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lesbianlotties · 3 years

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the only touchstone of truth

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

Chapter 3:

“Nice place,” Fran said, following Marla inside the restaurant.

It was the first time they saw each other outside the perimeters of the moribund vape shop. For a change, Fran was comfortably and even gloriously, in Marla’s inner monologue, wearing her casual clothes, which included wearing her hair down, tight dark jeans, and a sleeveless t-shirt. The blonde still dressed with impeccable style, but at least she had left the heels at home.

Once they were sitting at a table for two she couldn’t help but ask, “Can you afford this?”

Marla sent a very particular look her way. The blonde had to point out that, in most circumstances, that would be far from a polite thing to say to someone. But she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t charmed by the brunette’s blunt manner of handling the truth. So, finally, she settled for speaking her own version of the truth. “I will be,” Marla nodded.

“I could get used to this,” Fran mumbled, perusing the menu and doing an almost inhumane effort to remain strong and not yield to the impulse of looking up to meet the magnetic blue eyes that were staring at her.

“Help me win the case,” Marla replied in a soft and slow tone that was entirely too casual for her next words, “and I will take you to even more pleasurable places.”

Emboldened by having an appropriate comeback at the right time, Fran leaned forward in her seat, dared to meet Marla’s hunter-like gaze, and said, “If I help you win, then I expect my part of the money will be enough so I can afford these luxuries by myself.”

The two women were just one small step away from Marla blatantly saying out loud how restaurants weren’t what she had in mind when she talked about pleasure and Fran knew that. But, not yet. Marla relaxed into the chair. “Where’s the fun in that?” she laughed. She had to make an effort to keep her expression in check, because actually, that laughter carried with it a bit of a surprise to Marla. She was sort of lying, as usual. She was decidedly not the kind that believed a person needed any sort of company to enjoy the good things about life. She had never included seconds or thirds in her plans of success, and she certainly wouldn’t recommend, even less advertize, doing that. She was only mildly surprised about the sudden but most likely manageable urge to share dinner again with the particular woman currently sitting in front of her.

Fran, on the other hand, after the blonde leaned back on her chair, realized they both had been strongly leaning into the table, subconsciously being close to throwing it aside to get closer to one another. Slowly, Fran mimicked Marla’s actions and, without avoiding the feeling of getting caught, also leaned back on her chair. “So, we should probably start talking now, right? About the reason we’re here, and maybe set some rules,” Fran suggested.

“Rules,” Marla rolled her eyes while a waiter served them each a glass of wine, “Makes it sound like we’re playing a game.”

“Fine,” Fran agreed, without giving up the firm belief that they were absolutely playing a game. “What are the terms of our deal, then?”

“You help me win this case, teach me every trick you can. I’ll give you five percent of the money I make.”

Despite the recognition that nothing in Marla’s tone suggested she was asking instead of ordering, Fran found it impossible not to negotiate, partially just for the fun of it. “I make you win the case,” she said, “teach you the tricks, introduce you to my favorite gullible judge… And you give me twenty percent.”

Again, Marla laughed. She trained her smile to look simply amused instead of thoroughly pleased at having someone boldly fighting back to her. “Make me win, give me the dirty tricks, and the judge. I might give you ten percent.”

Slowly, Fran shook her head. “The tricks, the judge, training, and preparation. I’ll make you win twice as much as whatever number you have in your head. You’ll give me twenty percent.”

“You were supposed to say fifteen, you know? Terrible negotiator.”

“I’m not negotiating, I’m telling you my price.”

For the first time, Marla looked away. She was prepared for giving ten percent to Fran, she wasn’t prepared for Fran actually disconcerting her. Exciting, sure. But, instinctually, Marla’s defenses flared up, her emotional walls threatened to rise up and push Fran out and away from this sweet and previously unexplored territory of Marla’s comfort zone. Mostly, Marla was analytical rather than impulsive, and dealt with her problems effectively and methodically after thoroughly thinking them through. However, if there was ever a moment for some fight or flight response to activate in her, it was the moment Fran started looking at her like she was worth more than the money they were discussing.

“We’ll discuss your ten percent later,” Marla grinned, “why don’t you tell me about that infamous training and preparation you mentioned before.”

Temporarily, Fran relented. Perhaps she could tell they’d reached a wall, but she’d certainly continue to push, and eventually, Marla would have to give in on the money. “To win your case, you’ll have to put in a lot of work,” Fran explained, “you have to study previous cases, your adversary, the law, the judge… the whole system.”

“And you know those things?”

“I can teach you everything I know.”

Again, they were both leaning on the table toward each other. “Where, exactly, would this teaching take place?”

“I can do outstanding work anywhere you want,” Fran smiled.

It was at that moment, with that one smile, that Marla was forced to face the reality of the situation of her game: Fran knew how to play. And Fran wasn’t going to play by the rules. In fact, if Marla’s shark-like grin was her weapon of choice that dazzled innocent prey into her lap, then Fran utilized that discreet smirk of hers in pretty much the same way. Marla was almost angry at the fact that she had battled so much to win Fran’s smile just to have her own sword pointed back at her. She was almost angry, save for the growing desire to leap into that trap. But… there was the money, the court, the case…

“After we win, we’ll celebrate,” Marla finally stated. She was thoughtful, and her fingers were mindlessly playing with the bottle of wine they were quickly consuming.

Fran nodded, catching the complicated but promising agreement they were making. “We will,” she said, raising her glass for a toast.

In her car, the only thing Marla was thinking about was the image of a judge ruling that the absurdly large vape company that put her out of business had to pay her an unnecessarily large sum of money to pay for the damages that they technically didn’t do. Marla would give a small but still undecided percentage of the money to Fran, they’d celebrate and say goodbye, then she’d finally sell her hopeless shop and start all over again. She wasn’t looking forward to starting a business from the ground up again, but it was the only thing she could do now.

Fran was waiting for her at the public library.

“I didn’t take you for a bookworm, Fran,” Marla greeted her.

“You’d be surprised,” Fran threw a dazzling smile over her shoulder as she led them to a table. “Get comfortable,” she said with a smirk, pulling a chair out for Marla, “I’ll be back in a minute with your homework.”

Taking a seat, Marla chuckled. In that brief moment of solitude, she studied the layers of Fran’s playfulness. Mocking chivalry by pulling out a chair for her, for example. Laughing at the traditionally manly attitude but still carrying out the gesture. It exposed and ridiculed the expectations, but Fran’s nonchalance, the innate part of it and the most likely carefully prepared part, it left no room for anything but dangerous sincerity. Does that mean these little acts were just kindness, just flirting, just part of Fran as a person? Most importantly, why did Marla care so much about little details as these?

“Alright,” Fran said as she returned and placed a heavy book on the table, “Previous cases,” she added, taking a seat beside Marla.

“This explains why a police officer gave me a business card that said ‘private investigator’, right?” Marla guessed, taking a look at Fran and how comfortable and excited the woman looked to be doing this kind of job.

“Right,” Fran nodded, and wearing a slightly proud grin she added, “occasional work with bounty hunters too.” Upon seeing the cautiously impressed look on the blonde’s face, she continued, “I use the police’s resources and get jobs that are far more exciting and lucrative. Sounds fair to me.”

“How dishonest,” Marla commented with an appreciative tone, “you’ve never got caught in trouble for it?”

The amused look Fran sent her way was answer enough. She had a talent for this. “The worst that’s happened is ruining a relationship or two,” she shrugged, ��things tend to go south if your partner is incapable of matching your ambition.”

“I see,” Marla mumbled. Part of her wanted to be upset about finding a woman beyond intriguing and attractive in every possible way only years after she had personally decided she would never be able to accept a relationship. Marla couldn’t fathom being the kind of stupid person to break herself and her life into pieces to fit someone else that would take so much time and effort and money and dignity…

“Are you ready?” Fran asked, interrupting Marla’s thoughts.

Marla nodded, confident enough that her expression wouldn’t reveal how simply staring at Fran made her feel more like that kind of stupid person than she’d felt in years.

---

The days Marla and Fran spent at the library were surprisingly exciting. Since they first met, Marla was under the impression that the brunette’s presence could make any time and place interesting enough. However, the businesswoman found herself unexpectedly captivated by the work they were doing.

Law had never attracted Marla beyond the necessary procedures to legally exist in a society. She was only now starting to see how far and how thin it was possible to stretch that concept. And people did it, every day, often without any repercussions. It was only a matter of having the guts and intelligence to go for it, plus a convenient amount of knowledge and connections on the right side of the law didn’t hurt. Whenever Marla and Fran exchanged a look over the books they were studying, they couldn’t deny that together they both had everything they could need to succeed at this endeavor.

Inevitably, as it happens naturally when two people spend a lot of time together, they got to know more about each other. It wasn’t easy, considering the kind of people they both were. It was a little like walking through a dark maze together, each one armed with a flashlight, and only occasionally their beams of light met in one spot to reveal breadcrumbs of their past lives. Within a week it was discovered that Fran was born in Mexico, Marla had attended and dropped out of college, Fran drank too much coffee, and Marla, somehow, was coaxed into confessing the real nature of her relationship with Curtis.

“No, we never dated,” Marla scoffed loud enough to hide the delight she felt about Fran feeling like she had to inquire about that, “I suppose you could say he was my stepbrother. Eldest son of my mother’s third husband, I think. We get along well, he’s hardworking, doesn’t ask questions, we all need a loyal ally in life, don’t we?”

Fran tilted her head. “That’s sweet,” she cooed, getting a kick out of getting Marla to roll her eyes at her. “I’ll be back in a moment, we’re almost done here,” she added then, getting out of her seat to go look for one last book for the day.

She didn’t expect to feel Marla follow her into the long and quiet alley of the library. Fran stood close to the shelves, reading the books, looking for a specific title. A moment later, Marla was standing close behind her, so close, and reaching out with a hand to leisurely run her finger over the spine of the books, more or less trapping Fran right there and there with Marla’s breath on the back of her head.

“Why are you doing this?” Marla asked, her voice low and serious, leaving behind the amiable tone they had gotten used to back at the table.

Fran thought about it for an extra moment. This was unexpected and unprompted, she thought they’d already had this conversation before. Why was Marla suddenly asking questions? What out of character spark of insecurity had inspired her to demand an answer from Fran? What worry was she trying to soothe? And why was Fran hoping the blonde felt troubled by the exact same feeling she was experiencing? They were both in it just for the money, but…

The thing is, Fran could tell neither of them was the kind of person to ask for more from someone. Conveniently, they also weren’t the type that would ever give away more than the strictly necessary for free. If they wouldn’t yield, if they refused to give, if they wouldn’t admit they wanted more… why were they even standing there so close together without touching at all? Their only hope was the other one was experiencing that unexpected and inarticulate feeling of, for the first time, wanting just a little more from someone else.

“Me?” Fran whispered, as her hand moved confidently and slowly toward Marla’s, “I’m here for my twenty percent of the money,” she said, shoving down whatever additional desires were thrumming on her insides. Her hand found Marla’s hand, and her fingers curled over the other’s, delicately urging that courageous hand that had set out to trap her there to move. Fran guided Marla’s hand, still skimming over the spine of the books, until they reached the one she needed. Coincidentally, the journey required for Marla’s arm to move lower, to curl closer around Fran, their arms touching, so close she almost lost her balance.

When Fran finally let go of Marla’s hand and pulled out the book she wanted, she felt beyond satisfied to hear the sharp intake of breath from the woman behind her. Then, Fran turned around, at the same moment Marla was pulling back her arm, resulting in Marla’s fingers briefly brushing Fran’s hips. Her fingers didn’t grip and pull closer as she wished they would, but that fleeting touch had to be enough, for now, Marla told herself. And, “Ten percent,” she told Fran.

The brunette sighed. Now that their tortuous little dance was over and they were looking each other in the eyes again, she could face Marla’s question. “I told you, Marla, I need the money,” Fran stated confidently, leaning her back on the bookshelf behind her.

“Why me though,” Marla wondered, her eyes and voice here icy enough to fool almost everyone into thinking there was no vulnerability in her question and only curiosity, “why my money?”

So, Fran was right. Maybe Marla wanted, as much Fran, some kind of confirmation that the other one just might be wanting a little more than money. The problem now was about who would have to admit it first.

“The amount of money I want,” Fran explained, her hand discreetly moving up to toy with the hem of the jacket Marla was wearing that day, only lightly pulling on it, “it’s impossible to earn in rightful ways, Marla. And you are… honestly?”

“Honestly,” Marla echoed the terrifying word.

Fran smiled and, with the bare amount of honesty necessary, replied, “You’re the only devil I’ve come across genuinely willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want… and do it in style.”

That earned her a beautiful and genuine laugh from Marla. The first laugh of unbridled joy of many more to come. It wasn’t completely erased by the deeply thoughtful look on Marla’s face as she continued to stare at Fran after the two of them finished laughing.

“You look worried,” Fran commented, and failed to sound teasing, it was closer to sincere worry. Plus, she was struggling hard not to tuck an unruly strand of soft blond hair behind Marla’s ear. But that tender gesture might be too much for them at the moment. Their chemistry was a delicate but dangerous thing. The wrong move might send the other one flying away in an instant. They were pulled close like magnets, but to actually touch each other, that had to be a much careful and deliberate thing.

Luckily, Marla wasn’t good at denying herself going for the things she wanted. Without breaking eye contact with Fran, her hand found the one that had been maddeningly playing with her jacket. Holding hands with Fran for the first time, Marla was shocked to feel in equal measures complete contentment, and a desperate need to touch even more.

“I have one goal, Fran,” the blonde said, “The one thing I want right now is to win that case and take the money. But, well,” she playfully shrugged, “I might have been accused, once or twice, of being susceptible to greed, so… What if I suddenly want to take more than just the money?”

Slowly, Fran nodded, absorbing this information. It was worth noticing just how Marla still avoided being completely explicit in her desires, but she was still a woman unafraid of taking what she wanted. And those words, well, they highly suggested she wanted Fran.

“Are you asking me if I have plans after your scandalous case is over?” Fran smiled.

Marla chuckled. She was torn between maybe… and what about today? and in the meantime she was leaning in closer and closer… until a cough, a stranger coughing interrupted them.

“I hate the library,” Marla groaned, immediately dropping Fran’s hand and walking with her head held high back to their table.

Fran chuckled, and looked down at her hands, somewhat surprised to discover that with Marla standing so close she had managed to hold on to the book. “Really?” she asked out loud, “I’m loving it more than ever.”

---

“Oh my God, Fran, this is the most tedious thing in the world.”

“Marla, we’ve barely been here an hour.”

“An hour!” Marla exhaled, dramatically letting her head hit the headrest of Fran’s car.

As it turned out, Marla wasn’t cut out for stake-out jobs. Fran had insisted that it was important to study the enemy, to find out every detail, no matter how small, that they could possibly use in court to support the idea that they were responsible for the attack on Marla’s shop.

“How do you do it?” Marla asked. She no longer sounded like she was going out of her mind. Now her voice was a combination of sincere curiosity and a desperate attempt at finding a distraction.

“Patience,” Fran replied, her eyes still fixed on the window of the offices they had marked as a target.

Scoffing, Marla continued to protest, “This is madness. I could just as easily go in, pretend to be somebody else, and get the information we need.”

“Of course you would do something like that,” Fran laughed, not displeased at finding out they had different strategies that could perfectly complement each other, “Maybe next time.” She didn’t have to turn her head around to know Marla was staring at her with that specific look of delicate surprise she got when Fran said something unexpected. In fact, “You’re staring,” Fran added, enjoying calling her out for it. Her face was still turned to the window, but she raised her right hand between them to point at Marla, who scoffed and pushed the accusatory finger away. But, additionally, she continued to hold on to Fran’s hand now in the space between them.

“Well, forgive me for being bored out of my mind,” Marla replied, still putting on a playfully exaggerated tone of annoyance, even if her hand was sweetly holding Fran’s, and not letting go.

“I told you,” Fran finally turned around to look at Marla, not reacting to their joined hands, not pulling away either, “I could have done this part by myself.”

“Maybe next time,” Marla threw Fran’s words back at her with a smirk that left the brunette speechless for a moment.”

This part of the job, besides the exasperating boredom caused to Marla, proved to be fascinating. Not exactly for what they learned about the company they were trying to incriminate. But for what they learned about each other. The way Fran worked, the way Marla got easily bored. The silence between them that was more comfortable than it had any right to be yet. The conversations happened even easier, Marla talking about the mother she despised, Fran talking about a dozen awful jobs, things they loved, things they were hated for, a little bit everything. And, at the end of the day, after Fran dropped Marla at her apartment, neither of them could really think of a good teasing comment for the other, and settled for Goodnight and See you soon that sounded a little too hopeful. That moment they had to admit to themselves that it was too late to ask, or even hope for a night spent together. They were already far deeper than they could have realized. It was only a matter of how much longer could they hold back before falling, knowing it was unlikely that they would be able to get back up without the other one. No, just one night wouldn’t do. It was only a matter of time.

---

Finally, Fran took Marla to court. Not for Marla’s big day against her sworn enemy, no. This was just part of the plan, part of their deal.

“Listen, I’m actually not that good with, you know, people,” Fran said as they walked up the steps of the building, “but, well, one way or another, I know enough people to just introduce you to everyone you need to know here, okay?”

“Okay,” Marla nodded easily keeping up with the brunette’s pace, “also, you can just admit you have an ex-girlfriend in every significant office of this city, Fran.”

With a chuckle, Fran turned to look at her, sunglasses in place and her smile nearly blinding. “People owe me favors, that’s all,” she shrugged.

From the moment they stepped into the building, it was almost as if Fran became a different person. For someone that benefited from going unnoticed as part of her job, Fran surely had important contacts all around. And she wasn’t only Fran. She was Frances, Frankie, Miss Masters, Mrs. Masters even, and she only shook her head whenever Marla tried to inquire about the names.

“You have to meet my friend, Miss Grayson”, “She’s the most hardworking woman I know”, “Have you two met?”, “Oh, you’re going to love Marla”, “Is it okay if I leave you two alone for a second?”, “I knew you two would get along!”, “Isn’t Marla so charming?”

One sentence and a convenient excuse and then Fran left Marla alone with secretaries, judges, and everyone in between that had some influence in the way things worked around there. Then it was Marla’s turn, and Marla was good with people. She was great with people. Did she like them? Far from it. But did she know every trick to steal their trust in a matter of seconds? She absolutely did. By the time they said goodbye to a judge that had greeted Fran with the kindness of a close relative that even asked about her mother, Marla had a feeling she wouldn’t mind visiting that place again soon, maybe even often if it proved to be lucrative enough.

“I’m actually impressed right now,” Marla whispered as the two of them hurried down a nearly deserted hallway, filled with adrenaline after knowing she successfully fooled about a dozen people in one afternoon. Her hand now instinctively moved towards Fran, this time her fingers curled around the other woman’s wrist, tugged her closer.

“You are incredible,” Fran whispered right back, “people just fall to their knees for you.”

“I wonder why it doesn’t work with the one person I want though.”

Having Marla whisper those words so close to her ear was almost enough to quite literally bring Fran to her knees. “Fuck,” she sighed, “Come here.” She firmly took Marla’s hand in hers and quickly guided her to a small hallway that she knew well and was confident could be private enough for a stolen moment. “You said,'' Fran said, her voice breathy as if she’d been running all the way there, “that we would wait until after we win your case.”

“What do I know?” Marla didn’t miss a beat to reply, her eyes going crazy between Fran’s lips and eyes, “You’ve made me stupid, Fran, I don’t trust what I said before I just,” she couldn’t say more, she didn’t have to.

In a single motion, Marla’s hands on Fran’s hips pushed her against her wall behind her, and Fran’s hands on the lapels of Marla’s jacket pushed her closer. Then it was just the two of them, breaths ragged and hearts wild, blue and brown eyes going darker, suspended in a moment when time stood still. Their hands were unstoppable, grazing, pulling, tugging. At Marla’s neck. Fran’s back. Marla’s wait. Fran’s jaw. When Fran tilted her chin up, Marla pulled away, and when Marla turned her head the right way, Fran avoided her. It was maddening, to hold back this way, but they’d become addicted to the push and pull they’d started, and couldn’t let go. Not even with their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling, their noses brushing, just a feather-light touch of their lips, in contrast to the death grip of their hands on each other’s clothes. A moment longer and they could have fainted right there in each other’s arms. Until finally, the games were over, the dance came to an end, their barriers crashed and burned with the first feverish kiss they shared. Burning and desperate to kiss each other since the first night they met. Sighs and moans that shouldn’t have been allowed in such a place, but couldn’t be restrained. Their teeth came out to play too quickly, biting and tugging at each other’s lips. Tongues that didn’t know a thing beyond a desperate need to explore, to taste the other’s mouths.

One last bite, one last kiss, and they simply had to pull away, before risking the chance of someone finding them.

“No,” Marla said, her voice still half a moan and her lips still stealing kisses. “Not like this,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” Fran followed Marla to steal a final kiss, but then she too had to pull away. “After we win,” she added, her words curling into a question at the end.

“After we win,” Marla agreed more convinced than ever before of the fact that they would conquer this challenge. They were both trying to slow down their breathing before moving away from their hiding place. Marla took the opportunity to further break the spell of caution they had held over each other. She gently brushed Fran’s hair off her face, her hand then resting softly on the other woman’s cheek, while her thumb just brushed the gloriously swollen lips. “You deserve better,” Marla whispered, her voice was so soft then that the brunette didn’t think she’d ever heard her speak like that. It brought chills all over her body.

