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corruptedplaylist · 7 months

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act iii: final notes

edit: 4/9/2024: added some more stuff!!! i'll put this emoji 🫧 next to the new things so u know where to scroll.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH I FINISHED MY FIRST FULL LENGTH FIC HOLD ON LEMME JUST THROW UP IN THE CORNER REAL QUICK

i am sooooooo normal rn anyways let's get into it thank u for having me on the show, mr. kimmel. i've had a raging headache all day so the content underneath each sections will be kinda short. i'll go through and add more to it once i recover but i wanted to get this up before the week got too busy!

krolia

guys…. im so sorry for the angst….. it was necessary for the plot…….

maybe it’s just me projecting but in the actual show, i kind of wish we had seen more of the emotional fallout that occurred after krolia revealed that she was keith’s mom. because let’s be real here, there’s no way that keith’s traumatized ass would just willingly accept her back into his life. he’d have questions. he’d be in disbelief. it’s hard for him to open up to others and he carries a lot of hurt from being abandoned.

it was crucial in the course of this fic to have that confrontation between krolia and keith. it's not always going to be rainbows and sunshine, and even though they both missed each other deeply, you don't just automatically connect and forget everything that's happened. even if keith hadn't gone into the foster system, he definitely would have carried a lot of anger and hurt towards krolia when she shows back up. i'm sure that things won't just be smooth sailing and they'll need to hash things out multiple times as they rebuild their relationship but that first fight was a big hurdle to get over.

if you’re curious, i have a whooollleeee backstory for what happened with krolia and why she couldn’t get back to her kid. i couldn’t really fit it into the fic but i’ll put it right here for those who are interested:

2000: krolia in the US on student visa, first year of of PhD program

krolia meets heath and they fall in love

2003: krolia gives birth to keith

2008: krolia finishes grad school/PhD program/doctoral degree and applies for a work visa

2009: she and heath and baby keith are living their life but krolia’s parents find out and are like girl you need to come home NOW or we will disown you

krolia’s family are really wealthy and powerful

krolia: i’ll come back for you guys idk how but i will

krolia goes back to the states

2009-2011: she and heath write letters but then the letters start getting intercepted by the family and eventually peters out

krolia in arranged marriage and thinks her partner forgot about her or didn’t care

meanwhile heath doesn’t know what happened to krolia but can’t do anything about it bc she’s in a diff country and he doesn’t speak korean

2011: heath and keith move to texas for job or whatever

heath tells keith all about krolia and how she loves him but can’t be there and obvi that fucks keith up bc he misses his mom but where tf is she? how does he know she loves him if she’s not even there? he's a little kid

2013: heath dies and keith is put into the system

heath has no other family members

krolia put her english name on the birth certificate and so ofc she doesn’t exist in the US

texas social services try to reach out to krolia along with some friends but letters are intercepted

2016: someone reaches out to krolia after she finally gets facebook

friend: thinking of you. miss you. so sorry about heath

krolia: …. what the fuck about heath?

friend: uhhhhhhhh

krolia goes on rampage to her family like wtf u mean u didn’t tell me that the father of my child is dead

cousin shows up with the intercepted letters (official notice from social services, heath’s letters and pictures, keith’s little notes and drawings)

krolia starts the process of legally and financially emancipating herself from her family (she basically was Britney’d)

2017/2018: finally is free and able to get a job in the states

starts tracking down heath (they only had a forwarding address for krolia so they’re like wtf who is this bih)

at this point, keith has already met the shiroganes and changed his name

krolia is in a different state and can only do so much

spends the next few years trying to find him, hires P.I., again keep running into blocks bc social workers and case managers are NOT going to budge on giving up keith's personal information

2023, winter break: krolia reaches out to keith through facebook but it goes into his spam since they’re not facebook friends

allura

what better allegory for sacrificing yourself to save the universe is there than graduating college? in all fairness, i felt like sticking to the notion of allura saying goodbye and leaving the group had its merit, just y’know, i wanted to take a step down from the whole dying thing. i tried to pay homage to the canon material as much as possible while also providing my own spin on things.

one thing that’s been important to me is depicting allura as a college student. sure, while i think most iterations of allura as a kind and a great leader and intelligent are great, even in modern au fics, i just wish there had been a bit more... silliness? outside of her being like the girlboss, the hell yeah supporting character or love interest or bone-tired leader, i always wonder what she would have been like if she hadn't had to save the universe and was just trying to heal on her own terms. yeah, i nerfed her parents in this universe but i tried to showcase her doing normal college things as well, like presenting at research conferences, getting a bit messy drunk, having pizza nights and group hang outs. the funny thing about grief is that life does not stop for it, so you have to just figure things out along the way.

i also didn't want to elaborate too much on her relationship with lotor. she didn't magically heal from that one conversation with lance in chapter 8 but i wanted the readers to get a taste of what was going on in her head through their dialogue. plus, it was a little moment to show how she was allowing herself to open up to other people like lance. no one woman is an island, no matter how much of a bad b!tch you are.

🫧 also, i wanted to include it somewhere but basically, keith knew allura and romelle were hooking up since chapter 14! keith caught romelle sneaking out of allura's room early one morning and he just kept it to himself because snitches get stitches.

pidge

they are so precious to me. they're an amalgamation of 2 of my closest friends, and well, me.

i always knew that pidge was going to be a super important piece in klance development. while lance and keith are great friends, i think pidge played a crucial role in bridging them together in the beginning, before the two of them had cleared up their misunderstandings and made that truce. sure, allura asked them to be on the paintball team but pidge really forced the two of them into close quarters. lance might have extended the offer to keith to hand out without pidge or he might not have. honestly, i'm not really sure. but pidge inviting keith to hang out in chapter 4 was a quiet but big moment because both keith and lance are friends with pidge and will set aside their differences long enough to tolerate each other's presence in a shared space. pidge just has #babyofthefriendgroup privileges.

🫧 i honestly think that after the main two, pidge has undergone the most growth (physically and emotionally) throughout the fic, even though they're a supporting character. we can all benefit from community and friendship but i think pidge needed it a little bit more.

🫧 i partially wrote pidge to represent my younger self, especially when i first attended college. i was scared and alone and i had never been away from home and it was a struggle to form new relationships (and figure out my gender identity. mannnnnn fuck that). it was nice to see pidge find their place and niche among the greater social fabric of college, kind of like comforting my younger self for all the loneliness and uncertainty i endured.

hunk

i love hunk so dearly. ngl, i wanted him to have a bigger arc than he did but hopefully i did a decent job at making feel more well-rounded as a supporting character. i decided to actually kind of lean into this distance in the later chapters as well, esp from lance's pov, as they both got busier. at the end of the day, though, i knew that those two would come back together. hunk is a kind and sympathetic friend and his and lance's friendship will persevere because they're good communicators. their little talk in chapter 17 was me talking to myself and to anyone else who has went through a similar thing where they find themselves drifting a little farther from a friend.

people get busy and that's okay! there will be ebbs and flows in every relationship. even though shared history is a crucial part of a friendship but it can't be the only thing that will keep it going. you need to nurture it and tend to it in order for it to keep it alive and flourishing. hunk understands this and he and lance will be just fine after their talk. hunk is probably the most emotionally intelligent person after adam in the group, and i'm glad he was there to help both lance and keith out when they needed it.

adam

this man!!!!! got i have gotten so fucking attached to adam throughout this fic. he is so dear to me. i know in chapter 10 i wrote from adam's pov and he's a goofy guy in his twenties who's just trying to be a good dad friend but somehow he ended up being a voice of reason and comfort for klance in this fic. lance misses his family a lot and i think adam can not only relate to lance with the homesickness but also lance has started to rely on him a bit like he would with his siblings.

i wanted to try my own spin on adam and keith's relationship. i've seen fics where adam and keith hate each other, don't interact much, or adam takes on a parenting role towards keith as a kid. i wanted to look at keith and adam in the context of two people who both love shiro and then grow to be good friends/surrogate brother-in-law? idk. long story short, adam is very emotionally intelligent and i think he genuinely wanted to get to know keith outside of his connection with shiro and was patient enough to coax keith out of his shell. i tried to write in small ways adam takes care of keith like giving him LactoJoys because Keith likes the taste better than Lactaids, being there for him for his panic attack, adding food to his plate. things that won't draw too much attention, because we all know how keith is about receiving acts of kindness.

i mentioned this in a comment under one of the chapters but all of the advice adam gives keith is either advice i personally received myself or something i wish i could tell my younger self. i hope those words bring you comfort as well!

shiro

i had a lot more planned for shiro but goddammit i had no fucking time or space at this panned out. it's more so klance's story than shiro's.

look, there's a small moment in chapter 18 where shiro is very pleased (and a little surprised) that keith has talked about him with krolia. it has less to do with his faith in keith and more with how he sees himself. shiro has already acknowledged that he has heavy imposter syndrome and deals with his own struggles with self image. it's just always a jolt to your system when someone (could be your own family or your partner of years) validates your relationship.

shiro loves keith very much and just wants to be the best big brother. he has such eldest child syndrome, where he tries to pretend that everything is fine even though things are actually crumbling around him. the thing is, though, you can't build intimacy— real, lasting intimacy and depth in a relationship— without being vulnerable. shiro understands that even though he wants keith to work on opening up, he has to do the same and reciprocate the actions, or else neither of them will really get anywhere and be stuck in that loop of "are you mad at me/i feel like you're hiding something from me/i don't really know who you are."

i tried writing a bit from shiro's pov but i quickly realized that that would drastically change the tone of the fic so i had to scrap it. i might post a little oneshot in the distant future with adashi, though.

keith

🫧 i've talked about this before but although i think keith grew the most as a character in the canon show, that shit was WAY too fast and off-screen. also, i know that the whole found family trope is what drew a lot of fans to voltron in the first place (like me) but is the found family in the room with us rn? i felt like they all started to fall apart or at least weren't as close as the show wanted us to believe. it felt a lot like telling with no showing. other than some occasional moments in the show, the whole #teamasfamily felt hollow.

🫧 i wanted to build on this potential found family for keith's character. he's never had a support system before and he's used to pushing people away but now he has a whole ass friend group that's ready to fight for him if he gives the word.

🫧 initially, when i was writing keith's pov and trying to get a feel for his voice and tone, i struggled a bit. keith is one of those characters that i liked and sympathized with, but getting into his head was a whole different story. i'm more of a lance kinnie but once i got the hand of keith's voice, it was a lot easier. some of my best pieces of writing are from keith's pov! i tried to be as cognizant of keith's development as much as possible as i wrote (think me having various checkpoints for his journey whereas with lance i could just coast on vibes), and i'm pleased with how far he's come.

🫧 although both keith and lance's progress can showcased through their consciousness and thoughts (like duh ur reading from their povs), i leaned into keith's behavior as a way to portray his progress a bit more than lance. things like him being more open to physical affection, not sitting on the outskirts of group dynamics and sticking to shiro, and allowing himself to collect things, which by the way:

🫧 i like the idea of keith's room, once being so empty and ghost-like, is now full of stuff, mementos of his relationships that he's built. i tried to sprinkle in some relics from past chapters (paintball flag, polaroids, ticket stubs), as well add some new tidbits, like shiro giving him a cacti and that korean cookbook!

proud of u, keith bby <3

lance and marco

no i did not just torture lance for the sake of torturing him i would never do that to my boy.

i know this is a fanfiction, but from the start, i wanted to ground this fic in reality and breathe some life into it. lance's little arc with his brother having a substance abuse problem was loosely inspired by events in my personal life.

🫧 i'm not saying that everyone goes through something as drastic as a loved one going to rehab, but as young adults, when we leave home for uni, jobs, other opportunities, etc, there's this worry that something bad will happen while we're away. and often times it does. someone gets sick, a beloved pet passes away, it's all bound to happen. your childhood becomes a thing of the past, and things that you thought would stay the same just won't.

i projected a lot of my feelings onto lance ngl, and writing him work through his own grief and guilt over not being able to be with his family when they're going through a crisis helped me process a little bit more.

although lance had a happier ending than a lot of families might get in reality, i still wanted to show lance having a support system at college and realizing that he has a second family to lean on, and people who love and support him. he doesn't have to pretend to be okay for anyone and that's okay.

black paladin lance or as close to it as i could get

it was so important for me to make lance the new captain of their paintball team, as a stand-in for the black paladin arc he could have had in the show. he’s always been a selfless guy who puts others first and really pulls up when he needs to. he deserves to be recognized for that. not only did every single one of his friends validate him, but the person he looks up to the most literally endorsed him. lance struggles with his inferiority complex and the election scene was a little feel good moment for me, personally, so that he could receive the acknowledgement he deserves, especially with his growth. he's gonna be an awesome team captain (he'll be shuffling down to shiro's room at 2am covered in hickeys and talking about paintball strategies).

wrapping up loose ends

i tried to wrap up as many loose ends as possible and give all the characters a proper send-off. originally i wanted lance and hunk to also move into the house in castle street, like repurpose the basement or something but i realized that that just wasn’t possible because most college basements don’t even have heating or like,,,, a livable arrangement.

ultimately, i think it makes sense for pidge to be the one to take up allura’s room at the house. pidge has lived a single during the academic year but they also had lance and hunk right fifty feet away so it’s not like they REALLY lived alone that year. there was also the logistics of the house having a vacant room, and as much as i would have loved to have all of voltron under the same roof (hunk and pidge sharing a room, keith and lance sharing a room), i think they would kill each other. pidge filling in the gap felt like the right move. and lance and hunk are gonna be over a lot anyways, so it’s not like much has changed in the trio's group dynamic.

🫧 what was your favorite chapter to write?

i think i have different chapters in mind for different reasons, even if it's a copout answer. here are the chapters that are dearest to me:

chapter 4: recalibration this is the chapter where i really got to play around with character interactions. keith and lance's worlds were beginning to integrate in chapter 3 but in this chapter, i got to explore different friendships, like keith & pidge and lance & hunk, and the dynamics they entailed. you can see how important these friendships are to both lance and keith, and how their connection with others eventually helps them to reflect on their previous feelings toward each other, like "hmm maybe i've been too harsh with the other."

chapter 10: let's go to the beach the group dynamics were so solidified to this point, and it was so fun to write. i loved writing from adam's pov and being able to zoom out and showcase klance's relationship progression.

the winter break interludes i waxed poetic about these in a previous faq but to reiterate: i'm really pleased with the way each individual chapter turned out. i love a good character study, and it was a great challenge to my writing and characterization to dig deeper into their home lives and see how the past confronted the present, where their respective childhoods were brought into the light, and how long-held notions of belonging, home, and identity were challenged and remolded.

chapter 17: warm and light my beta reader drunkenguac said that this was some of my best writing and i've been coasting off of that validation for the past 4 months. keith's reunion with his mother was especially cathartic for me. as an adoptee, writing this chapter honestly helped me work through some of my feelings about my adoption as i pictured what it would look like if i was ever reunited with my birth mother. i'm very fortunate that i didn't have to go through the same experiences keith did, but i tried to imbue as much humanness as possible into his section.

chapter 18: moving on it just felt like a proper send-off, the one that we never got from s8 of voltron. i wanted the last chapter to basically have this vibe of "hey, things won't be the same but it's going to be okay because we have each other." when shiro tells matt in the end, "we'll still be here," that's me as the author, telling you, the reader, that this fic will still be here whenever you want to revisit it. it was a comfort to write and i've heard that it's a comfort to read, which is so so so gratifying. when i set out to write this fic in august of 2023, i didn't have any plans of grandeur or even expect like more than 100 people read it— it was just a passion project that i decided to share, and i'm glad that others have sought safety in it. outside of fandom, this fic is a love letter to my own college experience. i remember reading a college au fic when i was still in high school and lonely and closeted and repressed and wondering if i would ever be able to get out of my hometown and find a community as tightly-knit as the fic portrayed it. in a way, i got to reflect on my college experience by writing looking out for you. i find solace in this fic when i read back over it, and i can see aspects of my adventures throughout my freshman and sophomore and junior and senior years, waving from behind a thinly veiled curtain. this fic is dedicated to all the people who made my college experience.

anyways that's me rambling for now! thank you again to everyone who has tuned into looking out for you. this is the first piece of creative writing i've done in a long time, and i never expected to actually finish it. i'm so happy with the way it turned out and the love it's received. until next time!

#ao3 fanfic #voltron legendary defender #klance #college au #lance mcclain #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #adam voltron #hunk garrett #pidge holt #allura vld #graduation #faq #character study #relationship #connection #fuck s8 let's talk about the REAL ending of voltron #allura does not die #character development

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elvenmother · 2 years

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Context and Perspective: Exercises In Trust

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F Reader Rating: Teen. Warnings: Swearing. Chapter: 8/15 Word count: 2730

Summary: The newest member of the Heroics has gone missing and as one of the better-known Villains on the scene, you are blamed. Then your sidekick goes missing. You must go after the Heroic’s leader to try to get them back and clear your name.

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This my first time writing for We Can Be Heroes and Marcus Moreno.

Part Seven | Part One

You sat awkwardly silent for a while as Moreno cleared the table. It seemed wrong to be sitting in his kitchen like this. It was like you were intruding on his normal life. Glancing around, there was evidence of his family everywhere. Photos of his daughter hung on the walls next to pictures of an older lady and the famous Antonio Moreno. Three photos stood out from the rest, two on a table tucked in the corner of the kitchen and the other on the counter closest to the table you were sitting at. In each of them, a woman smiled at the camera. Her bright eyes and pretty face beamed out at the world. This must have been his wife, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her.

“She died a few years ago.” Moreno’s soft voice broke the silence, and you realised he must have been watching you. He must have followed your eye line to see you looking at her picture. He dried his hands on the dish towel and rejoined you at the table.

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could think to say.

“It’s ok.” He smiled sadly. “I just-” He stopped himself, and you watched as he took a deep breath. “Let’s get back to business, shall we?”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“You’ve been honest with me so far.” He looked over the top of his thick-rimmed glasses at you as you nodded in response. “You’ve even told me your real name.”

“Seems only fair, seeing as I know yours.” You shrugged. “Also, I know where you live, which, well… wasn’t planned but puts me at an unfair advantage.”

“You didn’t plan on coming to my home?” Moreno leaned back in his chair and frowned. “Or you didn’t know you were coming to my home?”

You hesitated for a few seconds before carefully answering. “An acquaintance thought you might be able to help me and gave me an address where I could find you. I didn’t know until I got here it was your house.”

“An acquaintance.” He repeated, mulling the word over. “I see. Anyway, in the interest of keeping this… arrangement honest, I’m going to tell you Freefall’s real name.”

“Why?” You were shocked. Secret identities were closely guarded whether a person was a hero or villain. Even the most famous Heroics like Lava Girl and Miracle Guy had managed to keep their real names a secret. For Moreno to just tell you Freefall’s name was huge.

“Because I need to know your friend’s name to look on our database.” Moreno was still sitting stiffly watching you. Every now and again, his eyes would dart to your hands as though he was still expecting an attack.

“Ok, I get that.” You slowly folded your arms so as not to spook him. “But first, what exactly is this database?”

Moreno narrowed his eyes for a second and studied you carefully. You imagined he was trying to work out if this was some kind of trick. After scrutinising you, he relaxed his shoulders slightly.

“The Heroics have access to government databases from across the country. We use them to quickly access incidents, locate powered children who might need our help, and keep track of any potential threats.”

“Is that legal?” You were shocked. The Heroics were not a government department but a private organisation. That they had access to more than one government database seemed inappropriate at best.

