Reki feels insecure, but this just makes Langa more basic.

Look me in the face and tell me what would change about Langa’s character if everyone but Reki wasn’t in the show. Replace Adam with any no name douche. Nothing. No one else affects Langa.

Adam: Adam is clearly the tertiary protagonist and probably had the best development in the show, though it wasn’t super great either. His backstory is entirely implied. I understand show don’t tell, but it was too much. Why did Adam “quit” skating? Why did it hurt him so much considering S was a thing and he clearly was practicing. Was it the loss of his friends? The pieces are there but… I had an inkling that Adam was the informant, but I kinda had hope he would lose his political career and be free from his creepy aunts. Adam isn’t evil, though I wish his ire toward Tadashi was better explained. Their relationship really needed more exploration. (It doesn’t fit his analysis but the “zone” concept was so weird…)

Cherry: honestly, I don’t have much criticism. I liked him and his aesthetic. I do wish there was more elaboration on if he and Adam made up.

Miya: baby boy #2. He does end up a bit one note, cocky younger kid who’s mean because he’s lonely. I love him but he’s basic and kinda disappears toward the end. Would’ve been nice to use those “fight” episodes to develop him. Reki also owes him an apology for abandoning him and shoving him. Like, bro. Miya is proof you can have someone retain their passion but feel sad that they lost their friends. Miya’s ex-friend suddenly talking to him again came so far out of left field you’d think it was Adam. Completely unearned and made no sense.

Joe: he exists…I don’t do muscle heads. He’s most interesting with Cherry and their dynamic is cute.

Tadashi: whoo boy this man does nothing. Why does he lobe skating? What got him into it? What did he do outside of playing with Adam?

I do not understand why he is so loyal to Adam. I don’t. It’s not shown and it’s honestly very weird. The moments where he starts to be interesting, he backs out and becomes a shadow again. He’s literally Langa 1.0, everything is about Adam for him. Dude, get a life.

Shadow: I do love him and I did want him to get the girl. He doesn’t really do anything…

Might’ve been nice to develop our main cast.

4. Updated Rating

8/10 overall, 9/10 for animation and art style

5. Final thoughts

It’s a good show and I do like it a lot. If there’s a season 2, I do hope some of my criticism is addressed.

Edit: I haven't deleted comments before, but if I see one more about "well the author is female" and "we don't need developed female characters because gay shipping" I will start. Women deserve to be developed. Choke

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #reki kyan #sk8 adam #langa hasewaga #shindo ainosuke #sk8 tadashi #joe sk8 #sk8 cherry blossom #shadow sk8 #miya chinen #sk8 spoilers #show review

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Note

31 from the fluff prompts with peter!!! (yes this is what i meant oops-)

my darling red! so happy you requested peter as this is my first peter fic!

yes i went way too into detail about baseball but it’s the first thing that came to mind-

pairing: peter stone x female!reader

prompt: “shut up before i kiss you”

warnings: none.

word count: 1.4k

****

“Are you kidding me? He has a no hitter through six innings, and as soon as he lets someone on first, which was actually due to an error by the shortstop, he gets pulled?” You threw your empty cup on the ground before turning to Peter.

He was silent, with a growing smirk on his face as you continued to ramble on about the coaching staff, or lack thereof, in your opinion.

“Great, now they’re putting this guy in? I know it’s early in the season, but he’s closed three games so far and he doesn’t even have a win.”

You and Peter were at Citi Field, watching the Mets go against the Phillies. You’d agreed to go to a game with him under one circumstance; you got to sit in the bleachers like regular people. No boxes, no special menu for the former starting pitcher. You wanted to experience the game like you always had growing up; with greasy hot dogs, and beers spilling all around you.

This was technically your first date with the ADA. According to Rollins, Peter had been trying to ask you out for weeks. Asking you to join him for drinks after a long case, offering to get dinner after a late night interrogation, but you said no every time, too invested in the case, or too oblivious to his motives.

It was a no brainer for you when he finally asked you to come to the game with him, on a date, he clarified, the two of you sharing a laugh over his failed past attempts. He’d been working with the unit for almost a year now, but it was weird to think of your job without him in the mix.

Although you were surprised that Peter was trying to take you on a date for months, it was him that now stood speechless as you critiqued every pitching change, stolen base, and balls that seemed to be just outside of the strike zone. “Christ, this guy couldn’t find the strike zone if it hit him in the face.”

What surprised him the most would have to be your vocabulary. He knew you could go off on a perp in interrogation, but he didn’t peg you for the profanity enduring type. But your passion for the game only made him feel warmer inside.

“Peter, he hasn’t cleared the plate once,” You started as the batter took his place on first base. “You’d think they’d approach the mound, at least try-”

“Would you shut up before I kiss you?” He interrupted you, the smirk on his face unbelievably teasing.

You turned to face him, silenced by his statement, a red flush starting to cover your face. But you recovered quickly, not ready to show your hand completely to the counselor.

“Peter Stone, I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“You wouldn’t be willing to make an exception for me?” He asked, eyes flickering to your lips for a brief second before locking on your eyes again.

You were certainly tempted. But you were also having too much fun.

“Maybe, if you joined in on my expert commentary, I could rethink my stance. I mean, I am at a baseball game with the former starting pitcher for the Cubs.” He rolled his eyes as I lightly shoved his shoulder. “C’mon, you know I’m right about that pitching move. And you’re just dying to tell me how smart I am for recognizing it.”

“Alright, alright, you are right about pulling the pitcher.” You smiled, shooting your hand into the air in victory. “But don’t let it get to your head. We have two and a half innings left, and like you said, you’re here with the former starting pitcher for the Cubs. I may know a thing or two more than you.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and you easily leaned into him. You couldn’t hide the smile growing on your face, even if you wanted too.

“Bring it on, Ace.”

****

“So I think we can both agree that you should be the new manager for the New York Mets,”

“Deal. But only if you sign on to be my pitching coach. And Noah Porter Benson is our number one starting pitcher.”

“Deal.” Peter smiled, and looked over at you.

After the game, the two of you took the subway from Queens back to Manhattan, when Peter insisted on walking you home. You only objected four times, but after he grabbed your hand and started leading the way to your apartment, you quickly shut your mouth.

You thought he would’ve let go of your hand after a few seconds. Instead, he laced your fingers together, and hadn’t let go in ten minutes.

The night had gone so smooth, never a lull in the conversation, due in large part to your inability to keep your coaching opinions to yourself. But Peter liked that about you; he liked that you didn’t shy away from him, or make him take charge of the night. Everything was so easy with the two of you. Everything just made sense.

When you approached your brick building, you let out a sigh. You really didn’t want this night to end.

“Let me walk you up,” He offered, clearly not done spending time together either.

You took the elevator, letting you off at the third floor to walk to your door. Peter still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“This is me. Lucky number nine.” You said as you stood in front of your door, turning to face Peter. He looked so soft in his jeans and crew neck, so much more relaxed than in his suits for the office.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” He started. “Thank you for finally agreeing to come on a date with me.”

You let out a laugh, while looking down at your intertwined hands. “Yeah well, I would’ve agreed sooner had I not been so blind to your intentions.”

“Well we can still make up for lost time.” He gave your hand a squeeze, and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Would you come to dinner with me Friday night, for a second date?”

“You sure you still want to spend time with me after tonight? I don’t shut up easily,” You teased, earning a grin from your handsome date.

“I’m sure. You keep me on my toes, detective.”

“Good. Because I’ve been rethinking that rule I have about first dates,” You took a step towards him, still leaving enough space for him to back out. But the red tinge on his cheeks told you he wouldn’t.

“Oh really?” He asked, letting go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist. It brought you closer to him, enough to see that his eyes held a little bit of green amongst the sea of blue.

He cocked his head to the side the slightest bit, as if to ask if this was okay. You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, a small nod to show you meant it.

When his lips met your own, they were soft, perfectly fitting together in a short, sweet kiss. He started to pull away, but you quickly pulled him back to your lips, not done with him just yet. You felt him smile into it, a little exhale of breath leaving his nose and tickling your upper lip. That made you smile, preventing you from staying together any longer.

You leaned back, removing your hands from around his neck to circle his waist, finally feeling the soft fabric of the blue crew neck.

“I’d say that made up for months of miscommunication.” He grinned, and you could only smile in response.

“Definitely.” Your eyes found the clock at the end of the hall, already eleven thirty. “As much as I’d love to talk all night about my coaching strategy, we both have to be in court early tomorrow morning.”

He bowed his head in disappointment, knowing you were right. Rollins and Carisi were testifying tomorrow and needed all the rest you could get.

“Then you’ll just have to save it for Friday.” He said and unwrapped himself from you. You held on another second, enjoying the warmth from his torso.

“I will. Now, go get some sleep. I’ll see you from the gallery tomorrow.”

“Okay. Make sure you keep your comments to yourself in there.” He joked, earning him a light smack to his chest. “See you in the morning.”

He leaned down and kissed your cheek, then lightly pecked your lips. “Sleep tight.”

You watched him walk back down the hall as you unlocked your door, a little dizzy from the charming effects of ADA Peter Stone.

****

#peter stone x female!reader #peter stone x reader #peter stone fic #law and order svu #jules writes shit ??

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emospritelet · 4 years ago

Text

Heatstroke - chapter 20

Last time, Gold and Lacey danced :)

Words: 2,331

[AO3]

The music kept playing. The Nolans breezed past them, moving in step with each other as though they’d been dance partners all their lives. David Nolan winked at Gold again, and Lacey bit her lip to hide a grin at the long-suffering expression it caused. She was beginning to feel more relaxed, which considering she was pressed up against the man she had a crush on was something of an achievement in her mind. Gold’s grip was firm on her waist, his hand warm in hers.

“What made you want to be a journalist?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Guess I’m a nosy bitch.”

Gold burst out laughing, head rolling back and she felt a lurch in her belly.

“People are interesting,” she said then. “Their lives, why they do what they do. I mean there’s unearthing scandals and exposing corrupt public figures, and that’s all good, but sometimes it’s nice to just document humans doing human stuff, you know?”

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly.

“I think I understand that,” he said. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

Lacey pulled a face.

“I probably spend way too much time drinking in bars,” she said. “But I guess you’re only young once, right?”

“I vaguely remember,” he said, in a very dry tone, and she clicked her tongue.

“Come on, you’re not old.”

“Tell that to my aching bones.”

Lacey stepped back immediately, looking him over.

“Oh, are you hurting?” she asked anxiously. “We can sit down, if you want.”

Gold shook his head, pulling her close again.

“I’m joking,” he said, turning her in a slow circle. “A little, anyway. I’m in no more pain than usual.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They fell silent for a moment, and Lacey smiled as she saw Astrid and Leroy waltz past. Leroy, it turned out, was a surprisingly good dancer.

“How did you injure your leg?” she asked, and Gold looked surprised.

“You don’t want to save that deeply personal question for Sunday?”

“Thought about it,” she confessed. “But it seemed appropriate to ask now.”

He nodded, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, as though he was wondering whether to answer.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing remotely newsworthy,” he said. “Merely a motorcycle, an icy road, and bad luck. Or good luck, depending on your point of view. I suppose I was fortunate that a ruined ankle was the worst I had to suffer. Physically, anyway.”

That comment made her curiosity grow, but she filed it away for the moment.

“Besides,” he added. “We were talking about you. Other than drinking with Miss Lucas, what are your interests?”

“You expecting me to admit to book-binding or basket-weaving, or something?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“I find I never know what to expect with you, Miss French.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” she said. “I work, I drink, I eat and I read. Pretty much it.”

“I’m almost certain that’s not true.”

“How did we get fixated on me, anyway?” she demanded. “How about you answer a few questions?”

A tiny grin twisted his mouth.

“I agreed to,” he said, his eyes glinting. “On Sunday. Tonight I want to hear about you.”