“That’s arguable,” Fran smiled. It wasn’t a moment of humility, even less so a matter of self-recrimination. She was simply stating the fact. She was aware of the kind of things she’d done in her life, and the kind of things they were both willing to do to get what they wanted. But did they deserve it? The good things they wanted out of life?

“Wouldn’t you say,” Marla matched her smile, “that just because we’re brave enough to want it, we deserve everything we desire?”

#it's not slow burn they're literally on fire the entire time theyre just too proud to go have sex already #i care a lot #marla x fran #marla grayson #fran #fran x marla #my fic

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fichtner-fics · 4 years

Text

Christmas Miracle (Alex Mahone)

Warnings: none (besides some spoilers in the context describing, mention about family problems (just a few words)), in contrary TOO MUCH FLUFF AND CUTENESS OMG my heart just can’t take that

Context: So this is a bit out of the PB storyline. Cameron, Alex’s son is alive, but Pam is not in the picture at all. I didn’t exactly clarified, where she is or what has happened to her (she’s not necessarily dead), and from the point of this fic it doesn’t matter. What does matter: Cameron is five (just like in the serie), living with his dad, spending so much time with Y/N (who isn’t from the office, not even working in law-enforcement). And the rest is down there, I just wanted to explain the basics. 😊

A/N: So I thought it would be nice to surprise you with a little Christmassy-Mahone, with so much fluff, cuteness, love, joy, gingerbread and sparkles. This is the end result. ✨ (2298 words??? sorry I was just typing and suddenly it happened) (I’m already visualising a secod part of this, help, things started to get out of my control)

Originally I wanted to post this on the 22nd, BUT I JUST COULDN’T WAIT YOUR REACTIONS so tell me tell me whatever you think about this. 😭😭

I know this is quite early to say, but I want y’all to have yourself a very happy, merry, holy, jolly, fun Christmas, take care yourselves, and rest as much as you can. We all have things to recover from, so let this period be that recovery’s time. Thank you all for making my 2020 whole, giving me some light during these shadowy times. It is such an adventure which started this year. ❤

I know I have 2 requests pending, I’ll start the next year with them. Pinky promise!

[yeah, that’s Carl Hickman on the gif, but as I realized there’s no footage in the wide Internet of Mahone smiling so I had to improvise😆; gif’s from here, thank you!]

Alex and I were friends for such a long time. Though during his marriage we hadn’t seen each other as frequently, our friendship remained. What’s more, since they split up with Pam and he was left alone with his son, I was the first person he came to. I usually cooked them and spent so much time with the little boy. We grew closer and closer – with both of the boys. With Cameron in the sense of a mother-son relationship and with his father… well, I fell in love with him, and I was quite sure that he felt almost the same way. There was nothing on Earth I would enjoy more than our long nights with deep conversations and a cup of tea, which happened pleasantly often. We could talk about anything and everything, he shared with me all his ups and downs, everything at the office, in his (ended) marriage, and vice versa. I didn’t have a failed marriage to talk about, but given my drunk father, I had some things to share about as well. Long story short, basically we would just have to say things out loud to become a couple.

Given Alex had to work late (unfortunately) on the 25th of December, he asked me to look after Cameron, which I took happily. I already planned our whole day during the night before, so I arrived with decided plans at their house.

First things first, we of course bake some gingerbread to build a house. When finally it wasn’t hot, I put everything on the table and called Cameron. While I was gathering some tools missing, he took the plate in front of him.

“We won’t have anything left to build the house if you keep eating all those gingerbreads” I said laughing and messing up little Cameron’s hair. He giggled but kept chewing a gingerbread man’s leg. “And tell me” I asked, sitting on the chair next to him “what did you wrote on your list?”

While I was waiting for him to answer, I started to prepare the frosting and the tubes with coloured icing in them.

“I asked a huge… truck…” he said excitedly. “With a remote controller. And a toolbox for myself, because daddy has his own, and I want to help him repair things. And some Lego!”

“That’s amazing. You will have so much fun with these” I smiled at him. “Give me two sidewalls, please” I said after finishing the preparation of the necessities. It wasn’t the funniest part of making the house for a five-year-old, but I hoped that by involving Cameron in the process would cheer him a bit. I put some frosting on the sides of the gingerbread, then glued two pieces together.

“And I asked a gun, too” he said suddenly, while we were holding the pieces to stick. I laughed in surprise.

“Like daddy’s” I presumed.

“Yes” the little boy chuckled again. “To fight the bad guys, so daddy don’t have to do it alone. And you know what else?” he whispered, leaning close to my ear. His huge, brown eyes sparkled in excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“What else?” I whispered back, pecking his cute cheeks.

“I asked for you to be my mommy” he said out finally, scanning my face just to see my reaction.

At first, I couldn’t find the words. Just in a half second all our shared little tender moments with Alex flew in front of my eyes and suddenly I was aching for his love even stronger. I was so in love with him, I would do anything to know he feels the same. And of course, I was fond of this little boy, too. I already imagined the tree of us being a real, whole family.

“Aww, you’re so sweet, darling” I hugged him finally. He put his little arms around my neck and hugged back tightly. Luckily the frosting between the two gingerbread parts was stiff enough now to stand alone. “That would be my best Christmas present, too” I said quietly.

After our little squeeze-session, Cam helped me piping frosting and icing, pouring sprinkles and gluing sweets on the gingerbread roof with some syrup. Of course, at the end he looked like he was the one who had been decorated, but it was nothing a solid wash wouldn’t fix.

Rest of the day passed by with playing, laughing, and while he had his daytime nap I rested too. When I noticed the snow started to fall, I got so excited for Cam to wake up and see it.

It was around 4pm when I heard some noise from his room, so I went to take a look. He was sitting up in his bed with cute messy hair and sleepy eyes.

“Good morning, my sweetheart” I whispered happily. I sat next to him on the bed, letting him to lay on my lap. I started to play with his soft hair. “Did you sleep well?” I murmured. He was to drowsy yet, but his waggish smile already sparkled on his face.

“Yes. And… I dreamt about stars and reindeers” he said after a yawn. “And you and daddy and I was playing in the snow, really.”

“I’m so happy you dreamt these nice things” I smiled at him, gently touching his nose. Talking about it reminded me the fact that it was actually snowing outside.

“Hey, you want to see something amazing?” I asked after some minutes, leaving him stretching a bit and playing with his plush rabbit. When he agreed in a quiet, husky little voice, I took him, and we left the room.

Cameron stayed in my arms as we stood in front of the window in the living room. We were watching the silently falling, huge snow-petals. I was surprised that he didn’t change his mind after a few minutes and wanted to play or do anything else – he was unusually cuddly that day. He just leant to my chest with his thumb in mouth, breathing quietly while I was slowly rocking him. There were no lights on in the house besides the light garland’s yellow twinkle on the Christmas tree, which gave such a warmness to the room. It was just the two of us, the snow and the spirit of Christmas around us.

“Are you awake, honey?” I whispered, because I thought he fell back asleep. Feeling him nodding made me smile. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Can we go out for a walk?” he asked in a dreamy voice.

“We should wait for your dad to come home” I suggested. “If he arrives and it’s okay for him, we can go and check the Christmas lights in the street. How does it sound?” I placed a kiss in his hazel brown curls.

It was his first thing to ask when Alex entered the house a few hours later. He said yes of course, so we put on some warm clothes, and left. Cameron ran forward, leaving us slowly mooning behind him.

“Did your day went well?” Mahone asked quietly.

“Yeah” I looked at him. “We built a gingerbread house, which you could see only in its ruins, because Cam pretended to be a shark and… bite the roof off” I laughed. “We played hide and seek, drew some amazing pictures and while he took his nap, I finally finished my book.”

“I’m glad to hear” Alex nodded. As we walked, he suddenly offered me his arm. I glanced at him, and with cheeks turned into rose I accepted the gesture. “Thank you for being here for us” Alex whispered. “I have no idea what I would do without you. Truly.”

I smiled but remained silent, only fixing Cameron standing mesmerized in front of a huge, sparkling snowman statue. His words came up in my mind, and at that moment I decided not to let the moment go.

“Did he tell you what’s he wishing for?” I asked innocently.

“You mean the gun?” Alex burst out in laugh. “Yeah, well, he won’t get that one. Not yet” he shook his head. I refused the temptation of rolling my eyes.

“Mommy look” Cameron shouted when we finally reached where he stood. Timing is perfect, little guy, I thought myself.

“What did you say?” Alex asked immediately, astonished. I remained silent, curiously waiting for what was going to happen. “Since when do you call Y/N mom?”

“It’s a secret, dad” said the little boy. “Only Santa has to know, and mommy has to know” he added, while nodding seriously. Then he took my hand and started to pull me where he saw the thing he wanted to show me. Alex just frowned more, but this time looking at me, waiting for a proper answer.

“It’s on his list” I mouthed while smiling wide at the confused agent. I only hoped this is enough information him to understand the situation. Letting him go, I crouched next to Cameron, to look at a little sheep in a Nativity Scene he was excited about.

“Look at him, he’s so cute” I said kissing the little boy’s rosy, cold cheeks.

“Can we have one at home?” he looked at me. I chuckled and looked towards Mahone who stood a few steps behind us. His face surprised me. He was watching us so tenderly, with sparkling eye, slight smile glued on his lips. I felt my cheeks burn suddenly and I had to fall my eyes.

“I don’t think your dad would approve” I answered to Cam. “Go, have a look at Rudolph” I suggested, pointing towards an at least three metres tall, red reindeer-silhouette. The boy nodded, then he started running immediately.

“Don’t rush, son” Alex tried to calm him, without any effect at all of course. I stood up biting my lips, because I had no idea what the agent will say about what happened earlier. “So, what’s this between you two and Saint Nick?” he laughed as I took his arm again. We walked slow, so he could scan my face as I looked at him almost laughing in embarrassment.

“Cameron wants Santa to make me his mom” I replied shyly. “I think he wants him to be reminded. But as you heard, it’s a secret, so I shouldn’t have told this to you.”

“This means I have to wrap you and place under our tree?” he asked. I heard on his voice that he was playing. If it wasn’t for his arm, I’d fly away by happiness for sure.

“Why, do you think it’s a wish so easy to make come true?” I teased back.

“Well, this is Santa Claus we’re talking about. He can do anything” he looked at me, smiling wide.

Suddenly I felt myself ran out of words. These past three minutes made me fall for Mahone even harder, but I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen. I pulled him closer, and in the same moment he lifted his other hand to fold on mine. When I looked at him in surprise, I found his wondrously blue, sparkly eyes already fixing me. He smiled at me, and I suddenly got sure about the meaning of the word ‘Christmas miracle’.

We remained silent until finally reaching Cameron, who basically looked around in the whole street while we walked slowly after him. When he noticed us, hugged our legs.

“Hey baby” I ran through my fingers in the boy’s hair.

“Aren’t you cold, buddy? Can we go home now, you saw everything?” Alex asked.

“Yes” Cameron nodded looking up at his father, but he suddenly froze. “Look daddy, mistletoe!” he pointed above us. And he was right. We stood right under the huge reindeer, who has a great deal of mistletoe hanging in his neck. I laughed out loud, shaking my head. This only could happen in movies.

“Do you know what it means, Cam?” Alex asked his boy but smirking at me. He shook his head. “We all can wish something” Alex explained, awfully misinterpreting the whole thing. I curiously watched them, my eyes jumping from one to the other, and I couldn’t believe what Mahone was doing. “But we must close our eyes, otherwise it won’t come true” he warned his son. “I count to three, then everybody shuts their eye, okay?”

“Okay, daddy” Cameron replied, then he lifted his hands, ready to place them in front of his face. When Alex counted three and Cam covered his face, we looked at each other, and within a split second he placed his cold lips upon mines. I felt him cupping my cheeks and I pulled him closer by his waist. He let me go after a little while, but before he would completely pull away, he whispered just on my lips:

“I love you.”

“I love you too” I breathed back. Suddenly we heard Cameron bursting out in chuckling. When we looked at him, he stretched up his arms towards me, giving a sign he wants to be taken up.

“And I love you so much too” I squeezed him after lifting him in my arms, making Cam laugh even louder.

“What’s so funny, little man?” Alex asked smiling as well. He stood next to me so close, resting his hand on my waist. I looked aside at him, just to see the joy in his eyes.

“I peeked” Cameron giggled with his little hand in front of his mouth. He was so sweet I almost couldn’t bear.

“You were so fast making your wish” I said pretending some surprise. Alex laughed through his nose.

“Because I knew what I wanted to wish” the little boy rolled his eyes. “But you didn’t wish. I saw” he stated.

“What makes you think we didn’t wish?” his father asked.

“Bec…” he yawned just in the middle of his sentence. “Because you kissed Y/N, so you didn’t have time for… wishing” he grimaced by pulling up his nose impishly.

“Hey, I made one” I said while nodding. “Did you make one?” I looked at Alex.

“Of course, I did. And you know what? It came real immediately” he added, looking straight into my eyes. Cameron gasped in surprise, and Alex pressed a soft kiss on my temple.

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justjessame · 3 years

Text

Sins of the Father: Chapter 9

I considered skipping dinner, but I hadn’t had any time with Danny since breakfast and that felt wrong to me. Sliding out of my bed and taking care to redress for dinner and remove any signs that might show that I had any distress at all during my day, I found that we’d be eating inside - and I was thankful for it.

Anytime we dined al fresco, the atmosphere became more and more frantic until it became a party and I was in no mood for that.

“You look more rested,” Dad offered once everyone greeted me, holding my chair for me, and brushing a kiss on my temple. “Do you feel better?”

“A bit,” smiling at Danny, I was happy to see that he wasn’t holding a grudge for my lack of attention during the day. “I guess my jetlag finally caught up to me.”

That was all the others needed to get going, and the conversation flowed. Jed kept a careful distance, her comments never directed at me, but never too awkward either. She knew how the sharks could smell blood in this group, and was well practiced already in keeping her weaknesses covered. She needn’t have bothered, I was busy listening to Danny’s plans for the next day - he wanted to go to the beach and I was more than willing to take him.

While we chatted with one another, and ate, the others discussed the best ways to deal with jetlag and weariness in general, because once you got them going - that’s really all it took.

Dinner wound down sooner than it would have if we were eating on the patio, which was more welcome than I could contemplate. Danny asked if I wanted to see something he’d found while I was resting that he’d left in his room, but Dad asked if I could spare a moment for him first.

“Of course,” winking at my little brother and telling him to go ahead to his room and I’d meet him there, I followed Dad into his hidden study. Wishing for all the world that we didn’t have any need for hidden rooms and cloak and dagger nonsense, but Ropers will Roper. “Do you want me to pour you an after dinner drink?”

“No,” he held up his still full glass. “I’m good.” He gestured to the chair next to his and I sat, wondering what the latest dictate would be concerning Tom and his nursing duties. “How are you feeling, honestly?”

I considered what he was asking. How did I feel? Tired, still, but not nearly as ready to run headlong into the ocean. That was progress. “Better. I think resting helped.” He nodded. “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow.” Another nod, but his mouth opened and I was certain he was going to remind me that lunch duties were still necessary.

“Perhaps someone else could tend to Quince’s bandages,” he offered instead and I felt irritation crawl up my spine. Someone else? Who? Jed? “The doctor will be coming to remove the bridge holding his nose in place soon. It can’t be that difficult to tend to his -”

“I’ll check on him before we go out,” my mouth was saying before I even made the choice to say it. “Then when we come back.” Dad’s lips were curling into a smirk and I glared at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He sat his glass down on the table in front of us and turned to me. “I think that your idea is perfect. Quince will no doubt find it far more pleasant than having Corky take over for you.”

After saying goodnight to everyone and heading up to see what Danny had to show me - a piece of sea glass that had found its way onto our balcony - I made my way back to my room, after forcing a promise out of my little brother that he wouldn’t try waking me up before the sun rose.

Keyed up from dinner among the entourage, the talk with my father, and then my decision to keep taking care of Tom - I felt that getting my bag ready for the beach might be a good way to relax before bed.

It didn’t help. So I drew a bubble bath and soaked. And soaked. And soaked. It felt like my skin was vibrating and I had too much caffeine.

Drying and dressing in another pajama set, I sat in front of my vanity mirror and studied my reflection - trying to see what Dad was alluding to when he said I drew attention like Jed. Curly hair the color of the blackest ink, with the palest green eyes that anyone had ever seen - trust me, I’ve heard it my entire life - my skin stayed pale, until I got a sunburn that would terrify people to see (lobsters would be envious of the red) and then it would eventually darken to a nice golden tan. Petite was the polite way to describe my height deficiency, short the cruel way. That’s it, that’s what I could see staring back - well not the shortness, that was only noticeable when I stood next to a “normal” sized person.

What did other people see when they looked at me? A small curly, dark haired pale girl with big green eyes and - that’s it. That’s what they must see. Right?

Sighing, I worked my hair into a braid for bed. Otherwise I’d end up with a bird/rat’s nest or a mouthful of it before morning. Neither was something I’d care to deal with - again. The issue, I realized as I tied my braid off, was that I still wasn’t the slightest bit tired.

Stepping out onto the balcony attached to my room, I glanced down at the pool and smiled when I noticed that Dad and Jed were there together - alone. I couldn’t hear them, but I also couldn’t hear the normal noise of the rest of the group, so that might mean that I could go down to the kitchens for some cocoa or a snack without tripping over all of them.

Grabbing my book, in case it took awhile to heat my drink, I left my room and started toward the kitchens -

And ended up outside Tom’s room, where Sandy was sitting guard. “Esme?” He barely breathed my name and didn’t get up from his chair.

Holding my finger to my lips, I smiled around it. “Is he asleep?” He shrugged and I fought rolling my eyes. “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow and I thought if I checked his bandages tonight -” Sandy looked convinced, but then confused by my lack of first aid supplies. “I leave some inside by his bed.” A convenient lie. “They shouldn’t need changed, but -”

“Go ahead,” he nodded toward the door and yawned. “Not like he’s going anywhere.”

“Exactly.” I agreed, moving to the door and knocking gently before opening it. The mosquito netting, mostly for decoration, fluttered in the breeze of the open window of the balcony and I wondered who left it open? “Tom?” He was lying prone, but I could see him move in the light offered from the starry, moon bright night. “It’s just me, Esme.”

“Esme?” His voice was rough, and I thought he might be half asleep. “Ah, a dream,” he murmured, and twitched again - the linens moving lower off his legs.

I bit my lip, wondering if he thought I was a dream or if he was flirting again. Setting my book on the chair by his bed, I stared down at him and realized that he wasn’t awake, not fully anyway. “Tom, could you -” I leaned over to try to wake him up, but I truly didn’t realize his strength, not even in his battered state. With a tug he had me on the bed with him, his hands sliding up my sides, and then both hands were cupping my face and pulling it toward his own. “Thomas, I think you should wake up,” I murmured, my legs were tangled with his and I was afraid I was going to injure him more.

“If I wake up,” his breath was fanning my face, warm and spellbinding, making my stomach twist in a new delicious way. “Then you’ll disappear and I can’t do this.” One of his hands moved to cup the back of my head and the other went on a journey down the length of me, as his lips managed, even with the bridge and bandaged nose in the way, to finally touch mine. His tongue dipped into my mouth when I gasped and I forgot what I was arguing with him about - why was I against this again? And then he rolled over and we both remembered when he hissed in pain. Right, invalid - “Esme?” He was squinting down at me, awake now, fully.

I was burning, far hotter than the blush had been during the day, and this time it was EVERYWHERE. And I was panting harder than either of us had been before too. All I could manage to do was nod. At least until I caught my breath again. “Yes, it’s me.”

“How did you end up -” He was hovering over me, his arms like a cage around me, while he tried to make sense of it. “Did I -”

“You were having a dream,” I said. “A vivid one.”

“I -” He didn’t seem to know what to do. “Are you alright?”

I nodded again. Aside from feeling like I’ve been lit on fire, and the fact that there are parts of me that are literally a puddle - Yes, I’m fine. “I’m fine.” He didn’t move and I could tell why, it was pressed into the puddled part of me and it was making thinking pretty difficult for me too. “I should have waited until morning.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, don’t - it’s fine.” We were stuck, but he was trying to convince me it was fine. Of course, so was I. “Why did you come tonight?” Right, why was I here now?

“I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow,” mentioning my little brother helped the part of him that was somewhat turgid start to relax slightly. “I thought I’d check your bandages tonight.” I started out strong, but it sounded lame even to me toward the end. “I planned on coming in the morning as well.”

“I see,” he wasn’t moving, even though he wasn’t in the same predicament as he had been. “And while I was sleeping seemed a good time to check my bandages because?” Fuck.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Verbal diarrhea. I’ve come down with a horrible case of verbal diarrhea. “I was coming down to get some cocoa and -”

“Ended up in my room instead.” Tom wasn’t being as careful with how he was hovering now, his rigidness might have gone slightly soft, but he let his hips settle into the softness of mine, and my body was more than willing to accommodate him. His fingertips were tracing the lines of my face, teasing my lips as I spoke. “And somehow, we ended up like this -” he didn’t have to gesture or look down, I knew precisely what he meant.

“You were having a dream.” I reminded him. “About me.”