“I, I don’t know.” He seemed caught off guard by your question. “I assume so.”

You raised an eyebrow, and he seemed to blush briefly. “Chloe Jones.”

“Chloe Jones.” He repeated back to you. “Noah McMahon.”

“McMahon?” You frowned. You knew that name. “Where is Free- I mean, where is Noah from?”

“Right here. Hometown boy.” Moreno looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Do you know his mother's name?” You watched as Moreno nodded slowly, still puzzled. “Is it Ashley?”

“You know his mom?” Moreno’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“I went to high school with her.” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s how I know Chloe too. She’s my friend’s niece.”

“You’re older than you look.” Moreno muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He quickly sat up straighter in his chair. “Do you think Chloe and Noah could have known each other?”

“It’s possible.” You nodded. It was certainly possible and something you had not previously considered. B had told you they had been seen talking. Was it possible they were friends? “I can get in touch with Ashley and some others from high school tonight. See if Chloe and Noah ever met.”

“Good. While you do that, I can look into what we have on Chloe tomorrow.” Moreno smiled at you for the first time since you’d introduced yourself. “She might have been flagged by our system.”

“Why tomorrow?” You asked in frustration. You were confused; surely finding Freefall should have been his top priority. “You got plans for today? Something more important than two missing kids?”

Moreno opened his mouth for a second, the hard colder look from before creeping back, and you immediately regretted snapping at him.

“I did have plans for today.” He answered slowly, his eyes locked with yours. “Ones that didn’t involve having a v-” He stopped himself quickly. “An unexpected visitor. I have a lead I was going to follow up today. A potential sighting of Noah.”

“Oh.” It was your turn to blush this time, and you could feel the heat of your cheeks as you broke eye contact.

“You’re welcome to join me.”

“You trust me to have your back?”

“Trust is earned.” Moreno stood and motioned towards the front door. “But I’m giving you a chance to earn it and for me to earn yours. If we’re going to figure this out, we need to start working together.”

~~~~~

In an effort to show Moreno you could be trusted, you had agreed to take his car to the location where Freefall had been sighted. Of course, he still didn’t trust you completely and didn’t trust that you weren’t trying to set him up, which is why you had no idea where you were going.

Peeking over at him as he drove, you couldn’t help smiling a little as you noticed his stiff posture and hands at ten and two on the wheel. Fuck, he was such a boy scout.

His eyes met yours as he glanced over at you. A small smile formed on his own lips.

“Something funny?”

“No.” You shook your head, still smiling. “No, just impressed with what a good driver you are.”

He seemed confused for a moment before catching up on the joke and letting out a soft chuckle, relaxing his shoulders a little.

“So, I know you won’t tell me where we’re going.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But can you at least tell me what you know about Freefall’s disappearance so far? I mean, can you at least l agree I’m not involved?”

“I did look into you.” The smile remained on Moreno's face. “That’s why I think I recognised you fairly quickly today. Even though you wear a mask, I recognised your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Yeah, they’re..” He trailed off, blushing, and the smile dropped as he recomposed himself. “Anyway, after that news report went out that named you, I looked into you like I said.”

“And what did you find out?” You were curious now. What did the apparently totally legal Heroic’s database say about you?

“Well, a lot of things I’m not sure are entirely true now.” Moreno admitted. “But nothing about Noah. I couldn’t find any evidence you were involved. It didn’t and still doesn’t make any sense. I’m not sure where the rumour came from.”

“That’s what I’d like to find out eventually.” You scowled, glancing out the window at the passing buildings. “After we find them, obviously.”

“I did look into the warehouse where Noah had been sent.” Moreno stopped at a red light and turned to face you fully. “I found evidence of people traffickers.”

“Yeah, me and Chloe took them down.” You met his eyes again, the light catching them, sending honey-coloured rays streaking through the chocolate brown. “They’d been grabbing kids from children’s homes and selling them on. Bastards.”

“What happened to the kids?”

“We made sure they got back to their foster homes safely. Although the state of the foster system is not encouraging. I hope they’re ok.” You couldn’t help but smile back as Moreno’s warm smile returned. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, turning back to keep his eyes on the road. “We’re almost there.”

This neighbourhood was about an hour out of town, but it might as well have been a world away. Looking out of the windows, you could see boarded-up shops and to-let signs. What few businesses you could see open were all hosting sales or were clearly franchises of much larger companies. The streets were almost empty of people. As you drove, you spotted an older couple, a man walking a dog and a group of teenagers walking along the empty high street.

“Pretty run down part of town.” You turned to Moreno as he pulled over and parked outside an abandoned clothes store.

“Yeah, a shame. I used to come here as a kid.” He got out of the car and looked down the deserted street. “Abuela used to bring me and my cousins here when my parents were working. Every Halloween, there was a street fair with apple bobbing and candy apples. Look at it now.” He sighed heavily.

“Sounds great. I would have loved that.” You moved to stand next to him. “My parents were workaholics, so I never got to go to things like that. My dad’s parents had both died before I was born, and my mom’s live on the east coast.”

“So, no trick or treating for you?” Moreno smiled sadly as he gestured towards one of the few open stores.

“Not as a kid.” You started following him towards a cosy-looking beauty parlour. “But in high school, I always went with my friends. Never got to go to fairs, though.”

As you reached the beauty parlour, Moreno smiled at you once more and held the door open for you. Stepping inside, you were met with the most amount of pink you had ever seen in your life. Pastel pink drapes hung from not only the windows but the walls, sickly salmon pink sinks dotted the back wall and thick candy pink-coloured plastic rimmed each large mirror. As you entered, the three people inside stopped, turned and stared at the two of you.

“Can I help you?” A large older woman with greying curls smiled slightly as she lowered her scissors.

The elderly woman whose hair she had been tending pulled a pair of glasses on a chain out from under the cape and lifted them to her eyes to scrutinise you. Behind them, a younger woman in her late twenties stopped sweeping the pink and white linoleum. You could feel Moreno shift uncomfortably behind you.

“I was looking for Donna?” He asked almost meekly.

“I’m Donna.” The hairdresser cocked her head. “You lookin’ to book in? I’m free once I’ve finished up Mrs Marcroft here.”

“No.” You smiled as sweetly as you could, glancing back at Moreno. “We were hoping to talk to you about something you might have seen.”

“Oh.” Donna nodded. “Yeah, I know why you’re here. Take a seat. I’ll be with you soon.”

“Thank you.” You watched as Donna went back to tending to a clearly disappointed Mrs Marcroft. Obviously, the old lady had hoped for some gossip, and you smirked as she tutted and tucked her glasses away again.

Taking a seat on the very comfy and plush floral sofa, you sat next to Moreno as the two of you waited for Donna to finish her current appointment.

~~~~~

It didn’t take Donna too long to finish seeing to Mrs Marcroft. After engaging the elderly lady in a little small talk, she eventually ushered the nosy old woman out of the salon.

“Madison, why don’t you take a break, honey.” Donna turned after closing the door after Mrs Marcroft. “I gotta talk to these folks ‘bout that weird accident.”

“You sure, Don?” Madison eyed you both carefully.

“Yeah, honey. It’s fine.” Donna nodded reassuringly at her young employee, and after gathering her coat, Madison was also heading out the door.

“I’ll be back in half an hour.” She said more to you and Moreno than Donna.

Once the door was shut, Donna turned back to the two of you still sitting on the sofa.

“You want some coffee? Tea?”

“No.” Moreno held a hand up. “No, thank you. We’re here because you called Heroics headquarters. You claimed you’d seen Freefall.”

“You a Heroic then?” Donna pulled over a stool and sat opposite you.

“Yes. I am.” Moreno gestured to himself. “She’s a, um, a consultant working on the case.” He motioned to you.

Donna let out a loud barking laugh that caught you both off guard. Her whole body seemed to rumble as she laughed and shook her head.

“Consultant.” She laughed again. “That’s a good one. She ain’t no consultant, honey.”

“Excuse me?” You were more than a little insulted.

“I seen you a few times.” Donna's laugh slowly ebbed away. “I know who you are. But does he?”

“You’ve seen me.” You narrowed your eyes. This was about to go one of two ways. Either she had really seen you in action and knew you weren’t a villain. Or she believed what the media said, and this was about to turn nasty.

“Yeah. Saw you when you saved them folks from that factory fire a few years back.” Donna smiled kindly at you, and you could feel the tension leave your shoulders. “You stopped that masked weirdo who was taking everyone's pets. An’ last year when Mr Furns house was subsiding, you did somethin’ to the ground, and it was all good. You wear a mask, honey, but I saw you after the fire. I saw your face, an’ I never forget a face.”

“In that case, it’s nice to meet you properly then, Donna.” You grinned, sneaking a look at Moreno. His face was one of disbelief as though you hadn’t already told him you weren’t a notorious evil-doer. You supposed hearing it from a third party had made more of an impact. “And yes, he does know who I am.”

“You’re workin’ together?”

“Yes, my sidekick is also missing.” You leaned forward, keeping eye contact with Donna. “So please, anything you can tell us about Freefall could be useful.”

“Well, I seen ‘im.” Donna looked from you to Moreno.

“Freefall? You’re sure.” Moreno snapped out of whatever train of thought he had been getting lost in.

“Yeah. His face has been all over the news.” Donna shifted to get more comfortable on the small stool she was sitting on. “He wears a mask too, but honestly, it’s not a very good one. Can still make out all the important facial features. Anyway, like I said, I seen him the other day. Here outside my salon.”

“Can you give us any more details?” Moreno moved forward until he was sat on the edge of the sofa.

“There was a drunk asshole drivin’ up and down yellin’ about his ex. Anyway, next thing I know, he’s going full speed towards some poor girl.” Donna pointed outside to the street. “Then, out of nowhere, there he was. Your boy. He flew down and stopped the asshole from hittin’ her. Then like that,” She snapped her fingers, “he was gone.”

“Interesting.” You turned to look at Moreno, who nodded. “Thank you so much, Donna you’ve-”

A heavy rumble and loud crash filled the salon as the ground seemed to shake for a few seconds before everything was still again. Moreno was on his feet within seconds, darting out the salon door into the now dust-filled street. Following him outside, you could see dust billowing from an area just a block away. Thick grey dust rushed down the high street like a dry tidal wave, and in the distance, you could hear people beginning to scream.

“Shit!” Donna cried out behind out. “That’s the old Miller place! It must have collapsed!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @Anaaaispunk, @littlemisspascal, @galaxyofmando, @pintsizemama, @athalien, @wondercloud, @amoriavelton, @alm0501

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno x reader #We Can Be Heroes #context and perspective #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing

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ode-darling · 2 years

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Preamble

Welcome, welcome, I am sincerely bidding every pair of irises landed on these page. You are now entering the pages of my virtual diary, filled with too many abrupt memoir about me nor every fragments I am deeply passionate at; I hope you make yourself at home, as I bake you little cookies and warm tea. Before you decided to hit the follow, please acknowledge that I am stamping this account as an unlabeled one, and this account is a safe space—welcomed for anykind of people from various communities. Here, I shall be tweeting about plethora of topic, starting from anykind of randomness sputtering in my mind, many ridiculous memes, movies/tv series/book spoilers, though I will make sure to put a content warning before the tweet! I might be tweeting about something personal like rants about my life, and of course, things regarding astrology! I would also tweet about my RP accounts and every intriguing things I landed my eyes upon. Worry less, I won't be as annoying as the bickering birds.

My name is Neema Isobel, but you could address me as Neema, Nyima, or anykind of nickname you fancy. Of course, I would accepting your beloved nickname. I'm at my legal age with she/her as my pronouns. My MBTI would be ENFJ with Capricorn as my sun sign. And I’m a Ravenclaw!

Faves!

My favorite musician are ABBA, John Denver, Taylor Swift, One Direction, The Beatles, Nat King Cole, and all old and classic music.

It would take a long time to list my favorite movies. But my all-the-time favorite movies are Dead Poets Society, The Shawshank Redemption, Legally Blonde, and Harry Potter (all series).

My favorite genre is mystery or psychological thriller, and chick-flick. When it comes to books, I also love historical fiction, contemporary romance, and mystery.

Alongside with my favorite desire for TV Show, which are Gossip Girl, Modern Family, Defending Jacob, How to Get Away with Murder, The Crown. Let's talk about these matter if you see your favorite being mentioned!

Anyway, you can visit my book reviews and reading list here!

For your notice, I am exceptionally fine with anykind of tweets but I would not tolerate those who harmed others and engages in too many hateful agendas. I will probably mute your account if you are into hate speech and too many dramas. I also do not tolerate act of racism. My account shall become a safe space for everyone.

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Shmi Skywalker #JangoShmi #Jango Fett #Disaster Lineage #star wars #time travel #de aging #mandalore #mandalorian culture #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #tattoos #original characters #outsider pov #this is part one of three I think #it's two in the diddly darn morning and I am going to bed

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years

Text

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work.

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest."

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago.

#bnha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere x reader #yandere present mic #yandere aizawa

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littlepadika · 3 years

Text

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #frankie morales x y/n #catfish morales #calling home series #i would die for frankie #frankie morales has a sexy voice #daddy!frankie

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

Text

Yes, Mr. Moreno

Summary: With Missy moving out of the house to go to college Marcus felt more alone than ever before. When he met his daughters college roommate at a diner in the middle of the night he made a decision Missy could never find out about.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Alice Baker (OFC)

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warnings: angst, big age gap (20ish years; legal though), some sexual tension, a little dirty talk

A/N: I'd like to thank @ladyreapermc for letting me steal her idea. Marcus is probably a little OOC in this but I don't really care. More to come in the future. This is my entry for this weeks Writer Wednesday @autumnleaves1991-blog & @clydesducktape

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Looking the clock Marcus sighed. Just after 2 am.

He was hungry.

Pancakes technically could be early breakfast. Or a very late Dinner. He sighed again, letting his eyes wander through the almost empty diner.

He was getting too old for this.

Too old for emergencies from outer space.

Too old for still having to pick up the slack because the Heroics couldn’t find a new leader.

Too old to be sitting alone in a diner in the middle of the night.

Marcus was lonely, he knew that.

He looked down at his hand, to his finger were all these years ago a wedding band was his most trusted possession. He had taken it off a long time ago, yet he still felt married in his mind. He probably always would, even though it had now almost been 15 years since his wife died.

With Missy being gone for college, even though it was in the same city, his house felt empty with his daughter living on the campus. And he was happy for her, but on nights like these he wished she would still be his little girl who sneaked into his bed on Sunday morning to cuddle, just to fall asleep again.

“What can I get you?” he looked up, looking into the tired face of Marissa. She had been working here for as long as he could remember.

“Usual. Maybe some strawberries if you have some,” he nodded, forcing himself to smile at least a little bit. The eyes of the older woman frowned slightly and he could see the questions forming in her mind.

“Of course honey,” she said softly instead before she turned around to give his order to the kitchen.

After the food he would go home, take a long hot shower and then get to bed, not leaving it until he had go back to work in two days. Missy would be gone by now, a weekend trip with her boyfriend. He still shuddered thinking about Missy, his little girl, dating. He liked Josh, he really did. But fuck the thought of his daughter dating just made him realize how much time had gone by since his wife died. Missy had been so nervous before her first date with Josh, telling Marcus all about it who, against his urge to lock her into her old bedroom, had told her that feeling nervous was totally normal before a date. Hell, even years after he had married her mom he had been still nervous every time they had date night. He missed this. Having someone to go on a date with.

Marcus was no saint. Of course there had been some women in the last years, but none of them interesting enough to maybe build something more. He was getting old and lonely. And miserable.

God you’re pathetic Moreno, he groaned inwardly.

Someone sat down two seats next to him. He nodded his head without really looking as he waited for his food.

“Mr. Moreno?” a woman asked. Please, please don’t be a fan. He breathed in deep before he turned his head. He frowned a little, trying to remember where he had seen the young woman before. She smiled tiredly, a little shy at him. Her long dark hair in a high ponytail that looked a little loose, her green eyes blinking as if she had to fight the urge to hold them open.

“Alice?” he asked, she nodded. Missy’s roommate. That’s where he knew her from.

“What are you doing here this late?” he asked, she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

“Just got off my… second job? I work at the bar just down the road.”

“Second job?” he asked. She nodded, her hands disappearing in her big hoodie.

“Gotta get through college somehow. And with no scholarship and no parents I have to pick up extra shifts,” she answered before she turned to order herself something.

He had only met her a couple times. When he helped Missy move in, once or twice when he picked her up for Sunday dinner, which they still had every single week. Alice was a beautiful young woman. And if what Missy was telling him was still correct, a good friend of his daughter too. She looked at him again.

“And what are you doing here this late, Mr. Moreno?” she asked, turning in her seat so she was facing him. She crossed her legs as she leaned back in her seat. And Marcus found himself thinking that even in some old jeans and a hoodie at least three sizes too big for her, she was looking more beautiful than he was allowed to be even thinking about it.

Get a grip Moreno.

“Mr. Moreno?” she asked and Marcus blinked.

“Sorry. There was an emergency at HQ and I only got out an hour ago.”

She nodded.

“And you thought you had some late dinner before going back home?” she asked with a little smile.

“Early breakfast,” he winked and she laughed tiredly, her whole face lighting up.

Half an hour later Marcus had changed to sit in the seat next to Alice as they talked. He learned that she moved here from across the country after getting into the programme she had applied for, not really thinking she would get it. He learned that all she had as family was her mother she hadn’t talked to in almost 4 years, that she loved watching old movies and that she hoped to one day live in a little house at a beach. Any beach. Just close to the ocean.

And Marcus found out that the way she said Mr. Moreno every time she addressed him was making it hard for him to think clearly.

“You know it’s kind of surreal sitting here with you,” she said.

He raised his eyebrow.

“Why is that?” he asked, his head resting on his hand. She smiled shyly, sucking her bottom lip in. God fucking…

“Because growing up I used to have the biggest crush on you,” she admitted and Marcus groaned inwardly.

“Really? Me? When there were all these other Hero’s around?” he asked.

“Yeah. Even had a poster of you in my bedroom,” she shook her head, smiling to herself.

“That’s kinda cute,” he found himself saying and she looked at him. Her eyes big, her lips slightly parted.

Marcus was fighting a battle inside of him he knew he would lose. She was young. 22 years old, he learned that while they talked. She was Missy’s friend, still in college, yet all he could think about was how it would sound if she was moaning his name while he had her pinned against the mattress of his king sized bed while he made her cum undone on his tongue.

“Mr. Moreno…” she whispered and Marcus cocked his head to the side as he kept looking at her. He saw her eyes focusing on his lips before she looked into his eyes again.

“Alice…” he breathed leaning in closer, inhaling her scent.

“Yes, Mr. Moreno?” she whispered and this time he felt his cock twitch.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I… I kissed boys before, but there was no one I really… That I really wanted…”

“To fuck?” he said and she blushed, nodding shyly.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Marissa walking towards them and he slid his credit card over the counter.

“All on me, and give yourself a generous tip,” he said and she nodded at him. He waited until the bill was paid, sliding his credit card back into his pocket, when he looked at Alice again.

This was a bad idea. Probably the worst he had ever had. But he felt it. The fluttering of nerves inside of him, he hadn’t felt in years every time he looked at Alice. Missy could never find out about this. He had to make sure of it. He got off his seat, straightening his shirt.

“Do you want to come home with me?” he asked her. He saw her swallow before she got out of her seat, sucking that damn bottom lip in again with a small smile.

“Yes, Mr. Moreno.”