Lacey let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I run,” she said, and grinned at him. “The scenery around this town can be very interesting at times, you know?”

Gold gave her a very level look, as though unsure whether she was teasing him or not.

“I’m even worse a runner than I am a dancer,” he said, and she chuckled.

“You’re doing fine, but I take your point. I guess yoga might be more your thing. That’s another thing I like to do. Part of my morning routine.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you,” he said, and closed his eyes, looking pained. “I - I don’t mean I’ve been watching you, I’ve just - seen you in the garden, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I like it out in the open air,” she said. “I’ve even done it in the rain.”

A tiny grin appeared on his face, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“Sounds - invigorating,” he remarked.

“You can always come over and join in, if you like,” she suggested.

“Me?”

“Sure, why not?”

Gold looked down very pointedly before meeting her eyes again.

“Because I’m possibly the least flexible person in Storybrooke.”

“Then you’re the one that needs it the most,” she countered, and swatted his shoulder with her free hand, making him blink in surprise. “Come on! It would be good for you! The more you do it, the better it gets.”

Gold’s eyebrows twitched, and that twisted little smile appeared again.

“True of so many things in life, I find,” he murmured, and Lacey smirked.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Indeed it does.”

His voice had gone low and throaty, his grip tightening a little, and she could feel her heart thump, her breath quickening a little. She licked her lips, her eyes on his mouth. He was almost close enough to kiss.

“Oh, Mr Gold, there you are!”

A familiar and unwelcome voice cut through the tension between them, and Gold jerked his head upwards, mouth flattening. Lacey wanted to growl as Zelena West strode up to them, in a long green strapless dress with a thigh split, white teeth bared in a grin. Gold’s face had taken on an oddly closed expression, his eyes losing their light.

“I’m so delighted you could make it!” went on Zelena. “And dancing with Miss French! I always knew you were a charitable person!”

She smirked as she said it, which made Lacey bristle, before turning her attention back to Gold.

“I certainly hope you don’t intend to make this your last dance,” she said. “The night’s young, after all. Perhaps I can tempt you later.”

“I think one dance is really my limit,” said Gold coolly. “Thank you for your effusive welcome, Miss West. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss French and I were having a private conversation.”

Zelena let out a tinkling little laugh that made Lacey want to throw something over her.

“Ooh, be careful!” she said, in a sing-song voice. “Miss French might seem as though she’s just making conversation, and the next thing she’ll be poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and getting you to confess to all manner of things.”

“That would suggest she’s very good at her job,” said Gold, as Lacey opened her mouth indignantly. “However, other than attempting to school me on the merits of yoga, she’s been going easy on me. I detect no burning desire to get me to spill my darkest secrets this evening.”

“Wait for Sunday,” muttered Lacey, and his mouth twitched as though he was trying not to grin. Zelena rolled her eyes.

“Well, I insist on speaking to you later,” she said. “I doubt Miss French can hold your attention for long.”

She sauntered off, leaving Lacey staring after her in outrage.

“Miss West appears not to care for you too much,” said Gold mildly.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Lacey was still scowling after her, but his hand was warm on her waist as he pulled her back towards him. She caught the scent of his cologne, feeling his fingers splay out across the small of her back and then slide together as he tugged her close.

“She’s a woman of poor taste,” he murmured.

His body was very warm, and Lacey was feeling a little breathless. She licked her lips.

“She seems to like you well enough,” she said, and he chuckled deeply.

“That only proves my point.”

The music slowed to a stop, and for a moment they stood there in silence before Gold smiled a little awkwardly and stepped back, releasing her.

“See?” she said. “You can dance.”

“With you to hold me up, perhaps.”

“Details, details…”

Gold grinned at that, and Lacey felt her heart clench again. The music started up, a livelier tune, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You want to go again?”

“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” he said, in a dry tone. “Drink?”

“Please.” She grinned at him. “I can see David and Mary Margaret are calling it quits, too. I think I’ll go get to know them a little better.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin and bowed his head before turning on his heel and heading in the direction of one of the wait staff. Lacey watched him go, fully aware that she probably had, in Ruby’s words, ‘big pulsing cartoon hearts’ in her eyes.

The evening continued to go well. David and Mary Margaret were every bit as nice as they had seemed, and David seemed to be the only person in Storybrooke that Gold didn’t mind being teased by, however gentle the teasing might have been. Lacey was reluctant to pull herself away from Gold, but she was technically working, so she made sure to talk to plenty of other guests. She caught his eye on her a few times, and he glanced away whenever she turned to face him, causing David to nudge him with a grin and say something that made Gold close his eyes and sigh. It made Lacey bite back her own grin, and she wandered back over to watch the prize draw with Gold and the Nolans. The champagne was going to her head.

Once the prize draw was done—the top prize of a three-course dinner with champagne being won by Leroy—Zelena walked onto the stage to take the microphone as the applause was dying down. Beside her, Lacey felt Gold stiffen, as though he was apprehensive. As though he was waiting for something. She recalled Sidney saying that he thought the evening was about more than charity work, and across the room she saw him watching Zelena intently. Zelena bared her teeth in a wide smile, flicking back her reddish curls.

“Thank you all for coming and for making this event the incredible success it’s been,” she said, her voice carrying. “I think we can all agree that the food has been first class, so thanks to Granny’s Diner for providing it.”

Applause rang around the room, and Lacey joined in.

“Tonight’s event has been the work of months,” Zelena went on, “but seeing the smiles on all your faces and knowing that all the money raised tonight is going to such a good cause - well, it just fills my heart with joy!”

Mary Margaret shared a smile with David, and Lacey eyed Gold, who was staring at the stage with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I have to confess,” said Zelena, “that I have another reason to speak to you tonight.”

Gold made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, as though he was confirming something to himself. Lacey found her curiosity growing, and edged closer to him. Zelena had begun to pace slowly back and forth across the stage.

“Storybrooke has opened its heart to me ever since I came here,” she went on. “We’re a close community. A community based on good old-fashioned values. Friendship, and family. Neighbourliness. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to move here from New York and find a town so - so steeped in wonderful local traditions. So eager to welcome a stranger who felt that she had lost her way.”

She bowed her head a little, as though overcome by emotion. Lacey snorted quietly, but flattened her mouth as Zelena looked up again.

“You see, I’ve always wanted a life of service, a life of - of giving,” she said. “It’s why I’ve done so much for charities in the past. It’s why I’ve been organising these events since I came to Storybrooke. And yet - I feel that I could give more.”

She paused, shaking back her hair as she gazed around the room.

“I like to think that in my own, small way, I’ve helped this town through difficult times,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart with a self-deprecating smile. “And that’s why, after much soul-searching, I’ve made the decision to try to serve the town I’ve come to love so dearly in the best way I can.”

Another pause. Lacey had to admit that she had a talent for holding an audience’s attention. Zelena smiled, eyes widening with a hopeful expression.

“I have decided,” she said. “To run for Mayor of Storybrooke.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the audience, and a scattering of applause that rippled around the room. Lacey glanced at Gold, whose eyes had narrowed further, his mouth set in a grim line. Her eyes flicked to Regina Mills, who was looking shocked, lips parted and eyes wide. Her wife grasped her hand, leaning to whisper something in her ear, and Regina started before nodding and whispering something in return.

“I trust that I can count on the support of the many friends I’ve made since this town opened its heart to me,” said Zelena, in honeyed tones. “I have every faith that Storybrooke will prove to me once again that wishing for something hard enough can make dreams come true.”

She seemed to glance in Regina’s direction, but then smiled broadly.

“Thank you all,” she said. “Enjoy the rest of the night!”

More applause, and Zelena sauntered off stage as the music started up again.

“Well,” said Mary Margaret. “That’s - unexpected.”

“What’s the deal with the Mayoral elections?” asked Lacey.

“Regina’s run unopposed for the past few years at least,” said David.

“No one else wanted the job?”

“Pretty much.”

“Regina’s been Mayor as long as I can remember,” said Mary Margaret, looking puzzled. “Surely no one’s going to vote for Zelena over her?”

“Depends what she’s offering,” said Gold, in a grim tone. “Or what she can use to bring Regina down.”

He said that last in an undertone, and glanced at Lacey as he did so. She could feel curiosity surge in her. His eyes flicked away almost immediately, but she nodded to herself. He knows something. And I’m gonna find out what.

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #golden lace #my fic

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rmtndew · 4 years ago

Text

Begin Again ~ Chapter 3

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff)

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @xxxkatxo, @musicartmayheminmyheart

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Hectic was the only word to describe the next morning. From the moment I stepped foot into Darcy’s office at Waverly, we were going non-stop. We had a massive delivery that had to be ready by eleven o’clock and even though we’d done as much prep work as we could the day before, it was still a huge undertaking for a single morning. Our saving grace was that the company was sending someone to pick it up for them instead of having it delivered, which meant we could work right until pickup time. And that’s exactly what we did.

We had all the orders boxed up and ready to go, and Nick and I waited in the front room of the store for the pickup guy. Nick’s sole purpose for being there was to make up for his mistake from the day before: his punishment was to help with the loading.

I was double-checking the order (just for my own sake) when I heard the bell above the door alert me to someone coming in. I turned, mentally preparing myself for social interaction, knowing that I had to greet the customer with a smile. But as I took in the man walking towards me, I felt like puking.

“Fiona? Is that you?” Ezra, my ex-boyfriend, was smiling and walking towards me.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I steeled myself and asked, “Are you here for the Mead-Holmes order?”

“Come on, Fi, don’t play like this,” he said, stopping far too close to me.

“Don’t call me that,” I said. “And what order are you here for?”

He put his hand on my arm. “Fi, I swear I didn’t know you worked here. I promise. Or I wouldn’t have come,” he said. “But maybe it’s a good thing.”

I took his hand off me, removing it completely. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me Fi. Just tell me what order you’re here to get,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could manage.

He scoffed. “Wow. I really thought you’d be an adult about it whenever we finally ran into each other, but I was wrong.”

Nick stepped up. “Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt but I’m here to help load the Mead-Holmes order, so if you’re here to pick that up, you can go ahead and sign off on it and show me where you’re at and I’ll get these loaded for you.”

Ezra kept his eyes on me while Nick was talking and then a moment longer once he finished. Finally, he looked at Nick and let out a breath. “Yeah, that’s my order,” he said. “Where do I sign for it?”

Nick moved behind me, taking the clipboard with the order form from the counter, then handed it to Ezra. He scribbled out something that was meant to be a signature, but I was sure that a brain dead parrot would have had more legible handwriting. Nick had his hand out, ready to take the clipboard back, but instead, Ezra thrust it at me. I took it, trying not to give him the satisfaction of letting him see a reaction on my face.

“Thank you. A copy of the receipt is attached to the order and will be e-mailed back to your company. We appreciate your business,” I said. “Now, if you would show Nick to your vehicle, he would be more than willing to help you load your order.”

He took a set of keys from his pocket, aimed over his shoulder, and pressed a button. The van parked right outside the door beeped and the lights flashed temporarily as he unlocked it. “You can load them in the back,” Ezra said to Nick, not bothering to even look at him.

“Have a good day,” I said flatly, then turned to leave. I didn’t even take a step before he put his hand back on my arm again. My entire body tensed up. “Ezra, let me go.”

“You’re really just going to walk off without talking to me?”

“I did talk to you, but there’s nothing left to say except let me go.”

He removed his hand, then circled around so he was in front of me. “I’m here on business and you’re supposed to be representing your company. Being rude to me isn’t a great way to treat customers.”

I placed the clipboard on the counter and crossed my arms, trying to keep them out of his reach, then took a side step, allowing Nick access to the boxes stacked beside me. “I’m not being rude.”

He smiled condescendingly at me. “Look, I know that we ended on some...rough terms, but I hoped that when we finally saw each other, we could recognize it was for the best.”

“It was for the best,” I agreed.