“I know,” he leaned in and this time when he kissed me, we were both awake. His lips were surprisingly soft for the beating he’d taken, and he grew bolder when he realized I was a willing participant, nipping at my fuller lower lip. He pulled away when he noticed I wasn’t touching him. “Esme?” My eyes opened and he smiled. “Touch me? I won’t break, and I trust you.”

My hands obeyed before I really considered his words, and his mouth met mine, my fingers sliding under his shirt and along the bandage I’d wrapped around his chest. Thinking that lower might be more interesting for both of us, I dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts and swallowed the growl that he fed me. He rocked his hips into mine and I licked into his mouth as I felt the resurgence of his hardness, my legs wrapping around his and arching up into him. He drug his mouth free from mine, the bandage, tape and bridge digging into my skin and wrecking havoc on my skin - not in a fun way. Sighing, he pulled away.

“I want you,” I nodded up at him, how badly I wanted him right back. “But you’re going to wear tape burns if we continue right now.” The laughter built in both of us and bubbled over, causing him to lie back on the bed, and hold open his arms for me to lay against his shoulder, still careful of his more tender parts. “Will you stay the night with me?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sandy was outside and while he might doze off, the idea of Corky finding me in Tom’s bed wasn’t something I wanted to experience on our first night together. “I want to,” he’d gone still and silent again. “I do, but I don’t want you to get harmed further because of me, do you understand?”

I could feel him brush a kiss on the crown of my head, through my curls. “I do. I don’t like it, but I do.” His arm that was wrapped around my back holding me to his side tightened. “Can I hold you for a while at least?”

“I’ll allow it,” I curled against him, breathing in the scent of his neck, and sadly the scent of the salve I’d slathered on him. I laid in his arms until his breathing evened out and his arm relaxed. Then I slipped away, grabbing my book and slipping out.

“How were his bandages?” Sandy asked, looking no more awake than he had when I went inside.

“Not too bad,” I offered with a smile. “I’ll check in again in the morning. I’m going to the kitchens for some cocoa, want something?”

“Coffee?” Nodding, I promised I’d get him a cup and headed to my original destination. Grabbing two cups, one fully caffeinated and one of herbal tea instead of the chocolate. I needed sleep, not more excitement. And after Tom’s touch, I think warm tea would be a better option than sugar.

I dropped Sandy’s coffee off and headed to my room. Once inside, I sat down at my vanity again, to check my braid and nearly screamed. Hoping that Sandy was too tired to have noticed or that it was too dark in the hallway - Tom hadn’t been wrong about the tape. There on the side of my cheek, where he’d started to nip and move down, I had a huge mark that proved I’d done more in his room than just check on his bandages. Grabbing everything I could think of to remove it, should it be removable, I tried - but no. It was a scratch, and the closer I looked the more I wanted to smack my head against something. It wasn’t just the tape, I think it came from the bridge, it was the same shape and size. And - Closing my eyes, I gave up for the night. Maybe when I woke up I’d come up with a fix, or maybe it was because I was so damn tired. That’s it, I was sleepy and so it looked worse than it was. Right?

#jonathan pine x oc #jonathan pine #Richard Roper #the night manager #alternate universe #slow burn #eventual smut #minor smut

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bill-hader-imagine · 4 years

Text

The escort

Chapter 1 (Bill x reader)

Warnings: nsfw

Word count: 2412

———————————————————————

True love is a sham. You tried to achieve it , for times to be exact. One- your high school sweetheart with muscles from steroid abuse. Two- your professor in college , turns out you weren’t the only student he was giving extra credit to. Three- a salesman you met while you were waitressing at a steakhouse in New York. Well........he said he was a salesman , turns out he was a felon and when the cops found out his location he skipped town. The fourth man was the final straw. His name was Chad, a business man who turned out to be a loan shark. He promised you heaven and delivered hell.

You wish you never introduced him to your dad ....who has a gambling addiction. He was the last person your father needed to meet.

You had a feelings that’s why you got called to the hospital today , you hadn’t seen your dad in a couple days and then this morning your brother called you freaking out and said you needed to come to the hospital.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed when you found your dad’a room. Your heart sank when you looked over at him. He was bloody and covered in bruises and by the looks of things he was being kept alive by tubes. You felt yourself holding back tears ....how did this happen?

As your thoughts were racing your phone rang and of course it was Chad.

“Hey! Did you get my message?” He asked.

“I knew this was your doing. I’ll kill you” you reply with gritted teeth.

“Your father owes me quite a bit of money (y/n) and if he doesn’t pay it , I’m coming after the rest of your family.” He threatens with a menacing tone.

“How much does he owe you?” You ask with little emotion, you couldn’t let your brother see you upset.

“A million dollars” chad laughs.

A MILLION DOLLARS? where the fuck were you going to get a million dollars. You looked at your father helplessly. Dad....what did you do?

Later that night you’re at your best friends house and you tell her everything. About chad hurting your father and about how much money your dad owes him.

“Well...maybe you should consider taking that job with your aunt” she says , hints of worry peppered in her voice.

“Oh god..” you reply putting your head in your hands. Your best friend scoots closer to you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“I know you don’t want to but (y/n) if chad is going to go after the rest of your family , you kinda don’t have a choice.” she adds, and she was right.

“I guess I just feel ashamed , I never thought I’d be one of those girls who sells themselves” you say lifting your head.

“Hey remember when I stripped to get through college? I sold my body and honestly I would do it again if I needed to. It was great money, it’s an honest career (y/n) and nothing to be ashamed of at all. You shake your head.

“Stripping is different, you were a performer a dancer ..... escorts are just hookers - not that there’s anything wrong with that it’s just not for me” you reply.

“Didn’t your aunt say the sex was optional?” Your friend reminds you before an alarm on her phone goes off.

“Oh Christ I have a conference call I’m late for, I really think you should at least talk to your aunt and see what it’s all about ok?”

——————————————————-

The next morning all you can think about is your dad , after a long night of thinking you decide to visit your aunt’s office today, she was pleasantly surprised to see you.

“(Y/n!) hi” she chimes when you stand in the doorway of her office.

“It’s nice to see you aunt-“ you begin to say but she cuts you off with a hand in the air.

“Here you must call me mrs. Smith” she presses, she had an image to withhold.

Before you knew it she smacks the underside of your chin “chin up!” She commands before her hand whacks the small of your back “straighten your Posture” she comments again. She was circling you like you were a show horse she might buy and she nods.

“Well like I’ve always told you , you’re certainly gorgeous” she says with a smile.

“And you’ll be even more gorgeous after we get you all dolled up for your test shots” she adds matter of factly.

“Aunt-“ she shoots you a glare and you correct yourself

“Mrs. Smith I haven’t agreed to anything yet” you implore.

“By the sounds of your situation I dare say you don’t have an option. You told me you needed a lot of money fast well....this is how you make a lot of money and fast” she replies. Damn it she was right.

“If you don’t pay chad off he will come after you and your brother...” she adds

“I need a million dollars though” you say to her helplessly.

“Will this chad person take payments?” She questions with a hand on her hip.

“Yes..” you sigh.

“Well then, you could pay him off in a year... we’ll just have to put you to work right away” she chimes.

“Highest paying accounts only! We will start right now” she adds, she sounded almost excited.

“Yeah I guess I’ll do it” you say quietly. You really didn’t have a choice, hopefully it would be as bad as it felt right now.

“Of course you will ! Now do you have any questions before we start?” She checks.

“How do I get ready to work for you?” You ask almost instantly.

“Oh not much just dolling you up and making you perfect in every way” she responds with a light smile.

“Oh is that all” you reply sarcastically.

“You’ll need to be waxed, buffed , smoothed , made up and made over” she replies.

“I can’t force you to get a make over but I strongly recommend one” she adds.

“Alright I’ll do it “ you say with a smile, a makeover sounded wonderful. You spend the next few hours being prodded, plucked, waxed, scrubbed and painted. Now it was time for the photo shoot , your aunt picked out different costumes for you to wear and you posed and draped yourself over the furniture. The results were amazing! You barely even recognized yourself.

“I knew you’d be a perfect model” you aunt says proudly.

“These pictures are stunning , you’ll pay that awful man back in no time” she adds.

“So what’s next?” You ask.

“Now I will chose the highest paying clients for the coming year and we’ll book you one per month until your debt is paid” she instructs.

“In fact I already have someone in mind for your first client , care to see?” She questions. You nod and she reaches for her phone pulling up a photo. You were surprised to see quite a good looking man on the screen. He had dark chestnut hair , gorgeous blue eyes , a killer jawline and a nice smile.

“Why would someone like him need to pay for a date ?” You ask.

“He chose you, I sent your headshots to him right after we took them and he agreed to the match” she explains.

“He lives in New York so you won’t have to travel far but you’ll be staying at his residences for the next month” she speaks again.

“After your time with him is over , you’ll be sent to another client for another month and so on until your debts are paid.” She says. You felt almost excited , your world as you knew it was about to change.

———————————————————-

It was the start of the month and the client agreed to pick you up in a limo so it looks classy. You look down at all your belongings , they fit into a backpack. Your aunt Told you that clothing was the clients responsibility, not yours. They dress you so that way you know you’re always wearing what they want. You felt your palms start to sweat as the prospect of meeting this man finally set in. As if on cue a sleek black limo pulls up to your apartment, the driver gets out opens the door for you and takes your bag.

“Thank you” you say as you get in, he shuts the door behind you and gets back in the drivers seat. You were surprised to see you were the only one in the limo , you thought the client would be here to greet you.

What a tool.

———————————————————

An hour or so later you arrive at a large mansion on the outskirts of town. The driver opens your door and walks with you to the front porch , you offer to take your bag from him but he insists he has it. Your heart flutters when the client opens the door, he was even more gorgeous in person. His eyes fell on you , your body tingled under his gaze.

“You’re (y/n?)” he asks with a smirk. You nod “and you are?” You question. He opens his door wider letting you in.

“My name is William Thomas Hader jr.” he introduces.

“My friends call me bill” he adds. Your eyebrow quirks playfully.

“Am I your friend?” You ask, again his eyes travel your body and you feel a chill shoot you your spine.

“I’d certainly like that” he says with a smoldering look.

This month was going to be a cake walk, this guy was a total smoke show. Your eyes wander around his home , it was beautiful and had such a gorgeous view. While the gorgeous room was beautifully decorated you find yourself gazing out the window. Rolling hills of green grass and trees for miles.

“Let me take your bag and then I’ll show you around” he says grabbing your bag from you. The limo driver was long gone by now. He sets your bag in a closet somewhere and then grabs you by your hand somewhat nervously. His touch is warm and soft yet strong. You feel your heart beating in your chest as he leads you to what was obviously his bedroom.

“This is my room” he says with a nod. You look around and your eyes fall on his giant bed, it looked so comfortable, and you were so tired from the ride up here. You could feel Bill watching you , it made you extremely self aware. You flash him a slight smile and walk over to the window. His bedroom over looked a glistening lake it must have been a gorgeous sight during a storm.

“Beautiful right?” His voice chimes , he had moved right next to you, you could feel his breath on your cheek. If you got any hotter for this man you were going to melt, but you’d only just met so take it slow, you reminded yourself.

“Now I’ll show you your room” he says as he grabs your hand again and leads you down the hall. You love the feeling of his touch.

Keep it together (y/n) this is a business arrangement. You’re not going to have a relationship with him you’re going to have a........transaction.

“This will be your home for the next month” he says with a smile. You honestly couldn’t complain it sure beats the hell out of your single bedroom apartment.

“Here are all the clothes you’ll need” he says again as he opens the enormous walk in closet , your jaw drops.

“You are of course welcome to keep anything you’d like” he adds. You barley hear him as your gawk at the gorgeous designer clothes with the tags still on them.

“It’s all so beautiful, thank you” you chime smiling. All of this only made you question why Bill would ever need to hire an escort, he’s handsome he’s rich and he’s generous he should have no problems finding a girl.

“You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on” Bill speaks. His words melted into you and made you feel sensations you didn’t even know existed.

“I’m glad you want to lay them on me” you respond with a flirty smile.

Your eyes meet his and you move closer to one another. You can feel his body beat through your clothes this man is absolutely radiant. Bill leans into you to whisper in your ear

“I can’t wait to see you naked” he chimes.

“Well...you’ve got me for the month” you reply.

“Wait hold on” you add.

“Isn’t sex optional? You’re certainly making assumptions Mr. Hader” you say again.

He simply smiles “I’m aware of the contract (y/n)........I’m also aware of what it feels like to want and to be wanted” he says.

“If I see you naked it won’t be because I’m paying for it” he adds with a smile of confidence.

“It’ll be because you want me to see you naked” he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you closer you gasp as his hardness presses into you.

“If you drop your clothes for me, I won’t have had to ask” he says quietly in your ear. Every fiber of your being was waiting for his next touch. He kisses you lightly behind your ear , the feeling of his stubbly chin brushing against your smooth one sent shivers down your spine and you could feel desire pooling between your thighs. You let a soft moan slip out and his strong hands tighten around your waist. His hard length grinds against you and he places another soft kiss on your cheek.

“I can wait until I don’t have to ask” he says and just like that he lets you go. You stand there smiling he returns the smile before speaking again.

“I have some work to catch up on, my house is yours , feel free to do whatever you’d like, sunbathe, use the pool but I’ll need you ready and wearing a cocktail dress at 6pm sharp” he informs.

“What’s happening at 6?” You ask.

“We’re going to a party, I’ll tell you more later on” he replies.

“See you at 6” you say.

“See you then Ms. (y/n)” he squeezes the top of your hip before leaving.

Fuck. He’s going to be trouble.

———————————————————————

A/N: that was chapter one let me know what you guys think in the comments!

Taglist: @loser-trashmouth @hadersadork

#bill hader fanfic #bill hader x reader #bill hader #bill hader imagine #bill hader smut

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sakuwriteshere · 4 years

Text

The Apple Pie in My Life - Chapter 8

Summary: What happened between two best friends when someone messes with their lives? Can the past changes the future or can the future changes the past?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader, OC Abbigail, OC James, OC Alex, OC Purson, Castiel

Words count: 4160

Warnings: Slight angst, cursed words (?)

A/N: As per usual, this is unbetated and I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes or error spelling. Comments are loved!

Chapter 8: The hunt begins

One week later, the five of you had fallen in a perfect routine. You shared a room with the twins, while Sam and Dean shared the one next to yours. As promised, you and Dean were civils to each other, you didn’t talk a lot but at least Sam and the kids weren’t the messengers between the both of you anymore.

You entered your room after a short stop at the store, bringing some food. You walked silently as you noticed James sleeping in one of the beds, Abby sitting next to him, her back resting against the headboard, a book laying on her lap.

“Wanna eat something?” You whispered, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy. God you knew he needed some rest, you all did.

Abbigail nodded and you handed her a chocolate donut before taking one for yourself and sat on the other bed.

“You’re really close, right?” You asked after you’ve watched them for a moment.

Abbigail closed her book and swallowed what she had in her mouth. Her head turned in her brother’s direction for a second before she focused her eyes on you.

“He’s my little brother. I have to take care of him.” She shrugged, matter of factly.

“You’re twins.” You chuckled, rubbing your hands together to get rid of the sugar on it.

“I was born first.” She grinned but it disappeared quickly.

“I’m sure they’re fine.” You tried to reassure her, you saw the distress on her face, she was thinking about her parents for sure.

Abbigail nodded. “Yeah, I know they are.” She mumbled before looking at you again. “For now.”

You didn’t know why but you felt a strange feeling coursing through your body. You cleared your throat and picked the lore book you were reading earlier.

“You seem pretty close to your parents. How are they?” You asked, hoping she would smile more as she spoke of them.

“They’re the best.” She said, you knew she meant it. Those kids really loved their parents. You couldn’t understand why, though.

You loved your parents as well, because well...they were your parents, you didn’t have a choice, but you were also angry at them for pushing you in this kind of life. However, James and Abby, they didn’t seem to mind it. What kind of parents, in their right mind, would push their kids into danger?

“Stop it.” You heard Abby’s soft voice. Your head snapped in her direction and you saw a sad smile on her face.

“I know what you’re thinking and believe me when I say it’s not like that.” She said as she stood up carefully and pulled the covers on James’ body.

“They didn’t have a choice.” She added as she sat next to you, her hands clasped together on her lap.

“Our family is… it’s complicated. We’re not really hunting monsters anymore, but the monsters are still after us. I think that’s what you get for having parents as goddamn hunters.” She chuckled.

You grabbed her hands and squeezed gently, giving her an encouraging smile.

“I know they didn’t want this kind of life for us. They wanted us to be innocents and unaware of the ugly truth as long as possible, but they also realized quickly that James and I were the perfect targets. They didn’t have a choice and told us the truth when we were old enough to understand it.”

“That must have been scary.” You told her, remembering the day your parents had the same speech with you. You remembered that day perfectly, when they told you to be scared of what could hide in the dark. As a kid, you had nightmares about monsters being real and what they could do to you.

“Not really.” Abby’s answer surprised you.

“Do you fear lions or sharks? ” She asked you, you didn’t understand the sudden change of topic.

“Not really. I wouldn’t be brave if I was standing in front of one but I don’t fear them.”

Abby nodded knowingly. “I feel the same about monsters. Mom and Dad told us we need to be wary of them but not being scared. We’re not hunting them but we know what to do if we’re facing one of them. See what I mean?”

You nodded, pondering on the thought. You had to admit it was a clever move. At least those kids weren’t raised in constant fear. Though, it was a bit too easy to compare a wild animal with a monster. The dangers weren’t the same, animals weren’t purely evil contrary to monsters. You broke from your thoughts when you felt her hands trembling. You called her name softly and heard a strangle sob.

“I don’t know what to do.” She admitted between more sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey. Come here.” You said in a soothing voice as you let go of her hands and wrapped your arms around her fragile frame.

“I miss them so much. It’s not the same here.” She cried, her face pressed against your chest, one of her hands fisting your shirt.

“I know sweety.” You hugged her strongly. You didn’t know why but you had this sudden huge need to reassure her. You rested your chin on the top of her head while your hand stroked her back gently and started to rock the both of you back and forth.

“I’m not strong enough. I need them.” She cried more, and you’ve never felt so helpless in your life. You wanted to reassure her. You needed to make sure the both of them were safe.

“We’ll find them.” You promised as you kissed the top of her head.

*** You entered the boys’ room a few moments later, once Abbigail fell asleep, the poor girl was exhausted after crying. You were more determined than ever after such a heart breaking scene.

“Where’s your brother?” You asked Dean when you noticed he was alone in his room.

Dean didn’t even spare a glance at you and simply pointed at the bathroom door as he kept his eyes on the book in front of him. Soon the bathroom door opened and Sam came out, smiling softly as a way to acknowledge your presence.

“We need to find this demon.” You told the boys as Sam sat in front of his laptop on the table.

“Wow thanks for the advice. Why didn’t I think of it before?” Dean snickered humorlessly.

You glared at him and put your fists on your hips, he was so getting on your nerves.

“Don’t start you two.” Sam said before you had the time to speak.

You rolled your eyes and huffed, your arms falling against your sides as you walked towards Sam, showing Dean your back. You read on the screen the information Sam was working on, something about some demon, kings and guardians of Hell apparently, your eyes falling on a familiar name quickly before Sam scrolled the text down.

“Wait!” You grabbed Sam’s arm and stopped him.

“Purson?” You read out loud.

“According to the kids, he’s the demon we’re looking for but I can’t find anything about him.” Sam explained, an edge in his voice as he felt useless, he’s been searching for this demon for a week but couldn’t find a lot about him.

“We’re not even sure he really exists.” Dean said from his bed.

“Oh he exists alright.” You murmured between clenched teeth.

“Y/N?” Sam called your name as you straighten your back.

“That’s the name of the demon who took me.” You told him out of the blue, you were already thinking deeply about the fact that your case and the kids’ were the same. “Shit! He was talking about Abby and James!” You thought out loud, when you remembered he had asked you about kids.

“Wait. What?” Dean stood up from his bed in one jump, one of his hands grabbing your wrist and forcing you to turn around. “And you kept this information from us because...?”

You shrugged him off, your brain working at full speed, trying to put two and two together.

“I forgot about him. Didn’t think both cases were linked.” You explained absentmindedly, waving your hand around as a matter of fact.

“Well, good job with that.” Dean mocked angrily.

You rolled your eyes back again, having enough of his temper. “You’re one to talk. You forgot to mention it to me too.”

“Calm down both of you.” Sam came between you two, preventing any fight.

“Why me? I didn’t know about the kids before this incident. Why did he think I would know anything about them? And why does Alex help him?” You thought out loud, too many questions whirling in your head.

“Alex? You’re still with him?” Dean scoffed when he heard the name.

“I’ve never been with him.” You replied back, looking at Dean as if he was crazy.

“Wait, who’s Alex?” Sam asked, totally lost in the argument.

“Y/N’s boyfriend in highschool.” Dean answered Sam, a strange taste in the back of his throat.

“For the love of God!” You sighed loudly. “He was not my boyfriend! I barely knew him!”

Dean muttered something you couldn’t get. “What?” You asked him to say it again.

“Nothing.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, he tried his hardest to remain civil.

Sam was deeply thinking about everything. He had more information than you two, he had kept them from you because the twins had asked him to. Suddenly it hit him.

“Is there any chance that what you’re talking about was when we were at Truman’s High?” He asked and you and Dean froze at the name.