#my writing #writer wednesday #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x ofc #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

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multifandhoem · 4 years

Text

server collab || i

Server Collab from the Haikyuu HQ server with the prompt: Mirror fuck.

A/N: i apologize already to everyone reading this. It is LONG.

Genre: fluff, smut, a little bit of angst

Warnings: girlxgirl, girlxboyxgirl, it’s polyamory people you get it, some cursing, dom!Hanamaki, dom!Kiyoko to some extent, a bit of switch!Kiyoko, sub!Reader, anal stuff, toys, double penetration, oral everywhere, praise kink (is that a warning?), no actual mention of the word but.. anxiety, teeny tiny bit public stuff, mirror sex (duh)

Word count: 11.402 (i am sorry)

Gripping the straps of your backpack tighter you stepped into the hall of your new university, the bustling and shuffling of all the new freshmen and welcoming upperclassmen intimidated you a little bit. The girl that stepped infant of you seemed like an angel sent from heaven, something to concentrate on in this sea of new information.

Her talking to you was probably mandatory. But after looking at her and not believing your own eyes after realizing the immense beauty she possessed made you feel special that you were the one receiving attention from that goddess.

She introduced herself as Kiyoko Shimizu, a college senior, who wants to inform you about all the things you could do to put emphasis on yourself in college, especially if working and/or studying in a male-dominated environment.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, desperately trying to snap out of the daze you were in to actually engage in a conversation with her.

“What about potential jobs in my field?” You feared you were rude by interrupting her, but you had to blurt it out before the courage left you again.

And the way her eyes lit up at the question of interest, fumbling her phone out of her pockets and basically thrusting it into your face. “I can tell you in detail if you want! Over coffee! Today or tomorrow, whichever you prefer!”

You didn’t even like coffee. And you had plans for the next days. But you still couldn’t stop yourself from eagerly typing your number into her phone, telling her you’re free whenever.

Kiyoko messaged you two hours after you’ve left the venue, only walking around with your head in the clouds after the encounter with the pretty girl, which was also smart and seemed interested. A jackpot.

She asked you if you were free the next day at noon and you replied embarrassingly fast, agreeing to the time and place she picked out. You would even grab something to eat together! Not just coffee! Did this classify as a date? You were more or less fresh out of high school, taking a gap year in between to take internships, travel, and really decide what major to choose.

And now this drop-dead gorgeous woman wants to have lunch with you.

Kiyoko told you to call her Shimizu in the first fifteen minutes of your lunch date. She laughed at your awkward jokes and even wiped some crumbs of your cheek. You talked about the ways how you could get a job in your field and she gave you helpful tips, but you also talked about everything else. Favorite foods, childhoods, family, and so on.

Your nervousness faded the longer you talked and you really started to be yourself around her, especially when you left the small diner to just aimlessly walk around, chatting the whole time. It wasn’t until the end of your meet-up when everything came crashing down.

“I have to go now, every Thursday it’s movie night for me and my boyfriend and today it’s my turn to pick! But we should totally do this again!”

Of course, it was too good to be true. She hugged you with blushy cheeks, keeping her hands on your shoulder after distancing herself again. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you home!”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I live on campus, it’s close by!” You tried not to let your hurt show in your words.

Why were you even hurt? You met for the second time today. You didn’t even know her. Your stupid hopes were to blame. You turned around quickly, throwing her a half-assed smile before hurrying back home to have a frustrated cry and then hopefully getting over her.

— — —

“15 minutes later and I would’ve been legally allowed to choose!” Hanamaki Takahiro waved his favorite comedy around with a cheeky grin, standing up to press a kiss to Kiyoko’s lips when she kicked her shoes off and placed them neatly onto the shoe rack next to the front door.

“I’m going to change, then I’m ready.” She gave him another peck, before sauntering off into their shared bedroom, fingers already tugging on the blouse she had tucked into her jeans. “How was the lunch date with your junior?”

Makki plopped back down onto the couch, spreading his long limbs, waiting for his girlfriend to come back. “Good. We talked a lot, she’s really nice. And very cute, too.” At that, he perked up. “Yeah?” The door to the bedroom opened again and Shimizu came out, now clad in sweatpants and a loose shirt. “Yeah. Reminds me of Yachi a bit. But in a hotter way, you know?”

“In a hotter way? Tell me more! You should invite her to the apartment sometime!” With a big grin on his face, Makki pulled her closer to his chest, after she finally put her choice of a movie into the DVD Player and sat down onto the couch.

“Maybe I will. She doesn’t really know anyone here in Tokyo. Maybe we can invite Mattsun, too. Or Iwaizumi. Maybe some of the Karasuno boys. But only Sawamura or Koshi, the others are too wild.” Makki had to laugh at that. “You just said she was hot and now you want to play matchmaker?”

“Let’s talk later and watch the movie. But I really want to do more with her. She’s nice.”

“And cute in a hot way,” he teased her, before concentrating on the starting movie.

— — —

When Shimizu messaged you and invited you for dinner at her place you nearly died a little on the inside. That was until you remembered the boyfriend. But did it really matter?

You still don’t know her fully, having only met her a couple of times. And you had great conversations the times you’ve met. Maybe you should get over your teeny tiny crush you imagined for the girl and just try winning her as a friend.

You regretted it a bit when she asked if it was okay if her boyfriend and a friend of his joined you. But you still said it didn’t matter.

So here you were, the bottle of mediocre white wine in your slightly shaking hand in front of the building. Shimizu had sent you the address the day before, also telling you which floor and apartment so you slowly entered and made your way up the flights of stairs, to not be sweaty when appearing in front of her doorstep. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t her who opened the front door when you finally rang the doorbell.

The man had a bright grin in his face, looking down on you with an unusual amount of interest.

“You must be, Y/N, right? Nice to finally meet you, Mizu has been talking a lot about you!” I extended his arm in a friendly manner, even though he seemed more like the hugging type.

Maybe Shimizu had told him that you weren’t that keen on first-time skinship.

“I’m Hanamaki, but you can call me Makki.” He started talking again and only then you realized that you had not said anything yet. “Sorry, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, too!”

Why did you introduce yourself again? He already knew your name. Stupid.

But he practically beamed at your response, stepping aside to let you in. “Come in, come in! Mizu is in the kitchen. I’m going to show you around for a bit. Well, it isn’t big anyways. As you can see we’re in the living room.” He seemed a bit nervous, but maybe you were just misinterpreting him.

Shimizu interrupted him by coming out of an archway, hugging you in an instant. “I am so happy to see you again! How are you?”

You felt your ears burning, being this close to her, but still managed to stutter out a response. “I’m fine, I think I’m kind of getting used to living alone.” Shimizu smiled at you approvingly. “Well, if you need help with anything, don’t be afraid to ask. Even if- oh shit!” Ringing from the room, you presumed it was the kitchen, interrupted Shimizu and she was quick to dash back there, leaving you alone with Hanamaki again.

It was quiet only for a second before he was talking again. “Well, there is the kitchen. The apartment is pretty small really, through this door is a small hallway, our bedroom is on the left and the bathroom on the right.” He opened the door to the small hallway, pointing at the two doors while talking.

“Ehm... Hanamaki-san.. is there a place where I can put this?” He blinked at you for a second, before his eyes darted down to your hands, which still clasped the bottle of wine between them. “Oh shit! Sorry, sorry, I’ll take it and put it in the refrigerator. That’s what you’re supposed to do with white wine, right?” He beckoned for you to follow him into the kitchen, where Shimizu was busy cutting away. You immediately felt a bit more relaxed around her and it seemed as it was the same for Hanamaki-san.

“By the way, you really don’t have to call me Hanamaki-san. Just Hanamaki or Makki is fine!” The grin on his face was inviting and even though he didn’t seem that much as you type, you still found him attractive at that moment. Lazily leaning back against the counter, eyes focused on you, and grinning in such a friendly but still with a teasing edge to it. You nearly forgot to answer. “O-okay, Makki-san.” He playfully rolled his eyes at the honorific but decided to leave it at that. You had to chuckle a bit at his antics, missing the content smile that adored Shimizu’s face while she was watching you over her shoulder.

“Can I help you with anything, Shimizu-san?” You felt bad that she was the only one working, now stirring the pot she had added the freshly cut vegetables into. “No, no, it’s okay! I’m nearly finished, anyway, I just need to add the stock and then this will have to cook for a while.” She threw you a dazzling smile and to accentuate her words, she poured a jug of liquid into the pot, putting a lid halfway on afterward and setting a timer.

You knew that it would still take a while until you would start eating together. But it still felt weird being here without any purpose.

“Let’s go back into the living room!” Hanamaki gently laid a hand onto your back, pushing you back into the biggest room of the apartment while Shimizu washed her hands. “Do you want to open a bottle of wine?” Shimizu called after you and you made an affirmative noise. “For me a beer!”

Hanamaki and you took a seat on the couch, he was comfortably spread out while your position was still a bit stiff. You didn’t know him after all.

“Wait, babe, you should’ve said something!” He shot up again, helping Shimizu, who balanced two wine glasses and a bottle of beer in one hand and a wine bottle already in a cooler in the other. “You could have used your head!” The jab could’ve been snappy, but the playful tone softened in a way that made you understand their relationship for the first time.

They must’ve known each other for a long time.

“How did you two meet?” The question escaped you before you could hold your curiosity back. “I managed the boys' volleyball team in high school and Hiro was on our opponent's team,” Shimizu explained while giving you a filled wine glass. “I nearly hit the other manager of her team with a stray ball.” Hanamaki giggled at the memory. “Mizu here saved poor Yachi and I went over to apologize and well, as they say, the rest is history!” He blinked exaggeratedly at Shimizu, who just scoffed with a smile. “We didn’t really start talking until we moved to Tokyo. And then I met him on my way to the convenience store and we decided to talk a bit.”

It was so normal and simple. But still very romantic in your eyes. “Like we were meant to be!” Hanamaki dramatically threw himself back onto the couch, his now opened beer bottle securely in his hand. Shimizu took a seat in the armchair slightly across from you and you felt kind of weird, separating the couple like that. But both looked content, you didn’t want to destroy the atmosphere by doing something awkward.

Knowing you, it would happen sooner or later anyway.

But at least for the next few minutes, you had peace, engaging in various small talk with the two of them, gradually relaxing and even cracking some jokes on your own, much to the delight of Hanamaki. And as the lightweight you were you could already feel the glass of wine, admittedly, you had downed that very quickly on a near-empty stomach. But you didn’t mind the relaxed atmosphere. Not worrying about everything you did or said was quite soothing for a change.

“Oikawa was pretty dumb, you know one time…” Hanamaki interrupted himself by laughing and seeing his eyes crinkle in joy made a dreaded warmth bloom in your chest. You were reminiscing on your old high school days, Hanamaki being at it with stories from his team captain for the last twenty minutes. When he wanted to start again, still gasping for air, the doorbell interrupted him, and an excited look shot across his face. “Mattsun!”

With a huge grin on his face, he darted across the room to the front door, opening it in an abrupt motion, to showcase the tall dark-haired male behind it for a second until he was already engulfed by Hanamaki. Both men hugged for a solid minute until Hanamaki ushered the other one, Mattsun apparently, in. Shimizu had also stood up to hug the newcomer, leaving you kind of awkwardly standing by the side. “That’s Y/N. She’s a friend of Shimizu’s and a freshman!” Thank god for the wine or you would’ve nearly passed out when Hanamaki suddenly threw an arm around your shoulder and pressed you into his side.

“Hi, nice to meet you! I’m Matsukawa Issei. Hiro and I went to high school together.” The tall stranger extended his hand towards you and you shook it with a friendly smile on your face. “Nice to meet you too, Matsukawa-san.”

After Matsukawa had finished his first beer, you and Shimizu were nearly down with the bottle of wine, the timer rang from the kitchen, indicating that the sauce was finished and the meat was perfectly tender.

Eating something felt good, it cleared your head a bit from the alcohol, especially the glass of water you had next to your wine helped. Matsukawa was a bit quieter than Hanamaki but still held an active conversation. Shimizu however was another story. She was much quieter than when you met up with only the two of you, silently observing everything going on at the table and only occasionally adding her thoughts. You liked it. It would be overwhelming to have multiple different opinions voiced at all times. And getting to know something different about Kiyoko Shimizu was always a pleasure.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki were joking the whole time, making you snort into your glass more than once, but you got rewarded by the proud smiles they sent your way. As the second bottle of wine slowly disappeared into your’s and Shimizu’s stomach, the men cracked their third or fourth bottle of beer open when everyone was more than stuffed with the delicious dinner Shimizu and Hanamaki had conjured.

“So, I would say we load up the dishwasher, and then we wait a bit before dessert or else Mattsun will blow up.” Hanamaki stood up and started collecting all of the plates, ready to take them into the kitchen. “Damn right, I will,” Mattsun grunted affirmatively but stood up with everyone else to make the cleanup faster.

Shortly after you were all huddled in the living room again, the couch now more crowded with Shimizu, Hanamaki, and you, while Matsukawa took up the armchair, dangling his legs from the sides. If you would shift just a bit, your thighs would be touching Shimizu’s. But you tried to contain yourself. It would only make everything uncomfortable for everybody around.

It was weird sitting there with them. You anticipated feeling left out, they all knew each other since high school and you only got to know two of them today. Yet everything fell somehow into place. Shimizu’s occasional giggle or when she added something to the stories the other two were animatedly telling, Hanamaki’s touchy personality, where he hit you continuously every time he laughed too hard, apologizing afterwards, still with a glimmer in his eyes and Matsukawa’s jokes he cracked.

The evening turned into nighttime and sooner than not you were growing tired, yawning every other minute, head slightly dropping down only for you to catch yourself again.

“Aw, baby, are you growing tired?” In the past hours, they had teased you about being the youngest, all of them being two years older than you. Shimizu had once even described you as her baby, obviously not knowing what it did to you. She even asked very concernedly if you were alright when your face looked like a blazing tomato.

You could only nod at Hanamaki’s words, rubbing your eyes and standing up, a bit wobbly on your feet from sitting so long and the amount of alcohol you had consumed. “I’ll call it a night then. Thank you for inviting me.” You shot a smile at Shimizu and Hanamaki, turning to Matsukawa right afterwards. “It was nice meeting you!”

“Likewise!” You shared a quick hug before you made your way over to the door, to slip into your shoes. “I’ll walk you home, it’s already late.” Hanamaki surprised you a bit when he also slipped into an oversized bomber jacket and worn down sneakers, grabbing a set of keys and patiently waiting next to the door.

“No, no, you really don’t have to. I’ll be fine,” you tried to convince him, only receiving an unimpressed stare as an answer. “It’s better like this. It’s dark and you drank something. But still text me when you get home, okay?” Shimizu embraced you in a long hug, swaying you around very slightly while you nuzzled your face into her shoulder.

“Makki?”

“Yeah?”

The fresh air had done wonders to sober you up and now you had been walking alongside Makki for a while, engaging in a bit of small talk but it had been quiet for the last few minutes. “What do you do for a living? I just realized you never said anything.” He chuckled at your question. “I thought something serious was coming. And I work as a real estate agent. I like working with people and so on, but I don’t think it’s something longterm. I’m honestly considering just dropping everything and getting professionally trained in pastry making. Maybe even going to culinary school, who knows.”

The smile he shot you was different than the others you had seen from him. It was rawer, more gentle than his usual teasing ones. “Really? I can actually see it, I mean the small raspberry cakes were amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything that delicious before!”

His smile widened at that and he straightened up a little bit more. “That was nothing! You should taste my creampuffs. They are my favorite, that’s why I make them so often, they’re kind of my specialty,” he admitted and scratched the back of his head. “I’ll make them for you next time. You should come over soon anyways. Shimizu likes you. Usually, she doesn’t talk that much when we have people over.” You looked at him surprised. Shimizu talked even less usually? Does that mean you weren’t wrong when you thought you had a special connection?

A blush crept across your face at the thought but you quickly tried to dismiss it again. “You know, you’re pretty cute.”

Remember when you tried not to blush that hard. It’s not working. Not at all.

“You can’t say something like that!” Wildly flailing your hands around did nothing to help your flustered state and that strawberry idiot had the audacity to laugh at you!

Apparently, the alcohol hadn’t cleared up as much as you had thought, or else your heart wouldn’t hammer so loudly against your chest.

Luckily your building was coming into view, hopefully freeing you from your embarrassment. “But I’m serious, we should do something together again. Soon. If you want, Mattsun is still here tomorrow, we could hang out again. Or well, anytime you want to hang out, I’m sure you just have to give us a call and in like 95% of all cases we’re down.” He scratched the back of his head again. “Oh.”

That kind of surprised you. It was already a wonder that Shimizu, the hot senior girl, talked to you for more than a second. But now her equally hot boyfriend wanted you to join them more often. You weren’t anything special, why would they want to hang out with you? They for sure had other friends.

“I am free tomorrow if it really isn’t a bother.” You had to take your chances right? Even if hanging out with the attractive couple would probably make your heart go into overdrive the entire time.

“Of course it’s not a bother!” His step was a lot more feathery, that was until you came to a stop in front of your building, him stopping a couple feet in front of you, turning around with a questioning expression on his face.

“That’s my building,” you explained, vaguely gesturing towards the entrance. “Okay, alright. Do you need me to walk you up to your room? It really would not be a bother!”

“It’s okay, there’s security. But thank you for walking me. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Saying goodbye felt kind of weird.

“Yeah, sure, I think Shimizu will text you the details, if not, I will!”

After a goodbye hug which lasted way too long to be considered normal, you parted again, with him watching every step you took towards the entrance hall.

“Y/N! Over here!” Shimizu was waving her arm around for you to spot her easily. As if it wasn’t easy enough already with Hanamaki and Matsukawa towering over her and literally everybody else. “I’m so happy you could make it!” Shimizu clasped your hands in hers, pressing them unnecessarily close to her chest, in your opinion. Had nobody here respect for your poor heart?

The group had planned to do some shopping before Matsukawa had to grab his train back to Miyagi. It was quite fitting anyways, you needed some new clothes.

Matsukawa left after a few hours, hugging every one of you for goodbye. You had offered going home too, not wanting intrude on their couple time, but both of them were adamant about taking you with them. So here you were, looking at some clothes while Shimizu was in the aisle behind you and Hanamaki was roaming through the dresses next to you, after you had mentioned you wanted some. “What do you think about this?” Shimizu reappeared in your aisle, holding up a dress for you to look at. “Well, it’s pretty, but I don’t know if it’ll suit me..” Cue to the dress being thrust into your hands. “You never know until you try!” You kept on browsing for a while until you and Shimizu disappeared in two changing cabins with Hanamaki waiting in front of them in the designated seating area.

“It’s pretty, but a bit short I guess. I mean, if you bend down you would flash literally everyone.” “If it were tighter around the waist it would be a better fit.” “That’s good, but not elevated. A nice dress for your free time, you know?” Hanamaki was a surprisingly good shopping companion, giving insightful comments to everything you and Shimizu tried on.

“Oh, this one looks so good!” Shimizu was already finished, now sitting outside with her boyfriend, looking at you with wide eyes as you came out with your personal favorite. Hanamaki’s eyes shot to Shimizu for a second, before landing on you again. “You look hot!” Shimizu nodded in agreement. “You have to take that!” You blushed at their comments, fingers toying with the hem of your dress. “Are you sure? Isn’t it too much?” To be fair, you were fishing for compliments a little bit. It looked really good, but it was also kind of expensive. Not that expensive where you have to gasp when seeing the price but it wasn’t classified cheap either. “Yeah, take it. Hiro is right, you look stunning.” The way Shimizu talks is as if she’s always stating facts does something to you. Especially when she was praising you like that.