“See? That’s my girl.”

My jaw clenched as my hands balled into fists. “I’m not your girl. I’m not your anything,” I said. “The reason I think breaking up was for the best is because I didn’t want to waste any more of my time with someone so shallow, and cold, and selfish as you. And the moment you finally revealed that part of yourself to me, the moment you showed me exactly who you are, I was done.” I shook my head. “The one good thing about you being as heartless as you were, was that I never spent a single second worrying about what I did wrong, or how I could have fixed things between us. I never cried myself to sleep at night missing you. Most people who have toxic partners don’t get a clean cut at the end of a relationship like I did. But that day at South York, when you broke up with me all of ten seconds after I’d told you that Dad had been in a wreck, you cauterized that line between us. So yeah; it was for the best.”

Nick made a low whistling sound right before leaving the store, the bell overhead echoing him.

“You know, it’s a little irritating that you always bring up this crap about ending things after your dad’s accident, but would you have preferred me to wait until after you knew that he was dead? Would that have made it easier? No,” he said. “I did you a favor. It was like a Band-Aid. I pulled it off quickly and got it over with. But you don’t see it like that, do you?”

“I’m not sure if you understand the definition of ‘quick’ but talking about it for the full twenty-minute drive to the hospital, where you basically kicked me out on the sidewalk, isn’t it,” I said.

“Do you hear yourself, Fi? You’re happy that I broke up with you, but oh, I should have held your hand and walked you into the hospital? Why so your mommy could yell at me then, too? Even you have to admit that was embarrassing, having Ava yell at me for you.”

My fists tightened, my fingernails biting into my skin. I’d never been so tempted to smack anyone my whole life. “I didn’t have her do anything. She was plenty mad enough to do it on her own. It was her husband who had just died when you dumped all of my stuff on her front lawn because seeing it was ‘too painful’ for you.”

“Well, rumor has it, it’s your house again now.” He took a step closer to me. “That you got fired and had to move back in with her.” He smirked. “Is that what happened, Fi? I wouldn’t marry you so you had to move back in with your mommy so someone would take care of you?”

The bell over the door rang again. I was expecting Nick to come over for more boxes and give me a way to escape, but he didn’t.

“Stop calling me Fi!” I snapped. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. Now I suggest you take your order and leave.”

He frowned at me mockingly. “Aw, am I making you mad? You’re so cute when you’re mad. You finally do that red hair justice,” he said. “You know, if you’d shown this much passion when we were together, I might have actually considered marrying you.”

“Thank goodness I dodged that bullet then.”

The humor left his face. “Whoever gets you next, they better like broken things.”

I looked him in the eye. “Do you honestly think you were strong enough to break me, Ezra?” I asked. “The only thing you could break were promises.”

He sneered at me, then let his eyes drift behind me. I was sure that he was looking at Nick, wondering how much of his true personality he was going to let a stranger see, but then I felt a wall of heat behind me. I turned my head and saw Walter. Comfort flooded my body the moment he was at my side.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking down at me.

I nodded. “He was just leaving.”

Ezra took a step back. His mouth was in a thin, tight line as he looked Marshall up and down. “Are you the owner?” he asked. “Because I’m here for an order and your employee here -” He crossed his arms and nodded his head at me. “- she needs to work on her customer service skills.”

“I’m not the owner. But I’m fairly sure she told you to leave.”

Ezra looked confused. I watched in his eyes as he tried to work out what was going on. “If you’re not the owner, then our conversation has nothing to do with you. You have no reason to intervene.”

“I’m here for Fiona. And how you’re talking to her, it isn’t acceptable. She’s asked you to leave, so if you’re here for an order, I suggest you take it and go,” Marshall said. He spoke slowly and deliberately, but each word was laced with anger.

Ezra smiled. “Are you serious? You’re with her?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Good luck to you. You’ll never be able to please her.”

“From what I understand, you never really tried,” Marshall said.

“Is that what she told you?” Ezra looked at me again. “You’re always the victim, aren’t you? You poor little bird,” he said mockingly. “Maybe one day you’ll grow up and see the truth.”

“You know, this immature gas-lighting bull crap that you and Demi both pull, it’s getting old,” I said.

He smirked. “Speaking of Demi, the next time you see her, tell her that I found her earrings. They were in my couch.”

I knew what he was trying to do and I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of succeeding.

“So you had the audacity to dump my belongings on a dead man’s lawn, but you don’t have the guts to return some earrings that she allegedly left at your place?” I asked. “But I’m the immature one. Sure.”

He was angry that I hadn’t taken the bait. He pushed his hair back from his face aggressively and stepped back from me. “I hope your boss realizes that you just lost a big client,” he said, then started walking away.

“Did we? Because I’m pretty sure that the company is called Mead-Holmes, not Mead-Holmes and Williams,” I said, turning and calling after him. “And I’ve never heard of a partner or CEO fetching lunch for his company. It seems to me that you’re just an errand boy.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, then slowly turned back around. He opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak.

“Don’t say another word. Just turn around and keep walking,” Walter said, putting himself slightly in front of me. “Or I can escort you out. It’s your decision.”

Ezra looked from Marshall to me and I could see him trying to decide if he was going to back down and listen or try to get the last word in. Eventually, he made the smart choice for once and left, shoving past Nick, who was returning to the store, then climbed into his van, slamming the door hard enough to make his windshield wipers jump.

Marshall turned to me, blocking my view of Ezra. His face was softer, his eyes holding worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

I let out a breath. It was shaky. My whole body was tense. “No, actually. I’m angry. I can’t believe he had the nerve to come in here and act like that.”

“What do you need me to do for you?”

I blinked. It was a simple question, but it wasn’t one I was used to hearing. It felt like it took me a long time to unwrap it in my mind. Finally, I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You should take a break,” Nick said. He was loading another portion of the order onto his cart. “I’ll tell Aunt Darcy what happened as soon as I’m done. She’ll understand.”

I chewed my lip for a moment, mulling it over before finally relenting. “Okay. Thank you,” I said to Nick. Then to Marshall, “Would you come with me?”

He nodded. “Where do you want to go?”

I led him through the store and out the back door, into the employee parking lot. The moment we stepped outside, the cold air hit me. I gasped. I hadn’t thought to get my coat from Darcy’s office. Walter noticed.

“It’s cold,” he said, taking off his coat. “Put this on.”

I shivered but shook my head. “No, I can’t take it from you.”

“Yes, you can.” He placed it over my shoulders and held it on me until I finally put my arms through the sleeves, then he pulled it closed in the front. It swallowed me whole. He smiled at me. “Perfect fit.”

I smiled back. “It’s pretty cozy. Thank you,” I said. “But I feel bad that you don’t have one now.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stay close to you for warmth,” he joked. He slid his hands inside the coat and placed them on my hips. Instinctively, my arms went around his neck. We looked like we were dancing, even though we were standing still. His smile grew. “Just like this.” He kissed the top of my head before pressing his forehead to mine. “Do you want to talk about what happened or do you want to forget it?”

I let out a breath. “I don’t - I don’t know.” I let my fingers wander into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently playing with his curls. “That was my ex. I haven’t seen him in two years. Part of me...a big part of me, just wants to forget about him, erase him from my memory and never think about him again,” I said. “But another part of me wants to go yank him out of his van and throw him to the ground and stomp his stupid teeth in. And I hate it because he’s the only person who makes me feel that way.”

“Do you want me to talk to him? The gun and badge tend to make people listen to me.”

I smiled but shook my head. “No. I just want you to stay right here with me,” I said. “Please.”

He didn’t say anything, he only nodded, moving my head slightly with his as he did. Then I closed my eyes as I tried to breathe calmly and let go of the anger that Ezra had stirred up in me. With every passing second, Marshall took over and pushed out any lingering pieces of Ezra. The heat of his hands melted away all remembrances of Ezra’s cold, clammy touch that always had an ulterior motive. The scent of him, clean and full of coffee, chased away the smell of expensive cologne that had always been applied too liberally. His presence was comforting and enveloping, not demanding and suffocating. It was like I’d been trapped in a burning building, inhaling smoke, and Walter was my first breath of fresh air and my lungs were screaming for him.

I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me. I blinked and it suddenly hit me that there must have been a reason for him being there and I’d been so caught up in myself that I hadn’t even thought to ask. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I doubt you came here for all of this.”

His hands tightened, pulling me closer. “I came here for you.”

“What did you need me to do?”

He smiled, just the corner of his mouth turned up. “Nothing.” I must have looked confused because he laughed softly. “I just wanted to see you,” he said. “I thought I might be able to take you for coffee?”

I felt my heart swell. My fingers pushed further into his hair, sinking to his scalp. Lightly I scratched my nails against it. He closed his eyes and sighed. “How did I get so lucky to meet you?”

His eyes stayed closed as he leaned back into my touch. “I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”

“Mom, I’m home,” I called out as I walked through the door that evening. “I picked up dinner, too.”

“Already in the kitchen,” Mom called back.

I kicked off my shoes by the door, then went to the kitchen. Mom was at the table, papers spread everywhere in front of her as she wrote on a legal pad. One set of reading glasses sat perched on her nose, while another hung around her neck on a chain.

“So...what’cha doin’?” I asked slowly, standing in the doorway.

She looked up at me and over the rim of her glasses. “Last night, June mentioned that since I was sick on her’s, mine, and Aunt Rose’s birthday, it would be fun for the three of us to go away for the weekend and celebrate. So -” She indicated to the layers of paper in front of her. “I’m planning the trip.”

“A trip to where?” I asked. “What kind of weekend getaways call for this type of planning?”

She shook her head. “No, see, I looked up a few places, printed off a list of all their attractions, restaurants, hotels, what have you, and now I’m making a list of each with pros-cons and prices for them all, then we can decide from there.” She waved her hand dismissively over the papers. “This is all getting condensed. I’m not giving them an entire booklet.”

“So, when Dad said that you were a teacher’s pet, this is the kind of thing he was talking about. Right?”

“I wasn’t a teacher’s pet; I just like being thorough. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She stood and started clearing the table. “Those are pretty,” she said, nodding to the vase of flowers in my hand. “Where did they come from?”

“Marshall gave them to me.”

“He sent you flowers at work? That was sweet.”

“Actually, he didn’t send them. He took me out to coffee and bought them for me afterward,” I said, carrying the vase and takeout bag to the counter and setting them down.

“He saw you last night, and you have a date planned for Saturday, but he asked you out for coffee today?” she asked.

I turned to look at her and leaned back against the counter. I couldn’t help my smile. “He said he just wanted to see me.”

“I think this one might be a keeper, Fi.”

I laughed. “I think so, too,” I said. “Today was very nearly a dumpster fire and he extinguished it.”

She looked concerned. “What do you mean? What went wrong?”

“So, the big order we had today? Ezra was the one who picked it up.”

She paused her cleaning. “What?”

“Yeah. I was there to get the driver to sign off on the order, so I had to talk to him. I was hoping - a little naively, I guess - that we could just keep it simple and professional, but unfortunately that didn’t happen,” I said. “I tried walking away and he followed me, essentially saying that everything that had happened between us was my fault. He said that it was pathetic that you yelled at him after we broke up, making it sound like I’d had you do it for me. And then insinuated that he and Demi were having an affair, or they’re currently sleeping together now. I’m not sure. He was trying to upset me, but I don’t know if it was the truth or not. I didn’t fall for it and ask.”

“Well, if Demi is dumb enough to get involved with him after everything she saw him put you through, then she deserves what she gets,” she said. “And if he thought it was pathetic that I yelled at him, what did he think about throwing your stuff out on our lawn two hours after your father died? Is that not beyond pathetic?”

I shook my head. “I genuinely think he’s too narcissistic to even consider himself at fault. He said he got it over with quick for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “How kind of him,” she deadpanned.