“Were you going to attend some kind of a party? A prom maybe?” He asked once more, and judging by the way you and Dean acted, Sam knew he was onto something.

“This is not your business!” Dean and you told Sam angrily, you glanced at each other and looked quickly at opposite sides. Sam pondered for a long minute before heading to the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean asked his brother.

“I need to check something. I’ll be right back.” Sam said, opening the door. He stopped in his tracks, turned around and pointed a finger at both of you. “Behave.” He warned you before leaving.

Dean and you looked at each other, then you tensed and chose opposite sides, staying away from each other as far as possible. The mention of that particular night, opening deep, painful wounds for the both of you.

*** Sam entered the room you shared with the twins. He shook Abby’s body gently, not wanting to scare her. Once her eyes started to flutter open, he did the same with James. The young boy rubbed the back of his hand over his sleepy eyes and yawned loudly.

“Uncle Sammy? What’s wrong?” James asked once he made sure it was only the three of them inside the room.

Sam grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and put it in front of the beds.

“I don’t have the time to explain why but I need you to tell me exactly what happened during that prom night.” Sam told them, sitting on the chair.

Both kids sat on the edge of their bed, blinking the sleepiness from their eyes.

“What? Why?” Abbigail asked.

Sam shook his head hurriedly. “Just answer the question, please.”

The urgency in his voice was enough for them to oblige.

“There’s nothing special, really.” James shrugged, then looked at his sister who shrugged as well.

“Grandpa left you and Dad while he went to hunt,” James started to tell as their father did when they were young. Sam shifted in his seat, hearing his own dad being called grandpa was rather disturbing.

“Mom was there too, our grand-parents leaving her for the rest of the year so she could finish it normally. Then you were leaving and Dad couldn’t bear seeing Mom sad so he promised her he would go with her at the prom.”

Sam listened carefully, nodding from time to time when he remembered a few things from that time. He vaguely remembered how happy Dean was when John accepted to lend him the Impala for that night.

“Then they went and danced the whole night. Dad said that when he left her in her room that night he realized he was in love with Mom. Then he left because Grandpa needed him for a job.” Abby finished the story.

“Did something happen that night? Did they kiss or said something about their feelings maybe?” Sam asked them as he tried to spot the differences between the story told and his own past.

The twins shook their heads no at the same time.

“Nothing changed after that night. They ended together many years later, after Dad came back from…” James trailed off.

“From Hell.” Sam finished for him. The fact that Dean came back from Hell a few months ago was certainly not a coincidence. “I think I know what Purson’s trying to do.” Sam said as he stood up on his feet. “We need to tell them the truth about you.”

“We can’t! That’s too dangerous!” The twins jumped from their bed at the same time and Sam finally understood how people felt when Dean and he spoke as one. This was kind of disturbing.

“Uncle Sammy, what if we say something you should not know and change our past?” James asked, worried.

“I think it’s already too late to fear the consequences.” Sam whispered.

The sound of glass breaking resonated from the other room and the three of them exited their room to see Dean slamming the door as he walked towards his car with angry steps. The door opened again and you got out, your fists clenched tightly.

“Running away again instead of facing me, huh? You’re such a coward, Winchester!” You yelled at him.

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned around. “What did you say?” A dark glint in his eyes and his voice menacing.

“You heard me perfectly.” You lifted your head so you could look at him right in the eyes. You weren’t backing away.

“Oh sweetheart,” He chuckled darkly, the nickname not friendly by no means. He came closer to you, stopping only a few inches away from you and stared you down. “I’m a lot of things but I certainly am not a coward.” He said, his voice low and full of hate, thanks to the proximity you could see how hard his jaws were clenched.

“Don’t sweetheart me, you lost that right a long time ago.” You said with the same tone he just used seconds ago.

“Dean. Y/N.” Sam tried to interfere.

“Stay out of it!” You both shouted at Sam, still staring at each other. It was a battle, the first one who would look away was the loser.

“You’re right you’re far worse than a coward. You’re a liar, always sweetalking people to ruin their lives the next second.”

“Oh? Because now, I’ve ruined your life? You know what…” Dean said but stopped when he noticed movements from the corner of his eye.

His eyes fell on the kids, and more particularly on their teary eyes. The twins’ entwined hands shaking subtly, their other free hand fisting into Sam’s shirt, the fear written all over their faces. Seeing this, Dean calmed down slightly. He perfectly knew how the kids felt, he was just like them when he was around their age and witnessed a fight between his Dad and Sam. Then Dean looked at you again, the rage still burning into your eyes.

“I have enough of this shit.” He spat, then took a step back and headed for his car once again.

“Dean, come on!” Sam called, defeated.

“Good riddance.” You muttered as you turned around and walked toward your room.

“Dean!” The twins called him as well, Abby taking a step in his direction.

Dean ignored them, circling in front of his car, the keys jiggling as he took them out from his pocket.

“Dean!” James tried again, coming closer to his sister and holding her hand. He hated seeing her helpless.

The car door squeaked as he opened it, still ignoring their pleas. He needed to get out of here, to clear his mind and maybe cool down.

“Dad, please!” Abbigail begged, her voice breaking.

Time had stopped at the moment, everyone frozen in their place. You were standing on the doorstep, your eyes wide opened, not believing what you heard. You turned around so slowly, afraid you would trip, so you could see what was going on with the others.

Sam and James had their backs straightened, unmoving, you wondered if they stopped breathing. In front of them was Abbigail who had fallen on her knees at some point, looking at Dean desperately, as if she was afraid that he would disappear if she blinked. You knew she was crying as you heard the sniffling sounds coming from her.

And then, there was Dean. He was perfectly still. One leg inside the car, one hand pressed on the rooftop, his lips parted slightly as he couldn’t stare away from Abbigail. This couldn’t be true. The poor girl might have a slip of the tongue.

“Dad please, I need you.” Despite how broken her voice was as she choked on the words, Dean and you heard her perfectly, ringing just like a bell. Confirming what you’ve already heard a few seconds before.

You knew that Dean was a womanizer but never would you have thought he had kids, and as old as they were, nonetheless. You didn’t register James walking towards you, your mind too focused on Abby’s revelation to notice any movement.

However, you felt all the air leaving your lungs when you heard his shaky voice next to you.

“I need you too, Mom.”

TAPiML tags: @fandomoverdose666 , @eternaleviee , @slytherinrising , @vicmc624 , @music-is-all-i-need ,

#spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #female!reader #series #TAPiML series #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 5 years

Text

Broken Edges

Get ready for the angst! Part 2 is ready to go because I kinda word vomited and wrote 4k.

Masterlist

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: language, angst, cheating

******************************************

The diner was brightly lit aided by the help of signature neon signs and harsh fluorescence. What Y/N loved most was the feeling this hole in the wall provided. Strange security. It took her back to happier times allowing her to disappear into a 1950s daydream, the closest to home she had felt in some time. The tile was chipping, the floral wallpaper showing early signs of decay, but she found peace within its barren walls.

No one knew who she was, just what she ordered, and that was the way she preferred it. Seen but never detected. Noticed but never approached, until he entered the picture. Y/N was pulled from her thoughts when the waitress gently tapped her shoulder shaking her from current desolation.

“What will it be tonight, honey?”

Y/N glanced towards the glittering name tag; Dolores, before meeting her calm gaze. If Y/N were a betting woman she would say Dolores was somewhere in her mid-fifties, slim build of a mother’s body, brown hair diminishing to gray tightly spun into a delicate bun, and lastly, a glazed smile that didn’t quite reach her charcoal eyes. Y/N mused while taking in the haggard woman standing in her glory. Her age lines meant one of two things; the first meaning she had lived a life full of smiles or a harsh reality that had shown its fading delicacy over the years. Y/N went with the latter option.

She was an Avengers for god’s sake and she still couldn’t fathom a rhythm or reason for her importance on this planet nonetheless dear ’o’ Dolores. At least, not anymore. He made her question everything, altered her reality in such a vehement way that she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to the stranger she formerly was.

Y/N mumbled unsure of herself; “Coffee, black. Please.”

A soft sigh slipped through Dolores’s lips as she moved to tuck her ordering pad into her apron; “You can’t survive off caffeine alone darling. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Thanks for the uh advice, but that’ll be it for now. I’m not.. I’m not feeling very hungry at the moment.”

“Well if you change your mind, just holler my way dear.”

Y/N hesitated before simply nodding as she watched the woman wonder behind the kitchen counter, her attention turning elsewhere.

(Earlier that day)

Tonight, was the night. Excitement electrified throughout her as hopefulness grabbed a hold of Y/N. Her damn cheeks hurt from the inevitable smile that she couldn’t seem to wipe away. Tonight, was the night she was going to tell Steve Rogers she was in love with him. A task easier said than done.

For the past two years, they trapped themselves in a revolving game of cat-and-mouse. Steve had made himself approachable, caring, and most importantly, interested in what she had to say. At first their friendship grew as any other; spending countless missions by his side, endless inside jokes during movie nights, pouring her cup of coffee every morning.

It only felt natural when they fell further into each other’s arms. She distinctly also remembered how Steve had lured her into their simple arrangement all while guaranteeing the best of both worlds; friends with benefits. Granted she blindly agreed to be a willing participate if it meant she got to spend those moments with him in hidden whispers and jest. Those times were her absolute favorite, when his Captain America facade faded and he allowed his true colors to blossom. Temporarily suspending his concrete walls and purely living in the moment.

“Jarvis, what’s the time?”

“Good Evening Y/N. The current time in New York is 6:17pm.”

“Can you tell me, when are Steve and Nat estimated back?”

The computer system came alive and replied; “Mr. Stark arranged Mr. Rogers and Ms. Romanoff to arrive promptly at 6:20pm this evening. Is there anything else I can further assist you with?”

“No, that’ll be it. Thanks Jarv.”

“Have a pleasant evening Ms. Y/N.”

Seven days of radio silence. Seven daunting days without so much a simple hello and Y/N was itching to hear his voice unraveling all impure thoughts in the process. She craved his touch, the press of his body against hers, and finally, to tell him exactly what she had been hiding for so long.

Minutes ticked away sluggishly turning into hours with no sign of her solider in sight. Strange, she pondered. Y/N hadn’t been completely updated to the delicate details of the mission, but she knew better that Tony would have told her of any last-minute changes. At least she thought as much.

Y/N launched from her comfy spot in bed and made her way to the door. She didn’t bother locking the door behind her knowing full well she would return shortly. Y/N skipped towards the elevator, the red button coming alive as the elevator shifted downwards. The doors closed rapidly behind her as she punched the Quinjet dock lever flying her upwards, further increasing the butterflies in her belly.

As the door opens, Y/N was shocked to see the Quinjet parked and empty. Hmm, maybe Jarvis hadn’t been updated yet. Tony Stark was a man dedicated to two things; Pepper and his work. So much so, the freak designed his lab directly next door so he could be aware of all incoming traffic that left the headquarters. Y/N knew she would find him hunched over his latest obsession and she was never wrong…well most of the time.

Y/N raised her hand to meet the cool steel but Tony startled her already alert of her presence.

“Y/N, come in.”

“How did you--?”

“Tile sensors, I can literally pick up any foot print that steps into this glorious building of mine. Pretty cool, eh?”

“Uh, if you’re into that kinda thing then yeah, yeah I guess.”

He swiveled his chair around meeting her piercing green irises, “But, I don’t think that’s the reason you’ve come. I’m surprised you’re not with Goody Two-Shoes.”

“Whoever do you mean Mr. Stank?”

“Hey now, don’t forget who signs your paychecks and don’t play stupid with me kid. I know about you and Blondie. You’re like an open book kiddo.”

Shock temporarily overcame Y/N wondering just how exactly Tony always knew every secret confined within his walls.

“First- you don’t pay me and second- You are really creepy; you do know that?”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks. State-of-the-art HD cameras all over the joint, and well, you guys are shit about hiding your ‘nightly activities’, if you know what I mean. Wink Wink.”

There was no attempt at hiding the blush that overtook Y/N’s cheeks as she tried to salvage her remaining pride. But with no such luck claimed her.

“Are they home? Did they make it back safely?

“You’re telling me you haven’t seen Cap yet?” Tony’s eyebrows raised slightly seemingly answering his own question.

“No no, not yet.” Her heart accelerated pace as unease slide down her backbone. Something was up and she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Jarvis, buddy. Can you inform me on the whereabouts of Steve and Natasha since arrival?

“Certainly Mr. Stark. Their infrared scans show them in his suite. Shall I alert them of your activity?”

Y/N’s mind was running a mile a minute as she immediately contemplated the worst-case scenario. Steve did always like to finish his report immediately after missions. Maybe she was there to ease the paperwork?

“Nope, that won’t be necessary.” His attention guided back to Y/N as he tried to reaffirm the nervous Avenger in front of him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. Overthinking. It’s a dangerous path. Wo-man up and get your man.”

Y/N leaped into his arms hugging him tightly; “Thanks boss man. You really are the best. But, if you ever tell anyone I said that, I will deny it until the day I die. Got it?”

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

With her nerves momentarily in check Y/N found herself instinctively walking towards Steve’s door. Her ears drums pulsated, a slight shake to her fingers as her hand guided into a ball feeling the sooth coldness of metal.

Erogenous moans echoed down the hall just before her knock unhinging her own worst nightmare. Her body switched to auto pilot, simply going through the motions. Before she knew what was fully happening, Y/N pushed his door wide open and blankly stared straight ahead. Nausea churned violently; her throat tightened while the edges of her vision blurred.

Y/N didn’t realize the tears streaming down her already soaked face. Her mind riddled with anxiety and numbness. She read many stories of shark attacks and fatal lightning striking, but never in the slightest did she think she would reach such an unfortunate choice of fate. This, this felt similar to drowning, suffocating for air as her inflamed lungs gasped for resolution.

They continued, ignoring their surroundings as Steve slid deeper into Natasha. Her legs tightened around his hips as she dug her manicured nails into his back muscles., pulling him closer to her glistening body.

“I’m so close. Don’t fucking stop.” Natasha whimpered breathlessly as she clenched around him igniting another groan to escape his lips.

A shock wave zapped Y/N as she stood there unnoticed. She wanted to scream but every sound died on her tongue. This couldn’t be happening. Steve had promised to return to her. And her only. She had a fucking plan. But now, she knew of their repulsive secret. He always made her feel jealous, crazy about being called out for his attraction to Natasha. All to understand, Y/N was rightfully so.

Y/N took two steps back, directly moving out of their line of sight and threw her back against the cool wall. Her hands clamped over her mouth covering her lips. She silently sobbed as she felt her heart crack into sharp, broken edges. All of a sudden, her tears dried up and she felt an emptiness spread inside of her.

Sometimes you have to accept the fact that there are things that will never go back to how they used to be. We don’t create fantasy worlds to escape reality, we create them to be able to stay. And from that moment on, Steven Grant Rogers was dead to her. And that was her only form of tangible truth.

-------

Requests Open!

#marvel #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #marvel imagine #my writing #mcu #avengers #fanfic #fanfiction #steve x reader #natasha romanoff #steve rogers x reader angst

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sparklyjojos · 4 years

Text

CARNIVAL recaps [2/13]

Today’s recap: Men in Black, not very subtle villains, and the overly dramatic Uno samurai detective who’s trying to figure them out.

FIVE

07 Sep 1996 — 13 Sep 1996

BERMUDA TRIANGLE

So far, the Billion Killer destroyed the JDC headquarters, the Empire State Building in New York, Stonehenge and Cappadocia. Each time a skull made of orichalcum (as the material that hasn’t been ever discovered on Earth is called) was left on the scene. Witnesses claim that a trio of people in black suits and sunglasses is always hanging around just before disaster strikes.

The first two attacks decimated two detective organizations, JDC as well as NYDT that had its headquarters in Empire State Building. The Billion Killer moved to other targets after that, but each 1 PM on Saturday still saw one of the many detective organizations in the world being blown up by some other criminal.

The Billion Killer, the bombing of detective organizations, the rapidly increasing crime rate, Alive on the loose—the chaos of the Crime Olympics rules the world and claims four million lives daily according to the UN statistics.

Let us leave our hardworking detective protagonists and move somewhere else for now.

This gloomy closed space in which it’s hard to tell the time of day is called the Sanctuary. Let’s say, for now, that it’s a giant invisible castle swimming tirelessly through the heavens. Maybe we should say “unseeable” instead; it’s not really invisible, but occupies a convenient blind spot.

There’s a giant round room in the middle of the Sanctuary with a table surrounding a fountain—its name is Lebensborn, the fount of life.

[I don’t know about Japanese readers, but it's really not hard to figure out a certain plot twist (?) after seeing this name.]

Three people in suits and sunglasses stand next to the table, all looking androgynous. These are Dots. The name comes from the fact that they’re nothing more than disposable pawns of RISE—little dots in the grand picture. They talk in calm, unemotional voices in a secret language known as R language or Ra language. [The reader may notice that they always start their dialogue with “...”, because, you know. Dot dot dot.]

Dots are just foot soldiers. RISE is led by a group of so-called Rainbow Sophists, each having a pseudonym symbolizing a color and a chess piece:

Violet Queen

Blue King

Green Bishop

Yellow Bishop

Orange Knight

Red Knight

Black Rook (a.k.a. the Master)

White Rook (a.k.a. the Doctor)

[Insert your Doctor Who joke of choice here.]

They’re all commanded by the leader of RISE, Rudolf Strauss (RS for short).

One of the Dots mentions talking with “the Master” about the book Cosmic that has just been released on September 5 [the real world date of its release.] It seems to pose no threat to RISE, and “mein fuhrer RS” decided they could allow it to be sold.

[If the reader didn’t catch on after Lebensborn, they sure caught on hearing mein fuhrer, huh. Subtle.]

Another Dot says that the Sanctuary is headed for the Bermuda Triangle and that they should get ready to leave the orichalcum skull there. Before that, they go to the Cosmic Room to talk with the Fuhrer. On the way one of the Dots is wondering aloud just what the Sanctuary actually is, but gets shushed by others so that he doesn’t bring “Ra’s wrath” on them; mere Dots are not to know secrets. When the problematic Dot continues to get agitated and speak out of line, suddenly there’s a sound like an explosion and his head is blown off from his shoulders.

The other two don’t seem too concerned and decide to go to “Dragon’s Center” first and inform the Master that a new Dot is needed.

(Everyone is wearing a mask. The world is a constant masquerade, a never-ending chaotic carnival.

Nobody, even a hypothetical “other people detective”, could possibly solve other people perfectly—but then again, nobody is even able to understand themselves. Our reasoning about others and even about ourselves is often completely misguided.)

The world has seen a lot of secret and dark organizations like the Freemasons and Illuminati, the Neo Nazis and sects. They’re not completely secret, but they don’t have to be; popularity just brings in more curious people who can be introduced to the actual secret parts once they've proven themselves.

RISE is the secret behind the secret, the organization that’s always been hiding behind many others for ages. The common “secret society” sign of the eye in a triangle is a symbol meaning Ra, the one whose eye is always observing the Dots and punishing them.

The Sanctuary drops off three Dots in a pontoon in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle before moving far away again, unseen by anyone.

It seems the Billion Killer is going to target a new advanced submarine known simply as “Robo-Ship” with about fifty members of UND on board. UND is a recently created organization of the United Nations gathering talented private detectives from the entire world, who have ironically come here to observe the upcoming Billion Killer’s case. RISE had sent a warning to the White House earlier that the fifth case would happen here.

At 1 PM, the Robo-Ship suddenly disappears. The only thing found near the crime scene is a pontoon with an orichalcum skull and three headless bodies in suits.

SIX

14 Sep 1996 — 20 Sep 1996

CAPE OF GOOD HOPE

Suzukaze Unomaru, the JDC detective looking like a samurai, is investigating a case and is in turn being investigated by his travel companion Marion, secretly one of RISE’s Dots.

Marion started to tail Unomaru a month ago when he came to Cape of Good Hope to investigate a strange incident: a hundred-of-meters-long moving shape was spotted under the ocean’s surface, spawning rumours about a giant sea serpent. Marion told Unomaru that she was a private detective also investigating the rumour and suggested cooperation. (Of course her entire backstory as well as the name Marion are fake. She had another name once, but can’t remember it. Dots aren’t allowed to have individual differences.) The two get on a cruise ship and even witness the giant underwater shadow once, which bonks into the ship from below, briefly rocking it and sending the passengers into a frenzy.

One day, Marion enters Unomaru’s cabin and discovers the floor is covered in piles of anime cards. Unomaru solemnly explains that he’s in the middle of searching for a rare Super Saiyan 3 Vegeta card that he lost, infodumps about how Vegeta never goes SS3 in canon and only in Dragon Ball GT, and dramatically adds that if they don’t find the card, it surely means someone stole it and Marion will have to help him investigate and catch the culprit.

Aside from anime, TCG and other playing cards, Unomaru also collects basically anything you could call a card (credit cards, those shop loyalty thingies…) and can do some neat magic tricks with a normal deck.

They talk about the sea serpent sighting and the chaos that erupted among the passengers. Unomaru is reminded of how in Jaws the shark didn’t even have to be shown fully, as just the triangular fin was enough to make people afraid, or how Duel showed only the arm of the truck driver to similar effect.

Unomaru believes the underwater thing wasn’t a sea monster, but maybe a giant submarine. He thinks that the impact against the ship was intentional so that everyone’s attention would be focused on the sea, creating a convenient blind spot in the sky. He just can’t figure out what would be there in the sky they weren’t meant to see.