After those two days you spent with them, your hangouts became much more frequent. If your schedules aligned you would eat lunch with Shimizu in the cafeteria, Hanamaki would pick you up in his car when the weather was bad, driving you to your dorm or occasionally to their apartment. You had stopped feeling weird about hanging out with them on your own. They were a great couple to be around, not overly touchy, and just respectful of you being there.

The worst part was by far the fact that your initial attraction to them had blossomed into a full-grown crush. It didn’t help at all that Makki was a touchy person, often throwing arms around your shoulder or your waist, sometimes cuddling up to you on the couch on movie night every Thursday. But you didn’t want to let that have any impact on your friendship. Not only were they really great friends, but it was also pretty helpful as a freshman in a new city to have older friends from college and work life, who could help you with some things where you would usually have called your parents in frustration. So you just kept it to yourself, blushing every time when Shimizu nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck or holds your hand to not lose you in a crowd.

You still wouldn’t have it any other way. Being with them like this was enough for you, especially since they liked babying you as the youngest. To be honest, you thrived in the attention you were receiving in those moments.

One time you were cooking together and you had cut your finger, it wasn’t anything deep, really, but you bled a little. And both of them immediately huddled around you, cleaning your finger and putting a plaster on the cut, all while Makki was holding you and Shimizu was cradling your hands, even pressing a small kiss on the cut.

But at the end of the day, you were still only friends while they were a couple. Even if you wished it was different.

“Here, little one. Here, babe.” The kiss Makki pressed to the crown of your head startled you. Usually, it was Shimizu who showed her affection like this, and feeling his lips on your head made a heat blossom in your chest, all the way up to your face. He did the same to Shimizu, setting two small plates with sweets in front of you, together with a new jug of lemon water.

You shot him a thankful smile, even though the redness on your cheeks was probably still prominent.

It was leading up to finals week and you and Shimizu were studying alongside at their kitchen table, trying to push every last drop of information into your overflowing brains.

Makki was also pretty busy since he decided to really quit his job and start an apprenticeship at a bakery in the midst of Tokyo.

“You should take a break, babe.”

“Yeah, Mizu, you’ve been studying for hours, come join us.”

Makki and you were trying to coax Shimizu into joining you on the couch to relax a bit before going back into studying. You had finished the course you wanted to revise today and called it a day since it was already late, but Shimizu was still going strong, not even pausing once for anything other than going to the bathroom.

Makki threw you a look when Shimizu didn’t respond and in a second he hurled her up into his arms, forcefully carrying her over to the couch. You giggled a bit at the picture, skipping behind them to sit on the other side of Shimizu, throwing your arms around her. “What are you doing? I need to study!” She was squirming in your holds but it only made you hug her harder. “No, you need a break. Let’s order pizza and cuddle.”

Makki chuckled at your words. “That’s a perfect idea. You can still study afterward, okay babe?” Shimizu slowly gave up in your holds and an idea came to your mind.

Before your courage left you again you moved a bit and pressed a small peck to her jaw, something she had done to you countless times.

A gasp escaped her and she looked at you with wide eyes, making you blush instantly. “I’m sorry, I thought it was oka-“

And suddenly her lips were on yours. The sensation left before you could even blink. Your eyes were fixed on the dark-haired girl in front of you, who nervously bit on her lip, then they shot to Makki. And he smiled. Why was he smiling? His girlfriend just kissed someone else in front of him?

Nobody said anything for a while and you felt like you were going into overdrive. You didn’t feel like you could move and the beating of your heart was prominent in your ears. What was that supposed to mean? Was it a friendly kiss? Why were they looking at you like that?

“I- I mean we, we kind of like you, you know.” It was Shimizu who finally broke the silence, nervousness evident in her tone. What.

They liked you? You? Out of all people? And where were they going with this?

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I thought you were interested, too. I didn’t want to ruin anything!” Tears were appearing in her eyes and your heart broke a little at the thought that you were the reason for that.

“I- know- I mean I like you. Both of you. But- why?” You finally managed to push some words out of your mouth, still not believing what was happening. “Why we like you? Oh, Y/N, you’re like so nice, and cute, and you’re always there and brightening up our lives! In the beginning, we thought it was just an attraction, but over the past year it became so much more than that.”

One of Makki’s arms left its place around Shimizu and he gently cradled your face in his hands. “We would like to try being in a relationship. With you. Like all three of us, together.”

This was a dream. It has to be. There was no way they would sacrifice their normal relationship to do something like this with you.

“Can I kiss you again?” After you didn’t answer for a while, Shimizu shyly spoke up again. “Please.” If it was a dream you could at least live it to its fullest.

This time you kissed her back, pushing yourself against her until you all fell against Makki, who leaned back and let you make out on top of him.

Softly, Shimizu’s tongue started prodding at your lips and you opened your mouth a bit too willingly, ready to take whatever she was willing to give to you.

“Can- eh- me too?” Makki’s eyes were big and hopeful when you parted and surprised you turned your head towards him. They said they both liked you. But it was still unbelievable.

You leaned down, either way, to connect your still wet lips to his’.

You don’t think you’ve ever been that content as you were now.

“So, you want to try? The relationship? With us?” It had taken a while until you were finally able to disconnect your lips from theirs, as soon as you finished kissing one, the desire to feel the other one would arise. “Are you sure?” You felt dumb as soon as you asked the question and Shimizu’s small giggle only confirmed your fears.

“Of course, we’re sure. We’ve talked about it for months since we weren’t sure how to introduce you to the topic without it being like weird or overwhelming.” Makki pressed another kiss to your lips, chuckling at the way your face lit up afterwards. “Is that a yes to the relationship?”

“Yeah, of course! I mean.. I really like you.” They cooed at your words and immediately you were getting covered in kisses again.

“Do you want to stay the night?” The question made you tense up. Even though you had moved to the bedroom to continue your kisses in a more comfortable way than with one of you nearly falling off the couch, you still didn’t think you were ready for something sexual. You couldn’t believe everything was real yet anyways. “Not in that way. Like, just sleep,” Hanamaki was quick to correct himself.

Despite being friends with them for almost a year you had never stayed the night alone. Once, three other people from their high school days, Daichi, Nishinoya, and Mattsun, stayed over after all of you went partying, but every other time Makki or both of them had walked you home since your apartment was only a 20 minute walk away.

“I- yeah sure.” Sleeping and cuddling were fine. And you wanted to live out this dream for as long as possible. “I’ll give you a shirt of mine and some shorts from Mizu! Do you want long or short stuff?” Excitedly Hanamaki jumped off the bed, leaving you cuddled up in Shimizu’s arms. “Short, please.” Shimizu and you also stood up, once Makki had everything laid out, leading to a slightly awkward moment, whether you would change here or separately. “I’ll head to the bathroom.” You didn’t quite feel comfortable shedding everything right now so you used the opportunity where none of them offered something else.

When you came back, both of them were already in their sleeping attire, too. A sting of jealousy hit you right in the heart, at the thought that they had already seen each other naked and once again your brain reminded you of the fact that they were already in a relationship for more than three years, making you just the new awkward add on. But they immediately took you back into their arms and it was like all your worries disappeared.

“I can’t stop kissing you.” To emphasize his words Makki pressed little pecks all over your face, making you giggle. “I can’t believe you’re ours now.” Shimizu looked at you with big loving eyes, squeezing your hands for a second.

“Well, let’s continue our earlier plans. Pizza and cuddles, right?”

In the weeks to come, you didn’t have as much time for them as you would have liked. Hopefully, after your last exam that would start to change, especially since you were getting kind of needy. There were only that so many times how often you could wake up with Hiro’s boner pressing against your ass without him doing anything, other than maybe grinding up into you when you started a small make-out session. You really wished that would change once you all had more time on your hands.

“Congratulations on finishing all your exams!” Shimizu engulfed you in a hug before you even had time to shout your hello’s. “Thank you, Mizu.” You giggled excitedly, the euphoria of finally completing all your exams overwhelming your emotions. “What do you say we go on a date? We never went on an official one, so we can do that once Hiro’s off work.” You nodded excitedly at her offer, pressing your lips to hers. You were becoming addicted to their kisses, never being able to go long without them when they were in close proximity of yours.

It didn’t take long until her fingers were tangled in your hair and you were pushed back on the couch, her other hand roaming over your body, but being careful not to touch any of your intimate areas.

Only when you obviously ground up into her hands she tentatively took one of your boobs into her hand, squeezing it experimentally. It wasn’t much but for your touch starved body, it was enough to enlist a small moan.

“We should wait for Hiro, baby.” She was a bit breathless when she sat up and withdrew her hand from your boobs. “Don’t pout. Go shower and get ready for our date, I’m going to make reservations and inform Hiro.” She fully crawled off you, leaving an empty feeling behind but you still complied. “Where will we go?” Your voice was a bit hoarse from not talking for the last 20 minutes and you coughed a little to get it back.

“Something fancy. Do you have fitting clothes here?” Smiling she leaned down again to kiss you another time, much shorter than before and that made you realize that maybe, she was equally addicted to you.

“I have some dresses but I don’t know if it’s really fancy. Maybe I’ll have to go home for a bit,” you admitted. “That’s okay baby if you do your makeup here, how much time do you think it’ll take?” If you already knew what you were going to wear it shouldn’t take long. But maybe you had to iron it for it to really look good. But probably a max of 20 minutes. “I don’t know, 20 minutes maybe if you help me pick something out.” Shimizu chuckled and the sound alone was enough for a smile to emerge on your face. “We will join.”

After her promise she sent you to the bathroom with a slight tap to your butt, sending tingles up your spine with the short contact.

You really hoped that she got the hint that you wanted to do something more. You would probably be to shy to ask them directly. And you even shaved every hair on your body that wasn't necessary in your opinion. You wanted to be at your best for them, cleaning especially thorough down there.

Never in a million years would you look good next to the goddess named Kiyoko Shimizu. She had an enticing lipstick on and you never wanted anything more than to kiss it right off her. Her body was adorned by a black midi dress with a slit at the side and a dangerously low cleavage.

“Shimizu you look so good!” You couldn’t stop gaping at your girlfriend, hands running over her sides, smelling her sweet perfume. “Thank you, baby!” She pressed a soft kiss to your lips, careful to not destroy your makeup.

“Shit, I’m so lucky.” Hiro was staring in awe when leaving the bathroom, his eyes trained on Shimizu, whereas your eyes couldn’t believe what they saw. In what world did creampuff loving Hanamaki Takahiro have a body like that?

He was fresh out of the shower, only clad in tight black boxer briefs, ruffling through his hair with a towel. It was like a painting. And when he came over to give Shimizu and you a kiss on the lips you once again realized how gorgeous those two people were. And then there was you.

“Do you have any idea what you’re wearing yet? Thanks, babe.” He took the grey button-up and the black pants with a slightly checkered pattern Shimizu ironed earlier out of her hands with a huge smile.

“Noo,” you wailed and dramatically fell back onto the bed, pleased with yourself once you heard them laugh. “I’m sure we’ll find something amazing. You look hot either way. You already do, now. I could eat you!” Shimizu jokingly pulled you closer to the edge where she stood by your legs, hovering over you only to press a feather-light peck onto your lips.

Hiro chuckled at the way you shuddered and shot you a knowing wink once your eyes met, making you blush a deep rose.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here.” Hiro and Shimizu looked around interested, even though your small room was not that great at all. “It’s nothing special.” You got a bit shy at the way they were inspecting everything in great detail, leaning down to analyze every picture.

“What do you think of this?” You tried taking their attention off your family picture you had on your desk, holding up a dark green trouser with a black blouse. “It’s cute, definitely a contender. I would have to see it on you, though.” You nodded in agreement, laying the outfit down carefully on your bed, which has been nearly unused for the last month. “What about this?” Your next choice got a unified shaking of heads and after the third failed attempt you didn’t know if there was anything left in your small closet that was to some extent suitable for today.

That was until you pulled the last dress out. Personally, you probably wouldn’t have gone for it out of fear to be overdressed, but Shimizu and Hiro were delighted. “That’s it. You have to wear that! We’re going to be the hottest group in Tokyo!” Hiro was especially enthusiastic but he got quiet real quick when you shyly pulled your sweatshirt over your head to change into the dress. It wasn’t as if you had other choices. You didn’t want to change in the bathroom down the hall and your room didn’t really have any other options.

“Fuck, baby, give a man a warning next time, will you?” Both of them moved closer to you, hands starting to roam your body, pressing the occasional kiss to your shoulders. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” Shimizu’s fingers played with the hem of your sweatpants, helping you out of them. “We have to go to the reservation, don’t we?” Hiro’s voice sounded pained and he pulled back his hands from your body. Shimizu followed his example, giving you room to continue changing. Now overly aware of their eyes on your body you slipped into the dress, turning around in a silent request for someone to pull your zipper up.

“God, you’re hot.” To hear something like that from Shimizu, the equation of a goddess was unreal and in an instant you blushed again, hand moving up to fix your hair, which didn’t need any fixing at all.

“But there are some panty lines visible.” Hiro’s comment made all eyes fixate on your private region and the lines on the side of your hips. “Do you have any other underwear here?” You shook your head at Shimizu’s question. “I already chose the one with like the least seams. “I don’t think we have time to go back to the apartment or else I could’ve lent you some.” Shimizu seemed deep in thought and even though the thought of wearing Shimizu’s underwear made you feel some kind of way, you only had one possible option in mind. “I could take them off.”

“Do you need anything else? A coffee maybe? Or another drink?” The waiter in the restaurant was reappearing, after taking your empty dessert platters back. “No, thank you. Just the check please.” Hiro’s hand felt hot on your thigh. It hasn’t moved since the main course was finished, occasionally giving it a squeeze.

When the check arrived and you wanted to fish your wallet out of your bag the hand squeezed you again, harder than before. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got it. This is a celebration for you, after all!” You didn’t order anything of the most expensive stuff, but you still felt bad at him spending money on you. “You don’t have to, you know? I can pay for myself!” He silenced you with a smile and just gave the waiter his card, not letting you see the amount under the line.

“Thank you, really. You didn’t have to pay for me.” You took both of their hands in yours, squeezing them to really show your thankfulness. “Baby, we wanted to. On top of that, splitting the check would’ve taken too long. I’m quite impatient, to be honest.” Shimizu smiled at you knowingly, only making you blink dumbly. “Impatient?”

They both laughed at that, Hiro opening the car door for you and Shimizu as you reached the vehicle. “Knowing that you don’t have any underwear on is killing me on the inside.” He murmured into your ear and immediately you felt heat engulfing your entire body. Flushed with embarrassment and excitement you took your seat on the backseat.

Only then you realized that both of them seemed pretty tense, hurrying already in the restaurant to go home as soon as possible. You had thought that maybe they had another thing planned and apparently you weren’t that far off with your assumption.

Nervousness was laced in every step you took up to their apartment. “Hey.” You jumped a bit when Shimizu laid a hand on the middle of your back in front of their front door and turned around to face their concerned expressions. “We don’t have to do anything, you know that, right? We can stop at kissing, we can go all the way or something in between.” You nodded. “I want to.” Your voice was quiet but certain. And as soon as you said that she kissed you in a way she hadn’t kissed you before. The prior make out session probably came the closest but with this kiss, you could feel every intention was to get you naked and writhing underneath her.

Hiro gently pushed you through the now opened door, feeling you up at the same time.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. And so filthy. Going out without your underwear. How did it feel knowing you were sitting in that room full of people?” His hand sneaked over your backside, squeezing and pinching every bit of flesh available.

“Did you ever think what you were doing to us? If it was me without any panties I would’ve for sure creamed on the chair with how wet I got at the thought of you.” You whimpered at their dirty talk, unable to form an answer, only trying to make them feel what you felt, hands carefully groping at Shimizu’s breasts, hips rutting into Hiro’s crotch.

“Come on, baby, go to the bedroom. Today’s about you.” They followed you closely, closing the door behind themselves.

Immediately the feeling in the room was different. You turned around to face them and came to face with Hiro unbuttoning his shirt and helping Shimizu out of her dress right afterwards. It made the fire of anticipation burn even hotter in your chest. Their hands soon were back on your body again, this time even slightly dipping under your skirt, caressing your bare thighs. “Turn around.” You nearly missed the murmur of Shimizu against your collarbone if it weren’t for her turning you around herself. She pulled the zipper down excruciatingly slow and you felt goosebumps appear all over your body at the way the dress slowly slipped from your figure, different pairs of lips covering every newly exposed skin in light kisses.

They led you towards the bed, making you lay on your back. It felt weird, having your lower half uncovered but still having a bra on. Apparently, Hiro thought the same thing, releasing you from the garment. “You’re dripping,” Shimizu noted, dipping a finger between your lips and coating it in your essence. “Give me a taste.” You didn’t know you could get even hornier just by watching Hiro lick your arousal from your girlfriend's finger. “Please.”

Both of them looked at you with a smile on their faces and Shimizu brought her finger back down, softly rubbing at your clit, enjoying the way your body twitched at the small shots of pleasure. “Adorable,” Hiro commented, perching himself next to you on the bed to dedicate himself to your boobs, nipping and licking away at your nipples.

Your hands twitched towards Hiro, wanting to touch him, too, to do something other than just laying there, but they were immediately swatted away. “Next time, baby.”

You wanted to protest, but Shimizu’s finger slipped into your cunt, wiggling around and making you gasp in surprise. “Hiro, babe, you should continue, you have bigger fingers and we really want to spoil our princess, don’t we?” He pressed one last kiss to your breast, leaving your abused nipples to let his hand wander towards your pussy, not giving you any time to adjust but just pushing his pointer finger inside and relishing in the way you moaned. “Shimizu. Please. I want to do something!” Your breathing became more uneven by the second but you still weren’t content with just laying there doing nothing. “If you’re a good baby and come soon you can eat me out while Hiro fucks you,” she offered you, making your hips twitch towards Hiro’s hands, to speed up the process. Him fucking you with his finger felt good, but you would need more than one to come. “More fingers, please!” He complied with a chuckle and added a second one.

“Greedy little baby.”

He fastened his pace too, varying between just thrusting his fingers and scissoring and curling them, making all kinds of noises escape your mouth. Shimizu straddled you backwards, facing Hiro and hovering her cunt in your field of vision but just out of reach. You could just grab her and pull her back towards her face but as soon as your hands even twitched by your side Hiro let out a warning growl. “Don’t even think about it or I will tie you up while I fuck her on top of you for hours.”

You whimpered at that, crying out in surprise when suddenly Shimizu began rubbing your clit again. The combined stimulation was already making the knot in your stomach form. You would’ve never thought that just looking at Shimizu’s pussy would do that much to you. You could see her folds glistening and it looked downright delicious. If you breathed in deeply you could even smell her.

She intensified her rubbing on your clit, leaning down more to take her tongue into the action, lapping at your bundle of nerves without hindering Hiro in his moves. Your moans got louder and you became more and more breathless by gasping for air the whole time. And when Hiro added a third finger, thrusting into you even harder you were done for.

Spasming under Shimizu’s weight they didn’t halter their movements, holding your legs open to continue.

Hiro hadn’t even pulled out his fingers completely when Shimizu was already moving back, thrusting her pussy into your face, making you lap up her juices like a starved man. You couldn’t hold back your moans at the way she tasted, relishing in the deliciousness.

“Here babe.” Hiro thrust his fingers into Shimizu’s mouth, making her gag and as a result her pussy clenched around nothing. How bad you wanted to just finger her, maybe fuck her with a dildo, make er feel good. But you were scared they were going to stop completely when you disobeyed.