“Then Marshall came in -”

Her eyes widened. “He came in while Ezra was there?” she asked, interrupting me. I nodded. “What did he do?”

“He told Ezra that how he was talking to me was unacceptable and that he needed to leave. Then he took me outside so that I could calm down, and once Ezra left, Darcy let me have an early break and he took me out for coffee and bought me flowers to cheer me up.”

“Oh, Bird. He really is a keeper, isn’t he?”

I put my hand over my chest and felt my heart speed up thinking about him holding me in the parking lot, telling me that he was the lucky one. I let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. He really is, Mom.”

That night Walter called me like he said he would. I’d always been rather bad at phone calls and even he had admitted that anything outside of work calls was out of his comfort zone, but for the three and a half hours that we talked, it didn’t seem that way. I lay in bed and talked to him like he was right there. Like we’d known each other forever. We only hung up because I started drifting off. He joked that he was boring me, but I tried to assure him that it was far from that. His voice was calming and soothing and every bit as warm as he was. Sleepily I told him that he was like sitting in front of the fireplace on a rainy day with a cup of tea. He laughed but said as long as he got to sit at the fireplace beside me, he didn’t mind the comparison.

I slept better that night than I had in months.

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #Night Hunter fan fiction #Night Hunter #Nomis #Nomis fan fiction #Henry Cavill fanfiction #Henry Cavill fanfic #Detective Walter Marshall #Begin Again

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chubbyreaderwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Matchmaker

Mycroft Holmes x Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Prompt: Could you write a one-shot where the reader is a dectective in Scotland yard, who met sherlock for the first time recently and sherlock still knowing that his brother is lonely decides that she would be a perfect fit for him and tries to set her and mycroft up... Basically I'm looking for a sherlock plays matchmaker.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

“So dead man on the floor, house ransacked, what do you think?...Sherlock? Sherlock!” Said man jumped out of his trance and turned to face Lestrade who was looking at him with frustration, “Well?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Come on Garret, this is easy even for you, wedding ring missing from the finger, seemingly half the possessions gone, absence of any pictures. It was the wife if you couldn’t see that already. Now enough about that, who’s she?” Greg sighed and rubbed his face with his hand before looking over to where Sherlock was facing, “Detective (L/N)? What about her?”

Sherlock said nothing, just observed you and Greg looked at John next to him. The former soldier just shrugged, “I don’t question it anymore Greg, I’m sorry.” Greg looked at Sherlock, then you, then back to Sherlock, “You like her or summit?” Sherlock hummed in approval, “Not for me.” John chuckled from how confusing his friend was being but like he said, he didn’t question it.

Without a word of warning, Sherlock made his way over to you, “Hi, I have a proposition for you which I have no doubt you’d be interested in. I would like to have you accompany a friend of mine to an evening meal. Judging by the past few failed relationships, you don’t like being lonely, even if you know you’re not compatible. But you’ve been making more of an effort in your appearance lately which can only mean you’re looking for another relationship.” You chuckled to yourself, “And you must be Sherlock. Given what people say about you, the last thing I expected you to be doing was setting me up on a date.”

Sherlock huffed impatiently, “Yes yes, now will you go on the date or not?” He clasped his hands together, a silent plead for you to accept. You thought it over for a few moments, could it really hurt to try it out? And you doubted someone who called themselves a detective would actively put you in danger so what was the harm? Nodding your head, “Okay fine, but you owe me.” Sherlock scoffed but shook your hand, “Deal, here’s your phone back, I’ll text you with the details.” You were shocked but mostly confused when Sherlock gave you your phone back, when did he take it from you? You weren’t really mad at him though, he had given you something to be excited about.

It had been a while since you had any excuse to dress up for an occasion and Sherlock had just presented it to you on a silver platter. Normally, you wouldn’t agree to this kind of thing but it had been difficult to date because of your new job now, being a detective was a turn off for most men, it seemed like.

. . .

“A what?” Sherlock rolled his eyes at his older brother, “A date, I know it’s been a while but you must remember what a date is.” Mycroft let out a sigh of frustration, “And what makes you think you can meddle with my love life like this?” Sherlock looked at Mycroft, “Oh get over yourself, you’re lonely and you know it, I’m just trying to help. Maybe then you won’t be so...you.” Mycroft glared at Sherlock, “Listen brother mine, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not lonely. I do not need you to be playing matchmaker for me, if I wanted to be in a relationship, I could easily go out and find myself one.”

Sherlock accidentally snorted from holding back a laugh, “You really think so?” At the sight of his brother’s anger, Sherlock calmed down, “Just go on the date, you’ll thank me later, she’s lovely.” Mycroft gritted his teeth, “Who is ‘she’?” Sherlock texted his brother a picture of you that he had taken from your Facebook profile, “Her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and she works with Graham.” Mycroft frowned, “Who is Graham?” Sherlock looked down at his phone as he started flicking through twitter, “Oh you know Graham, Scotland Yard, grey hair, could stand to lose a few pounds.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair, “You mean Greg Lestrade.” Sherlock nodded, “That’s what I said.”

Sherlock turned and left his brother’s office, but Mycroft shouted after him, “Where am I supposed to be going?!” He didn’t hear a response but his phone vibrated to show a text from Sherlock with the time and address. He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand, why did he have a feeling he was going to regret this? Mycroft was tempted to just refuse to go on the date to annoy his brother but as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was lonely and a little companionship might be nice for once. Spending each night alone in his large, empty house was getting rather tiring over time.

. . .

You had been told to dress ‘fancy’ so you had worn your best dress in your closet, a long sleeved, off the shoulder light pink knee length dress that flattered your body by making your waist seem smaller to give you more of an hourglass shape. You had your hair styled just how you liked it and you had decided to wear heels for this date because you didn’t want to risk seeming under-dressed and you didn’t have any flats that would match the dress. You had a small clutch that had your purse, some makeup and perfume in, as well as your keys.

You had taken a taxi to the address Sherlock had given and you were not surprised to see a very fancy restaurant, one that looked more intimidating than anything else. You weren’t sure what to do but luckily as you were stood staring at the building, you heard someone clear their throat next to you. You turned to see a man dressed in a suit and had an umbrella with them? It hadn’t been raining but you decided not to question it. You smiled at them, “Hello,”

Mycroft had been a little taken aback when he saw you, you almost seemed too good to be true. He was never someone who had much preference for looks, but you were just so beautiful. He could tell by the look on your face that you had never been here before and were nervous, symptoms of a blind date he presumed. He walked over to you and cleared his throat to get your attention and when you smiled at him, he almost forgot what to say, you had such a captivating smile. When you started to look weary of him, he realised he actually had to say something to you, “My apologies, I don’t suppose you’re here because of Sherlock?” Your shoulders dropped slightly in relief, “Yes I am, are you my date for this evening?”

Mycroft nodded in agreement and held out his arm for you to take. While the date wasn’t his idea, he was still going to be a gentleman. Your nerves started again when you walked inside the building, it was all so elegant and posh and you felt really out of place in here. You bit your bottom lip as you looked around, half listening to your date talk to the hostess. It was then that you realised you didn’t know his name yet. When the two of you were taken to a table, you cleared your throat, “I’m (Y/N) by the way, it’s nice to meet you,” Mycroft hummed, “Likewise, I’m Mycroft.” Your eyes widened a little, “Mycroft? That’s an unusual name isn’t it? I like it though.”

Mycroft studied over you, trying to pick up on all the deductions he could about you but he seemed to have a little trouble concentrating and everything was a bit of a blur. You leaned forward a little, “So how do you know Sherlock?” Mycroft straightened in his seat, “He’s my little brother?” Mycroft could see the amusement in your face, “Really? What’s it like having a genius for a brother?” Mycroft scoffed, “I wouldn’t say he’s a genius, I’ve always considered myself the smartest between us.” You could help but chuckle a little to yourself and when you saw Mycroft’s confused and partially offended expression, you explained yourself, “If you were really that smart, you would’ve noticed that I’d rather have this date anywhere but here. I’m not made for fine dining.”

Normally, this would have annoyed Mycroft, not being able to see something as obvious as this. But you intrigued him so he was more focused on learning more about you. He waited until there was the least amount of people watching and then grabbed your hand, leading you outside of the restaurant, “Where do you propose we go now?” You turned to him and looked at him with a curious expression, “You want to go watch a movie together?” Mycroft hummed, “It depends on the types of movies you prefer.” You smiled, “I like old movies.” “Hm, then I believe I have something to show you.” And that was how you found yourself being driven to Mycroft’s house.

It was weird that you didn’t feel uncomfortable around him, you didn’t feel scared of him or felt any bad vibes from him. He was surprised to feel oddly at ease with you as well, he felt like he could tell you anything despite having known each other for a very limited time. When you arrived at Mycroft’s house, you were taken back by the size of it, “My god, are you some kind of secret billionaire? Where do you work?” You giggled to yourself as you looked around the walls and ceilings, taking it all in. Mycroft had disappeared into the kitchen for a small while but could hear you talking as he came back with wine and two glasses, “I work for the British government.”

You stopped in your awe, “Are you serious? That’s pretty cool.” Mycroft felt a sudden burst of pride at how easily you were impressed with him. He smirked to himself, “I suppose so, may I ask you a question?” You gladly took the glass of wine from his hand and took a drink, “Go ahead,” “What were your first impressions of me?” You walked closer to Mycroft, “Well, I thought you looked a little fancy and uptight and I still do, but you looked like a man who was lonely in my opinion. Very cute though.” You winked at him over the rim of your glass as you took another drink and Mycroft for once, didn’t have anything to say.

You smiled at him, “Go on then, what did you think of me?” Mycroft cleared his throat and looked down at his own glass of wine, “I thought you looked beautiful, a little intimidated but someone who wasn’t afraid.” You blushed from his words and the two of you were lost in a moment between the two of you just looking into each other’s eyes. You hadn’t realised the two of you started to get closer until he was almost touching you. You cleared your throat, “So what was it you wanted to show me?”

It was like the two of you were pulled out of a trance as Mycroft blinked and moved back one step to create some distance between the two of you. He walked down the corridor to lead you into his ‘theater room’ which looked like a small cinema in your opinion. You were in total awe of this man and his house, it was so big and fancy you were almost scared. Mycroft had you sit in a seat next to him when your eyes caught the projector, “I haven’t seen one of those in absolutely ages, my parents used to have one when I was a kid.” Mycroft smiled briefly at you as he set it up, your attention being directed in front of you when the light flashed on, illuminating the dark room.

You had been excited to watch the movie and you had to stop yourself from laughing when you saw Mycroft mouthing the words along with the actors out of the corner of your eye. You were having such a good time, you almost didn’t want it to end. It was halfway through the movie that ,Mycroft put his hand up on the chair arm and didn’t realise your hand was already there until he felt it underneath his own. He was a little embarrassed about it and wasn’t sure what to do, should he keep it there? Should he take it away? Just as he was about to pull his hand away, he felt your fingers slowly wrap around his own, holding his hand. Mycroft felt his heart beat rising as he in turn held your hand and you smiled to yourself, only half focusing on the movie now.

It was disappointing when the projector stopped as the movie was over, that meant you had to let go of Mycroft’s hand while he got up to turn off the device. You stood up and stretched, the chair had been comfy but it was awkward to sit in the same position for a long time. You smiled at Mycroft after you checked your phone to see the time, “It’s getting late, I suppose I should head home.” Mycroft was unable to hide his disappointment in your words, but it was going to happen sooner or later. He was surprised to see how close he felt with you after knowing you for so little time.

Mycroft called his driver to take you home, wanting to ensure that you got home safely. “Are you sure? I can just get a cab, it’s not too much trouble.” “Please, I insist on it,” You had begrudgingly accepted his offer and the two of you waited at his front door until the car pulled up. You turned to face Mycroft, “I had a wonderful time you know.” Mycroft nodded, “As did I,” You opened your mouth to say something the same time as Mycroft and you lightly chuckled, “Oh sorry, you first,” “No, please, I’d hate to interrupt.” You bit your lip before you asked, “Would you perhaps like to do this again sometime?” Mycroft had been hoping that’s what you were going to say, “It would be my pleasure.”