Unomaru shows Marion one of his card tricks under the promise that they’ll play some UNO later. He pulls out a deck of fifty-two playing cards, takes a few and spreads them on the ground; they’re all of different colors and values. Unomaru returns the cards to the deck, shuffles it, then gives Marion half of the deck and they shuffle their halves as they like without looking. Finally Unomaru puts the halves together, separates it again into two piles, and has Marion check them. The cards were shuffled so many times, but now they’re neatly separated into one pile of all black cards and one pile of all red. [The illusion isn't named, but it reminds me a bit of Paul Curry's Out Of This World.]

The trick is that Unomaru prepared the deck in the right order long before the illusion was shown, including a few “random” cards that he showed at the start to mislead Marion. The rest just required skillful handling. All those anime cards strewn around helped misdirect Marion’s attention. Since the two halves of the deck had been already sorted by color, it didn’t matter how much Marion would shuffle her single-colored half. The trick to an illusion is always easy in hindsight—just like it is with tricks to mysterious crimes.

Unomaru changes the topic to the three mysterious “men in black” seen before the Billion Killer’s cases, and finally launches the attack: “Say, Marion-dono, wouldn’t you happen to be one of these ‘men in black’?”

He recounts the signs he noticed in her: nervous expressions, lifeless eyes, strangely impersonal androgynous atmosphere, always starting a dialogue with a moment of silence as if she was carefully choosing words. In fact, Unomaru noticed it all the first time they met and intentionally let Marion follow him around. It’s now Saturday and nearing 1 PM, so it must mean the Billion Killer case will start soon.

After a brief hesitation (that even she isn’t sure the reason for) Marion jumps at Unomaru with a garrote, but it catches on the wooden sword strapped to his back. In response, Unomaru booms at her in his own twist on the heroic lines from Momotarō-zamurai, acting so confident (and weird at the same time) that Marion freezes in her tracks.

“Ooo-one! People live to solve mysteries! Twoo-ooo! The strange and mysterious must be solved and make clear! Three-eee! Solve mysteries with the sword of logic!” He dramatically points the wooden sword at Marion. “Suzukaze Unomaru challenges the villain!”

He tells Marion about the first thing that clued him in as to her true identity: that she didn’t look Japanese and claimed to be from another country while speaking flawless native-sounding Japanese. Marion answers that oh, you see, she’s not actually speaking Japanese at all, which confuses Unomaru enough that she’s able to run away from the cabin. She throws him a line about how this ship is going to sink soon and kill him, and that the detectives will never be able to square against the transcendent being that is the Billion Killer. Unomaru yells after her that she should stop what she’s doing or she’s going to die, just like those other men in black did in the Bermuda Triangle.

As Marion changes into her black suit and joins two other Dots on the deck, she finds herself strangely thrown out of rhythm and still thinking about what Unomaru said. He had to be wrong. The Sanctuary is supposed to come pick them up after the job. Surely the Dots from the Bermuda Triangle were safely retrieved?...

Marion realizes with terror just what being a disposable tool means. She screams in fear, drops the orichalcum skull and runs back towards Unomaru who is sprinting towards her, just a few meters more and he will save her somehow, surely—

Marion’s head is suddenly blown up right in front of Unomaru. The same thing happens to the other two scared Dots soon afterwards.

At exactly 1 PM, the ship hits something giant underwater and sinks, taking over a thousand people with it.

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads carnival #maijo and jdc stuff

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all-things-skam · 5 years

Note

Elu prompt: eliott & Lucas having to be apart for 1 week of their 2 week Christmas break because eliott is going away with family & Lucas not feeling comfortable enough to join yet even though invited & he’s being all pouty & sad his bf has to leave. him being grumpy snappy pouty while eliott is away. Basile saying something like I really hope eliott comes back soon because you need to get laid. And maybe their reunion. But cuddly reunion not smut because Lucas just wants to be held by his bf

Title: The worse week of my life

Ship: Skam France | Lucas Lallemant and Eliot Demaury (Elu)

The holidays weren’t something Lucas particularly looked forward to anymore. When he was a kid, Christmas was fun. Lucas loved all the beautiful decorations and colorful lights. Every year, his parents would drive up to his grandma’s cabin on the 25th and Lucas would always sing along to all the carols until they there, excited to open all the presents.

The past Christmases have been very different and difficult for the Lallement family, replacing the carols by shouting matchs between Lucas’s parents and the car ride to his grandma’s by a long walk around Paris to get away from his parents. Last year’s hadn’t been much better, spent by himself at the coloc with Mika and Lisa whom he had only just met. Lucas felt like he was intruding their made-up family.

This Christmas was going to be different, it was going to be his first Christmas with Eliott and Lucas was really excited. He had already bought Eliott’s present and had Manon help him with the Christmas tree when Eliott announced him that he and his family were going to a resort in the south for the holidays and that Lucas was welcomed to join. While the offer was tempting - a whole week in the south, feet in the sand and sunbathing all day long with his boyfriend - Lucas had only met Eliott’s parents a couple times and he didn’t feel comfortable enough to join their family trip.

“Don’t act like I’m leaving for a whole year, it’s only one week.”

“One week is long, Eliott,” Lucas pointed out. “It’s seven days or 168 hours or 10 080 minutes or-”

The older boy cut him off with a kiss. “You sound like I’m going on a deserted island.” Eliott pressed his forehead against Lucas’s, thumb caressing his soft cheeks. “I promise to text you every day…and every night depending on the wifi at the resort. I’ll send you photos of me sunbathing with some fancy tropical drink or swimming with sharks and you’ll regret not coming with us.”

“Can you even swim with sharks there?”

Eliott shrugged. “I don’t know… That would be cool, wouldn’t it? Imagine Basile’s face if I were to post this in my Instagram story.” Lucas agreed. Basile would be so jealous. “And, if you ever need anything, I’m one phone call away.”

“You too. If you need me…I’ll pick up regardless the hour.”

“I know.” He gently pulled Lucas closer and gave him another kiss, this one not as sweet as the previous one, the younger boy’s grip on his hoodie tightening.

When they broke the kiss, Lucas buried his face in Eliott’s shirt, tears forming in his eyes as he took in his scent for one last time. “I don’t want you to go.”

To some, Lucas’s behavior was a bit dramatic. Eliott wasn’t leaving with the military for an undetermined time, he was only going on holiday with his parents for a [week]. But, to Lucas, who had suffered from terrible abandonment issues, having his first love leaving for week in a resort felt like a life time. It’s going to be the first time they would be so apart since the start of their relationship and it was very difficult for Lucas.

Eliott hugged his boyfriend tighter, in a way hoping it would forge his body with his so he would be able to take Lucas to the resort but, that’s not how it works. He pulled away and wiped Lucas’s tears, kissing the sadness off his face until it was time for Eliott and his parents to check in their bags, forcing them apart.

It was a difficult week for everyone.

On the 24th, Manon organized a Christmas dinner at her place for her neighbors and ex-flatmates, festive attire required. Emma joined in, he mother only coming home in the morning, along with Imane who, being muslim, doesn’t celebrate Christmas in her family but felt like sharing a good meal with her friend. And, Manon’s cooking was a delight.

Although Lucas was having fun with his friends, he still found himself moping and missing his boyfriend. Seeing this, Mika and the girls decided to cheer him up and bring out the alcohol and the strobe lights.

On Christmas day, Manon came over and they all exchanged gifts on the living room floor, still not having replaced the missing couch. To no one’s surprise, Mika being Mika, had filled a box with tons of packs of condoms and flavored lube and wrapped it for Lucas, not forgetting a pair of earplugs for Lisa who didn’t find the present amusing at all. Mika thought it was hilarious.

For the next two days, Lucas stayed in his room, watching Netflix and curling up in bed, mimicking his dear flatmate Lisa perfectly.

Saturday, Lucas and they boys hung out at Yann’s, trying out the new game he got for Christmas. While the boys were having fun, Lucas sat in the armchair, hood covering his hair, swallowed in Eliott’s black hoodie - it was difficult not to recognize it -, missing his boy like crazy.

Yann noticed his best friend being awfully quiet and he knew that something was up, in fact they all had noticed but no one dared to speak up. Lucas had been checking his phone every minutes in hope to see a text from Eliott but, nothing. Yann decided to take responsibly and moved over to Lucas’ side. “You alright? You’ve been quiet all day and it’s not like you. I know that Eliott’s been gone but, you still gotta cheer yourself up, you can’t sulk all day, bro.”

“I’m fine, Yann.”

“Lucas, I know how much you care for Eliott but, you can’t rely on him this much, not everything depends on him. It’s not healthy. I mean, just look at you, how long did you sleep last night? Have you eaten anything today?”

“Guys! Did I told you what Daphné got me for Christmas?”

“A BDSM kit and a whip to fulfil your dirty dream,” Arthur responded with a snicked, referring to a dream the curly haired boy told them earlier this year.

“No… No, she got me a book about Kamasutra, you know what it is? We’ve put it to practice and I didn’t know she was so…flexible, if you know what I mean,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

This made Lucas groan in frustration and disgust. He didn’t mind listening to his friends talk about sex but, Daphné and Basile’s sexual prowesses made him want to throw up. “Ugh, will you shut up? I don’t want to hear about you and Daphné’s sexual life.”

Basile snickered. “You’re just jealous because you have to use your left hand all week, Lulu.”

Lucas glared back at him and Yann kindly asked him to leave Lucas alone but Basile being Basile didn’t listen.

“Get over it. Eliott’s not on his deathbed, he’s on holiday with his family.” Arthur elbowed him in the ribs for his lack of tact. “Ow! What? It’s true. All he does is mope around and ignore us. I bet he hasn’t take off that damn hoodie since Eliott left. And, he’s been grumpy too. I really hope Eliott comes back soon because you need to get laid.”

After a lot of pressure from Daphné, Basile had given in and hosted a New Year party at his place. His parents were out of town for the night so it was perfect.

“Too bad Eliott couldn’t make it for the party.” Arthur handed the joint to Lucas who took a drag, drowning his sorrows with weed. He knew it wasn’t the right way to cope but, he was missing his boyfriend terribly and alcohol and weed were the only things Lucas ever used to cope.

“He’s flying home tomorrow, right?” Yann asked, just to be sure.

Lucas nodded, releasing the smoke.

Everyone began to leave one at a time. It was first Basile who got distracted by Daphné. Then, it was Yann, who saw Chloé walk in and he couldn’t just sit back and watch. Eventually, even Arthur got up, getting bored of just sitting in one place and ventured out to find someone to share a New Year’s kiss with. That left Lucas alone on the couch, sipping his beer quietly. It had been the worst possible Christmas break and, at this point, he just wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep in hope tomorrow would come faster.

Seeing him alone, Imane came over to keep him company, hoping to cheer him up a bit. She knew how it felt to be left out and feel alone at parties. Despite the weed and couple beers, Lucas was still coherent. Imane could feel it in his voice that he was getting tipsy as she listened to her lab partner ramble about Eliott.

Lucas was telling Imane about that one time Eliott almost burned down the appartement when trying to cook Lucas a nice surprise dinner when a weight dropped behind him on the arm of the couch, creating a shadow over him. He was about to tell the person to find another seat when a smile formed on Imane’s lips, seeing something Lucas hadn’t. Curious, Lucas whirled around and, he was shook.

“You really thought I’d miss our first new year kiss?” Eliott said with raising eyebrows, a grin on his lips.

Without saying anything, Lucas flung himself in Eliott’s arms, hugging him so tight Eliott could barely breathe. He had missed him so much. Eliott hugged back, kissing Lucas’s face all over, keeping his lips for last.

Imane smiled, they were adorable.

#skam france #elu #eliott x lucas #lucas x eliott #eliott demaury #Lucas Lallemant #elu fic #skamfr #skam france fic

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floral-and-fine · 5 years

Text

Last Song part 1

Spiderman Noir x female reader

Warnings: lemon and cheating

a/n: I tried my best to write this in a Noir style novel, so it’s kinda dark, no one is really a “good guy” and it’s in his pov. Never really wrote anything like this, not sure how I feel about tbh. But I saw some Spiderman Noir fan art that made me want to write something for him.

Summary: The reader hires Peter Parker Private Investigator to search for her missing husband.

Queens, the city where I was born and raised. A city that has declined into darkness. A city drowning in its own filth, overrun with criminals and scum. From the dark alleyways, all the way to town hall was corruption.

Thunder roared outside my office window and lightning struck lighting up my office for a brief second. In the corner, there was a leak in the roof and there's a low buzz coming from the light fixture above.

I've stayed in this city long enough, but every time I think I can get out, something pulls me back.

I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and fetched the bottle of scotch. There was only about a shot left. I swallowed the last bit and sighed. It wasn't nearly enough.

There's a knock on my door and my secretary, Ms. Stacy, peeks her head in, “Mr. Parker, there's someone here to see you, sir.”

“Let 'em in,” I nod, tossing the empty scotch bottle in the trash.

A lovely woman steps into my office. She was wearing an A-line dress and lace gloves and was tightly clutching a matching handbag. Half of me hopes she hear for a date, but I know better in this kind of work.

I motion for her to take the seat across from me, “What can I do you, Miss-?”

“Y/n,” she answers without missing a beat and settles down. “I need your help, I've got no one else who I could turn to. I heard you’re one of the best private investigators in Queens.”

“Get to the point,” I cut her off.

“It's about my husband,” she starts, her eyes laced with concern.“He's gone missing… the police refuse to get involved, but I know there's something fishy going on.”

“Sure he didn't just run off with some hussy?” I questioned.

“I know my husband,” she argued sternly. “If he had a mistress, he would've had the courtesy to let me know he was leaving me for her.”

I roll my eyes, I've had other cases dealing with missing spouses, they almost always ended with them having a new lover.

“Mind if I?” she asks, removing a pack of cigarettes from her handbag.

I nod and push the ashtray on my desk closer to her. Her hand shakes as she tries to light it.

“Listen, Dollface,” I say, taking out a book of matches from my pocket. “I'm not the good guy you're looking for,” I explained to her, swiping the match against the strip. “I ain't gonna do you or nobody any favors out of the goodness of my heart.”

She leans towards the match I'm holding out for her, and she takes a quick drag and blows. “Money ain't a problem if that's what you’re worried about. Just please find him.”

Missing husband cases never go well. It always leads to unnecessary heartbreak. But if she's willing to pay, I'll keep my mouth shut for now. I got bills to pay after all.

“Fine,” I give in. “I'll take your case.”

I tell her to leave the details with my secretary, and with that, she leaves.

I get ready to head home for the night and to check in with Aunt May. I grab my hat and coat by the door and stop by Stacy's desk to say goodnight.

“So, Whaddya you think, Stac?”

She shrugs, “Think there might be something to it and something that might interest you. Here's what she told me.” Stacy handing me a note.

My eyes narrow when they spot a familiar name, Harry Osborn. So, the broad's missing husband was none other than my old chum.

“Small world,” I mutter bitterly. ...

Aunt May welcomes me home with open arms as soon as I walk in. While she has me near, she explains that my dinner is in the oven.

Not feeling hungry, I thank her and tell her I'll eat it later as I head upstairs instead. I can see that concerned look in her eye she often gives me, but she keeps quiet about it.

Digging through a box of old junk in my room, I find an old photo of Harry and myself, back during our school days. Life seemed so simple back then.

I had become aware of the sort of shady business Harry's father had been a part of shortly after high school.

Norman Osborn may have appeared like a saint in public, but that man had a finger in almost every criminal organization in Queens. It took a lot out of me to bring the Green Goblin down.

However, last I checked, Harry had nothing to do with his father's affiliations. And I hadn't heard anything through the grapevine about a new Green Goblin taking over.

But a lot can change over time and this city has a way of changing people for the worst.

Discarding the picture aside, I run my hand down my face, questioning if I can pursue this case without it taking a personal toll.

...

I started my investigation following Harry's last known activities. I searched for clues while following his footsteps.

Everywhere I went, I came out empty handed. Just when I was at my wit's end, one of Harry's employees mentioned a bar his boss frequented and adds that Harry was on his way there after work. He also warned me that the place was known to serve the shady sort of patrons in town.

The speakeasy wasn't easy to find, had to walk through what seemed like a maze of alleyways before finding the steel door to what appeared to be an abandoned factory.

As I opened the door I was greeted by a waft of thick white smoke. All eyes turned to me, watching me with suspicion. I recognize a few faces, several mobsters and petty criminals.

I approach the bar and ordered a drink. So, this is the place Harry Osborn was last seen. Not a surprise with all these shady characters around.

What the hell had Harry gotten himself into?

I run the scenarios in my head. Did he have a drug problem? Couldn't pay back a loan shark? Became a target for kidnapping?... Or worst-case scenario, Harry had decided to follow in his old man's footsteps.

There's still so much I don't know. I needed more clues and information.

My thoughts come to halt as applause breaks out. Shifting my attention to the stage, a man in tuxedo introduces the entertainment for the evening.

“Y/n,” I whisper to myself, as the dame sauntered on stage. Apparently, the missus had kept from crucial facts to herself.

She looked even better than she had the other night. The skin-tight satin dress hugged every curve of her body.

She smiles at the crowd as she takes ahold of the mic, and the music starts. It's clear that she's no stranger to the limelight.

I watch mesmerized as she begins to croon a beautiful but sad song. She sings so effortlessly. Song after song, I find that I can't possibly take my eyes off of her.

Y/n looks in my direction, her eyes locking with mine as she coos some pretty words, and with that, her last song comes to an end.

Applause erupts again as she takes a bow and disappears backstage.

I feel my teeth grind and my fists clenched, as I finally come to my senses. She must've known her husband was a regular patron here.

I practically snarl as she slides into the barstool next to me a few minutes later.

“Mad at me?” she jokes playfully seeing the scowl on my face.

I scoff turning my face and finishing my drink. “I don't appreciate getting played.”

“Didn't know you were investigating me,” she shot back.

“Don't play coy, Mrs. Osborn,” I snap. “You hired me to find your husband, and all anyone can tell me was he was last seen here.”

“Mr. Parker,” she barks clearly displeased with my tone. “I'm sure you could understand, that I would want to keep this side of Harry's life private…”

Y/n sighs, crossing her legs and adjusting her dress, there's a faraway look in her eyes, “I'm not even entirely sure what all he was up to… but I'm scared, Mr. Parker, scared that I won't see my Harry again alive.”

My blood is still boiling over her withholding information.

“Might need to get used to the idea,” I say unnecessarily harsh. “You could've helped prevent that.”

She wipes away a stray tear and I regret my words.

“I'm sorry,” I start but she interjects.

“No, you're probably right,” she murmurs with trembling lips. “I need to tell you everything, Mr. Parker.”

We take a taxi back to my office so we can talk behind closed doors. I shut the door and stand back as she leans against my desk.

“When Harry and I first met I was a lounge singer and he had a bright future ahead of him. He was educated, came from a well to do family… I Had no idea how I caught his eye,” she says with a sad smile. “But we were young, in love, and a year or so later we married.”

“Then things really took a turn for the worst after Harry's father passed, and the ugly truth to his father's success came out to the forefront,” she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “The bribes, the scheming, the manipulating… Harry's not cut out for a life of crime… he's been distancing himself from me and keeping secrets.”

“When I try to talk to him, he gets defensive and puts up walls,” y/n rubs her forehead, her emotions getting the better of her. “I'm afraid that even if you do find Harry, Mr. Parker, he won't be the same man I married anymore.”

“I'll get to the bottom of this,” I promise her. “But I don't know if you'll like what I find.”

Y/n glances up at me with those sad eyes. I cup her cheek feeling her warm tears on my hand.

Next thing I know we’re kissing like our lives depended on it. My fingers caress her neck, and my tongue slides across her bottom lip.

Her coat slides off her shoulders, and my mouth kisses and sucks on her newly exposed skin and collarbone.

I scoop her up by her hips and help hoist her up on my desk. I push her dress up and my hands hastily move up her thighs. In a swift motion, I yank her lace panties down.

Neither of our actions would necessarily be considered loving or affectionate. We were caught up in our passion, lust, and overall desperateness to soothe our pain and loneliness.

Her hands fumbled with my shirt and belt. I feel her delicate fingers on my chest.

I know deep down we should stop, that I should be the voice of reason, but my most carnal desires take over. There's only one thing I want right now, and it's to be inside her, to feel her warmth.

Slowly, I push into her cunt, not being able to resist any longer.

Her nails drag across my shoulders as she clings to my body. She moans, throwing her head back as she takes every inch of my cock. I take this opportunity to sink my teeth into the crook of her neck and gently biting the tender muscle.

I smile against her skin as she tugs on my hair. I teasingly grind deeper into her. Her legs wrap around my hips holding me close.

“Enjoying yourself,” I purr lowly.

She pulls me into another heated kiss and our tongues swirl around passionately.

I can hear the desk rattle as I thrust my hips into her. Slick noises fill the room along with our panting and moans.

Y/n starts getting louder and is in on the verge of screaming as she gets closer to cumming. With a few more rough bucks of my hips, she tenses and her walls squeeze tightly around my cock, milking it for every drop of my seed.

My fingers grip her soft skin tightly as I cum. I rest my forehead on her shoulder, catching my breath.

“Sleep on the couch,” I mutter. “It's not safe to travel alone this time of night.”