All your thoughts vanished when Hiro suddenly pushed his whole length inside you, making you moan loudly against Shimizu’s cunt. “Fuck, you’re doing so good, baby, please keep going, I’m going to cum soon.” She started rutting against your face, trying to rub her clit against your chin, while your whole body shook with every thrust Hiro delivered.

“Fuck, baby, you’re tight. You’re practically milking me!”

The overstimulation was going to your head, you were already feeling another orgasm approaching. The attempt to rut your hips against Hiro’s was quickly diminished by his large hands holding you down onto the mattress.

“You look hot, babe.” You could practically hear his grin out of his voice, feeling Shimizu chuckle. Then there were two new sensations. Two fingers slipped between your chin and Shimizu’s clit, rubbing figure eights, as well as on your clit. The pleasure was building up more and more, you couldn’t even try to decipher whose hand was whose, you just wanted to chase your high and apparently they shared your sentiments, since this time nobody intervened when you met every thrust of Hiro with your hips.

You were the first to come with a loud cry against Shimizu’s cunt, still trying to stick out your tongue to maybe provide her with more pleasure. Shimizu followed with a guttural moan, a new gush of wetness releasing all over your face, getting greedily lapped up by you.

She climbed off of you not long after, chuckling at your whine when Hiro pulled out. “On the floor, on your knees.” Both of you complied instantly, waiting next to each other as he started jacking himself over your faces.

It didn’t take long until spurts of hot semen shot across your faces, partly landing in you awaiting mouths. “Fuck you look good like that. My girls. I’m so lucky, shit.” He lovingly caressed your chins with his thumbs, pushing some of the excess cum into your mouths.

You already wanted to swallow, when Shimizu turned your head towards her, connecting your lips together and mixing your spit and cum, probably tasting herself in the process.

When you parted again Hiro looked incredibly proud, helping you back to your feet. “You both did so well. Lay down, I’ll get a towel.”

You had often cuddled with Shimizu, but feeling her naked skin against yours was a whole other feeling. But you weren’t complaining. And when Hiro joined you, too, after having cleaned up your faces and lower parts, it was as if everything was perfect.

You didn’t know why it hurt so much, seeing them walk up the stairs arm in arm. Of course, they were having dates on their own. You sometimes hung out with one of them at a time, too. But something about them being all dressed up and in love without you made pain shoot through your chest.

You had a really bad day, the weather was shit and you had woken up late, nearly missing one of your most important lectures, only forgetting your umbrella and coming to university wet from the rain, in sweatpants without having brushed your hair and without any makeup on.

And now seeing your boyfriend and girlfriend happily coming back from a date after not answering your calls if one of them could pick you up because of the weather, it hurt.

You couldn’t help the tears that shot into your eyes and in an instant you tried to escape the oncoming situation, dashing towards the elevator, pressing the button to hopefully disappear before they saw you. “Y/N?” Shit. That worked out perfectly. You rushed into the elevator, not being able to repress your sob, immediately pushing onto the buttons that closed the door and the ground floor. “Y/N!”

Your eyes met for a second and you could see them taking hurried steps towards you when the doors closed. As soon as you were out of their sights the tears didn’t stop falling, the painful twinge in your chest getting stronger by the second. Gasping for air you tried to not cry before being back in your room, which you wouldn’t have for long, anyways. You had been in a relationship for nearly a year and it was in the planning that you would move in with them soon, but you weren’t so sure if you wanted that anymore. You always felt like the add on, especially with them living together and you spend at least two nights a week at your own place before morning classes, since your way to university was shorter that way.

What you didn’t expect as soon as the doors opened again at the ground floor was Hiro, nearly taking four steps at once, flying down the stairs to pull you into his arms as soon as you even stepped out of the elevator.

“Please don’t leave.” His voice was strained as he mumbled the words into your ear and at that moment every resistance you had broken down, tears falling freely, soaking his black button-up as you shook in his arms.

You couldn’t even try to form any words to explain yourself, to bring yourself to turn away, everything that escaped you were loud sobs as he slowly maneuvered you back into the elevator and pressed the floor of their apartment. He was stroking your back constantly, pressing kisses into your head in-between mumbled shhh’s.

When you were back in front of the apartment the door was already open, Shimizu waiting with a worried expression, rushing towards you as soon as she laid her eyes on you, making you cry even harder.

They settled you onto the couch, caged in their arms without any of you saying a word.

“Baby..” You were shocked to see tears streaming down Shimizu’s face when you looked up to meet her eyes. How could this affect her?

“I’m sorry,” you finally brought out. “I don’t want you to feel sad!”

“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. What happened? Did we do something wrong? We didn’t have any connection in the restaurant and when we tried to call you back you didn’t answer.” They had called you? Did your phone die? It must have. You didn’t hear any ringing. “I’m sorry,” you repeated.

The way they were clinging onto you made you feel incredibly loved. You already didn’t understand how you could ever think they didn’t love you. They had shown you multiple times how much they cherished you but your doubts always got the better of you as soon as you were alone.

“I’m sorry! I- I had a bad day and then you didn’t pick up and I thought you were tired of me.” Finally, you could give them an explanation. And show them that you really had to apologize for jumping into conclusions and making them worry. You didn’t deserve them.

“Of course we love you, Y/N. We love you so much, I can’t even comprehend sometimes how I can love somebody as much as I love you and Shimizu.” Even Hiro was crying, his face still buried in your hair.

“But you’re so perfect! And I’m me. I always doubt myself and need constant verification for everything.”

“That’s the point, though. You’re you. And we love showering you in affection. At least for me, it makes me feel like a goddess, being able to put a smile on your face just by kissing you and giving you handmade lunch for uni.”

“But you are a goddess,” you pouted, making her laugh slightly.

“Let us show you again.” Hiro lifted his face, hands cupping your face to wipe your tears away, softly kissing you. “Please let us show you.”

“Look at yourself, Y/N. You’re beautiful. You’re everything we could ever want in a girlfriend.” They had stripped you bare and sat you on the bed, facing the big mirror on the closet doors. Shimizu was kneeling on the floor between your spread legs, softly kissing the inside of your thighs, smiling at you through the mirror. “Caring for you, making you come, seeing how you’re desperate to please us, and follow our command, it makes us happy. There’s nothing I would want to do more.” To confirm his words Hiro took your hand to rub it over his hard length without allowing you to grab it. “And seeing you cry was horrifying, to be honest.” Immediately you felt bad at Shimizu’s words. Your puffy red eyes were still a constant reminder of that, practically mocking you in the mirror. “So let’s make you cry because of a different reason.” You couldn’t even try to think about what she meant when she dove right in, lapping at your pussy with long strokes of her tongue, nibbling on your lips every now and then.

You moaned in pleasure, closing your eyes and leaning back against Hiro to really relish in the feelings. “Keep your eyes open, baby. Look at us pleasuring you. Look at us enjoying it.”

You opened your eyes again and they immediately fell on Shimizu’s face. She was looking up at you from your cunt and you could see so much adoration in her eyes you already felt tears of shame prickling in yours at the memory that you had ever doubted them.

“Babe.” Shimizu got alerted through Hiro’s call and you also looked in the mirror to see what he was doing behind you, moaning when you caught sight of the double-ended dildo you had often used with your girlfriend, sometimes with Hiro joining in, sometimes with him only watching, sometimes with him only being able to enjoy the aftermaths when he was coming home to you two being completely wrecked, the dildo lying forgotten on the floor.

“You want us both today?” Shimizu licking her lips after departing from your pussy made you moan again and you nodded wildly only for her to dive right back in, this time lowering herself quite a bit. Hiro adjusted your position, spreading your legs further and making you slide farther towards the edge of the bed so Shimizu could continue prodding at your asshole with her tongue. “I can’t wait, please, finger and lube.” Hiro laughed. “Help her, then.”

Shimizu detached herself again, moving to the side a bit so you could have the full vision of yourself in the mirror, your own fingers toying with the tight muscle, slightly pushing in even without lube. “Don’t be greedy, baby.” Hiro took it upon himself to take the clear gel and let it drizzle over your fingers, generously coating them. Taking the finger was much easier now and in a matter of minutes, you had two of them in, your arousal only heightening when having eye contact with your partners through the mirror.

It was unusual for them to be this quiet, normally endless praises would be falling out of their mouths. “I’m ready! Please!” You hadn’t prepared yourself as thorough as usual and by a cock of his eyebrows you realized that Hiro knew that, but he didn’t say anything when he heaved you onto his arms, hovering you over his erect dick.

“Fuck, I love your ass.” He was nearly halfway in and you felt more stretched than you ever had all the other times you had taken him like this. Your thighs twitched and you slipped even further down, when Shimizu pushed one of her slender fingers into your dripping cunt, wiggling it around slightly. “Don’t be impatient, Mizu. We have time. Look at our princess. She’s dripping.” You moaned at his praise and thanked every god that Shimizu didn’t interpret Hiro’s words as a command to pull her finger back out. “She’s gorgeous. Looking so pretty with her ass filled.” She pressed more kisses on your thighs, only stopping when red bites and bruises were littered across them.

Hiro slowly pushed the last inches in, letting out a guttural moan when he was finally fully buried within you. Shimizu took that as her cue to start moving her finger, adding a second and third one after a couple of seconds before finally taking the dildo into her hand, holding it up to your mouth. “Don’t just lick. Take it in.” You complied, taking as much of the double-sided dildo into your mouth as possible. “Hold.” She let go from the other side, moving out of the way for you to have a full view of yourself in the mirror again.

“Look at you. Maybe I should just fuck myself on your mouth, leaving your little cunt empty. Would you like that?” You tried shaking your head without letting the dildo falling out of your mouth. Your pussy was aching to be filled. Tears were already forming in your eyes from the constant strain on your throat, but the proud smile on Hiro’s face only showed you that this was exactly what they wanted to do. Make you cry out of pleasure.

With one hard tug, Shimizu pulled the dildo out of your mouth, not caring about the trail of spit that fell down your face and chest. The power with which she shoved it into your cunt made the first tears escape your eyes as you yelped in pleasure. “Fuck, yes, please, Mizu, more!” She looked happy with her accomplishment and then she sank down onto your cock, taking the other side of the dildo deep into her mouth until her nose touched your clit, nuzzling it a bit just to toy with you, shaking the dildo doing so and making you shake out of pleasure at the same time.

She didn’t repeat that maneuver often, the small drops on the floor already evidence enough that she was equally as impatient as you were.

“Look at yourself. Look how two people are fucking you at the same time.” It was hard to see anything clearly as soon as Shimizu sank down onto the other side of the dildo and both of them began to move, Hiro gripping the middle of the dildo to make it thrust in and out of both of you in an equal pace. “Still think you’re not loved?”

“No, no! I am loved, I love you, both of you, so much. I’m so sorry I thought otherwise. I love you, I love you!” You couldn’t chant anything else, the pleasure being overwhelming, tears streaming down your face even though you were not sure if that was out of happiness or pleasure. “I- I love you too, baby.” Shimizu’s movements got even faster and she kissed you with all of her heart, shoving every ounce of love in there.

“Fuck, baby, I’m going to come. Your sweet ass is making me come. I love you so much, baby, shit.” Hiro’s thrusts became harsher, making you snap up into Shimizu, all three of you groaning and moaning while desperately trying to hold on to each other.

As announced, Hiro came first, filling your ass with his cum, stilling afterwards but still slightly thrusting the dildo between you and Shimizu.

You didn’t know who of you came first, just that both your movements suddenly stilled, clasped in absolute pleasure, connected at your most intimate parts.

“Look at you. Does that look like someone who isn’t loved?” You tiredly raised your head, drinking in the picture before you on the foggy mirror.

It didn’t. Hickey’s were littered across your thighs, Hiro’s come was slightly dribbling out of your asshole and onto his only half-hard dick, Shimizu was covering your top half with her’s, the dildo lying on the floor forgotten, both of your holes still twitching, wetness coating your cunts and thighs. It didn’t look like anyone of you was not loved at all.

“Thank you.” Your throat was dry from moaning too much and you swallowed a couple of times before continuing. “I’m sorry again for doubting you. I know you love me a lot. I always know.” You kissed both of them and shot them a smile, hoping that they were going to forgive you.

“Stop apologizing. Everybody has those days from time to time. The most important thing is that you know now again.” Shimizu was nearly sleeping but you couldn’t blame her, the post crying and post-sex exhaustion catching up to you.

Not much later you were all cuddled up on fresh sheets after taking a short bath to clean yourself from all the sweat, cum, and lube.

“I love you, Hiro. I love you, Shimizu,” you mumbled contently smiling at their similar answers. Maybe this really was paradise. You may not deserve it, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

#haikyuu smut #kiyoko smut #hanamaki smut #hanamaki takahiro smut #kiyoko shimizu smut #haikyuu #kiyoko shimizu fluff #kiyoko fluff #polyamory #hanamaki x kiyoko #hanamaki x reader #kiyoko x reader #hanamaki x reader x kiyoko #hanamaki fluff #hanamaki takahiro fluff #karasuno #seijoh #aoba johsai #multifandhoem

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Text

Paloma, Part I

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 4100+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: fully legal age gap; curse words; references to M/F sex; lots of yearning; a little sprinkling of angst; American readers, please be warned that this piece features the absolutely filthy fantasy of Statesman paying off your student loans in full

You left Kentucky on a sunny June morning with a rolling suitcase, six cardboard boxes, and a heart full of golden light. You were ready for the new challenges of your promotion and the move to New York, but it was still hard to quell the little butterflies that insisted on dancing and twirling in your gut. Statesman HQ was like a beacon that had been calling to you for the last three years, and you were half-convinced that the promotion and the move were a daydream; something that would be snatched out of your hands if you thought about it too much.

It was strange to leave Kentucky, your home since you were four years old. You had been raised in a small town about an hour south of Louisville, and you hadn't had the opportunity to leave until college. Even then you didn't travel very far, just to a dorm room at the University of Louisville, going back to your hometown for every vacation instead of flying off to California or Europe like some of your more glamorous friends.

You had put your time to good use, though. You busted your ass and completed an accelerated program in Criminal Justice that earned you both a Bachelor's and a Master's in one go, with a minor in statistics and data science. The result was a deep and abiding love of research and analysis, with the burning desire to do good in the world.

---

The Friday morning of your graduation ceremony, you emerged from your apartment fresh-faced and giddy, ready to walk the stage and start the next phase: adult life in the "real world." You knew that your life was about to change, but as you juggled the garment bag with your cap and gown and tried to lock your door, you had no idea just how much. You heard a soft voice say your name behind you, and it made you jump and drop your purse, spilling the contents across your doorstep. You turned to see a woman of about 40, with flawless terra-cotta skin and an adorable mop of chestnut hair. Black horn-rimmed glasses framed bright, inquisitive eyes. She immediately bent to help you retrieve your belongings, stammering gentle apologies.

"I'm so sorry! Let me help you get your things. I didn't mean to scare you." She smiled sweetly at you and handed you back your sunglasses and lip gloss.

"No! It's fine, I'm sorry I'm so preoccupied." You lifted the garment bag by way of explanation. "Graduation day! Um, how can I help you?"

"You don't know me, but my name is Ginger. I work for an organization that recruits bright young minds like yours. It's a lot to explain, but if you're interested in a job interview next week, we'd love to talk with you." She handed you a creamy white business card with a Louisville address.

You frowned. "Statesman Distillery? I don't have any experience with alcohol production or marketing. I do data analysis and my degrees are in criminal justice."

"We know. We've been following your research and your schooling for a while." She gave you a mischievous smile, and it looked for all the world like she was hiding something fun behind it, something secretive and intriguing that made you want to know more.

"Please, just give me an hour of your time next week? When you have some time to pay us a visit, just call that number and ask for me. I'm really looking forward to chatting with you."

You thanked her and promised you would call, and then you tucked the card into your bag and forgot all about it for nearly a week. Graduation day was hectic, with lots of relatives visiting and interrogating you about your career plans, and the days afterward were spent attending parties and saying goodbye to friends who were scattering to far-flung places. After you had finished the last of your university-related errands like returning a few library books and picking up your official transcript, there wasn't much left to do except putter around your apartment and take a few days off before beginning a job search. Those student loans weren't going to pay themselves off.

You found Ginger's card in your purse on Wednesday morning and put it on the fridge with a magnet. On Thursday you were so hungover you didn't want to make any calls. On Friday you found yourself at loose ends with nothing planned, so you picked up the phone and dialed. When you reached the switchboard you gave your name and asked for Ginger, and they put you right through. She picked up after one ring, as if she had been waiting for your call.

"Hi! I'm so glad you called me! Can you come by today?" Ginger sounded genuinely excited to talk to you, not smarmy or fake like other corporate recruiters you had spoken with.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yes, thank you. Are you sure today's okay? I can come next week if that's better."

"No! Please come whenever you're ready. I'm really hoping you'll like what you see."

"Okay, will I need to dress up? Will I be meeting with anyone for an interview? Should I bring copies of my resume?" You wanted to make a good impression, but you weren't sure if this was just something the distillery did casually, like a winery tour, or if you would need to be ready for a formal interview.

"Nope! Just bring yourself! We already know everything we need to know about your qualifications."

"Ah... okay. I'm all yours. I'll see you in about an hour?"

"Perfect! I'll leave your name at the front gate with the guard. Just show them your ID and they'll wave you through."

You said your goodbyes and put the phone down. What kind of data analysis job was even available at a distillery? Market trends? Did they need a criminal justice major for tracking down rip-offs, like people counterfeiting their product? But wait, didn't the government do that kind of thing? The ATF? You shook your head clear of questions and hopped in the shower. You could ask Ginger all of your questions, since she seemed to be so happy to talk with you.

When you arrived at the Statesman Distillery an hour later, you were impressed at the size of the facility. Distilleries were pretty common in the state of Kentucky, with lots of little family companies sprinkled around. But Statesman rivaled the big names for sheer square footage.

Ginger met you in a conference room and offered you coffee, and then asked you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You didn't think twice about it. NDAs were common in lots of industries, and you guessed that it had something to do with trade secrets, Statesman not wanting to leak information about their whiskey production details. When Ginger began the tour and you walked down a long hallway with multiple sparkling white laboratories behind thick glass, you found it unusual, but not alarming. Cleanrooms, maybe? Something to do with alcohol distillation formulas, probably.

When she ushered you into a large wood-paneled office and introduced you to Champ, the head of Statesman, you thought it was odd. Companies didn't normally introduce new college graduates to executives during tours. Based on the size of the organization, you thought you might meet the CEO or President once or twice a year, maybe at a holiday party or a company retreat. But he was friendly, and he seemed to have already heard of you; his eyebrows raised an inch at Ginger when she gave him your name. He also seemed far more interested in criminal justice and data analysis than you expected for a distillery executive, but you shook hands and answered all of his questions politely.

When Ginger asked you to step into an elevator and it dropped 10 floors, you started to wonder a little. When the doors opened and she walked you to a room with a huge bank of monitors, with screens showing all kinds of maps and security video feeds, you were downright confused. But when she revealed the cherry on top, the fact that Statesman was not in the business you thought they were? That was too shocking. You were sure she was joking. You turned behind you to look for hidden cameras, expecting a prank show host to come jumping out at you.

"This is a joke, right?"

Ginger smiled that sweet, warm smile at you. "No joke. We want you to join the Research Unit, working in the Data Analysis section. You would be keeping our agents safe, helping them make the best decisions possible. And in turn your work could save lives, hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. What do you say?"