You blushed a little and looked at him for a moment before standing up on the tips of your toes to kiss him on the cheek, he was a lot taller than you. Quickly, you turned around and walked over to get into the car, not looking at him until you were inside so he couldn’t see you through the tinted windows. You relaxed against the leather seats, letting out a deep breath. Your head had just touched the back of the seat when your phone buzzed. Curious to see who was texting you, you pulled it out of your clutch and read the notification on the lock screen. It simply read, “Had a nice date? - SH” You shook your head but grinned at the message before turning your phone off again, putting it back in your bag. What a weird day.

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x chubby reader #sherlock x plus size reader #Mycroft holmes #Mycroft x reader #Mycroft x chubby reader #Mycroft x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader

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domesticblisss · 4 years ago

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Näher | Pt.02

Walter x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Hase’) Mob AU! Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 2048 Warnings: Smut. Pussy eating, fingering, cum eating, cum play. Pt.01

“I’ll ask you again, do you want power, little hure?”

“I need to think about it.” My body betrays me, and I let out a little moan when he continues to stuff my pussy with his cum.

“You need to think... it’s okay. I know it’s a hard decision to make.” he says as he brings me close to his chest, my head laying there. It’s a surprisingly tender moment, he tangles his fingers in my hair as he peppers soft kisses on my forehead. He slowly takes the two fingers from inside me, placing them in front of my lips, a silent offer for me to suck them clean, one I take without thinking twice. He kisses me after I cleaned his fingers and I see the biggest smile I have ever seen him let out.

After this little moment we shared he helped me get dressed again, brushed my hair with a brush he had on one of his drawers and insisted one of his guys had to take me home, even with me telling him I could catch uber.

“You have Axel’s number, whatever your answer is, make sure to call him to let me know. But just know I look forward to seeing you again.” he finishes with a kiss and let’s me get inside the car.

I’m thankful this little rendezvous happened on a friday, so I can sleep in and gather my thoughts.

I woke up to a dream where I’m with Walter again, his lips all over my body, his hands in all the right places... I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something.

I’m not going to lie, I’m very tempted into accepting his offer. It’s not like I need the money, I have a good post in a nice company that lets me lead a very comfortable life and... and... well, my life is boring. I barely have time for myself, I can’t even go out and have fun anymore because I’m either staying late at work or all my energy is drained. I haven’t had a good fuck in like two years at least and Walter was able to ruin me for everyone else, man or woman, in one night. Imagine it being a constant.

It’s 10am and I decide to call Junior. I need to know what they do exactly before I turn my life upside down and get into this. He answers after the third ring, his voice all groggy from sleep.

“Mein Hase, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

“Hey dipshit. Were you still sleeping? Dude it’s 10am already!”

“Well, I had a busy night okay.” I could feel the smirk growing on his face.

“Yeah, the ’hottest chick’ right? Look, I need to talk to you, ask you some stuff and it needs to be in person. Can you come over?”

He sighs before answering me. “Yeah Hase. Give me about forty minutes to get ready and I’ll be there.”

In exact forty-five minutes I heard a knocking on my door and I open to see Axel standing there, a sleepy look on his face. I offer him coffee and breakfast, which he happily accepts.

We sit by the living room’s centre table and I take my time to start questioning him.

“Look, I know we haven’t seen each other in ages, but you do understand you have a big space in my heart, right?”

“Mhm, and you have in mine too.”

“Good! So... I’ll ask you a few things and I want you to be honest with me, please tell me the truth. You know I would never rat on you to anyone. And I’ll tell you why I’m asking all of this when this is over, okay?”

“I think I already got an idea why...”

“Okay, Axel? Do you agree with my terms?” I cut him a bit harshly.

“Yes, Hase. You know I’d anything for you.”

“Okay...” I take a deep breath and start again “That day we met on the market, was our run in casual or did it happen on purpose?”

“On purpose.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’ve missed you and didn’t know how to get in touch with you...”

I look up to him with a ‘what’s wrong with you’ look in my face and move on.

“How did you know I went to that market? Have you been following me?

“What?! No!”

“Axel, please be honest with me.”

“Hase, look... I live on that building across from you. That window with the Simpsons sticker? That’s mine. I’ve been living there for two years now, you can ask the door man if you want to. I’m not stalking you, I promise.” he answers me a little bit panicked.

“Hey, hey... I’m sorry I was harsh with you. And I trust you, okay?”

“I know it seems a little suspicious. But I just saw you on the day you moved in, I was getting off the building to run some errands and I saw you unloading your stuff and when I got back I saw we were window neighbours. As to the market thing, again, I didn’t stalk you, but you have your habits and we’ve almost run into each other a few times before and they were always on the same day of the week, at the same time. You really need to get a life, baby.”

“Wow, thanks for the call out. And why were all the guys there with you?”

“My hype squad.” We both laugh at his answer. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought you had forgotten about me and I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, so they were there to hype me up.”

“Why is that something I can totally picture on doing?” I pause for a moment to gather some guts before getting into the harder topic.

“What... what is it exactly that you, Walter and the guys do? And don’t tell me you run the club because I know the club is a front.”

“You’re really coming for my throat today, huh?” he laughs and continues “Well, the club is a front for money laundry. We deal with a few different things. Weapons, illegal gambling, illegal fights, races. No drugs or anything with people, you know? Walter is extremely against that. We also offer protection to businesses...”

“Why does your silence makes me feel like this is almost a hitman thing?”

“Sort of?” He scratched his head and gives me a quizzical look.

“AXEL! What th—“

“Oh, it’s not like we actually kill people, we just rough them up a bit. Like I said, Walter is pretty specific with the business. Hase, why are you asking me these things?”

“Last night, after you guys left, which by the way, I’m sure that was staged too, but I digress, I was alone with Walter and we... well, we fucked. Like, a lot. Anyway, he asked me if I wanted power, that he could give me power.”

“Ugh, gross I don’t need to know who you fuck.”

“Axel, I’m being serious. C’mon.” I begged him.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. But what did you tell him? Did you accept?”

“No, I told him that I needed to think about it. He agreed to it and said that I should call you to let him know, no matter what I chose. I called you because I needed to know what you guys actually did. Also did Walter ask you to leave me alone with him? He acted like he had it all planned out.”

“You really don’t let shit slide, do you?”

“It’s like you forgot who I am, Axel.”

“Yeah, Ms. Detective. I’ve talked about you to the guys several times before and mentioned that I saw you moving in and that your apartment was directly in front of mine. He came over one day and saw you sitting there, drinking tea, and reading. All he said is that he understood why I talked about you so much.” he finished, a little embarrassed.

“That’s a little –“

“Creepy? Yeah, I get where you come from. Walter is a nice guy, he really is, he just doesn’t know how to connect to people sometimes.” We stayed in silence for a few minutes eating the rest of our breakfast.

“Do you have your answer already?” Axel breaks the silence.

“I had it from the start, I just needed to know how fucked I would be.”

“Could you ask him if we could meet?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Axel!” I groaned.

“Yep, that’s a yes.”

Walter agreed to meet me and had Junior take me to where he lived. His mansion was located on the outskirts of the city, the kind of neighbourhood only millionaires lived on. Not going to lie, I felt like I was in one of the Keeping Up with the Kardashians episodes. A huge white and grey neoclassical hour, tall and imponent like it’s owner. Big green front yard, a garden of white roses, a beautiful Venus di Botticelli water fountain. Axel took me to the backyard saying Walter was waiting for me by the pool.

He indeed was there, all glorious under a sunshade, black rayban’s covering his eyes and black swimming shorts hugging his waist. He sat by a table full of different kinds of breakfast foods and fruits. Axel announced my arrival and before he left, Walter asked “Junior, could you please ask Freida to bring lovely Hase a bathing suit?” Axel nodded and left us alone.

“Come on, sit. Do you want to eat anything?”

I sat by his right side and grabbed a few grapes. “What do I get from this? Will I be exclusive pocket pussy in exchange for money? Someone to sit pretty by your side while you command everyone or what?”

“You think too low of yourself. I offered you power. I have four of the best men in the world as my partners, but I need something better. Women are usually more detail oriented, I need new eyes, new visions.” Freida’s arrival interrupted us.

“Good afternoon, miss.”

“Good morning, darling. I won’t keep you long, I think this will do.” I chose a black one piece with cut outs that I was sure would make my boobs look incredible.

“There’s a restroom room in there, go and change.” Walter said after I chose and Freida left. I did as he said and when I came back, I went straight to pool.

“C’mon Walter, join me, please. We need to finish talking.” He obeyed me, leaving his sunglasses on the table.

He cornered me by the pool’s end, his big hand brushing away the wet hair strands of my face. He continued “As I was saying, I need new eyes, I need someone I can trust. And fucking you whenever I want wouldn’t be so bad either.” His face was so close to mine I could feel his breath on my lips. I smiled at him, looking at his lips and then up to his eyes.

“How do you know I’m so trustworthy? Or if I’m actually that?”

“Axel always gushes about your little business during high school and what you took out of it, I think you’ll do just fine.” His thumb caresses my cheek. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes.” My arms snakes around his neck and I kiss him. He deepens the kiss and lifts me up to the ledge of the pool.

“Lay down a bit.” He commands while he slides the back of his index finger of my clothed slit. I did as he said and he immediately attached his lips on my clit, sucking and fingering me at the same time.

“Walter, fuck… what if someone sees us?” I ask him between moans.

“They know better than to come here.”

He kept his ministrations, increasing the speed of his fingering and never detaching his lips from my clit. It was too much at the same time and I squirted when I came.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. That never happened before.” I told him, panicking a little bit. He brought my lips to his, kissed me tenderly and said “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, my little hase.”

→

#walter x reader #walter imagines #wrestling imagines #DB Writes #sorry if there's any mistakes #can't concentrate myself enough to proof read lmao

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freckledfangs · 4 years ago

Text

hesitations

pairing: mason x f!detective (amihan marasigan) rating: T (no smut, mostly because of subject matter) warnings: mentions of body image issues (nothing too detailed/explicit but it is mentioned)

summary: alternate rooftop scene where amihan reveals one of the reasons she’s keeping back from sleeping with mason (soft!m is present)

(tagging @oxjenayxo you said you wanted to be notified when it was up! ty!) ___ The rough stone of the roof is cold under Amihan’s palms. She wonders how this wasn’t too much for Mason - the biting frost of the night air. But then again, as he said the rooftop was quiet. And she too, can feel a comforting wave of peace fall upon her. Even if it were just that moment.

And also there was that, the comfortable silence she can have with him. One she found was hard to find with anyone else besides Tina. She can barely see anything past the hazy shadow of the trees (she should really wear her glasses more often), but the unknown of the dark doesn’t scare her. She glances at the proximity of her hands next to Mason’s. The temptation to move it closer is there. It’s always there, the want to be closer to him.

“So you can’t sleep?” Mason asks. It’s earnest with a hint of teasing. He wraps his arms around himself, pulling his leather coat tighter against him.

“Nope,” Amihan replies. It’s not till then she realizes that the panicked thudding in chest has slowed. The remnants of the nightmare are slowly, but surely leaving her mind.

“I can think of a few ways to tire you out,” he says, smirk audible.

Ahh there he is. Amihan chuckles. She pulls her knees against her chest, daring not to look at Mason or his gleaming eyes right now.

“Of course you do,” she returns in jest. She can feel the heat of his gaze and every time, it’s almost enough to make her give in.

“The offer is always there, sweetheart.”