She doesn't utter a word as she slides off my desk and lays on the couch. Taking my trench coat in hand, I go over to her and cover her up with it.

When I wake at my desk the next morning, the first thing I notice is the empty couch. Not that I pictured things to go differently. She's a married woman after all.

Yet, a dark part of me hopes that Harry never turns up and that maybe something more can transpire between y/n and me.

…

#spiderman noir #spiderman verse #spiderman noir x reader #au #lemon #peter b parker #noir spiderman #reader insert #spiderman noir fanfic #harry osborn #green goblin

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whosxafraid · 5 years

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[ x ] @brooklynislandgirl

The box addressed to Luka during mail call is small. Smaller still the one inside it. It can be fitted to a computer usb but includes an adaptor for his phone. Because she thinks of everything. It’s a strange gift. The drive is filled with one video. It starts with her in the morning, sans make up, still in her pyjamas and holding up a cup of coffee. She smiles sleepily into the camera. “Mornin’ Lulu. If ya watchin’ dis, means ya got my Christmas present. I know bein’ ovah-seas can be really hard, especially when ya feel cut off an’ alone from da people ya considah family. So…wi’ dat in mind, dis video gonna be me takin’ ya t'rough a day in da life. One ya can hold onto, one ya can watch whenevah ya missin’ us. Missin’ me.” And she does just that. It cuts off just before she slips into the shower. Resumes when she’s dressed again. They go to morning mass, then she helps serve breakfast to Father Vinnie’s homeless congregation, before passing out blankets and hats, gloves and other winter survival gear. She holds one little girl against her hip ~born to motherhood was Beth~ and the rest of the kids sing carols and thank Luka and his unit for their donations, and helping Santa find them, even though it isn’t Christmas yet.

Lunch at her favourite vegan cafe and she chats about how impressed she was that he even got some of the ship’s crew to pitch in for her church’s children’s programs and that thanks to them all of the kids and most of the adults will have hot meals for weeks. Not to mention a roof over their heads until after the new year. She has never looked so radiantly happy, and promises to show him when he gets home just what it all means to her. The it’s normal errands, picking up Andy’s dry-cleaning, dropping off lunch and donuts for Baz. It’s having a coffee in Central Park, and a stolen moment or two from Jay wishing him the best of holidays and Happy Hanukkah. Closer to sunset and its video of lights and displays and the snow drifting down in multi-coloured showers that melt into her hair.

Eventually she even takes clips and things from the ER, no patients though. She wouldn’t endanger them, or violate patients rights but there’s some quiet moments while working on her charting, and the nurses also send their greetings. She takes pictures of the doctors who no longer treat her like chattel.

The video ends nearly a full 24 hours later as she is exhaustedly dropping into her brother’s chair, and her eyes can barely stay open. “So, dat’s it. A day back at home because ya no can be here. I hope it makes ya feel less lonely. Love you, Lulu. Come home safe to us. Mele Kalikimaka!!!”

Mail call and...he doesn’t really realize the way his head snaps up from his book when his name cuts across the room. Or for that matter how more falls out of his bunk than climbs. His feet struggling to shift him across the space as quickly as possible, while his dips and dodges around the low hanging pipes in the ceiling. All he knows is once his fingers are wrapped around the rather small box, it only takes a second for smile to start forming on his lips. A little less deftly working his way back to his bunk, as he tears into the package.

A small sound of amusement at the shark that ends up in his palm, a check of the box to make sure he hadn’t overlooked everything. But then it all becomes a bit..confused. Brows knitting together. She sent him a usb? That was...odd. Then again his mind almost instantly starts buzzing with all the things that could be on, verses what mostly would be on it, verses what actually was on it. Because Beth? She isn’t your typical...well anyone. She’s her. But just to be safe...he’ll be using that adapter. Doesn’t need any of the lads possibly seeing or hearing something they don’t need to.

So the shark is tucked away in his bunk for safe keeping until a few hours later when the lot of his squad are sleeping off a few contraband food parcels that no body asked where House got them from.

And it’s a bit like single player twister, when he finally hears House kick against the bunk beneath him, their particular not so complicated ‘all clear’ signal. Turning around in a way he can reach where he’d hidden his treasure. Another angle managed that wasn’t natural for his phone and earbuds. And then its simply turning the damn thing on, letting it boot. Getting everything plugged in and opening the file. And...

“Good mornin’, beautiful.”

Mouthed more than said, a warm little grin on his face. One that grows by fractions when she explains what this whole home movie is about. A documentary of Beth’s life when he’s not there? He’ll take it and with lots of than---Okay extra lots of thanks, because damn that view. He wasn’t expecting that. And he’ll never admit to the fact that he rewound it once...okay twice before letting the video play on unhindered. World can judge him if it likes but he’s been gone pushing 19 months now. He misses much more than just her bright personality.

The camera cuts in a slightly shaky manner and then its off to the proverbial races. Mass that makes him feel...alot guilty he lets that slip so much when he’s not home. And he makes a mental note to do better, while simultaneously knowing...he really won’t. Then breakfast for the homeless and handing out much needed supplies.Caroling and the cutest wee lass on Beth’s hip that makes long for other things, but swallows it down because that’s not really his decision. The thanks from the children has him all teeth smiling nose inches away from the screen as he is.

That only grows wider when it all changes up to Beth out to eat at her favorite cafe. (He recognizes the signage in the window.) Chattering on about how grateful she is everyone helped. How far that help is going to get those kids and most of the adults food in their stomachs and somewhere warm to sleep. And even though its only video he can see it can’t he? How happy she is. How she seems to glow with it. And between that and the way she’s framed by the snow lined window behind her--he maybe misses home just a little bit more than he did moments before.

He’ll have to find a way to share this bit with the lads, though artfully removing the last few seconds because they don’t need to be privy to just how Beth might choose to fulfill that promise. Because he knows they’ll be just as happy the ‘chitlins’, as Mason called them, got all the things they needed. And at least some of the things they wanted, because Gorilla had insisted and his kids had jumped all over the quest. Drug their school mates into it. Shown up at Beth’s church per Gorilla’s wife’s email with a Santa sized stash of toys for all the programs kids. Without a dime of the donated funds spent.

Then its a flurry of every day ordinary things. Dry cleaning, dropping off food for the engine gremlin. Coffee in the park with Jay. Where he reads far more into the wink she gives the camera than Beth ever would think too. Things like : Everything is set for Christmas morning. Everyone’s got their jobs. It’ll be perfect or I’ll kill them all. We got you, Jamba.

And from there it’s more...subdued. Clips of her filling out charts. Small breaks with coffee he can taste the Styrofoam cups from here. And maybe now and then a thumb subconsciously traces the lines of her face. Trying to wipe away the exhaustion. Forgetting his own in the wake of it. A small awkward sense in his stomach as a few of the nurses from that first Thanksgiving that had all but attempt to climb him like a tree, offered hellos and happy holidays.

Next came a few paused photos of some of the doctors. A few of which he can tell are smiling for the sake of well...a lot of things. Because he’s far more perceptive than Beth sometimes gives him credit for. So he’d flexed just enough to make it clear, she wasn’t up for dibs. Especially for slime bags like that. And that if they didn’t keep their hands to themselves he’d ruin their medical careers. Which had nothing to do with lawsuits.

A few more sped up clips of her making rounds. Talking with the other nurses. Coffee with one of the janitors that had missed their bus, and Beth had taken it upon her self to spend her break making sure they weren’t standing out in the cold alone. Something that again makes him miss home, miss her more than he had before he’d started this whole thing. So by the time the video is crawling towards its end, Beth curled up in her brother’s chair---there’s an aching want to be there. A need to pick her up and tuck her into bed. Settle up beside her and sleep until who cared in the afternoon. But he can’t. An---

Everything stop. The video. His breathing. His heart for a certifiable few beats. Why? Because had she just? No. No way that couldn’t have been what she said. And he’s backing the video up. Turning up the volume in his ear buds and Sweet Holy Mary...she did. She’d....said........it. And perhaps irrationally his ears burn as he backs it up and plays it again over and over. The blood in his veins heating to levels that might be embarrassing if anyone could notice. The glass like quality his gaze suddenly has and---

That. That right there was the best Christmas present she could have ever given him. The best...anything she could have given him. And he knows right then, middle of no where South which ever ocean sea they’re in now...he’ll never forget what it sounds like, or what it felt like to hear it. Second hand through a video or not. She’d said it and he wasn’t ever going to give it away. Except maybe to return it. But that would have to wait until Sunday. Radio silence as they were for the next few days. And there’s a heavy sigh in the quiet of the bunk space.

Sometimes...he really---disliked the hindrances that came with the responsibility.

#[post via mobile]#tw: holidays #tw: christmas #brooklynislandgirl #He Doesnt Know How Heaven Could Be Better Than Her || Beth and Luka #Traveling Soldier || Military AU [ Closed ]

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bolddeducktionneverfails · 6 years

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An Update on The Depths of “Gander”: Issue 18!

(Continued from here)

Back in December, I speculated about Issue 18 possibly giving us hints about a future situation regarding Della's return. I observed Cover B and noticed how the moon was present and how the mysterious submarine pilot had a space-vibe about her appearance despite being someone from underwater.

I've been anticipating to read it ever since. (And apparently many others did too, due to the fact that the issue is sold out on Atomic Empire as I’m typing this!) Now that it’s finally released...oh boy, do I have some things to say.

(Please read the comic book first. Lots of spoilers ahead.)

We find out early on that the Mysterious Submariner is a queen named “Diane”. Her name begins with a “D” and it has Greek origins in relation to the Moon. Amusingly enough, I was mislead into thinking her name was “Stella” based on the way Atomic Empire listed the comic, yet she still ended up having a Space-related name.

It’s implied that she’s a tough girl who’s skillful with weapons, such as swords, and she enjoys taking risks. Launchpad thinks of her when he looks into the night sky.

Fʀᴏᴍ "Bᴇᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ Tʜᴇ B.U.D.D.Y Sʏsᴛᴇᴍ!", Lᴀᴜɴᴄʜᴘᴀᴅ ʜᴀs ɢʟᴏᴡ-ɪɴ-ᴛʜᴇ-ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴏᴏɴs ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴀʀs ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ʜᴀᴍᴍᴏᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴀɢᴇ. Hᴇ ᴀʟsᴏ ʜᴀs Cʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs ʟɪɢʜᴛs ᴅʀᴀᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ʙᴀɴɪsᴛᴇʀ. Tʜɪs ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪs sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴇᴀ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ʀᴇᴍɪɴɪsᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ/ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ sᴋʏ.

Every time Launchpad brings Diane up in conversation he gets ignored. It’s a trend in the show that whenever he constantly gets ignored about something, it leads to something else worth paying attention to: Constantly being ignored about being a pilot led to helping to save Scrooge after he struggled to stop Pixiu and played a part in discovering why Scrooge was being so ignorant of the word “pilot”. LP's constant fear about one of the children being evil was disregarded even though Magica was nearby. If it weren't for Launchpad being determined to let Scrooge know about getting his driver's license, Fenton may have never became Gizmoduck.

Whatever Launchpad “knows a lot about”, there’s a good chance that he’s going to be ignored at first, but then the others realize how relevant he is.

There was a lot of focus on the Sun in the “Toth-Ra” episode, another example of Launchpad proving to be important. Could this have been alluding to him doing something surprising when the Moon is involved?

The comic takes place ENTIRELY at night despite Cover A taking place during the afternoon. This gives Cover B even more significance.

The story takes place in a dark environment with a body of water, just like “Gander” and “Depths”. As I brought up in my previous post, multiple comparisons can be made between being in space and being underwater. The show highlighted this when Fethry referred to the Mid-Atlantic Ridge as “liquid space” and LP called it “the underwater sky”.

I’m intrigued by the artists seeing Diane as so important, that they placed her on one of the covers instead of keeping her design hidden within the story. This is the first time we've seen any of Launchpad’s reboot exes up close; let alone get to met any of them. The show never gave us a glimpse of Ziyi and we still don’t know what type of mermaid Oceanika is. This comic could definitely be hinting that the next lover we see on screen will be just as close. (Or even closer.)

Diane caused such a commotion, a tsunami warning was issued out.

Multiple people were alerted by her arrival, could Della contact Earth and it causes enough interference that a lot of people end up receiving her message?

Scrooge isn't fazed by the tsunami warning at all, he sees it as an opportunity to go out surfing.

This reminded me of my speculation about Scrooge being so busy doing other things that he doesn't pay attention to Della’s call. I wondered if the bet he made with Glomgold would be the distraction.

In an out-of-context quote, Roxanne Feathery talked about a storm forming over the mansion. Could the tsunami have been alluding to that?

The idea of Scrooge planning on riding the tidal wave kind of reminded me of what Della was trying to do with the cosmic storm. Is there some sort of loose parallel going on? There was a vehicle, a pilot, a natural disaster and Scrooge's involvement.There’s also the idea of the Money Bin being threatened as a result: Scrooge assumed Diane wanted to steal his money and Scrooge almost causes himself to go bankrupt by using his money to search for Della.

Later on in the story, we find out that Diane came to Duckburg to save Launchpad. She was told that he was kidnapped and enslaved by Scrooge, but this, of course, was just a misunderstanding.

In another post of mine, I speculated about Launchpad possibly being part of Della's motivation for taking the Spear due to his lack of input on her decision. Even after “Last Crash” when we find out that he knows why everyone was moving out, he doesn't bother to weigh in on the situation. His reactions to the family crisis are hardly focused on. If he doesn't blame Scrooge and he doesn't seem to want to blame Della...then who does he blame?

Could Launchpad have actually been in trouble years ago and Della took the Spear early to save him? Was she baited into space travel by being lied to and fell into someone’s trap?! LP’s character has a history of space travel and he’s been abducted by aliens in the original Darkwing Duck series.

Lᴀᴜɴᴄʜᴘᴀᴅ ᴡᴀs ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴀɴ ᴀʟɪᴇɴ ᴘᴏsᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ "Tᴇʀʀᴏʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Tᴇʀʀᴀ-ғɪʀᴍɪᴀɴs".

If Launchpad was the reason for taking the Spear, could the natural disaster be in reference to Della's disappearance disrupting the family?

I’ve been holding on to the theory that Dewey could be reminding LP of Della for the longest time and this comic just increases that belief.

Their friendship is being highlighted in the same issue we find out about one of Launchpad’s previous lovers and Dewey is said to be a lot like Della.

The RI Cover has Launchpad turned around, looking at Dewey's portraits.

After learning about the tsunami warning, he was quick to snatch up Dewey to take him to safety instead of snatching up both him and Webby at the same time.

In the show, Launchpad’s attachment to Dewey feels like it came out of nowhere. He suddenly revealed that Dewey was his best friend in “Terror” without having much interaction prior and even after Huey was kind enough to check on him after the snake trap Dewey set off and Louie being the first to consider Launchpad as family. (Hm, but I guess to be fair, LP was dazed on both occasions.)

In “Shadow War”, Launchpad was more upset about Donald and the boys moving away than Webby and Dewey was at the base of most of his concerns.

In “Jaw$”, Dewey wasn't the only one to get eaten by the Money Shark, but Launchpad rushed towards him for a hug. (And then later scooped up Huey and Louie.)

Dewey is always the one chosen to ask Launchpad about his mysterious, romantic adventures. Perhaps their friendship was sparked by Dewey checking on Launchpad after his search for Ziyi, but with all these other facts surrounding this, I can’t help but think that something more is going on.

I’m so baffled by Diane and LP’s relationship status. They both still have strong feelings for each other, so why did they split? Why did she go back home so quickly instead of sticking around for a visit? Because she had a kingdom to attend to? Because he couldn't stay underwater with her? What got in the way? And what could this tell us about Della’s relationship with Launchpad if she had one?

LP kept referring to her as just a friend rather than an “ex-girlfriend” or a “special friend”. So they dated briefly? Or he just doesn't want anyone to know their status? Is it because even though they’re not together, they’re not entirely done with each other, so “friend” is the best way he can describe her? Why is his love-life so dang secretive?!

They didn't even hug. I’m sad.

Donald’s exclusion from this story makes me wonder about his role in any episode that could reveal Launchpad having a connection to his sister...reminds me of when I tried figuring out why he was excluded from the news report and if it’s indicating the possibility of him being pushed back during a space adventure in some way.

Since Dewey and Webby are the kids featured in this comic, I wonder if they’ll be the first to question LP’s history and start doing an investigation.

Taking a small step away from Della: In the B Plot of the story, Huey is having trust issues with Louie the Money Bin. He things his younger brother made up the tsunami warning as an excuse to dive into Scrooge’s gold coins instead of cleaning up the treasures like they promised.

Is this hinting towards a situation where his family doesn't believe him about something important? And could it tie in with Della in some way?

Keeping track of the occurrences that took place before the issue’s released was almost as interesting as the story itself:

The issue was originally set to release on February 13th, a day before Valentine’s Day, but it got pushed to later in the month, the 27th was considered according to Amazon but the 20th was ultimately decided and every outlet switched to this date.

(Fʀᴏᴍ Lᴇᴀɢᴜᴇ ᴏғ Cᴏᴍɪᴄ Gᴇᴇᴋs)

iTunes released a three-page preview a week before the 20th. (I suppose it was queued with the original date.) None of the other sites had a preview available until the day before the issue came out and it was during the later half of the day. Usually, previews are available in multiple places at least a few days before the comic’s release date. I'm probably jumping the gun a little with this, but it seems like there could have been some hesitation over releasing any part this comic... it's not unusual for comic dates to change, but if it had stayed on the 13th, maybe that would have been too suggestive. Maybe they were trying to figure out the best way for people not to catch on too quickly? Whatever the situation may be, the fact that we're getting this comic not only in a month associated with romance, but a date that isn't too far from the premiere of “Whatever Happened to Della Duck?!”, feels a little too intended.

I was originally planning to holding off on all my Issue 18 thoughts on this blog until the new episode, but wow! This comic gave us so much potential hinting, I couldn't keep quiet about it! Perhaps I'll make another “Gander” update picking back up on some of these points and what interesting things the episode has to offer.

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iris-writes-things · 6 years

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Two Guys and a Baby: Day 1 part 1

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read up to 2 chapters ahead as a $1 Patreon patron!

“I thought you had a babysitter!” “I thought so too! But now she’s off to Cambodia for half a year to rediscover herself after a particularly bad break up… I’m sorry, but you’re really my only hope.”

Or, Crowley enlists an old friend to help him look after his boss' baby while she's away for two weeks, and learns a thing or two about himself and the other along the way.

Chapter 1 of 20 Ongoing 1989 words Romance/Humor

Dramatis Personae:

Anthony “Anton”/”uncle Tony” Crowley (An artist turned marketing assistant)

Lucy Ferguson (Crowley’s boss, too perfect for this world)

Adam Ferguson-Zabielski (Son of Lucy, shatterer of eardrums, soiler of diapers. Like his mother, too perfect for this world)

Anathema Device (Crowley’s niece, sassy teen)

Ezra “Aziraphale” Fell (Local bookshopkeeper, historical non-fiction author and former employee at a local daycare)

It was a nice, warm morning in the middle of March and life was good. Winter had come to an end, and spring was finally starting to set in. Young leaves and blooms were starting to grow in the trees and shrubs in the park across from Crowley’s Mayfair apartment. It was so warm, in fact, that Anthony J "usually-so-cold-he-should-probably-get-himself-checked-out" Crowley ventured to work without his coat and with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, ever the optimist.

On his way to work, the marketing department at the global headquarters of a European multinational, he stopped by a coffee shop, greeted the barista, and ordered a latte for himself and for his boss before continuing on his way.

His boss, Lucy, had been a classmate of his in primary school. He had some fond memories of her. But after primary school, their friendship faded. Where Crowley failed classes left and right and was set back several years, Lucy flourished in school and exceeded every expectation. Where Crowley decided to go into the arts, Lucy studied marketing and management. And where Crowley lived alone with barely a social life to speak of, Lucy had a fiancé, a son and a seemingly endless stream of friends on top of her job.

How she did it, he had no idea. But he somehow ended up being her assistant.

“Mr. Crowley, so glad you decided to join us.” Lucy flashed a devilish smile as she snatched one of the paper cups out of the carton the very second he came out of the elevator. Her caramel brown hair was done up in a neat bun, as per usual, and her black pantsuit looked stunning on her, as always.

“Good morning to you too, Lucy.”

“Ms. Ferguson,” Lucy corrected. “I know you mean well, but someone’s gotta show these sharks who’s boss. Besides, I don’t go around calling you Anton, do I?”

“Yes ma’am,” Crowley said. He mocked a salute as he followed her into her office.

'Anton' was what Lucy had called him upon their first meeting one fateful day in the schoolyard, and it stuck to him ever since. He couldn’t blame another six year old for refusing to even try and pronounce ‘Anthony’. Especially when the man himself spoke with a lisp back then.

“Anything I can do for you?” He asked before finally taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, there is one thing…” Lucy— ms. Ferguson said. “It’s not exactly work-related, but I’m not sure there’s anyone else in the world I would trust with the task.”

This piqued Crowley’s attention. A single brow raised over the rims of the sunglasses he had ‘forgotten’ to take off.

“You know how… particular I can be with Adam’s care, right?”