"I... uh... I still think you’re joking. I’ve never heard of anything like this. I… are you sure you want me?"

"Yes, if you're interested. We could use you on the team." She pushed a little slip of paper into your hand, and when you saw the annual salary that was listed, you almost fainted.

"Ginger, this is way too much. I just graduated and this is, like... this is a senior analyst's salary. I'd be able to pay off my student loans in like three years!"

"Actually, we would be paying your student loans off before you start work. If you have financial burdens hanging over your head you could be vulnerable to bribes or extortion attempts from foreign governments or bad actors. We want you clear before you start with us. Think of it as a signing bonus."

"Holy shit! Sorry, I mean... I... Jesus." You looked at her in confusion. "Y'all really want me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, we really do."

"Okay, when do I start?"

And that had been it, your first "big girl" job out of college. You were welcomed warmly to the Statesman team, and you loved the fact that you did interesting work that had a real impact. The hardest part had been telling your friends and family the required cover story, saying you were doing market analysis until you could find a job in criminal justice somewhere. But since you were happy with your new job and it paid well, none of them pressured you to move on.

During your first two years with Statesman you climbed the ranks, earning promotions and new responsibilities that eventually put you in the seat of Assistant Director of Data Analysis. You had risen high enough in Statesman that your work required a code name, and you chose “Paloma,” a nod to your favorite grapefruit cocktail. You answered directly to the head of the Research Unit, and every report that your team produced was vital. You weren't wasting your talent in some corporate hole, enriching the CEO's salary at the expense of your sanity. You were saving lives, making a difference. Your reports had even been sent to the New York headquarters, where they used them as a model for operations.

And the job had brought you romance, too. One day not long after your promotion to Assistant Director, you were walking out of the conference room, so focused on your phone that you didn't see where you were going. You bumped into something large and solid in a denim shirt, and a pair of warm, calloused hands held your shoulders to steady you. You cursed softly to yourself and then looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes that you had ever seen. A man with patchy stubble and a well-worn baseball cap smiled at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" His eyes looked concerned as they searched your face. You looked at him with wonder. He was so, so beautiful. The smile dropped, and then his brows knitted together into a slight frown. "I said, are you okay?"

You realized you were staring with your mouth half open like some lovestruck teenager, and that an embarrassing amount of time had passed since you first met his eyes.

"Yes!" Your voice was louder than you intended. "Yes, I'm sorry. Sorry I bumped into you. I should have watched where I was going. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Did I hurt you?"

"Ah, no. No, I'm fine. Sorry. Just distracted today."

"That's okay. Sorry I startled you." He smiled again and squeezed your upper arm.

You could have stayed there forever, leaning into his touch. He let go, much to your chagrin, and then went into the conference room. You made a note to ask someone who he was, to see if you could find out more about him. He wasn't being escorted by a staff member, so he was obviously part of the Statesman organization somehow. Someone would know who he was.

You went into the ladies room, running into Ginger at the sinks. "Oh, Paloma! I'm so glad I saw you. I need to steal your boss for an urgent matter. Can you run his 11:00 meeting in the conference room? I know it's last minute, but I'll buy you lunch later."

Your brain flickered out for a nanosecond. The 11:00 meeting? The conference room? The handsome man? You recovered your composure and smiled at Ginger. "Yeah, no problem at all. Tell him to drop his notes off in the conference room and I'll be there in just a moment."

Ginger smiled and punched your shoulder softly. "Thanks, Pal. I owe you one."

You washed your hands in a trance. Oh lord, this was going to be interesting. You squared your shoulders and met your own eyes in the mirror. You looked exactly like you had this morning, just your normal self. Most of the time that was fine, but right now you wanted to be more glamorous, more devastating. You wanted to absolutely bewitch the handsome mystery man in the meeting. In the absence of some kind of last-minute emergency Hollywood makeup team, you would have to settle for a fresh application of lip balm and a quick scrub of your teeth with a damp paper towel. You flicked a stray eyebrow hair into place, sighed, and headed back to the conference room. Looks weren't important anyway, right? Statesman had hired you for your brain, not your face. And really, you were more interested in showing your boss that you could do well in your new role. So you banished your insecurities from your mind and breezed into the meeting.

"Good morning everyone." You studiously chose not to look at the handsome man you had run into, keeping your eyes on your notes for the time being. You were afraid that if you looked at him you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away. "The Director has been called away for an urgent matter, so I'll be leading today’s operational planning meeting. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Paloma."

You risked a glance at the handsome stranger, relieved to see that his eyes were on his notepad and not on you. You let out a breath and found your stride, walking the group through the team's findings, the data, the implications, and the desired outcome for the mission. Agent Tequila asked a few cocky, half-assed questions, probing you for weaknesses. Normally that would have irritated you, but today it was a welcome focus that took your mind off the butterflies. You knocked Tequila back in place with a few well-chosen words, and then opened up the floor for questions.

The handsome man raised his hand, and your eyes fixed on how large and thick his fingers were. Oh God, this was torture. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Catfish. Um, can you tell me more about the extraction plan?"

"Yes, absolutely." You went over that phase of the mission, giving all the details your team had gathered about the terrain and the timing. When you were done, Catfish smiled at you, and your knees went weak at the sight of the dimple that appeared. No one else had questions, so you closed the meeting and stood to leave.

Suddenly there was a warm wall of denim at your elbow. "Hey, that was really detailed information. Thank you so much for walking me through everything."

You turned and smiled. "You're welcome. Glad I could help." You fumbled for something to say, trying to extend the conversation and keep him in your orbit for however long you could while everyone else filed out of the room.

"So, um, you go by 'Catfish.' Can I ask why? That's your code name, right? There's not some kind of hidden tragedy where that's the name your parents actually wrote on your birth certificate?"

He chuckled, throwing his head back. The expanse of his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple did nothing to improve the butterflies. They only fluttered harder, rising higher in your chest.

"It's an old Army nickname, I was Special Forces about a million years ago. Now I'm here on the transport team. I'm a helicopter pilot. When we're not working you can just call me Frankie."

"Ah." You bit your lip and nodded. Why couldn't you think of something else to say? Fortunately, Frankie continued the conversation.

"And you're Paloma around here? I love that drink. Am I allowed to know your real name, or is that classified?"

You grinned and shook his hand, giving him your name. When it rolled off his lips in that deep voice it sounded like heaven to you. You didn't want anyone else to say your name ever again. Just him.

He leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret. “Can I ask you a question? Top secret.” He winked, and you nodded.

“Can I take you to lunch?”

Your heart dropped into your pelvis, and you gulped, hard. “Y-yes. Yes, that would be great. I’d love to.”

---

When Ginger found you in your office at 2:00 p.m. you were staring off into space, smiling blissfully.

“Hey, Paloma. Why did you blow me off for lunch? I came by at 12:30, I was going to take you out.”

“Oh! Oh my god, Ginger, I’m so sorry! I had a date.”

She raised her eyebrows at you, settling down in one of your visitors chairs. “A date?”

“No! Not a date. A, um…” You burst into husky giggles, and then confessed everything to her: the handsome man, the crinkles around his eyes, his dimples and his silly code name, the easy conversation over lunch, and the fact that he had scribbled his phone number down on a sticky note that was now burning a hole in your pocket. You felt like you were 12 again, confiding in your girlfriend about crushes and cute boys.

Ginger laughed and gave your hand a squeeze. “No wonder you forgot about me. I can’t compete with a handsome helicopter pilot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ginger. I really didn’t mean to forget.”

“No, it’s okay. But definitely call him this weekend and make a real date. I’ll want details when you take me out for an apology lunch on Monday.” She winked and left your office.

You sat back in your chair and tilted back to look at the ceiling while you considered it. Was it too soon to call him and make a date? Ugh, this was agony. You decided that going by conventional rules hadn’t really mattered to you at any point in your life until now, so why the hell not?

You took a deep breath, trying to puff up your confidence. When he answered the phone on the second ring, you dove right in. “Hi, Catfish? It’s Paloma. Listen, I had a really good time at lunch, and I’d like to see you this weekend if you’re free.”

---

On Monday, you had a whole lot to report to Ginger.

Frankie took you up for a sightseeing flight on your date, and you loved the way he controlled everything; making sure he warned you before any sudden movements, and checking that you weren’t getting airsick or anxious. When the rotors were stilled and you were back on the ground, Frankie reached over to help you unbuckle your harness. Something got stuck, and the agonizing extra seconds of feeling him jostle the strap near your hip made you bold. When it was finally free and he was about to pull his hand away, you grabbed his wrist. He looked at you, alarmed that something was wrong, and you crashed your lips against his, all teeth and tongue and wanting. Frankie was as good a kisser as he was a pilot, and you spent the rest of the date making out in his truck.

The next weekend, you found out that his warm, work-worn hands were also magic in the bedroom. Frankie was adept at tweaking your sensitive spots as gently as the little buttons and switches of the flight panel, bringing you to thrumming heights the same way he did his helicopter.

The rest of the summer passed in heady, humid days and nights like a dream. You loved Frankie’s easy sense of humor and his confidence in the cockpit. But Frankie was less confident about your relationship, voicing concerns about the decade-plus that separated your ages, and whether he was keeping you from dating men your own age. He made self-deprecating comments about being an “old man,” and you reassured him that there was no one you’d rather be with, no one who could sway your attention. You loved using your hands and arms and lips and tongue to reassure him, finding that he had his own sensitive spots that you could manipulate. You loved sending him to sleep with a smile on his face.

But as much as you and Frankie enjoyed the relationship, the nature of his work with the transportation team meant that he was never in town for very long. At the same time, your job was getting more complex, requiring late nights at the office that interfered with your time together. You refused to dwell too much on the fact that you were torn, that you loved your work as equally as you wanted to spend those nights with Frankie.

By the end of the summer, you both came to the realization that it was nobody’s fault, simply a case of poor circumstances, and you decided to end things and remain friends. In October Frankie left Statesman to take a job that relocated him to Florida. You were wistful, and you missed him, but at least it had been an amicable split. At least friends was something. And as sometimes happens even with the best of intentions, the time in between each phone call grew longer, and you eventually lost touch. Last you heard he was spending weekends with his old Army buddies who all lived nearby, and he had a new girlfriend. By February the ache was starting to subside, and by April you were nearly ready to date again.

In May, almost three years to the day after Ginger’s visit to your apartment had changed your life, you were offered the position to lead the Data Analysis team in New York. You jumped at the chance. Statesman located an apartment for you, and from the pictures you were already in love with it. Huge windows looked out over the city, and it was within walking distance of Statesman HQ. Your farewell party was bittersweet. Ginger offered to come visit you, and promised that New York would be everything you hoped it would be. Your team gave you such high praises that you joked that if that’s what it took to hear accolades, you would have left ages ago.

---

Your first few days in New York were spent acclimating to the Statesman HQ, and getting to know your neighborhood. It was strange to find that you could walk or take the subway for whatever you needed, compared to the Midwest where a car was required for everything. Your new team was welcoming, and you enjoyed your new duties immensely. Your first two weeks on the job passed in no time, and you went home every night feeling like you could fly.

And then you hit a wall, in the form of Jack Daniels, a.k.a. “Senior Agent Whiskey.” You knew him by reputation, of course. Ginger had filled you in on his exploits, his overbearing charm, his smarmy flirtations. You had seen him once or twice in passing when he had visited Champ’s office, but you hadn’t actually met him in person.

When you finally did, you almost asked for an immediate transfer back to Louisville. --- "Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Tag list: @honeymandos @driedgreentomatoes @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @honestly-shite @anaaaispunk @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @dihra-vesa @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @anxiousandboujee

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #Statesman!Frankie Morales #Statesman!Frankie Morales x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels

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whump-me-all-night-long · 3 years

Text

Jeweler!Sapphire AU (not canon)

Welcome to 3k words of this amazing AU idea that may or may not become a multi-parter. No editing, we die like.. idk. Please let me know what y'all think!!

Tagging the usual group (let me know if you only want to be tagging in canon stuff): @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii @whumprincess @thatgaysnail @finaldreams1106 @reveriedeludesme @kemonoinuzuka @circlingravens @whumpasaurus101 @spicy-wendigo @femmewithadhd @wafflestakethecake @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @broadwaybabe18 @whumpinggoodtime @temporary-whump-sideblog @dumb-and-lesbian let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: talk of death (in a pretty disrespectful manner), talk of human trafficking, intimate whumper, hair pulling, noncon touching, some pretty noncon vibes near the end, uhhh Saph/Dustin is a real asshole, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist

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The sound of a ringing phone woke Dustin. With a groan, he rolled over in bed, blankets tangled around his legs. Blindly groping along his nightstand, he found his phone and answered the call, from an unknown number, blue eyes squinting against the flash of the bright screen.

“Yeah?” he answered, stifling a yawn.

“Is this Mr. Moore?” a timid male voice said.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Dustin sat up, glancing at the clock with a groan. “Yes, this is he,” he responded, voice tight. “Now who the fuck is calling me at four a.m.?”

A throat was cleared on the other end of the line. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’m Nicholas Jameston.” There was a pause, as if he expected Dustin to recognize the name. “I’m your uncle’s lawyer.”

Dustin blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. “My uncle? You mean.. Uncle Spence?”

A curt “Yes, sir.”

“Okayyyy,” he drew out. “Listen, I haven’t talked to him in years. Since I left for college at least. Probably before even high school. You see, my dad and him, they didn’t really get along-” He cut himself off. Why was he telling this man anything? “Anyways, there must be some confusion. I don’t know why he wants his lawyer contacting me all of a sudden.” Shit, he thought. Did I break or steal something last time I was at his place? Is this what this is about?

There was an awkward beat of silence before the lawyer cleared his throat again. “No, sir, there’s no mistake or confusion. You see, you’re Mr. Spencer’s closest remaining blood relative.”

Dustin was really not awake enough for this conversation. “Just say what you need to and be done with it.”

“Your uncle is dead,” the lawyer finally said. “And you’re his sole heir.”

Dustin pulled up in his car, a shiny BMW he’d bought using his dad’s life insurance money a few years ago. He squinted against the darkness of early morning, checking the address again. This place looked less like a family home and more like a fortress. A prison.

He wondered, for the millionth time since getting rudely awoken and told that a man he’d met only a handful of times was a) dead and b) giving him everything, what exactly he was doing here. His dad must be rolling over in his grave. Not that Dustin particularly cared about that.

He knew that the brothers had never gotten along, that his dad, the older brother, had apparently “abandoned” the family business because it was “amoral,” but Dustin had never really been privy to the details. He rolled his eyes just thinking about his dad and his need to be righteous and perfect all the time.

That apparently had gone out the window at some point, but the bastard was too proud to go back to his brother - their parents were already dead by that time - and instead decided to start his own company, selling.. who knew? Certainly not Dustin. No, the young twenty-six-year-old was perfectly content enjoying his bachelor playboy lifestyle, feeding off mommy and daddy’s blood money.

“Mr. Moore?” A man was standing on the doorstep, fidgeting nervously with a thick manila envelope.

Dustin took one look at him and barely withheld a sigh. This man, short, balding, oily, was a lawyer alright. He raised one lazy eyebrow. “Jameson, I presume?” he called back, making his way slowly up the path to the door.

“Uh, it’s Jameston, sir,” the man corrected quickly.

Dustin didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. It’s early and I have a busy day ahead of me. Left a pretty girl waiting for me to call. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Not bothering to wait, Dustin stepped up to the door and opened it, stepping inside a grand foyer. He whistled softly, taking in the shimmering chandelier, the sweeping staircase, with a gold-woven rug running down the middle, and the many large and well-furnished rooms branching off from the entrance.

“Now this is a nice playhouse, huh?” he said, grinned indolently.

He saw Jameston’s jaw tighten fractionally. “Yes, sir,” he responded. “Now, I can give you a complete tour of the house now. However, Mr. Spencer’s real estate agent can do that when she arrives here in-” he glanced at his watch - a fake, Dustin had noticed - “a couple hours or so. Furthermore, there was a, erm, rather sensitive matter that Mr. Spencer tasked me with familiarizing you with personally.” He adjusted his tie slightly, clearly nervous, before motioning Dustin down one of the smaller hallways to the side.

His curiosity piqued, Dustin followed. “What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me, was the old man into some shady illegal business? Drugs? Girls?”

Jameston shook his head, Adam's apple bobbing. “No sir. Your uncle, he was an.. art collector, of a sort. Well, he created his own art, really. However, it was not necessarily, um, legally acquired.”

Dustin barely held in a laugh at the lawyer’s clear panic. “Of course it wasn’t,” he scoffed. “Do you know how much shady shit has gone on in this family?” He couldn’t stop the bark of laughter this time. “Of course you do, you’re the lawyer.”

Jameston’s face flushed but he remained quiet until he reached an indiscreet door at the end of a short hall. If Dustin didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was a closet or something. Jameston cleared his throat as he opened the door. “Welcome to the Jewelry Box, sir.”

Carnelian sighed, his head falling back against the wall as he stretched his legs out along the small bed. The only sounds in the large room was the occasional movement from one of the others.

“That’s it,” he muttered, standing up and marching over to the glass wall. “Is anyone else wondering where the bastard is?” he called, frowning as he caught the gazes of several of the others.

Emerald just shook his head, silently warning him. Amethyst, however, scoffed, picking at her nails intently. “Why do you care?” she snapped. “It’s not like you’re ever doing anything but yelling and cursing.”

“So?” Carnelian shot back. “Aren’t you at least a little curious as to what’s going on?”

As if to answer his questions, he heard the door hiss open. Turning his gaze towards it, he felt his lips tugging down into a frown.

“Here we go again,” he muttered. “I knew the bastard would be back before long.”

Then he met the gaze of a stranger, arrogant and lazy and startlingly bright blue. Eyebrows flicking up, he blurted, “Who the fuck are you?”

Smirking, the stranger glanced at a smaller man next to him, one Carnelian had glimpsed down here once or twice before, always with the Jeweler. “I think I’d like to ask you the same question.”

The small man cleared his throat and began speaking, quietly enough that Carnelian couldn’t hear. Instead he took in the stranger, as if he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away.

The man was attractive, annoyingly attractive from Carnelian’s perspective. His skin was a bronzed tone, clear and smooth. He was tall, probably taller than Carnelian, with a lean, slightly muscled body. He had on a dark t-shirt that clung to his body and somehow looked expensive, with form-fitting jeans and some Converse high tops on as well. His dark brown hair was slightly wavy, with the top grown out long and falling into his face. Carnelian’s eyes drifted down towards his mouth before he forcefully pulled them back up to his eyes, which were-

Still on him. Carnelian felt himself blush and then scowl as he met the man’s gaze. Already he was getting on his nerves. And where the hell was the Jeweler? Was this stranger some new client of his, looking to buy one of them? At that thought, Carnelian felt a flash of panic through him and glanced over at Emerald, who was looking subtly at him as well, clearly thinking the same thing.

Carnelian tuned back in when the stranger exclaimed, “Are you shitting me right now?” The stranger was now looking at each of them, studying them more intently.

His gaze almost completely skimmed over Diamond and Ruby, both of them still curled up in their beds, watching with wary and confused gazes. He barely even noticed Amber, the new one still drugged to high heaven after mouthing off to the Jeweler yesterday. Carnelian doubted the kid could even remember their own name right now, much less stand up from where they were sprawled in their bed. He took a bit longer looking at Emerald, his defensive stance, wise eyes, then Amethyst, with her crossed arms and haughty expression, before finally settling on Carnelian.