The way he purrs “sweetheart” churns undeniable desire in her belly. She wonders how it’d sound against her ear while his hands are on her skin. She dares to look at him, not attempting to hide the flush on her cheeks. Even if she tried, he could always tell.

His gaze is intense, moonlight tracing the sharp angles of his gorgeous face. Sometimes it’s too much looking at him, Amihan thinks.

“Hm,” she says, pressing her cheek against her knee, “I bet you’ll take that offer right back once you really see me.”

Mason raises a brow, genuine confusion falling onto his face.

“What do you mean?”

His tone is surprisingly serious.

Amihan picks at the hem of her sweatpants. She assumed he would lead this into some joke, or another opportunity to flirt.

She wonders if he’s playing along or if he really means it. Surely he knows what she means, and she hopes he does, because the thought of having to say it out loud makes her skin crawl.

“You know what I mean,” she says as lightheartedly as possible, though she knows Mason is aware of how serious she is. She shifts in her position and turns back to look at the dark, seemingly never-ending shadows of the woods.

“I don’t,” Mason replies, without a hint of sarcasm or snark in his words.

Amihan sucks in her cheeks, sitting straight up. The raw edges of the skin by her fingernails look tempting now. She moves a hand to pick at it, before pulling her hoodie sleeve over her hand. No, not now. You’ve been doing well.

“Here’s the truth. Mason, I really want you,” Amihan begins, instead fiddling with the loose thread on her hoodie sleeve, “I really, really want you and it’s frightening to me. Because you’ve made it clear that you do too. But part of me believes you’re doing it as a joke or for a laugh. And another part believes that if I do give in you’ll change your mind.”

“Sweetheart,” he replies, “If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t be dragging it out this long. I wouldn’t have flirted with you to begin with.”

Amihan lets out a long exhale. Mason has never lied, has never been false about his intentions. Everything that’s happened has been proof of that - but why this, the fact that he wants her in that way was so hard to believe?

“That’s good to know,” she manages to say. She can’t look at him now. “But what if you don’t like what you see?”

Mason furrows his brows, once again, genuine confusion falling onto his face.

“I obviously like what I see-”

“Once we get intimate. What if you don’t like how I look then,” she quickly interjects, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s thought of those words forever, but saying them out loud feels like unearthing something deep and awful.

For once Mason is stunned silent.

“Why wouldn’t I like-”

“Because I’m ugly,” she interjects again, fearing a frustrated response from him. She’s relieved when it doesn’t come.

He pauses to say something, but not before Amihan can continue.

“And no, I’m not fishing for sympathy or whatever. It’s why I never bring this up.”

A torrent of tears trickles down her cheeks. Embarrassing.

She begind to stand up and leave. That was enough of that. That was not where she was hoping it’d go.

“Amihan.”

Mason has never said her name before - or at least, never from what she can remember. It’s enough to make her freeze in her steps.

“Embarrassing, I know,” she says, her back turned.

“No,” Mason says. She hears him get up.

“Well,” Amihan sniffs, wiping her face with her sleeve, “Tell me now if you no longer want anything to do with me.”

She feels his footsteps close in, the warmth of his presence coming nearer.

“It might sound disingenuous,” he says, “But I do, still want you. But if it’s something that makes you uncomfortable, I won’t push it anymore.”

Amihan sighs, pang stinging in her chest.

“But that’s just the thing, it doesn’t. I want nothing more than to…,” she trails off, “I just. I hate how I look. I hate how my body looks and I am so scared you will too.”

She finally turns to face him, blinking away tears. There’s a certain softness in his eyes she doesn’t think she’s ever seen. He shoves his hands in his pocket and looks at her.

“I have no idea if it means anything coming from me, but I won’t,” he assures, “You’re stunning.”

There’s a gentleness in his final words that make Amihan’s stomach leap. It frightens her too.

“I don’t believe it, but...thank you,” she replies.

“I’d like to make you believe it,” he smirks, “Even if it doesn’t involve...that.”

Amihan can’t help the smile it coaxes.

“So tell me now,” he says, more serious this time, “Would you like me to stop?”

Amihan rocks back and forth on her heels. She looks at his eyes, gleaming as always.

“No,” she answers, “But...it might take. A while.”

He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling.

“I have forever, sweetheart.”

The weight of his reply is heavier than she expected.

_____________

As Amihan walks away, the sound of her heartbeat grows faint, as does the feeling of peace that had enveloped Mason.

Suddenly, the crickets are too loud, the breeze too frosty, and the stone roof too rough beneath his skin. He pulls his jacket tighter against him. When he can no longer hear Amihan’s heartbeat, he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, dampening the sensory overload.

He takes a long drag and exhales. He thinks about Amihan - something he finds himself doing often, almost all the time. He ignores the desire to just have her close.

What bothers him even more than the rattling of tree branches, was that Amihan had meant everything she said earlier. He knows what lies feel like, even half truths, but very few people have ever laid anything so raw and bare before him. His brows knot at the notion that Amihan finds herself ugly.

It’s ridiculous. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him.

Had anyone else said that about Amihan, a quick fist to the jaw would fix it. But what now that it’s Amihan herself? There’s a want in him to prove to her that what she believes is wrong. Because it’s wrong.

Amihan is beautiful.

And for a moment there, the fear of Amihan telling him to back off was too real. And the fear, maybe wasn’t from not being able to get intimate with her. Maybe the fear was from the idea of no longer being able to be around her.

The idea makes his head spin.

He takes another drag from the cigarette. He can see the sun peeking from the horizon. It’s almost time to crawl back to his room.

#twc #twc mason #agent mason #mason x detective #agent m #my fic #amihan marasigan #amihan x mason

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oneblueumbrella · 4 years ago

Text

Thirty minute Thursday

Flirt part 1

If Greg didn’t know any better he’d say he was being followed, but that was ridiculous. His tired brain was simply playing tricks on him. There were plenty of black town cars in London, and at this time of night the traffic was heavy enough for a skilled driver to lose themselves if they so desired. It was the downside of leaving work on time, dodging far more people than usual and having to check properly before crossing the road. He was vaguely considering the pros and cons of a takeaway versus actually cooking when the sound of his name broke into his thoughts.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

Greg faltered, closing his eyes for a second. It wasn’t his name but his title that made him stop. Must be work, and his sense of duty was too strong to ignore it.

Dammit.

Steeling himself to be polite, Greg turned, but the courteous smile he was preparing didn’t quite make it when he saw who – and what – was waiting. The brunette was pretty enough, but the rest of the scene made his jaw drop. The blatantly menacing civil servant types in suits, one holding open the door of a black town car were almost comical in their seriousness. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? He could only think of one person that might find it amusing to arrange something so elaborate.

With certainty that came with relief, Greg relaxed. “Did Sherlock do this?” he asked.

“No,” the brunette said, her voice distant. She had barely looked at Greg, far more invested in her blackberry than anything happening around her.

When Greg didn’t move, she sighed theatrically before looking up at him. He had the distinct impression she was mildly surprised to see him still standing in front of her. Greg barely registered the flick of her forefinger, but both the security guards moved immediately. Neither touched Greg, but they were standing uncomfortably close enough to encourage him to walk towards the open door of the car.

“Seriously?” Greg sighed.

Whatever was going on it didn’t feel like he was in any danger and honestly, his curiosity was piqued now. Someone was going to a lot of effort just to speak to him and it would be terribly rude to ignore them. Shrugging, Greg stepped forward and slid into the car. He’d be riding in style at least, admiring the leather as the brunette slid in beside him.

Glancing sideways he decided not to ask where they were going. His companion was clearly not going to tell him anything more than he already knew – which was basically nothing – and he just hoped they would drop him off at home in time to get some dinner in. Being kidnapped definitely tipped his decision in the direction of takeaway, and he wondered if she’d lied about this being Sherlock’s handiwork. He didn’t usually bother with anything so extravagant. More likely to get some of his homeless mates to rough Greg up a little than organise this elegant ride, although for what purpose Greg still wasn’t entirely sure.

When the car stopped, Greg realised he had no idea where they were. They’d driven into a warehouse somewhere, and he could make an estimate at how far they were from the Yard, but otherwise his daydreaming meant he hadn’t been paying attention at all.

“Out, please,” the brunette said, still tapping on her Blackberry.

Greg shrugged. Even if the joke was to take him out here and leave him, he’d have to get started walking home eventually. The sound of the door closing was loud, reverberating through the empty space. Greg was surprised when the car didn’t take off, instead sitting like a great dark creature in the darkness. The only source of light was a single downwards beam a few metres away.

Whoever they are there’s a streak of drama in them.

It made Greg relax; the truly bad guys wouldn’t have bothered with all this. He’d be dead and stuffed in a truck at the bottom of the river if that was the point. So whoever this was they were either amateur thugs – unlikely with the car and the pretty henchwoman, not to mention the professionally trained security people – or the agenda was something entirely different. And the only thing in Greg’s life even vaguely interesting right now was Sherlock. The brunette said he didn’t set it up, so this was someone else. Someone interested in Sherlock, but not wanting to be seen speaking to Greg.

Sherlock knows this person.

Greg grinned, still standing by the car. This was actually interesting, now. He wondered how long he could stand here in the dark, but he was starting to get hungry and it was obvious he was expected to walk toward the single beam of light.

Don’t want to disappoint.

Strolling over, one hand in his pocket, Greg stopped at the edge of the light. It was impossible to see the other side, but he had the impression someone was there. He didn’t say anything, biting the inside of his mouth to hide his grin. This silence was a classic interrogation technique. Either this person didn’t think he’d know that, or they were prepared to wait. Tempting though it was to play ‘who’s better at waiting’, Greg was prepared to sacrifice this move in order to get things going.

“This might be easier if you say something,” Greg said. When there was no immediate reply, he made his first move. “Okay, well, thanks for the lift, it’s a very nice car. A phone call might be enough next time, eh?”

He’d turned and walked several steps before the voice spoke from the other side of the light.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“Yeah, we’ve already established that,” Greg replied before returning to the edge of the light with an easy grin. He wasn’t going to pretend to be intimidated by all this; despite the darkness, it was all a bit cloak-and-dagger for his radar to ping ‘actual danger’. “Did you want to introduce yourself or are you planning to stick with the Smoking Man kind of vibe?”

A beat passed before one well-polished shoe stepped into the light, a precise movement followed by the most Bond-villain looking person Greg had ever seen in real life. The shoes were only the beginning, and when the point of the umbrella landed carefully on the ground, Greg found his eyes drawn up, cataloguing the pinstriped suit over long long legs, a matching waistcoat and – was he serious? – a genuine pocketwatch. The shadows were too deep for him to pick the colour of the tie and pocket square but it was some kind of red, an unashamed power move.

Deliberately dramatic. Could have some fun…

Greg couldn’t have chosen a better man to with whom to do this. Whatever the game was, this man was all in, and while Greg wasn’t going to take up his allocated role of intimidated working class copper, he was well prepared to play some games of his own. And this man, with his raised chin and half visible expression, radiating power and disdain, was the perfect man to be taken down by Greg’s chosen game. It wouldn’t hurt that he was exactly Greg’s type, either.

I might as well enjoy it.

“Well hello there, handsome,” Greg purred. He stepped further into the light, his smile widening into a grin of appreciation. He deliberately looked the man up and down, allowing his eyes to linger, head nodding as he noted details. “Pity the lights are so dim. Hard to appreciate such a fine specimen without the proper lighting.”

“I beg your pardon?” the man said, and Greg was fairly sure he’d raised an eyebrow.

“Look, if you’re after some fun, you could have just asked,” Greg said. He eased closer, suppressing a chuckle as the man stiffened. “As long as no money changes hands it’s not illegal.” He settled his weight, slipping his hands in his pockets. “I’d be happy to say I got into that car voluntarily. I mean, depending on what you have planned.”

“My plans are of no such variety.” The man spoke in a voice Greg suspected was supposed to be firm but wavered at the edges.