Oh, Crowley knew. The last year and nine months had been an Experience, so to speak. Every day, Lucy had regaled to Crowley the many things she read in books and on websites about parenting. Once the boy was finally there, she had laid down the law for everyone. Fiancés, grandparents, friends and babysitters alike. She was strict about it, but Adam seemed to be happy and healthy. But that was Lucy: strict, diligent, and always yielding the best results.

“Yes,” Crowley tried simply, motioning for her to continue.

“I’m about to offer you two weeks out of the office. All expenses covered. On the condition that you look after Adam while Belle and I are on our vacation.”

As if they had become sentient with a sense for comedic timing, Crowley’s sunglasses slid down his nose.

“What?”

“Anton, please.”

“I thought you had a babysitter!”

“I thought so too! But now she’s off to Cambodia for half a year to rediscover herself after a particularly bad break up…” Lucy let herself fall into her office chair with an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, but you’re really my only hope. Belle is so looking forward to this trip to Croatia, I don’t want to have to tell her that we have to cancel.”

Crowley thought it over for a second. Deep down, he knew he had already decided, but caring for his obscene amount of houseplants proved to be a challenge on its own. Was taking care of a human baby really a good idea?

Then again, this was Lucy. Surely she would provide clearer instructions to take care of Adam than the regular garden center would provide for a ficus. He pouted and bit the inside of his cheeks some more before finally speaking up.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he mumbled.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Lucy said as she clasped her hands together. “I’ll pack a bag with everything he needs and print you some instructions. Our plane leaves at three, so if you could come pick up Adam at my place at around nine in the morning, that would be ideal.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I can do that,” Crowley said as he tried not to imagine an instruction book the size of a George R. R. Martin novel, peppered with fine print, brightly coloured post-its and a footnote here and there. “Tomorrow at nine. Absolutely.” He whipped out his phone to set his alarms accordingly with a quick note to ‘PICK UP LUCY’S BABY’. Crowley was not used to having to be places at nine on a Saturday, but he liked to think he could do it with the right precautions.

“Again, I can’t thank you enough for this.

“Hey, no, really, it’s fine. You work really hard. You deserve a nice vacation.”

Lucy smiled. “That’s really sweet of you. So, the deeds of the day?”

“Oh! Right, deeds. There’s some calls that came in after you left yesterday, I put a list of those on your desk and…”

It was Saturday, ten in the morning, and Crowley was sitting on a bench in the park across the street from his apartment. The sound of the children playing football behind him, using water bottles as improvised goalposts filled his ears. The pram containing Adam, who was covered in a reasonable amount of sunblock for the time of year, was parked securely next to him. He tried to relax and soak up some much needed sunshine, but instead he ground his teeth as he pondered for a while whether or not to also put his sunglasses on the toddler to shield his eyes.

Crowley noticed Lucy had packed the kid red and white striped pyjamas. He had briefly toyed with the idea of asking her whether or not he looked like the Goblin King to her, but quickly decided against it. He knew what Lucy was like when she was stressed, and joking about 80s movies in that situation would not have been the best idea.

He fidgeted with his fingers and ground his teeth some more. He didn't know the first thing about caring for a baby. He didn't know what the right temperature for a jar of mashed vegetables felt like. He didn't know how fast his patience might run out without a smoke every once in a while. He leaned his head backwards and let out an exasperated groan. Two weeks of not smoking. How had he ever agreed to this?

He gave Adam a quick glance to make sure he was entertained with his rattling teddy bear before getting out his phone, scroll through the letter A in his contacts and dial the expert.

"Hey Anathema, how are you doing?" Crowley asked, putting on his best customer service voice. He practically heard the teen's mood drop.

"Need me to help you hide another body, uncle Tony?" Anathema asked, all business. "Proverbially, of course."

"Not quite..." He said, slowly phasing the artificial sweetener out of his tone. Anathema had the best bullshit radar in the family and it must have been blaring at full power. "You still babysit, right?"

"What do you need a babysitter for?" Anathema pushed.

"Yesterday I promised my boss I would watch her baby while she's away for two weeks. And today I'm realizing I haven't the slightest idea what I'm doing."

"And now you want me to look after your boss' baby so you can take all the credit when she comes home?"

"If that's within the realm of possibility, yes."

"Uncle Tony, I have classes to go to and finals to study for. Why don't you ask that friend of yours you had a crush on? The one with the bookshop. Whatshisface. It's on the tip of my tongue."

Crowley winced when he came to the conclusion, "Ezra? I haven't talked to him in months."

"Well, you best start talking to him again. He said that before he had his bookshop, he had a job at a daycare."

"When did he tell you that?"

"When I was seven and you took me to the park by his shop every weekend so you could admire him from afar. This one time you finally built up the courage to take me into his shop with the promise of a new book, which you never got me by the way, you two got talking and he just casually dropped it into the conversation. But then again, you might have been so nervous it went right over your head."

"Yeah, that might have been it," Crowley admitted more to himself than to his niece. "I'll give him a call. You're my hero, Anathema."

"I know," the girl said. Crowley could hear the smug smirk on her face on the other end of the line. "You can call me for some quick advice, but please know that I'm going to be busy."

"Gotcha. I'll talk to you later then. Tell your mum I said hi."

"Will do. See ya."

"Right. See ya," and he ended the call. He went back into his contacts and scrolled down to the letter E. However, he was so preoccupied with his phone that he didn’t notice something, or rather someone, leaning over the backrest of the bench.

“You called?” Ezra Fell, local bookshop keeper and historical non-fiction* author ‘Aziraphale’, asked with a satisfied smirk on his face.

(*This was a point of contention between Ezra and his literary agent. Where Ezra didn’t feel comfortable calling his books historical “non-fiction”. His novels were, after all, primarily based on vague records and nearly non-existent witness accounts. However, his agent insisted on the label, since, according to them, the very label itself would sell more copies.)

Crowley flinched, but didn’t shriek. Not even a little bit. Not if you asked him, at least. “What are you doing here?!”

“Just feeding the ducks some old oats when I heard a familiar voice say my name, so I decided to investigate,” the man said as he walked around the bench to sit down next to Crowley. “Did you know bread is actually really bad for ducks?”

“No,” Crowley said simply, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“So, what about the baby? Did I miss something big?” Ezra asked as he tossed some oats to the ground. Ducks came rushing from the pond and Adam giggled at the sight of the waddling birds. "I mean, I'd assume you'd let me know if you had a baby, somehow."

“My boss took her fiancé on a vacation to Croatia, she’s probably going to propose, so I’m looking after their son until they come home.”

“Since when do you know anything about taking care of a baby?”

“I don’t. I’m just generally very good at following her very particular instructions,” Crowley said as he produced a stack of instructions from a bright blue diaper bag, roughly the size of The Fellowship Of The Ring. “That and she trusts me, I guess. I was actually hoping you could help me with these.”

A small ‘my goodness’ escaped Ezra as he eyed the stack of loose pages. “That’s all for him?” He asked, pointing at Adam.

“Look out, mister!” A young voice called from behind them, but Crowley paid it no mind.

“It is, trust me. It’s—” Crowley bit his tongue as a football hit him in the back of the head, knocking his shades off his face and the pages out of his hand. As luck would have it, a breeze picked up, carrying the pages away from them and into the duck pond.

Adam giggled and clapped his tiny hands.

“Oh dear…”

“Fuck me…”

#fanfic #Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #human AU

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rosereflected · 6 years

Text

éloi hated odalis and its court. it was poisoned in all the worst ways with people scheming their rise to more power, more influence behind every single corner. the court was what he imagined his mother's heart to be like --- rotten to the core. though right now, he did not want to think about his mother. truth me told, he rarely liked to think about the duchess because whenever he thought of her, he also had to think about her cruelty. the people who called his father a dangerous man were right, certainly, but they all failed to see where the true danger was lurking.

he did not like the capital, but there were things he could only do here, things that would never work in his favour back home. and --- éloi was tired. he had always been the afterthought. when people talked about duke rosen's many children, they thought about asce with his courtship troubles or basil who was smarter than a whip and who was respected, no matter where he went. even éloi's own twin was talked about, no matter where he went --- twenty victories in twenty-one tournaments would do that to any man. claude was the kind of man hopeful fathers were glancing towards when they were looking for a fitting husband for their towards. and freya?

his sister, his only sister, was a curious, fanciful being. at first glance, she fit perfectly into the mold of highborn ladies, but éloi knew her too well. this was the girl who had rejected countless marriage proposals, this was the girl who had demanded her own family ring to seal her correspondence with --- a demand his own twin had bowed to, giving her his own and having the goldsmith of bellrose forge a new one for himself.

freya knew what she wanted from her life and she had some very good ideas on how to get it, too. whether it was basil's promise to defer to her desire to become royal treasurer or the tailor, making a dress exactly the way she wished it to be --- freya always got what she wanted. no wonder that asce had once muttered that as far as he was concerned, she could have the duchy, too. and the heir to name and title might have been well into his cups, but éloi did not doubt that these drunken words were sober thoughts, too.

and right now, she wanted an explanation. he should not be surprised that she had found him this quickly, that it had not taken her more than an hour to realise what he had done; there were maybe five people in the country with the opportunity and only three with a motif. he should have known that it would come to this.

“ sister, ” he greeted, closing his book and taking a deep breath. “ what brings you here? ”

irritation flickered in her gaze, but only for a moment. freya was above mindless anger, was a better player in the capital's games than éloi could ever hope to be. with a sharp wave, she dismissed the servant who had brought her to the somewhat hidden map room and held her breath until they were truly alone. “ mother is dead, ” she finally said as they were alone, her voice blank. “ but i suppose you already knew that, brother. ”

she had not come to him for confirmation, he knew that much instantly. she already knew, she did not need him to tell her what he had done; she had instantly guessed right. he was no knight the way asce and déodat were, he had never taken any vows. he was just a smart, very smart young man who had done what had been necessary. and she was just as smart as he was. a part of him wondered how long it had taken her to understand that it had been him who had slipped the poison into their mother's tea. if it had taken her more than half an hour, he would be nearly disappointed.

“ i won't insult you by denying it, ” he replied calmly, setting down the book on the table next to his chair. a part of him had been morbidly curious about her reaction, about all of his siblings' reactions. that they would find out, one way or another, had been a given from the start. the other prime suspects for their mother's assassination were out of town and while all of them could surely hire a good assassin to take care of their less honourable business, his siblings would know to look at one another for this.

freya exhaled audibly and for the first time in a long time, she seemed uncertain. “ you didn't have a choice, ” she muttered after a moment, nervously toying with her sleeve and absentmindedly, he wondered who it was she was trying to convince --- him or herself. he was no fool, he knew that she had been thinking the same things he had thought, that they could not let their mother's treason be uncovered. it would cost the family too dearly; their importance had been always defined by the trust of the royal family. and with their mother's actions, that would have been lost. no friendship between princess gabrielle and their father could ever have covered up the depth of the betrayal.

( and éloi was not enough of a fool to think that if given the chance, princess gabrielle would not have killed his mother with her bare hands. )

( there were decades of bad blood between the both noblewomen. )

“ you should have told me, ” freya added quietly, just like he had expected. when he had been younger, he had thought that she had felt hurt whenever she had been left out from the games he and their brothers had played, but as he had grown older, he had understood that it had never been that easy. freya felt like she needed to know these things before they happened so that she could prepare for the fallout. she was no less protective than asce; she was just better at hiding it.

he had not expected his sister to understand that there had been never a world where he would have risked telling her. he trusted her, just like he trusted all of his brothers as well, but if he had told freya, she would have become involved. because she was protective in all the best and worst ways. because she hated their mother more than anyone else on this earth. because if she was involved, she could take the fall for him. and that had been something he could never risk --- claude and basil would have his head if he would ever risk their little sister for any of his schemes.

once upon a time, their father had ordered them to leave their sister out of any of their schemes. at the time éloi had thought his father had been protective over his only daughter, but as time had passed, he had realised what the older man had likely known from the start: freya had a knack for getting herself in and out of messes all by herself, if her brothers would start to add to this, she would never have time for anything else.

“ we both know that i'd never do that, ” he said softly, reaching for his tea cup before her hand collided with hiss, slapping the dainty cup out of his grasp. for a moment, he just stared at her, ocean blue eyes meeting their sky siblings. this ... this was odd. “ okay, i'll bite. what was that about, freya? ”

“ our family has too many enemies, éloi, for you to be reckless now, ” she said quietly as she stepped back, gracefully avoiding the puddle of tea on the floor. and although her words were general, he did not think that she was referring to the fact that their family had left quite a few people furious over the course of centuries. she knew something she was not telling him, just like always.

freya was better suited for court intrigue than most people éloi met --- and he meant this in the best possible way. maybe it was because he trusted her more than he trusted most or because he knew that she had never had much of a choice; she had been thrown into these shark-infested waters when she had been so much younger, back when prince johannes had been still alive and their mother had wanted her daughter in close proximity to the future king, preferably as his wife.

and, gods, freya would have eaten johannes alive. éloi had loved the late prince like a brother, but --- no matter how much he had adored the man, he would never have been a proper match for freya. freya needed someone who was just as shrewd as she was, someone who could keep her in check. johannes would have been a good, a just king, but he would never have known how to handle freya. he had been too honourable, his ambition had never exceeded the dream of being a good, a just king. he had never wanted more than to play his assigned role --- and this would have put him at odds with freya who always wanted more within days. no, éloi had never thought that the match would have been a good one, no matter how many people whispered about it.

this was a fact everyone --- from asce to claude --- was aware of, but éloi did not think that any of them had ever realised that freya, for all her schemes, for all her political sense, did not want to marry for power. she had seen where his perfectly reasonable marriage had gotten their father, and éloi did not blame her for fearing that one day, she could end up the same way ... or worse, that she could turn into their mother.

“ i know that we have enemies, ” he said slowly, his hand reaching for hers. this was something he had worried about when she had first left to be part of the court, before everything had gone so much worse than he had ever expected. he had feared that one day, a messenger would come to tell him that his sister had been found with her throat slit. since, he had learned that this was not the way the court operated. if someone had set out to destroy his sister, they would have let her live. instead, they would have ruined her reputation. this was the way the court operated --- with great precision and scandals, perfectly tailored to destroy someone's good name.

( a ploy like this was how their mother had forced their father's hand, a long time ago. )

( it had been a dangerous gamble and while it had been successful, éloi did not think that their mother had been content with the result of her scheme. )

freya shuddered as somewhere in the distance, someone started to call both their names, sounding terribly distressed. fortunately, most will assume that one of mother's many enemies slipped her the poison, she said quietly, not even bothering to ask which one he had chosen. she knew that he had taken great care to make sure that the poison could in no shape or form be linked to her; he had owed her that much.

“ freya, ” he said as he squeezed her hand. “ we will be fine. ”

#narration #matricide tw #royal tag

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lesetoilesfous · 7 years

Text

Dibs

Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia

Ship(s): TodoDeku, background MomoJirou

Tags: Oneshot, Strong Language, Alcohol

Inspired by this post and dedicated to @kilzom because they are wonderful and I cannot deny them anything, and even if I could it definitely wouldn’t be the tododecks.

Summary:

Todoroki Shouto refuses to accept the label workaholic, even if his best friend’s girlfriend insists on giving it to him. So he definitely hasn’t let her convince him to come to a nightclub to prove a point. He lets his hair down all the time. Obviously.

Midoriya Izuku has probably had too much to drink. Luckily he has a group of loyal friends who will prevent him from coming to any harm. Unluckily, they’re less willing to save him from himself.

“Todoroki texting Momo: I just walked into this party and someone yelled dibs

Midoriya texting Uraraka: URARAKA I’M REALLY DRUNK AND I FUCKEF UP SOME HOT GUY WALKED INTO THE PARTY AND I YELLED DIBS”

Todoroki Shouto did not go clubbing. This was largely because he did not have the time to do so. Working as hero meant long shifts, and long shifts meant that not only were most of his nights booked, but the rare ones he had when he wasn’t working were reserved exclusively for catching up on the sleep he hadn’t had for the rest of the fortnight. That, and the fact that since he was Todoroki Shouto, and now a professional hero in his own right as well as his father’s son, he couldn’t go out in public without being recognised. And being recognised meant paparazzi. And paparazzi usually meant gold-diggers. Shouto had first been introduced to the concept when his sister had run home in tears after overhearing her middle school boyfriend discuss what a ‘great catch’ a Todoroki was. The lesson had stuck.

But apparently Momo’s girlfriend thought that his ‘social skills’ were ‘lacking’, and that ‘letting your hair down for once’ would help him get the proverbial stick out of his ass. Shouto had, naturally, politely told her to get fucked. Jirou had flipped him off. Momo had gotten in between them and suggested a compromise. “If you hate it, you don’t have to go again, I promise.”

So here Shouto was, outside a fairly underground nightclub, by himself and feeling distinctly out of place. Was he wearing the right clothes? The people queuing for the door were dressed in everything from fifty shades of denim to bandages of fake leather, and yet somehow he still felt he’d got it wrong, somehow. Shouto fiddles with his shirtsleeves and mentally thanks gods he doesn’t believe in for the decision not to wear cufflinks. In the queue, a tall woman with antennae wolf-whistles at him.

Shouto ducks his head, ignoring the queue and heading for the bouncer. He mentions Jirou’s name and is let in with little more than cursory smirk. Immediately, he’s confronted by a bare, narrow staircase that stinks of alcohol and has him mentally calculating emergency scenarios out of habit more than anything else. Shouto moves up the stairs quickly, and drops Jirou’s name again for a man next to a cash register. He walks through a small, sticky foyer, and then he’s hit by a wall of sound and body odour that feels like a physical punch. Shouto falters, and behind him a group of people comes giggling through the doorway arm in arm.

Shouto slips his hand in his pocket and steps aside, getting out his phone and checking for messages. There’s one from Momo, an apology that she’s running late. Which, he should’ve expected that, really. Beneath it all, he liked Jirou, he really did. But the woman was instilling bad habits in Momo like there was no tomorrow, and lateness was just one of them. Shouto looks at the wall of people jumping, dancing and squeezing past one another in front of him and reminds himself that he is twenty-three years old. He stops mass-murderers as a day job. He can go to a goddamn party.

It takes him another three minutes to peel himself away from the wall all the same.

After half an hour, Shouto’s impression of nightclubs is that they are loud, sweaty, messy and not unlike contact sport. He finds himself constantly pushed backwards and forwards by wandering hands, which often find their way to his ass or his chest. Half out of habit and half out of panic, he starts dodging them as he would an attacker, and is mentally grateful for the magic that is transferrable skills. Even so, he’s fairly certain he knocks a girl carrying shot glasses, and he knows he bumps into a tall, broad shouldered man with tusks because that man offers to buy him a drink. Shouto has no idea how to respond to this so he doesn’t, until eventually the man turns away.

He’s an adult. Yeah, right.

Eventually, Shouto realises that the venue: which is in essence a warehouse repurposed to accommodate a crowd and loudspeakers, is lined on the walls by booths and tables. Most of them are full, obviously, but there’s a gap between them and the majority of the dancers, who solidify into an unbroken wall the closer they get to the DJ. Ears ringing, Shouto ignores the bar entirely and makes a charge for the booths, and the blessed foot or so of bare concrete that lies there like an oasis in the desert.

His shirt is by now clinging to his back, and more than once Shouto considers using his quirk to cool down. It wouldn’t be like he was using it on anyone, after all, and technically he was a licensed hero. The part of him that learnt too well and too soon to be obedient, however, balks at the idea. It would be a misuse of the trust invested in him by the state, and with a crowd like this there was too great a chance of his ice touching someone else, even if it wasn’t going to hurt them.

Gritting his teeth, Shouto continues to weave through the crowd. Hero costumes could be risqué, of course. He was an adult, and he wasn’t totally unaccustomed to the idea of bare skin being on display. Still, there’s an awful lot of skin, and it’s dark and hot and people are grinding up against one another in a way that reminds him exactly how long it’s been since he was intimate with anyone. It’s not that Jirou was right about him, exactly, it was just that he’d not had time for these kinds of entanglements, what with establishing a new hero agency and trying to shake the shackles of his father’s name.

A man who isn’t wearing a shirt and most certainly has a six-pack turns and nearly spills his beer on Shouto. On reflex, Shouto freezes it, and the man stares at him. For a long moment, Shouto waits to be chastised for such a casual use of his power. Then the man’s eyes shift to his scar and he shrugs, tossing a passing comment over his shoulder as he walks away, disinterested. “Nice quirk.” It was better than being recognised, at least. Marginally.

Shouto makes it to the booths after three near misses with various people and various body parts, and breathes a sigh of relief that comes out frosty and too bright in the dark. His body is slick with sweat, and he runs a hand up through his hair, pushing it out of his face and mentally trying to figure it out when he’d find time for a haircut.

He doesn’t look at the people on the booths beside him. So when someone yells, very loudly, “dibs!” He doesn’t think much of it. But then a crowd of people are laughing, and the voice that had shouted ‘dibs’ elaborates, loud enough to cut across the noise: “no I’m serious! I call dibs on him.”

Shouto knows how to tell when he’s being watched and startles, turning to see a table full of people staring back at him. Most of them are laughing. One, with shoulder length blonde hair, is clutching at his stomach, and next to him a woman with bright pink skin has her head thrown back. In the centre of the table, a man with dark curly hair and tanned skin and far too many freckles offers him a huge, cheesy grin and a thumbs up.

Shouto blinks, and stares, and with a sense of a man watching a train crash gestures at his own chest. “Who, me?”