After several long, tense seconds, he looked back at the other man. “So you’re saying,” he drawled slowly, deliberately. “That this, all of this, the house, the business, the.. Jewels-” his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk- “they’re all mine?”

Swallowing, the other man nodded. “Yes sir, that’s what I’m saying.” He drew out a piece of paper and, clearing his throat, began to read. “‘I hereby give the entirety of my properties, including my family home, my businesses, and my Jewelry Box, to my closest remaining blood relative upon my death.’ That would be you, Dustin Moore.”

There was a gasp from one of the other cells, where Diamond had stood up, flying to the window, eyes wide and frantic. “Death? Wait, no, Sir, he- he can’t be-” They dissolved into sobs, sliding to their knees on the floor.

Carnelian glanced around at the rest of the Jewels, the only sound coming from Diamond. The rest of them had frozen as well, not sure how they were meant to respond. Carnelian was reeling, glancing down as he took a shaky breath. On the one hand, he was glad the bastard was dead. On the other, well, the Jeweler had never looked at him the way the stranger, Dustin the other man had said, looked at him. The Jeweler looked at him like some prized object, something to be shown off proudly and then put back into storage. The Jeweler treated him less than human; Dustin’s gaze said he knew precisely how human Carnelian was, he just didn’t care.

Before he knew it, Carnelian was raising his head to glare at the other man, only to find him still looking at him. As Dustin slowly moved forward, he asked, “Did my uncle give these.. Jewels any names? Because I think I’m seeing a theme in them.” He stopped a couple feet away from the glass, his head tilted slightly. “The only one I can’t seem to figure out is this one.”

Carnelian’s lip curled. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he snarled softly, looking him up and down before raising his brows slightly. “Bastard jr,” he added.

Dustin almost seemed caught off guard before letting out a laugh. “I thought you said that he trained them to be all submissive and whatever,” he called over to the other. “Jameston, this one seems to be a bit feral.” He stepped even closer, lifting one hand to touch the glass. Carnelian fell back a couple inches, eyes still narrowed.

Jameston cleared his throat yet again. Carnelian would almost feel bad for the guy, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was complicit in letting him stay kidnapped. “Yes sir, your uncle had his ways of training them. However, he didn’t train them all the same way. He found that one’s fight to be..” He skimmed his notes quickly. “..rather appealing, sir.”

Carnelian made a noise of disgust as Dustin grinned. “I can’t say I blame him.”

Carnelian barely breathed until Dustin stepped away, turning back to Jameston. “Well, I’ve seen them all. Let’s go back upstairs now. I think I saw a nice liquor cabinet that I’d like to raid.”

Once they were both gone from view and the door had hissed shut, Carnelian leaned his head against the cool glass.

“You okay?” Emerald asked.

Carnelian just shook his head, a sudden lump in his throat. “The way he looked at me,” he said softly.

“I know,” Emerald murmured back.

He glanced up to find the older man looking at him with concern and pity.

“Well then,” Amethyst said loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen thick and heavy. “That was certainly something.”

Diamond sobbed loudly. “That.. that can’t be true. Can it?” They looked up, searching the others’ faces. Carnelian felt a twinge of pity for them. After over a decade of being trapped down here, they had been reduced to a mere shadow of whoever they might have once been. At whatever they might’ve seen on their faces, Diamond dissolved back into inconsolable sobs.

Resting her head on the wall, Ruby quietly asked, “So what happens now?”

There was a beat of silence before Emerald replied, “Now we wait.”

Back upstairs, Dustin was finally alone after getting rid of that annoying lawyer. He had had to practically shove the man out of the house to get him to leave. Even then, he had only left with promises to call later about the details.

For now, Dustin was sprawled out in a large, overstuffed armchair, a bottle of expensive whisky and a half empty glass next to him. He was already on his second glass, and he had no plans on stopping any time soon.

His mind drifted to the one who had glared and cursed at him. The smaller one, with the hard gaze, numerous freckles, and bright curly hair. The one Jameston had said was named Carnelian. Dustin looked up the stone and smiled at the pictures that were pulled up. Bright, fiery stones, of varying shades, Dustin had to admit, he could see the resemblance.

Pouring himself another glass, he sunk down further into the chair. He supposed he should be more concerned with the fact that there were six human beings locked in some creepy basement that he had apparently just inherited. But, after living the life that he had lived so far, Dustin had to admit that this was far from the craziest thing he had seen. He knew plenty of friends whose families had, well, less than legal people working for them, and now that he thought about it, he swore he could remember some show a few of his friends had gone to where the host had all his pets or whatever they were called designed as gemstones.

He laughed softly, quietly murmuring, “Carnelian, huh?” before draining the glass and pouring one more.

It was hours later when Carnelian awoke in the darkness. The bright lights, luckily, were still on their automated timer, so they had shut out at their usual time. It had been hours since Diamond’s sobs had slowly petered out and since the others’ quiet, stilted conversations had dwindled. Now, everyone was asleep.

Well, everyone except Carnelian. It took him a moment to figure out what had awoken him, a soft tapping on the glass wall of his cell. With a soft groan, he rolled over, out of the bed, squinting in the dim light.

In front of him stood the silhouette of a man. A couple seconds later, Carnelian recognized him as Dustin, his new.. owner. He almost snorted at the title. This man wasn’t any older than Carnelian, and he looked and behaved like an entitled, overprivileged frat boy.

Carnelian slowly walked closer. “What the hell do you want?” he whispered, because he didn’t want to accidentally wake the others and unleash the chaos that would bring with it. It took him a moment to realize that Dustin was fiddling with the lock on the door.

Without answering him, Dustin finally figured out how to unlatch it and swung the door open. He looked back up at Carnelian and made a silent motion for him to follow as he padded back towards the door.

Frowning, Carnelian carefully stepped out, towards him and the hallway beyond, where he could see light spilling out from the door. Knowing it probably wasn’t very smart, Carnelian walked into the hallway, squinting slightly at the suddenly bright lights.

Before he knew what was happening, there was a hand fisting in his hair and pushing him up against the wall. Carnelian looked up, eyes wide, to find Dustin standing much too close to him and several inches taller than him.

Feeling his breath stutter and his heart skip a beat, Carnelian breathed out, “What the hell do you want?” He barely dared take his eyes away from Dustin’s.

With the hand not pinning him to the wall, Dustin leaned closer and wrapped a curl around his finger, pulling until Carnelian wince slightly before letting it go, watching it bounce. This close, Carnelian could smell the whisky on his breath.

“Are.. are you drunk?” he asked, swallowing hard when that steely blue gaze met his, hazy yet surprisingly clear.

“That’s irrelevant,” he said, smirking as he pushed closer to Carnelian, who tried to pull away, but one vicious yank on his hair had his eyes watering and stilled the rest of his body. Dustin raised a hand and slowly traced over Carnelian’s cheeks, ending with one finger following the outline of his lips. “You’re Carnelian.”

Carnelian barely resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and instead held his breath, eyes wide and searching Dustin’s. He didn’t dare to breathe, much less speak, so he didn’t ask why Dustin had said something he already knew the answer to.

It felt as if an eternity had passed before Dustin pulled away, shoving Carnelian roughly back towards the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said glibly, pulling the door shut once Carnelian was through, leaving him back in the darkness.

Immediately, Carnelian went back to the one place he never thought he’d call safe. Once he had pulled the glass door closed, hearing the lock click, he curled up in his bed, as far away from the door as he could get, the thin blanket pulled over him as his heart beat in his throat.

He didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

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boldlyanxious · 4 years

Text

Blind Commission

Part of Meet cute Mondays

My masterlist

Marinette was working at a cafe meeting clients. She did this about once a month at the cafe her apartment was above. Many of her commissions didn't need measurements but for the ones that did she would pick one day and meet with several people to take measurements and sign paperwork for commissions so she could give accurate timings for the commissioners.

The cafe owner allowed her to use the corner with an extra table and screen set up so she could take the measurements and have a space for the other things she needed without giving out her home address. They didn't need to know she was actually just upstairs.

She had cleared her table of all her notes and just had pulled her tablet out so she could start on a tentative schedule. She planned time for a quick break before her next set of appointments so she was waiting for her food when a man sat down. She glanced at the time.

1:22. Her next appointment was not supposed to be there until 2pm but she hated to make him wait all that time and have the opportunity to start off their relationship unhappy. She smiled in greeting and reached for her next folder.

"You are early, but we can start right away. Did you have any ideas of what you were interested in?"

"Not really. My brother set this up for me. He said it was for my own good."

She checked her notes to remind herself of what the requested items had been. Fall outerwear. She had a couple basic concepts drawn up.

"Apologies, I'm usually more prepared but I hadn't reviewed my notes yet. Have you decided whether you liked the peacoat or the sweater more?"

"I'm actually a big fan of both. I don't think I could choose."

Marinette was stunned. But she thought she would probably have time to make that work. She didn't have as many large commissions this month and she could work on a sweater when she was doing other things so it wouldn't be additional hours necessarily.

"We can work with both. That will make the timing a little trickier but I'm not worried about it."

Tim nodded but he was very confused at this blind date Jason set up for him. He said this was the perfect girl for him but she was acting very odd. Even more noticeable a moment later when she stood him behind a privacy divider and started measuring him. He wondered if there had been a hallucinogen put in his coffee or more likely that Jason was pranking him.

They sat back at the table and Tim found himself filling out paperwork to make selections for a jacket and sweater he was apparently ordering. She had standard legal papers drawn up and swatches of material to choose colors. He went along with her recommendations for seasonally appropriate colors specific to how it would look on him. She has a few drawings ready to show him as a preliminary design and he approved of the fastenings and lining.

Before he knew it he was signing paperwork with an expected date for the items to be completed but she allowed up to 10 days grace period for herself for unforseen delays. She did tell him that late delivery even within her grace period was something she hated. She had only needed it once because of a delay in a special order and the person knew in plenty of time to decide whether they wanted to continue with their item.

Before he knew it, he was being sent off with a smile and a handshake. He had paid but the check was written to her business and he didn't even know her name. Weirdest date he had ever had. He didn't get her phone number and she had looked embarrassed when her food was delivered. She set it aside so he didn't order anything expect the coffee he got when he came in. He was still hungry and very confused.

Marinette carefully filed away her paperwork and made notes on her tablet while she started on her sandwich. She has possibly rushed the client a bit but her breakfast had been so long ago and she really wanted to eat. She hummed in appreciation of the food and probably ate way too fast.

She checked the time as the cafe worker took her plate and wiped the table. 1:58. She thanked the worker and went to turn to her notes before her next 3 appointments when a voice interrupted her.

"Hi, I'm Derek. We are meeting to discuss a design for a fall jacket."

taglist- let me know if in taking you wrong

@theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf

Adding short and cute because I need it in my life. Feel free to join me for my invention of meet cute Mondays. I probably won't do it every week but Mondays always need a bump of cute

#maribat #meet cute mondays #meet cute #timari #timinette #boldlyanxious

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

The London Shadow Market - Centurions on a mission (Fan Fic)

This is a one-shot Tynush fan fic.

London Shadow Market. Centurions Tiberius Blackthorn and Anush Joshi are on mission for the Scholomance, tied to the First Heir, and Ty gets a bit overprotective.

It's a bit angsty and though there is mention of sex, there is no sex scene/smut.

Big thanks to @amchara who beta-read the fic (and notably helped with her thorough knowledge of London) and who also sparked the idea, since we discussed how there could never be enough of overprotective Blackthorns fic.

****

It was long past midnight and the London Shadow Market’s lights were fading one after the other. Fenwick was wrapping up for the night, muttering about what an awful evening it had been. Only a dozen customers buying baubles. Overpriced, but still. Long gone were the days where he could earn in an evening what now took him a month to scrounge. The new Inquisitor, Diego Rosales, was knowledgeable, relentless, and incorruptible. It didn’t help that the new Unseelie King also frowned on his barely-to-not-legal-at-all side businesses. The most profitable ones, as it happened. He still had the favour of the Seelie Queen, but even she, in her eagerness to make peace with King Kieran, was not as frequent a client as she used to be.

So, when he heard the bell ring announcing that a customer had just crossed the threshold of his magically enhanced oversized tent, Fenwick immediately perked up. His cheerful mood was of short duration.

Two dark-haired figures had stepped into his dimly lit tent, one at least a head taller than the other, but both with a graceful warrior stance that betrayed what they were despite the obscurity.

Shadowhunters. And not any kind. The worst kind if you asked him. Those who knew much more about the Fair Folk than the fey had ever cared to reveal. They even kept secrets from the other Nephilim. That’s how world-altering their knowledge was. Centurions. And they were in their black uniforms, their silvery pins gleaming in the light of the candles scattered around the tent, not even bothering to conceal their identity.

Fenwick was torn between bolting out – on the off chance that he managed to outrun them – to lay low in one of his numerous hideouts (for a few decades at least) and standing his ground, trying to weasel his way out of this uncomfortable situation. What made up his decision was the weariness that gripped him at the mere idea of running. The centuries he had strolled around the Earth made him feel like an overstretched rubber band.

“Well met, Sons of the Angel!” He said, forcing a cheerful tone.

“Well, met,” the smaller, wheatish-skinned one answered. He had a warm, lyrical voice. As he took a few steps forward inside the tent, Fenwick tried very hard not to flinch. Up close, he had a very handsome face, high cheekbones framing his narrow and delicate nose. Strong thick eyebrows made a perfect arc over his big almond-shaped brown eyes. His bright yet calm demeanour compelled you to trust him. But Fenwick knew better.

The taller one didn’t greet him. He was already strolling lazily around the tent, scanning the shelves. He was standing with his back to Fenwick, so that all that Fenwick could see of him was black hair and a dark uniform, a circle of thorns etched across the back of his jacket.

“What brings you to my humble shop?”

The question had been directed at the politest of the two, but he didn’t seem to hear, entirely focused on stealing covert glances at his fellow Centurion. His expression was wistful, almost reverent.

Fenwick considered it. He knew how lonely they got sometimes, hidden between harsh grounds and cold stones in the Carpathian Mountains. Some were known to suffer depression, if not mental illness. He used to interact frequently with them, in the past, until the Scholomance was closed in 1872, with the signing of the First Accords. He sold them information, and sometimes a good time.

“You are in luck, Centurions. I have several pretty mermaids who have just joined Fenwick’s lair. At least two of them have a kink for strong Nephilim such as yourselves.” After all, King Kieran had started a trend… “We also have the usual nixies, pixies, goblins, hobgoblins, brownies, and even a djinn for those who have more… particular tastes. Everything happens on Seelie territory and is strictly legal of course. I have the paperwork.”

The light brown skinned Centurion looked like he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. He coughed a little to hide it before swiftly saying, “Nothing of the sort.”

“We heard you were selling. We are buying.” The taller one spoke for the first time. He had a deep voice, with a rich timber to it. As he glanced over his shoulder, the candles’ light played along his face, revealing his striking features. Fenwick stifled a gasp. His merchant’s mind was already calculating what he could earn with such a possession. Faerie lords – even princes – would pay handsomely – a fortune – to enjoy the boy’s company.

“What is it that you care to acquire from old Fenwick?” he said in a honey voice. “Certainly not a love potion. Someone who looks like you must never be in need of it.” The Centurion’s expression remained impassive, yet Fenwick thought he saw a shadow flicker across his eyes. “Your pretty face is so much like a faerie’s. I almost took you for one of our kind.”

The other Centurion cleared his throat loudly, and when he had caught Fenwick’s attention, shot him a glare, his deep brown eyes cold as ice. A warning. Fenwick knew in that instant that if he ever wanted to get his hands on the pretty Nephilim, he would have to go through his companion first.

“What we want…” he said in a clipped tone, “cannot be touched, tasted, or inhaled.”

“Information, then,” Fenwick replied automatically upon hearing the code. A chill went up his spine. Did they know? Only one way to find out. “And what type of information do you seek?”

“You know exactly which one. Please do not waste any more precious minutes of our mortal lives. Name your price.”

Fenwick told him. The Centurion approached Fenwick’s counter and, without a word, retrieved a pouch from inside his jacket - Fenwick recognized it as fey craftsmanship of the finest sort and, though it did not bear the Unseelie Court’s sigil, had most certainly come from it - and started counting bills. His curiosity got the better of him.

“What do you want with the First Heir?” He blurted. “I didn’t know it was the Scholomance’s job to look for him. Other Nephilim – if not as skilled – have already been assigned to the task.”

“We have the money. Our business with him is our own,” he replied dismissively.

Fenwick glanced at the other tall Centurion, who had remained silent during the exchange. He had retrieved a crystal orb from one of the shelves and was turning it over in his long pale fingers.

“Careful with that! It’s fragile! And expensive. If you break it, you pay it.”

“Twenty-one,” he replied.

“Pray tell?”

“The number of laws you have broken with the content of these shelves. I am not talking about the items you keep in your back store.”

“Tiberius,” his companion warned, before forcing a smile to Fenwick’s benefit. “Here’s the money. Give us the information and we’ll be on our way.”

Fenwick’s gaze zeroed on the bills spread over his counter. He did the usual checks, doing as best as he could to hide his excitement.

“Okay,” he drawled, when they had come out to be the real deal. He gave them the First Heir’s address. The Centurion’s lips twitched but his face remained otherwise blank. He acknowledged with a stiff nod and whirled around.

“I can give you one more information. Free of charge.”

The Centurion paused and glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question.

“The First Heir. He has power beyond your wildest imagination. Even mighty warriors such as yourselves will have a hard time capturing him. But he has a family that he loves dearly and would be willing to die for. If you take his little sister hostage, you can obtain whatever you want from him.”

Fenwick startled at the sound of glass shattering. He glanced over to find that the tall, silent, Nephilim – Tiberius, his companion had called him – had closed his long fingers on the orb, with apparently enough pressure and force that it had broken into multiple shards. He was now watching with remote interest as blood escaped from his clenched fist and started running like crimson strings over his knuckles and wrist. He didn’t look the least bit concerned by the sight.

“Hey! You will pay for this!” Fenwick said, taking consolation in the fact that, as expensive as the item was, they probably had the money.

“That’s funny,” Tiberius said in a tone that suggested it wasn’t at all. “I was about to say the exact same thing.”

He hadn’t seen him coming, but from one moment to the next, the Nephilim was in Fenwick’s face, a dagger pressed against the fey’s throat.

Fenwick thought he looked more animal than human as he cocked his head, his gray eyes feral. “Earlier you said that I look like a fey. Well, there is at least one trait that I share with the Fair Folk. I. Don’t. Lie. So, trust me when I tell you this. If you so much as harm a hair on that little girl’s head, my pretty face will be the last thing you’ll ever see. The same goes for any other member of her family. I will hunt you down, scour each one of your rabbit holes and I don’t care if it takes every single second I have left of my mortal life.”

“Tiberius,” the other Centurion crooned. “Tiberius. We are done here. Let’s go home.” Fenwick realized with a jolt of surprise that he had moved soundlessly to rest his hand on Tiberius’ shoulder and was rubbing it, tracing small circles around the joint. It was such an intimate gesture that Fenwick wondered if he had misread earlier when he had thought to witness unrequited love.

Tiberius blinked a few times, then started whispering urgently under his breath. Fenwick couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. It sounded like random words. The Centurion finally narrowed his gaze at Fenwick and mouthed “I don’t lie” one last time before he whirled and both Nephilim disappeared in a blur of dark fabric, out of the tent and into the night, as swiftly as they had come. Fenwick, frozen in terror, hoped with all his immortal’s heart that all of it had only been a bad dream.