“Don’t worry sugar, I have plenty of ideas,” Greg told him. “You obviously know who I am, but I don’t know your name.” He grinned. “I could give you a name for the night, if you like.”

“This is not a…the purpose of this meeting,” the man said, still ignoring Greg’s musings about his name, “is to ascertain your intentions regarding a certain informant with whom you’ve recently started working.”

Greg’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. He glanced around again, shaking his head. “Might be easier to remember if I could see a bit more clearly.”

(this is as far as I got - I plan to continue this story next week)

#mystrade #thirtyminutethursday

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thepancakeboi · 4 years ago

Text

74. “I can’t take the loneliness anymore.”

Divergence AU Part I

Next | AU list | Prompt source

Fanfic under cut

10/9

Ren: Have you played never have I ever?

I stare at Ren’s most recent text. Where is this coming from all of a sudden? He’s been unfortunately busy the past several days, as he’s lamented to me over text. Perhaps he found himself some free time. A little curious about the reason for his text, I quickly text him back a response.

-x-

Goro: I have not, but I am familiar with the rules.

Ren: Would you wanna play?

Ren: Ann, Makoto, and Futaba will be there too

Goro: If you don’t mind me asking, why are you inviting me to play?

Ren: I like hanging out with you

-x-

Something about that response, the fact that he enjoys my company, makes me...happy. It’s not the first time he’s said it. He has told me over and over again that he loves being around me and that he would always try to make time for me if I wanted it. I look back down at the chat as I notice another text from Ren.

-x-

Ren: And they’ll gang up on me if you’re not there

Goro: I see... you have ulterior motives.

Goro: Not that it matters.

Goro: I highly doubt that they would “gang up” on you, though.

Ren: Trust me Akechi they will

Ren: Do you wanna play?

-x-

I take a minute to think it over. I don’t know his friends that well. This could give me an easy opportunity to get to know them a little better to improve my plans for them all. Having made my decision, I text him back.

-x-

Goro: I would be delighted to join you.

Ren: Yay! :D

Ren: We’re meeting up at Leblanc at 5

Goro: I’ll be there.

-----

I arrive at Leblanc a few minutes early. Ren perks up as the bell over the door rings, immediately grinning when he notices it’s me. He leads me upstairs to his room up in the cafe’s attic. “Hello,” I say in greeting, noticing that the others are already here.

“It seems we’re all here,” Makoto remarks when I sit down beside Ann, Ren taking the seat next to me. “Who wants to go first?”

Futaba nearly jumps in her seat as she answers, “I will! Never have I ever worn fake glasses!”

“I told you,” Ren remarks while putting down a finger. “I’ll go next. Never have I ever not attended high school.” Futaba makes an overly dramatic wounded expression as she puts down her own finger. She should have seen that one coming.

“Your turn, Akechi!” Ann says.

“Very well,” I reply, mulling over a response in my head. “Never have I ever attended Shujin Academy.”

Futaba laughs as Ann, Makoto, and Ren all have to put down a finger. “This one’s in my party now!”

“I thought you were on my side,” Ren says, pouting a little.

I shake my head. “I wasn’t targeting you in particular, Amamiya-kun. It was simply an option that applied to a lot of people.”

Ann smiles, apparently already having her statement prepared. “Okay, my turn. Never have I ever taken mock college entrance exams.”

Makoto and I both put down a finger while she thinks of hers. “Never have I ever...been told I look drop-dead gorgeous?” I’m glad Ren doesn’t say anything as I put my second finger down, although he looks like he’s tempted. Ann has to put one down as well.

Futaba grins eagerly, clearly still bent on going after Ren. “Never have I ever been in a bathhouse.” Ren somehow has the nerve to smile when I realize Futaba’s statement is also true for me. He’s definitely remembering that day from last month. Futaba seems a little surprised at this. “Hey, I got a two-hit combo there!”

“Never have I ever slept for longer than 48 hours in a row,” Ren immediately shoots back.

My turn. “Never have I ever been to a beach.”

I give a little giggle as everyone is affected besides me. Ren looks at me, curious. “Wait, you haven’t?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“That’s it. Next summer, I’m taking you to the beach.”

...I don’t need my mind telling me that he won’t be alive long enough for the sentiment to matter.

Luckily, Ann is able to draw me out of my thoughts. “Never have I ever fell asleep studying.” Great. I put down my fourth finger. “Wait, you have?” she asks in disbelief.

“It was really cute actually,” Ren says for me. “We were studying together downstairs and he fell asleep leaning against m-”

“I think that’s enough information from you, Amamiya-kun,” I interrupt. “Niijima-san, I believe it’s your turn?”

Makoto nods in acknowledgment. “Yes. Never have I ever spent over 100,000¥ in one purchase.”

Futaba looks straight at Ren as both of them have to put a finger down. “Never have I ever committed a crime IRL!”

Ren looks almost distraught as he sighs, now only having four left. Whether or not he’s being overly dramatic about it is left up to debate. My right index finger twitches, as if my subconscious is tempted to be honest. I can’t, though. If they knew the truth about me...besides, there would be too many questions that I simply couldn’t answer without spinning a giant web of lies. It’s simply too early for that, but...could I really-

“Futaba, that statement applies to you as well,” Makoto remarks.

“Whaaa?”

“Hacking government websites is a crime.”

“Aww, man,” Futaba groans.

Ren smirks, looking rather smug at the moment as he says, “Okay, never have I ever...”

The game continues on for a little while. Ren is the first to be eliminated, largely due to Futaba targeting him, although I am the one to take him out (and not on a date like he suggested when I said as such). Makoto ultimately wins in the end. We’re all departing when Ren asks if I want to stay and play some chess. I accept the offer, surprisingly enthusiastic. I’m not even paying much attention to the game itself. Something is on my mind. Why is it that I am eager to spend so much time with Ren? I know I need to get close to him, but I’m genuinely enjoying the time spent with him. Am I getting too close?

“So, Akechi...what crime did you commit besides being drop-dead gorgeous?”

I nearly drop the rook in my hand, startled. “Huh? What are you getting at?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t. I saw your finger twitch. You wanted to put your finger down, didn’t you?” I don’t bother answering, instead deciding to place the rook down on a new spot. The game is almost reflective of the current situation. Ren has me cornered. “Knew it. But who would’ve guessed? Ace detective Goro Akechi, secretly a criminal? Come on, spill the details!”

“Do I have to?”

“I told you mine. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

“Very well...I robbed the 777 in Shibuya when I was eleven years old,” I easily lie. “Happy now?”

“I would be...if you were telling the truth.” He moves his knight, taking the rook I had moved earlier and trapping my king. Checkmate. “If you really don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine. I won’t force it.”

I’m silent for a few minutes. Ren, true to his word as ever, doesn’t try to force me to talk. Finally, I say, “You won’t like the real answer.”

“You can tell me if you want. I won’t judge.”

His words bring me to a decision. I just hope I don’t come to regret it. Sakura-san isn’t here, leaving me free to say my next words. “We should find somewhere else to talk, preferably somewhere where no one can eavesdrop. Surely you know such a place...Joker.”

His head jolts slightly, the only indication that the name I had heard him being referred to as in the Metaverse means anything to him. I find this confusing. I would have expected him to have a stronger reaction. “I do. Let’s go.”

Ren remains surprisingly silent after that. Normally, I would welcome it, but this silence is...unnerving. He’s rarely this quiet around me, and when he is, he still manages to constantly remind me of his presence. This is different. Right now, it feels like he’s trying to hide in the backdrop and make himself inconspicuous. What is going on in that head of his? I’m almost tempted to ask him what he’s thinking about if only to get him to say something, anything. I don’t. There will be plenty to talk about soon enough.

The time both drags on and speeds right along as we arrive in Shibuya. We exit the train, Ren leading the way up to the station square. He pulls out his phone, looking at me to see if I am ready. I nod. This is it.

The familiar dizziness signals our entering the Metaverse. It’s a feeling I may never get used to. My outfit has changed to my white princely attire. Good. I don’t know if I’m prepared to reveal that just yet. I turn to see Ren in his own thief attire. “How did you find out?” he asks, his voice finally breaking through the uncomfortable silence. His demeanor has changed. He seems more confident, and he has a sort of aggressiveness that he rarely exhibits in the real world. Even his gaze is sharper, more intense. I may know him as Ren Amamiya, but right now, the one I am facing is Joker.

“Your friend...I believe he goes by Skull here? He should learn to keep his voice down.”

“Are you gonna turn us in?”

“I should arrest you.”

“Should?”

“But I won’t.” Not yet, at least.

“And you have a Persona?”

As expected, he’s asking so much, trying to figure me out. I’m not going to stop the flow of questions. “Yes. I do.”

“How did you discover the Metaverse?”

“A couple of weeks ago, I was trying to get evidence of your group’s identity as the Phantom Thieves. I must have been dragged inside.” It’s partially true. I had been gathering evidence to later blackmail them, but I had gone into the Palace on my own volition. That and I’ve been here many times before that day.

“You’re lying.”

I raise an eyebrow, even if he probably can’t see it under my mask. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t just discover the Metaverse recently. You’ve known about it for longer than that.”

“And what evidence do you have to support your deductions?”

“That day at the TV station. You thought you heard something about delicious pancakes, but...Morgana was the only one who mentioned them.” I stare at him. Does he mean to say what I think he is? “You know, the cat,” he adds.

So the cat in his bag is the small black and white creature that accompanies them in the Metaverse. And by hearing him in Madarame’s Palace, I- “...Oh.” Now I understand. If I had been telling the truth, I should not have been able to understand the cat in June. “So that’s how you figured it out.”

Joker nods. “What are you hiding from the Phantom Thieves...and from me?”

I turn my back on him. There’s only one thing left for me to do. “Maybe it’ll be best if I show you.”

One of these days, I knew I would be showing him my true colors. Never had I anticipated it would be like this. My outfit shifts and morphs in an explosion of black and red fire crawling up my body. White and red is replaced with black and blue. I turn to face him just as the transformation is complete, the world tinted red by the lenses of my mask.

“A black mask,” Joker whispers. It’s clear he’s trying to process the truth of the matter, that I’m the person he’s been hunting down since Kaneshiro’s Palace. To his credit, Joker doesn’t look incredibly surprised, even if I’m sure he is. He hides it well. “You’re...”

“That’s right,” I reply, my voice nearly a snarl. “I’m the one who’s causing the scandals everyone has been talking about. The mental shutdowns. The psychotic breakdowns. They’re all because of me. Oh, and Okumura? He’s as good as dead.”

There’s that look of surprise I’ve been anticipating. “You killed him?”

“Yes. I did.” I take the mask off, looking right at Joker as I say, “You wanted to know what crimes I’ve committed. Well, there’s your answer.”

“Why?” he finally asks.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“This being?”

“All of it, I guess.”

“My Metaverse activities are all part of a plan that’s been two years in the making,” I start, being purposefully vague. This isn’t where I had been expecting this conversation to go.

“A plan?”

“Yes. A plan to settle a...very personal grudge.”

“Who’s this grudge against?” I put my mask back on, hiding my facial expression. Joker’s latest question is one I cannot answer. He’s not satisfied. “What’s their name?”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to force it.”

“I just wanna help,” he says, about to approach me. “Please-”

“I don’t want your pity!” I yell.

He stops, realizing that right now may not be the best time to get near me. “I’m not pitying you.”

“Oh, really?” I hiss. “Then why go this far to help me!?”

“Because I care about you.” He...cares about me? How could he possibly...? I don’t understand. He should be hating me right now! Yet he claims that he cares about me, even now. “One more thing. If you’re not wanting my help, then why are you telling me any of this?”

My response comes unfiltered, hiding nothing from him. “I...I can’t take the loneliness anymore.”