***

Anush exhaled the cold and moist London air, his breath coming in frosty white puffs, as he drew an Iratze on the back of Ty’s hand. It had become so frequent lately that he sometimes caught himself wishing Centurions were allowed to be parabatai so that his runes were more effective, but discarded the idea as soon as it crossed his mind. He would not have been allowed to feel the way he did about Ty. And parabatai definitely did not do the things they did.

“I can’t believe he lived during the time of Berlioz. Do you think he met him? If so, I would have a thousand more questions to ask him.”

Ty didn’t answer. He was lost in thought, stroking his heron-shaped pendant with his free hand, his face pale as the moon tilted upwards toward the night sky as if he was counting the stars.

“Hey,’ Anush said softly. “It was the wrong address. So that’s one more snitch to strike off our list.”

“He had the right country, though. That’s a first. They’re closing in.”

“That’s okay, Ty. We will be one step ahead, as always.”

Anush had probably not been convincing enough, as Ty suddenly tensed, his breathing coming in short, shallow gasps, and his hand, still resting in Anush’s palm, started shaking. Anush closed his fingers around Ty’s and murmured soothing words that he knew his fellow Centurion liked, as he gently rubbed his shoulder with his free hand. “Whisper, glass, twin, secret, stars, cloud, castle, crystal, Christopher…”

Ty’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath.

“Hey,” Anush whispered. “It’s going to be fine. We will do double shifts. Starting tomorrow. Who needs sleep anyway?”

Ty sighed, relief plain on his marble face. His eyelashes fanned out over his sharp cheekbones and Anush resisted the urge to kiss them. “Thank you. For sticking with me through all this. I know it’s not easy.”

“I didn’t have better plans anyway,” Anush shrugged it off.

Ty opened his eyes and turned his sharp gaze on Anush, still not looking him in the eye but somewhere around his chin. Close enough.

“You know what I mean.”

He knew exactly what Ty meant. The reasons for Ty’s obsession with the First Heir was a subject they never broached. But it was there, like a third presence in their relationship. If you could call what they had a relationship. It was, for Anush at least. He would go to hell and back for Ty, and so would Ty for him. But that didn’t mean he loved him. That’s just how loyal and selfless Ty was.

Anush would always remember the day Ty and him had volunteered to handle the top secret missions tied to the First Heir. Ty had adamantly refused Anush’s involvement, but of course, it was not entirely up to him. Anush was very stubborn. They had both sat in Jia Penhallow’s office and she had asked Ty to leave them alone afterwards. She had looked into Anush’s eyes and had spoken to him earnestly. “These are very dangerous missions, Anush. The most dangerous missions we currently have at the Scholomance. You are a brilliant Centurion, but are you sure you want to do this? I know Tiberius has… personal reasons for volunteering, but what about you?” He had swallowed hard. “Anywhere Tiberius goes, I go.” Her dark eyes had softened. “Anush. Have you really thought this through? I know how much you care about Tiberius but… has he told you why he has chosen to do this?” “I am not Tiberius-smart, but I am not stupid,” he had replied. “The First Heir. He’s in love with him.” The deep sadness and understanding in her eyes had almost made him cry and he had dug his nails into his palms, his jaw working as he withheld tears. “It doesn’t matter,’ he had said through clenched teeth. “Whatever happens, I will be there for him. In any capacity I can.” And it was plain from her expression that she knew he was not only talking about their missions for the Scholomance.

As he now looked into Tiberius’ gray eyes, at his beautiful features that were nothing compared to his gentle and unique heart, Anush felt a deep rush of love mixed with longing. Ty would never be his. He already belonged to someone else. But Anush would give Tiberius any part of him that he wanted.

He took a deep breath before he answered.

“I do. I am not giving you a choice anyway. You’re stuck with me.” Always.

Ty looked down, as if he couldn’t bear the weight of Anush’s gaze on him.

“I didn’t thank you for… earlier. I almost lost it back there.”

“Don’t mention it,” Anush replied. “That’s what I am here for. At least he took your threat seriously.”

“As he should.”

Ty was still playing with the pendant tied around his neck. Anush brought his free hand on top of Ty’s, intertwining their fingers.

“I love your hands,” he whispered to Ty. “I wouldn’t want them to get soiled.” He tiptoed to bring his lips closer to Ty’s ear, almost brushing. “Especially now that I have experienced their full potential.”

Ty turned his face away but not before Anush saw his cheeks flush and the corner of his mouth quirk. Anush loved how he was still shy about these things.

He looked at the dark cobbled street before them.

“Fenwick’s minions must already be on their way.”

Ty cocked his head. “Coming from the west. They’re a mile or two ahead of us. Judging by their pace, they should be upon us in about five minutes.”

Anush nodded. Ty sometimes knew things – as if he had an invisible spy everywhere they went – and Anush had stopped questioning it. If Ty had wanted to share, he would have. Anush would not press him.

“Tactic?”

“Split. Confuse. Divide and conquer.”

“Good. I need the exercise. You take north by the river, I take south and we meet up west?”

Ty nodded, already veering in the opposite direction, two swords drawn.

“Meet you at Blackthorn Hall,” Anush cried out to him, as he started walking backwards. “First one there gets the biggest room.”

“Dream on,” he thought he heard Ty reply. He tried to catch one last glimpse of him for good luck but he had already been swallowed by the night.

***

Tiberius got there first. But he let Anush pick his favourite bedroom. All bedrooms in Blackthorn Hall were decorated with different themes, that one had a landscape - the view from the LA Institute’s rooftop, Ty had explained - painted over an entire wall, opposite the huge canopy bed. Anush found it quite soothing.

“Fenwick sent an army,�� he said as he drew several Iratzes on Ty’s back. He whistled. “You must have scared the shit out of him.” They had managed to get rid of the last of Fenwick’s minions by drowning them in the Thames. Ty had a few fey allies lurking underneath the surface. Creatures he had helped escape from captivity.

When he was finished, Tiberius rose from the bed and Anush watched as he stored the bandages and gauze in a small cabinet in a corner of the room. He was naked from the waist up and Anush’s gaze lingered on his fellow Centurion’s lean and muscular back, a canvas way too beautiful for black Runes and faded scars that were now so familiar he could draw them from memory. His dark curls were still wet from the dive into the river.

Anush crossed his arms behind his head and settled comfortably against the headboard.

“Ty?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

Tiberius stilled, his bare shoulders hunched.

“What, now?”

“Yes now. I want you.”

Ty slowly closed the cabinet’s door and turned to look at Anush, his gray eyes unreadable.

“Anush… My brother Julian is here. His bedroom is a few meters down the corridor.“

“So? It’s not as if he doesn’t know what we are up to. You're so lucky he’s smart and open-minded. The coolest. I wish my parents were the same. If they knew the things we did, they would probably drag me to Naraka themselves.”

“Anush…” Ty said softly. “You know it wouldn’t make any difference if you were a girl… I would say the same thing.”

“We won’t make any noise!”

Tiberius raised a dark eyebrow. Anush let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my fault if you turn into this beast I barely recognize under the bed sheets.”

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

“Oh the noises I make are definitely not me complaining. Mister Hyde can have a ride anytime.”

Ty gave him one of his rare wicked smiles… The ones that always got Anush’s heart rate into high gear. He put his shirt back on and moved soundlessly to the door.

“Ty,” Anush called.

Tiberius paused, his hand on the doorknob.

“Yeah?”

“Stay for the night. No noisy and sweaty sex. Just…lie down next to me.”

“Anush,” Ty breathed, his look apologetic. And Anush braced himself for what would come next. The blow to his chest. Because he already knew what Ty would say. “Anush. You know I can’t sleep that way.”

“Yeah, no problem, I understand. Raziel knows we definitely need the rest.” Anush tried to reply in a light tone but the pitch of his voice rose awkwardly at the end. “It’s okay. Good night Ty.”

“Good night, Anush.”

#the wicked powers #the dark artifices #tsc fan fiction #tda fanfiction #the secrets of blackthorn hall #kit herondale and ty blackthorn #kit herondale #kit herongraystairs #tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #anush joshi #kitty fic #kitty fanfiction #kitty tda #cassandra clare fan fiction #cassandraclare #the shadowhunters chronicles icons #the shadowhunters chronicles #shadowhunters

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black-dragon1998 · 4 years

Text

Ghost Capatain Chapter 1

Summary: After years of abuse from Hydra reader and the twins escape to New York City and try to survive in the only way they know. Becoming the new top dogs in the American criminal underworld is just a bonus that helps them help people in need. The Avengers, however, aren't that pleased when they by a rough bach of Vibranium and bust into their Club and arrest the reader.This set a whole rollercoaster of events in motion, that not only racked up old memories for the reader but also Bucky and Natasha.

I suck at summaries sorry.

This is a non-canon and just a figment of my imagination that I couldn't get out of my head. at the moment I have a pretty good idea where this fic is going but that could always change. Don’t like don’t read.

Warning: non at the moment but will most likly be added in further chapters.

Ghost Captain Masterlist

You were leaning against the bannister of the private second floor overlooking the club. Your men around you were preparing everything for the deal going down tonight. All were nervous for it, for you, it was just another day at the office.

Your interest at the moment lay with the green-eyed brunette wearing red at the bar. The two of you were having a silent stare down that nobody was paying attention to. You had found her easily enough, even in this sea of people you were drawn to her and it had nothing to do with her psychic powers.

It had taken her a long time accepting her powers, but when she finally did she was a real powerhouse. People always thought you were the scary one, well than they hadn’t ever seen Wanda angry. Even Pietro didn’t trifle with her when she was and he pissed off everybody all the time.

When she was having a bad day because of the burden of her powers put on her or just because of you and Pietro were there for her. The three of you were family and you would die for each other. More importantly, she was your moon, the reason you were still sane after everything Hydra put you through. When the three of you were finally able to escape Hydra you had fled to America and done what you did best. Survived.

After a couple of years in America, the three of you had made a name for yourselves. Now nobody trifled with you anymore. The business you had set up both legally and illegally were run by the three of you in the shadows. Parts of the money you earned was invested back into companies and projects you had running in Sakovia. Never having lost the connection with your home country.

Taking a sip of your drink your eyes drifted back to Wanda. The glass nearly broke form the tension you suddenly put on it. Their next to Wanda was a sniffling little bitch that had the audacity to put his hands on her. He would quickly learn nobody touched your girl and got away with it.

Wanda was sitting at the bar enjoying her drink. She for one liked being on the ground floor, unlike you who mostly stayed on the second floor overlooking the club. Being surrounded by so many people in a controlled environment gave her a certain feeling of normality.

At the moment though she was regretting not being on the second floor with you. The guy to her right was getting closer and closer. The way he was looking at her made her want to throw up. She tried ignoring him and found you looking at her from the bannister.

You looked so dame hot with your burgundy three-piece suit. Just enough buttons of your shirt were undone to be sinful and it sends her mind spiralling. Wanda could also see the numerous women around her trying to get your attention but you had only eyes for her.

Everybody thought you were this big bad mobster with no heart. Well, you were a big bad mobster but Wanda knew you would die for the people you called family. Only they got to see that side of you. Wanda even called you her teddy bear behind closed doors.

“well aren’t you particularly beautiful, sweetheart?” Wanda’s attention was called back to the guy to her right. Now he was leaning against the bar far closer than Wanda would have liked. She decided to not give him any attention, that usually ended with the guy on the floor bleeding.

“you know I have never seen you here before. Us meeting must have been fate.” Wanda could smell the alcohol on his breath. Instead of acknowledging him she turned away and took a sip from her drink. If he kept bothering her for much longer she would call the bouncers to throw him out, before you could deal with him.

Then he made the fatal mistake of putting his hands on her.

“Not to brag or anything but I may know the owner of this joint. If I put in a good word we could go somewhere private.” This made Wanda laugh before she pulled her arm away. She felled your anger burning as she felled you nearing. This time she did face him.

“I don’t believe you know anybody in this club, let alone the owner. You don’t seem to be made from the same material as they are.” Her statement seemed to anger him. He roughly took her by the shoulder this time. His hand, however, was quickly removed by a furious you.

You had a fire in your eyes when you looked at the asshole who dared to put his hands on Wanda. He seemed to link back at your anger trying to pull his hands back.

“you think it’s okay to grab a lady just like that?” it wasn’t a question but he still seemed to want to stammer out a response. He was quickly shut up by you.

“I don’t want to hear your sorry ass excuse. I heard the last part of the conversation you had. I have to say to make such a bold statement you either have to be incredibly tough or incredibly stupid. So tell me what is it. Because believe me I have never seen you before.” His eye became comically wide.

“More importantly I would like to know where you would have gone to be ‘private’ in my club with my girl.” The full realisation hit him and all colour drained from his face. He started blabbering incoherent words together with apologies when one of your waiters showed up. A young woman in her mid-twenties. A good worker never had any problems with her.

“I am so sorry Captain. He is my brother and I let him in. I told him to behave, didn’t know he would go after Wanda.” The girl sounded distressed. You looked her over with a critical eye and she shrunk back into herself.

“Please don’t fire me. I really need this job. I promise I won’t happen again.” The girl stood with her hand hanging down, not meeting your eye. You felled Wanda nudge your mind.

“you can’t fire her. It’s the only job she has and has to provide for her idiot brother and sick mother.” Leave it to Wanda to play on your emotional side. Turning to the sibling Infront of you, sighting internally.

“I don’t want to see his face here again if I do you won’t like the outcome.” Your voice is cold, leaving no room for arguing. Not that they would try anyway. Soon after the bouncers arrived and took him away.

The girls turn to you with watery eyes.

“thank you. I wouldn’t know what I would have done if I lost my job.” You clapped the girl's shoulder to ground her.

“We can’t be held accountable for what our family does.” Your voice is hard but caring, something Wanda is going to tease you about later. Finally, she met your eyes and gave you a small smile. That is when your eyes caught something, a small bruise around her eye.

You felled the girl stiffen again, trying to get out your grasp.

“I fell this morning.” her lie wasn’t convincing at all but you didn’t correct her. Instead, you took a card out of your back pocket and put it in her hand.

“When you are ready go to this address. Tell them I send you and everything will be sorted out for you.” She put the card in her pocket and went back to work. You only hoped she wouldn’t wait until it was too late.

The attention that was on you quickly faded when the song changed and people went back to drinking and dancing. Turning around you were met with Wanda smiling at you.

“you are getting soft in your old age my captain.” She smirked at you. Quickly snacking an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Who are you calling old baby. If I recall correctly I’m only two years older than you my little witch.” You whisper in her ear, not denying her statement. Wanda knew you were soft for her. You did nip her ear as small reprimanding. She only giggled and hugged you close.

“I love you, my Captain.” She told you kissing you deeply.

“love you too my little witch.” after a long passionate moment your break apart and remind her that you have a meeting in half an hour and that you should prepare for that.

Normally you and Pietro make the deals with when they are done in the clubs, Wanda being in the back pretending to be eye candy. In reality, she was scanning everybody for trouble but Pietro was with Zrinka at the moment. So you would do the deal on your own, with Wanda as a back-up.

For today's deal, you were glad she would be staying on the background. Ulysses Klaue was a pig and you despised having to work with him and after the shit that went down with Ultron, he wasn’t happy to work with you either. But he wanted to do business in the city so he had to go through you to do it.

“would you look at this, the street rat made it big.” Klaue laughed when he was let into the room and saw you sitting at the desk. Your facial expression didn’t waver. You had long ago learned to never let verbal assault get to you.

“I would say it’s nice to see you again Klaue but we both know that would be a lie. So why don’t you tell me what you came here with and we can both go on with our life’s.” his smirk quickly disappeared and was replaced with a scowl.

“watch who you are talking too. I have an appointment with the leader of this joint.” Now it was your turn to laugh.

“I know. You are talking to them.” You see him want to make a smart-ass comment but cut him off.

“I would watch the tone you take on with me. Everything that is said here will determine if the big boss wants to do further business with you. So I would watch your words.” He grumbles under his breath but sat down.

It quickly became clear he wanted to get rid of his last batch of Vibranium. Apparently, the Avengers were closing in on him and he hopped getting rid of it would get them off his case. You thought that was highly unlikely but weren’t about to tell him that. T’challa had asked you and the twins to look out for rogue Vibranium and get it back to Wakanda.

“so if I’m understanding this correctly you want to sell me your last batch of Vibranium.” You slumped a little in your seat and intertwined your fingers.

“why would you do that?” you knew why but wanted to be sure and hear it from him.

“I think you know why. The Avengers are hunting me for months and there are only so many places one can run to before being sick of it.” He spat out, already angry enough he had to deal with you. He was also apprehensive cause last he checked the Avengers were just breathing down his neck.

Feeling you had desperate enough for negotiation you put your poker face back on.

“Alright, we might be interested in buying it from you. You saw hope flicker behind his eyes, even though he further showed no emotions.

“at the right price of course.” You smirked.

“1 million dollars.” He started. You razed an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“750 000” you countered.

“900 000”

“I thought you wanted to get rid of it to get the Avengers of your ass.” You questioned.

“850 000” he tried again.

“800 000, with the promise wrap this up tonight. That is my final offer.” You reached your hand out to close the deal. He seemed to contemplate for a moment but finally shook your hand. After that things were finalized quickly. Seemed he wanted to get rid of it. Within the hour the crate with Vibranium stood in your office and you were eight hundred thousand dollars lighter but it was worth it.

Klaue didn’t waste any time to leave with his eight hundred thousand dollars and put as much distance between him and the treat as he could.

When you were sure he had left you called Wanda to join you in the office. Completely slumping into your chair suit jacket open, happy that that deal was over. Wanda sauntered into the office with a massive grin on her face.

“look at you my big scary mob boss handling things so smoothly.” She pulls you out of your chair and into a big messy kiss. When you eventually part for air you stroke the side of her face.

“come on gorgeous let’s go home so I can show you what a real badass I am.” She giggled. If other people would see you like this they wouldn’t believe her but luckily you were already hers.

“yes, lets so I can spoil you for a job well done.” She giggled when a little blush appeared on your face.

Leading her toward the back garage, not feeling like waiting for your driver. Beside you liked to drive once in a while. Picking the keys to the Lykan sportscar. Having let the Vibranium being placed in before. You lead Wanda to the passenger door when alarms began going off.

You quickly turn around and look at the monitors placed in the garage. What you see makes you curse, the Avengers were busting down the door of your club. Subtlety apparently wasn’t something they did.

“I thought some of them were ex-assassins.” Wanda had to chuckle at your comment. Turning toward her you give her the keys. She looked at you confused.

“go now. I will cover you with my powers.” Disbelieve filled her eyes.

“(Y/N)! no, I am not leaving you behind.” At moments you find her stubbornness adorable, not right now.

“Wanda we don’t have time for this. They are after the leader of this club. That is me, so that means you can get away.” The ‘you can get me out later’ going unsaid.

“promise me you will be careful?” you gave her a reassuring kiss while opening the driver’s door.

“I promise. Now go may we meet in Sint-Pietersburg.” You saw her understanding before she got into the car, setting up a mental link with you. As she drives out the garage you reflect the lights around the car so it seemed to be invisible. When you know she is out of reach you start thinking about your own escape.

The moment you think about slipping into the shadows you are hit in the back with an electric shock that made your knees buckle and fall to the ground. Twisting with aftershock you see pair of black combat boots come closer. Looking up you see a woman with red hair wearing a SHIELD tactical suit.

“shit!” you mutter before she hits you with another round of electrical shock before you pass out.

Chapter 2

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