Joker’s response surprises me even more. “You’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He says it with no doubt or hesitation. He truly believes that he’ll be there for me when I need him. As selfless as ever. But I won’t rely on him. I refuse to let him help me because whatever ridiculous savior complex he has tells him to. As if sensing my thoughts, he adds, “We could make a deal instead if you want.”

“A deal?”

“I’ll help you with your plans if you help me find the man who accused me of assault.”

That has me on edge. “Just what are you planning?”

“I want to help, no matter what it takes. It’s not pity, Akechi. I want to prove that.”

“And you think that, by striking a deal with me, you’ll be able to convince yourself it isn’t? Don’t make me laugh.”

“You wanted to help me, remember?” His question gives me pause. I had offered to help, yes. When he rejected my offer, I had even tried to insist on helping, but he refused to budge. “I wanted to deal with it on my own, just like you. I told myself, ‘It’s just a year.’ But we’re doing this the wrong way. We’re strong, but I don’t think we should be doing this alone. So, let’s do this...together.”

“How idiotic could you get? We’re enemies-”

“Rivals,” he immediately interjects.

“Fine. Rivals. But we’re not meant to work together.”

“Even rivals team up sometimes.”

“You...” I manage to hold back a laugh as I continue, “You have some strange logic sometimes.”

“So?” Joker extends his hand. “Do we have a deal...Goro?”

It takes me a few moments of sputtering over him calling me by my first name to get out a response. I take his hand in mine, making sure not to accidentally jab him with my clawed gauntlets. “Fine. I accept your proposal.”

#akeppi writes #p5 #persona 5 #goro akechi #akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #ann takamaki #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #akeshu #shuake #writing prompt

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orangeoctopi7 · 5 years ago

Text

Champions

I know I already posted something for the last week of @stanuary but that was sort of a place-holder for this. I’ve been sick on-and-off for the last month or so, so I wasn’t sure if I’d finish this in time. I did get time to work on it the other day while I was at work.

This is a crossover with Atop the Fourth Wall’s Contest of Champions, but you don’t need any prior knowledge of AT4W to understand what’s happening. I’m just borrowing a concept, really. (Although I do want to do a second chapter where Stan interacts with those characters)

***

Stan was awoken in the middle of the night by one of Ford’s alarms going off. He groggily sat up as his brother jumped out of his own hammock and dashed to the controls, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

“Wazzat?” Stan groaned.

“An extradimensional portal just opened up aboard the Stan'o'war! But my sensors aren’t picking up any foreign lifeforms. Whatever it was must also have access to time travel. It must have paused time, entered our dimension, done whatever it was trying to do, and then left before restoring the flow of time.”

“Y'sure your nerd gadgets aren’t just broken?” Stan asked, reaching sleepily for his glasses on the bedside cabinet. He felt around, but instead of the thin plastic frames, he felt a heavy sheet of parchment.

“Yes, I’m sure! Now keep a close eye out for anything out of place! Just because I don’t detect any lifeforms doesn’t mean they couldn’t have left a robot or a bug.”

“Uh, Ford? I think I found what they left.”

Stan finally put his glasses on and looked down at the parchment he’d found. It was the same size as a normal 8.5" by 11" printer paper, but the parchment felt much fancier, like something the Northwests would use for an invitation. Which was exactly what it was.

STANLEY PINES

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE 1049th INTERDIMENSIONAL

CONTEST OF CHAMPIONS

SPEAK ALOUD YOUR ACCEPTANCE AND DETAILS WILL FOLLOW

CONGRATULATIONS, CHAMPION.

“What the…?” Stan muttered, turning the page over to look for more info, but it was blank. “Ford, are you tryin’ to pull some sorta prank? If so, I don’t get your humor at all.”

Ford silently read the invitation over his brother’s shoulder, before snatching it away. “This has to be counterfeit. I know you destroyed Bill, but that’s not… that doesn’t make you… does it?”

“Seriously, Ford, what is this?” Stan asked impatiently.

Ford took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, before answering. “To put it in your terms, Stan, the Contest of Champions is like an interdimensional boxing tournament, only instead of just boxing, the Champions can choose any kind of contest they want.”

“Champions?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I bet this thing will do a much better job of explaining.” He held up the invitation like it was a phone and he was having a video-chat. “We’d like the Terms and Conditions, please.”

Nothing happened.

“Of course, I wasn’t invited.” Ford rolled his eyes and handed the paper back to Stan. “You have to ask it.”

Stan held the paper out like he’d seen Ford doing. “Uh… can you explain this whole thing to me?” He awkwardly addressed the invitation.

With nothing more than a bright flash of light, a figure in dark robes appeared. They looked like they might be human, but every part of them was covered, from their closed hood to their gloved hands.

“Sweet Moses!” Stan shouted in surprise, winding up to punch the intruder.

“Relax, it’s just a hologram recording.” Ford reassured him with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

“The interdimensional Contest of Champions is a tournament.” The hologram began, “Within every parallel reality, there are figures best suited to defend those realities. These individuals are referred to as Champions. The hosts for this contest, the Temlins, have elected to hold a tournament to judge their respective skills against one another. Participants are randomly selected across all realities and invitations are sent. You are under no obligation to join this great tournament, but should you enter, you will be granted the opportunity to test your abilities against other powerful individuals and make an attempt at a great prize. All battles are non-lethal and participation is voluntary. Should you remain victorious through all of your battles, you will be awarded this great prize. Defeat brings only as much dishonor as you allow yourself. If you have any further questions, you may ask now.”

“Wow, that’s quite the schpiel you got there.” Stan grunted. He turned to his brother. “So, let me get this straight. I can’t die, and I get to fight a buncha space dorks for some fancy prize? Sounds like a good time to me!”

“It’s a lot more complex than that.”

“What, you been in one of these things?”

“No, but I watched the coverage of one during my interdimensional travels. I should warn you, they take forever. Since it covers multiple dimensions and timelines, it can be really stretched out. I saw the beginning of the 1018th tournament while I was in the Bubble Dimension, by the time it finally finished, I was in the Flying Whale Dimension, six years later.”

“Well, do I haffta wait on their planet, or somethin’ or can I just go about life as normal?”

Ford shrugged.

“Between rounds, Champions are allowed to prepare as they see fit.” The hologram answered. “The Temlins are aware of the great temporal differences between participating dimensions. Champions are encouraged to continue their normal lives if at all possible while waiting for the next round.”

“Ok. And how do these battles work?”

“From what I remember, one of the contestants gets to choose the contest.”

“For each round, one of the two Champions is selected at random. They must set a battle that is fair to both parties, with a reasonable chance that either could win. The conditions of the battle must be agreed upon by both parties, and approved by the Temlins.”

“So, I just gotta bribe the right people, and make sure I get to pick the challenge. Dirty boxing, or, I dunno, a The Dutchess Approves trivia quiz.”

“Stanley, I’d advise against mentioning bribery in front of the recording device.” Ford scolded him. “And besides, the Temlins are all-powerful beings. I very much doubt you have anything that would interest them.”

“Well, what’ve I got to lose, right? I’ll give it a shot.”

“Stanley, wait, let’s think about this first! I don’t trust the Temlins. That much power, and they use it to host a tournament!? Why couldn’t they have done something about Bill, why couldn’t they use that power to stop injustice across the multiverse?”

Stan gasped in mock surprise. “What!? You don’t trust somebody? That’s never happened before! Whatever will I do with this new, vital information?”

“Stanley, I’m serious!”

“C'mon Ford, the man says it’s voluntary. If things get sketchy, I’ll quit! ‘Snot like I expect to win this thing. Think of it this way, I get to fight crazy space guys. You get to study whatever crazy space guys they send our way, and maybe if I get really lucky, I win some fancy sci-fi prize.”

Ford sighed. “I’ll admit, that does sound tempting.”

“Great, cuz I’m doin’ it!” Stan turned back to the hologram. “I, uh, speak aloud my acceptance, or however this works.”

“Welcome, Stanley Pines, to the Contest of Champions.”

“Great. So now what?”

“Preliminary round begins now.”

“Wait, what?”

“Your opponent is Ace Corgi, Attorney at Paw. Battlefield has been selected as Stanley Pines’”

“Ford, you said these things take forever!”

“Well I never saw anything about a preliminary round on the broadcast!”

Another brilliant flash filled the cabin. The hologram had disappeared, and in its place was a stout dog with pointy ears and a steel-gray coat. It looked just as surprised as they were. Ford’s alarms started again.

“Oh, are we starting now?” It asked in a deep voice that belied its small size.

“Aw, lookit the cute talking dog!” Stan cooed.

“That must be the Champion from the Corgi Dimension!”

“There’s a Corgi Dimension!?”

“Yes, but last I heard, the Champion of the Corgi Dimension was Atticus.”

“Oh, He retired just last year.” The small dog explained. “Now, which one of you humans is my opponent?”

Stan raised his hand.

“Thank you. Now have at thee!”

The dog lunged without warning, going straight for Stan’s knees.

“What the H!?” Stan shouted as he nearly toppled to the ground. His first instinct was to dropkick the animal, but he knew Mabel would never forgive him for doing such a thing to a cute dog, even if it was in self defense. Luckily, he knew a thing or two about dealing with rowdy dogs from his time pug trafficking. He grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, doing his best to avoid the snapping jaws, and forced the dog onto its back.

“A little help here?” He yelled to Ford as he struggled to keep the wiggling dog still.

The old scientist held his hands up. “I’m not allowed to interfere.”

The dog took advantage of Stan’s split attention and squirmed out of his grasp.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Stan shouted as the corgi chased him up onto the deck.

“I’m not being a jerk, it’s the rules!” Ford called after him.

Stan at least had the presence of mind to grab his boots and his coat as he dashed for the stairs. Luckily, the steps slowed his stubby-legged pursuer down, and he was able to actually put them on.

“You cur! Your giant ledges won’t be enough to stop me!"

"What the heck, I thought we had to both agree on the battle first!?”

“That’s what I thought too, but it seems the Temlins get to decide the battle for the preliminary round. I suppose it saves time.” The dog replied as it hopped up the last step.

What the heck am I supposed to do!? Stan wondered to himself. I’m not gonna punch a little dog!

He ran around the deck a couple of times, trying to tire the little guy out, but the dog had boundless energy, and it’s fur coat was obviously better at keeping the cold out than Stan’s cotton one. Finally, his eyes caught sight of the net he and Ford used to catch specimens for his brother’s research. Perfect!

Out-maneuvering a herding dog was a challenge, but in the end he managed. After all, corgis were bred to herd large groups of sheep, not one cunning old man. Once Stan grabbed the net, he tossed it over his opponent, tangling up its little legs almost instantly. The dog continued to squirm, attempting to wiggle its way out once again. When this proved futile, it started to gnaw on the cables of the net.

“Yeah, good luck, Bucko.” Stan chuckled. “That net’s meant for things way bigger and more magical than you.”

“Preliminary round has ended. The victor is Stanley Pines.” The hologram appeared again in a flash of light. “You are both Champions worthy of being in this great tournament. Now you must await your summoning for the first true round. Information and dossiers about the other participants will be made available to you soon, relative to your own universe’s timescale. Welcome, once again, to the Contest of Champions.”

With that, the hologram disappeared again.

“Good show, human!” The dog barked happily. “Will you please let me out now?”

“Oh, right.” Stan pulled the net away. “Not that it’s any of my business, but if I can beat you, ya might not last many rounds in this tournament.”

“Oh, this dog still has a few tricks. I don’t want to show all my best moves before we’ve even begun!”

“Good point. Hey, before ya go, would it be too much to ask for a picture? My niece would really love you.”

“But of course!”

“Hey Ford, get up here!” Stan called down the stairs to the cabin.

“I told you, I can’t help during the match!”

“It’s already over, genius! We’re takin’ a commemorative photo! Bring up the camera!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #atop the fourth wall #Stanley Pines #Stanuary 2020 #Fight #my writing

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