A very handsome man who has not apparently been told that shirts are a Thing pushes the one with the freckles, laughing, in his direction. Shouto wonders whether this is the kind of relationship that wildlife photographers have with their subjects. The one with the freckles clumsily clambers out of the booth, over the lap of a woman with short brown hair whose face rings a bell in the back of Shouto’s head. Freckles gets away from the table, stands up, stares at Shouto for twenty seconds, and then flushes a very bright red and turns and runs in the opposite direction.

The man with the blonde hair and the woman with pink skin screech with laughter. The woman with brown hair pinches the bridge of her nose, and the man without a shirt jumps over the table with surprising dexterity and grabs Shouto by the arms. He smiles, and his teeth are sharp and jagged like a shark’s. Somehow, it does nothing to mar the friendliness of his features. His hands are hot on Shouto’s skin. “Sorry about that. He’ll be right back.” The man squeezes Shouto’s arms and Shouto stares at him. He smells like tequila. “Don’t move.”

Shouto raises both eyebrows, but before he has the chance to say anything, the man has turned and left in the direction of the freckled one. Shouto turns to dive back into the crowd, deciding that the faceless mob was preferable to a crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. He was also decisively ignoring a voice in his head that sounded distinctly like Jirou illustrating her point.

A small, cool hand grabs his elbow, and Shouto wonders what it is about nightclubs that makes people so much more liberal with touching one another. He’s not sure that he likes it. But he stops, and turns, and looks down to see the woman with brown hair. She has pink cheeks and soft eyes and he thinks she’s probably very pretty. She doesn’t smell as strongly of alcohol as either of the men had. “Don’t go, really, Midoriya’s harmless, he just.” Her mouth twitches at the corner, as if she’s trying to contain a smile. “He just thinks you’re very striking.”

Shouto gestures at himself: his hair, his eyes, and the wide scar dominating half of his face. “So I’ve been told. But I’m afraid I’m here to meet my friends. If you’ll excuse me.”

He tugs at his arm, and the woman lets go immediately, though she bites her lip. “Could you at least give him a chance? I promise, he’s a good person.”

Shouto stares at her, looking for any sign of a lie. Under his gaze, she shifts uncomfortably, but she doesn’t look away. After a long moment, he sighs. “Alright. Fine.” He lifts a hand to the back of his neck, brushing the back of his head, and looks in the direction of the DJ before turning back to the woman in front of him. “Sorry, that was rude of me. My name is Shouto.”

The woman’s eyes widen, and not for the first time Shouto questions the wisdom of making the name he had that wasn’t already recognisable the one he gave to the public. Then the woman smiles at him, and her cheeks dimple. “I’m Uraraka! Actually, I think I’ve worked with you before. My hero name is Uravity.”

That was where he’d seen her. Shouto ducks his head. “I apologise, I didn’t recognise you.”

Uraraka waves him off. “Don’t be silly. That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” She taps her chin and tilts her head, and in the low light of the club her eyes are bright. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you let your hair down, though.”

Shouto tries not to be offended. “I am typically a private person.”

Uraraka hums. “Yeah, I get that.” She glances back at her table, where the group have moved to some other loud conversation that apparently involves the rapid consumption of a variety of shots. “Well, we’re all pro heroes, but I don’t think anyone else has worked with you directly. Well, not except for…”

Her voice trails off as a tall, broad shouldered man with dirty blonde hair shoves his way through the crowd carrying a tray of shot glasses. He’s dressed well enough to have walked off the pages of a fashion magazine. He is also somebody Shouto recognises.

“And that’s my cue, I think.”

Bakugou Katsuki sets down the tray, and the table cheers. Shouto thinks this might be the first time he’s seen the man smile. Uraraka pulls a face. “That’s fair enough. He’s really not that bad when you…” She pauses at the look on Shouto’s face, and laughs. “Well, yeah. He doesn’t make a great first impression.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Or, um, second. Or third.”

Despite himself, Shouto smiles a little, and Uraraka punches his shoulder. “Hey hey, it’s nice to see you smiling. You know that you’re supposed to relax, right? Wait, unless…” Her entire demeanour changes, and she lowers her voice. “Are you here to work?”

Shouto shakes his head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He slips his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “Just thought I’d come see how the other half lived.”

Uraraka beams at him. “Well in that case, first of all we’re getting you a drink. Then you have to go out onto the balcony and stop Izuku from spiralling because I refuse to let him ruin his own night.”

Without waiting for a response, she moves to grab his arm, pausing at the last second and gesturing instead before making a determined dive for the bar. Shouto takes a moment to text Momo before he follows her.

“We’re on our way now!! So sorry again for running late. How is it??? – M”

“I walked into the club and somebody shouted dibs – S”

This is why Midoriya doesn’t take time off. Bad things happen. Bad things like villains running lose, or Bakugou challenging him to a drinking contest, or bank robberies, or him shouting dibs when he saw a pretty person. Midoriya stares at the rooftop of the next building over and wonders whether it would be melodramatic to jump off the balcony.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Midoriya jumps, swinging around only to be caught by a fist that’s as hard as granite. Kirishima laughs, softening. “Woah there, jumpy much?”

Midoriya sighs and hides his face in his hands. “Bury me. Just bury me. I should come with a health warning.”

Kirishima laughs again, walking a little closer to stand next to him and lean over the balcony, looking down at the lights of the city below. “It really wasn’t that bad, Izuku.”

Turning to join him, Midoriya groans. “Yes it was. Were you even there? I can’t believe…I should apologise to him. But he probably doesn’t even want to look at me. And it’s not like I can blame him I mean…How hard do you think it would be to figure out where he lives? I could send him flowers. Or, wait, no, that would be invasive oh fuuuuck why did I let you talk me into this?”

Kirishima doesn’t bother waiting for him to stop talking, he just interrupts mid-ramble. “You agreed to do this because your life gives new meaning to the significance of a work-life balance. The last time you stopped working was new year’s eve and even then you left your mother at three in the morning to stop a –”

“Hit and run, I know, I know. But what did you want me to do? Let it happen?”

“Obviously not.” Kirishima sighs. “But you’ve got to trust in the people around you.”

“I do!”

“Yeah, sure, in battle. In a rescue situation, there’s no better team player. But part of being a team player is recognising when to take a back seat. And part of being a human being, a super powered human being sure, but a human being all the same, is understanding that you get tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. And when you get tired, you get sloppy. When’s the last time we hung out?”

Midoriya runs a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

Kirishima claps a hand onto his back, and it’s warm. “No, dude, that’s not why I’m bringing it up.” He waits until Midoriya looks at him, and holds his gaze when he does. “I’m your friend and I’m worried about you. And I’m not the only one. And listen, we both know that if All Might were here right now, he’d tell you to…”

“Pace myself. Right.” Midoriya takes a deep breath. Far below them a van roars down the road, sirens blaring. Kirishima watches it go.

“Alright. Now, about Mr Pretty Boy. So I asked him to stay put and I’m pretty sure –”

“You did what?”

Kirishima laughs, holding up both hands in surrender. Midoriya tries to remember when he took his shirt off and can’t. “Hey, hey don’t shoot the messenger. Anyway I think the others will have –”

Midoriya is already hiding his face in his hands again. “I have ruined this poor man’s evening. I, Midoriya Izuku, have destroyed an innocent man’s honest attempt to –”

“Um, I can come back if this is a bad time.” A low, gentle voice interrupts his monologue. Next to Midoriya, Kirishima swears. Then he claps him on the back, hard.

“Well, that’s my cue! Ciao.” He flashes both Midoriya and the handsome stranger a wide, toothy smile before disappearing back inside.

They’re not the only people on the balcony, by any means. But out here there’s more space, and people tend to be grouped in clusters, smoking or vaping or just getting some fresh air. It’s brighter out here, too, thanks to the city lights and lanterns glued strategically along the balcony’s edge. Midoriya stares at the man in front of him.

He’s a little taller than him, and slender but not skinny. His shirt is clinging to the lines of his body, and Midoriya can’t help but wonder whether he chose to wear white on purpose or if this was just a very happy accident. He’s wearing black jeans and very nice shoes. His hair is a little overlong, clinging to his cheeks and forehead, mussed by the crowd. He’s holding two fizzing drinks in his hands, and offers one like a white flag.

“Your, uh, friend? Uraraka said you liked gin so…” The man looks away from him, and Midoriya notices that his eyes are different colours. They are very beautiful. He doesn’t know if his hair is natural or part of his quirk, but he can’t find it in himself to care. It suits him, either way.

The man clears his throat, and Midoriya realises that he’s been staring for the good part of a minute. He opens his mouth and tries to speak and fails, swallowing and grabbing the drink he’s offering as he coughs, weakly, in an effort to cover up his speechlessness. “Uh, y-yeah, I mean, yes, I do. You’re good, I mean, it’s, it’s good.”

The man blinks at him. Midoriya isn’t sure, but he thinks that maybe even his eyelashes are different colours. He wonders whether it’s possible not to stare at someone this beautiful. Then the man smiles at him, just a little, and Midoriya forgets how to breathe.

“Good.” There’s humour there, quiet and unassuming. Midoriya feels relief wash through him like a physical force and lets his shoulders drop. The man walks closer, leaning against the balcony beside him as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Midoriya gulps. The man takes a sip of his drink, and Midoriya tries very hard not to stare at his throat as he swallows. He doesn’t entirely succeed. “You’re not a gold-digger, are you?”

Midoriya takes a moment to collect his thoughts from where this man has thrown them to the proverbial pavement. “Um, no?” He forces a laugh, and scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “Do you have, um, gold to dig?”

The man’s mouth quirks at the corner in another quick smile and he ducks his head to hide it. Midoriya stomach performs a try out for the cirque du soleil. When he doesn’t say anything else, the man’s smile gets a little wider.“I’m going to take that as a no. My name’s Shouto, by the way.”

That name is ringing very loud bells in the back of Midoriya’s mind, but by this point he’s decided that he is still drunk and he can deal with the consequences later. “I’m Izuku. Midoriya Izuku. It’s…” He pauses, flushes, and pushes a handful of curls behind his ear. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Shouto.”

Shouto looks at him sidelong, but whatever he sees doesn’t seem to offend him, because he smiles again and takes a sip of his drink before gesturing to the street below. He has the fingers of a pianist. “I’m not used to seeing it like this.”

Midoriya frowns. “From above?”

Shouto shakes his head. “No, I just.” He hesitates, and clicks his tongue. “Well, I suppose in a sense…I’m more used to living in it. Not just, watching it go by.”

In his eyes, the lights of the city glimmer and dance like fireflies. Midoriya nods, and relaxes a little further. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He tears his eyes away from Shouto’s face and turns instead to the city below. Vehicles pass by like a river running downhill, metal and fibreglass reflecting the city lights like water. “I keep thinking it’s all gonna fall apart, you know? If I look away, for even a second...” Midoriya laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, that probably sounds crazy.” His drink is cold and bitter, but it fizzes on his tongue.

He feels Shouto’s eyes on him, and resists the urge to meet them with a herculean effort of will. “No, I understand.” Shouto sighs, and turns back to the city. “It’s hard to believe anything so beautiful can last.”

Midoriya hums, tapping his glass against the metal railing of the balcony, and looks up at the cloud-filled sky. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. But there’s the moon.”

Shouto’s brow quirks, and he fights a losing battle against another smile. “The moon?”

“Yeah!” Midoriya straightens, gesturing with his glass at the sky. “Yeah, you know, no matter what terrible things happen. The moon’s always there. And it’s beautiful.”

Shouto follows his clumsy gesturing, staring for a moment at the bright, full moon. By the balcony, and the skyscrapers, and the sky above, his face is bathed in light. “I suppose you’re right.”

Midoriya nods, and lowers his glass, and speaks softly. “You’re beautiful.”

Blood rushes to Shouto’s cheeks like snow in an avalanche, smudging pink under his eyes and around his scar. “Um.”

Midoriya smiles at him. “You are! You should know that. Do you know that?”

Shouto stares at him with much the same expression Midoriya imagines a deer would wear in headlights. “I don’t, um, not…”

Midoriya moves closer to him, pressing their shoulders together. “You are. You’re kinda shy, aren’t you?”

Shouto huffs a soft laugh. “So I’ve been told.”

Midoriya hums, watching the cars go by. “S’kinda surprising, with such a pretty face.” He frowns. “I guess. Not everyone has been nice to you, then? Someone…made you feel like you needed to be shy.”

Shouto drinks. He’s quiet for a long few moments, and Midoriya is searching for something else to say by the time he speaks. “You know, it’s possible to be shy without having a tragic back story. Some people just are.” His mouth quirks at the corner, and he glances at Midoriya out of the corner of his eye. “Even pretty people.”

Midoriya lets that sink in for a moment. From the club, the heavy sound of loud music hums into the air like a giant’s heartbeat. Outside, people laugh and talk, and occasionally touch glasses. Far below, the street rings with the sound of engines and car horns. The alcohol he’s drunk sits over his body like a jacket, soft and warm and blurring his edges.

“Yeah, but you’re not like that. My mother’s shy. But you’re, it’s more like.” Midoriya huffs, chewing his lip as he searches for the right word. “You’re cautious. Wary. Like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.” He tilts his head to the side. “But it’s ok.” He waits for Shouto to look at him, and when he does he gives him his best smile. “It’s ok, because I’m here.”

Shouto laughs out loud, and chokes, and lightly hits own chest as he sputters. When he’s caught his breath, he’s red in the face, and there are tears at the corners of his eyes. “That’s…that’s a really terrible All Might impression.”

It doesn’t take them long to finish their drinks, but they talk for much longer than that. Shouto tells Midoriya about his sister, and Midoriya tells Shouto about his mother. Bashfully, Midoriya describes his friends to Shouto, and in his turn Shouto talks about Momo, and Jirou. Both of them avoid talking about work, though they rarely stray far from the topic of heroes. They have a shared love of All Might, and the Wild Wild Pussycats, not to mention Gang Orca and Crimson Riot.

Midoriya reveals, in a tone usually reserved for religious confessions, that he doesn’t like Endeavour. Shouto stares at him long enough for Midoriya to start sputtering apologies and stops him with a gesture and a smile, ducking his head. “I don’t like him all that much either.”

Midoriya beams. “Thank you! Someone gets it! Well, I say someone gets it, actually most of the people I know agree on this. He just…I don’t get the impression he’s in it for the right reasons, and he has a terrible way of dealing with the public, and with any other celebrity that’s fine but he’s a hero and I mean he’s not just a hero, he’s the number one hero. And sure, anyone coming after All Might would have a hard time of it but even Best Jeanist would be better than Endeavour and I don’t even like Hakamata.”

Shouto lets him go on like this until he’s breathless, only occasionally interjecting to offer a supporting point or ask a question. When Midoriya finally stops, he looks vaguely stunned that someone let him finish. “And, um, well, that’s it.” He looks at Shouto as if he’s expecting to be reprimanded, and Shouto smiles at him.

He has very long eyelashes. “I agree.”

Midoriya looks at him like he holds the key to eternal life, and Shouto doesn’t feel intimidated. “Y-yeah. Right.”

Shouto’s mouth pulls upward at the corners. “Right.”

“S-so.” Midoriya wets his lips. “Have you, um, got any plans?” His eyes fall to Shouto’s mouth, and heat rushes down Shouto’s spine to pool in his belly.

He shrugs off his discomfort and runs a hand through his hair, throwing Midoriya a smile. “Well, I thought I’d go clubbing.”

Midoriya stares at him, and laughs a second later than he ought to have done. His cheeks are berry red, and his blush highlights his freckles. “R-right. Obviously.” He glances in the direction of the door back into the club. The music is still going strong, and there don’t seem to be many less people judging by the sound of stomping coming from inside. “Do you, um, do you want to dance?”

Shouto shrugs, and a light wind tugs at his hair, cooling the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ve been enjoying the fresh air.” He pauses and glances at Midoriya. He can’t quite fight off a smile. “And your company.”

Midoriya laughs, and runs a hand through his thick curls, and blushes. “Well, I mean, good. That’s good. I like you – I mean, I like your company too.”

Shouto’s smile refuses to leave his lips. “Yes, I got that impression.”

He taps his empty glass against the balcony, and wonders where Momo and Jirou are. Midoriya’s eyes fall to his hand, and he appears to speak before he’s fully processed the thought. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Shouto grins at him, teasing. “You already bought me a drink.”

Midoriya’s blush chases down his chest: Shouto can see it, red and splotchy through the open neck of his shirt. It’s very obvious, and very sweet. Apparently intent on defying the odds, Midoriya lifts his chin. “Can I buy you another drink?”

Shouto’s eyes drift to his lips, and then back up to his eyes. They’re bright, and green as a forest. They’re very lovely. “That would be nice.”

When Midoriya’s gone, Shouto gets out his phone. He scrolls past Momo’s alternately thrilled, bewildered and worried messages to type a quick reply.

“How do I seduce someone I’ve just met? – S”

In less than twenty seconds, he gets a reply.

“He called dibs dude. Ur halfway there already. Also u stood us up. Rude. :p – J (y do u 2 sign off ur messages with a letter this isnt the 50s)”

Midoriya gets sidetracked twice on his way to the bar and twice on the way back. At the bar itself, Kaminari and Mina shoulder him into a line of shots and both kiss him on the cheek before he has a chance to order. Then he gets grabbed by Kirishima, who wants a hug and a fist-bump and a jaeger-bomb. Then Uraraka stops him to ask whether it was ok that she’d sent Shouto in his direction. Then Bakugou tells him that if this pretty boy he’s been hearing about all night turns out to be an asshole then has to tell him so he can defend his honour.

Midoriya is very grateful to have such a close group of friends and is also profoundly aware that they are all very difficult to handle when they’re drunk. Vaguely, he feels no small amount of pity for the club owners. The club owners, and Sero, who is playing Neko Atsume at their table and occasionally intervening to stop Kaminari and Mina from starting any drama. Midoriya still isn’t sure what they did to deserve Sero.

By the time he gets back outside, a good half hour has gone by, and Shouto is texting someone. He’s not as damp with sweat as he was before, and now he only looks lightly ruffled, by the wind more than anything else. In his shirt and jeans, he might as well have walked off an old Hollywood film set. Midoriya swallows and prays he doesn’t fuck this up.

“Hey, sorry for the wait.” Shouto starts at his voice, slipping his phone into his pocket and offering him another small smile. Midoriya’s heart skips a beat.

“I was starting to worry you weren’t coming back.” He takes his drink with a quiet smile whilst Midoriya splutters an apology, then raises his glass. “Cheers.” Their knuckles touch as they knock their drinks together, and Shouto holds his gaze. “It’s seven years of bad sex if you don’t do that, you know.” He takes a sip whilst Midoriya chokes.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Shouto smirks at him. “It’s just an old superstition. If you don’t hold someone’s eyes when you toast, you’ll be cursed to seven years of bad sex.”

Midoriya raises an eyebrow. “That’s an awfully heavy punishment.”

Shouto shrugs, leaning back on his elbows against the balcony and tilting his head. “I guess it depends on how good the sex you were having before was.” He meets Midoriya’s eyes, and Midoriya swallows. Is that…? Was he…?

Shouto bites his lip, and stands up, and gets very close, close enough that his breath tickles the top of Midoriya’s nose. “How would you fare?”

Later, he won’t be sure whether it’s the alcohol or instinct that does it, but in the moment Midoriya doesn’t question the wave of confidence that washes over him, fast as adrenaline. Instead he cocks his head, leaning forwards and resting a hand on Shouto’s hip. Under his shirt, Shouto’s body is firm and cool, and a quick brush of Midoriya’s thumb reveals the telltale ridge of muscle. He meets and holds Shouto’s eyes. “I think I’d do ok.” He drops his gaze to Shouto’s mouth. His lips are wet, and pink, and parted. “How about you?”

Their noses knock lightly against each other and Shouto lifts a hand to Midoriya’s neck. His fingers are hot. “I’d survive.”

Midoriya smiles, and brushes their noses together, deliberately this time. Shouto’s breath rushes over his face, and it’s cool and tinged with the smell of mint and alcohol. “Yeah? Care to prove it?”

Shouto laughs lightly, and this close Midoriya can feel his chest shaking with it. Then he slips his hand up Midoriya’s neck to cup his cheek and winds his fingers in his hair. He bites his lip, eyes running over Midoriya’s features. When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper. “Don’t push your luck.”

Then he tilts his head, and kisses him.

When Shouto wakes up the next morning, he is in his own bed with all his clothes on. He also has a phone number and the name Midoriya Izuku on the back of his hand in permanent marker. That, and a splitting headache.

With a groan, he rolls out of bed and moves in the direction of his coffee pot, making himself something hot and bitter on autopilot whilst he waits for his phone to switch itself back on. Unsurprisingly, he has about a dozen text messages from Momo, plus one from an unknown number signed by Uraraka checking that he made it home alright. Shouto sends her a quick, grateful reply and asks whether she wants to grab a working lunch some time. They really ought to collaborate more closely.

Then he switches to Momo. Her messages are variously teasing, worried and irritated, but the most recent have been sent that morning. There’s a blurry picture of him kissing Midoriya that Shouto would be more bothered about if he didn’t like it so much. Both of them look oblivious to the world, and Midoriya is cradling Shouto’s cheeks like he’s something precious. The lights of the club and the city beyond have blurred into little more than lens flare, and the quality of the picture makes it look like they’re alone.

Under the photo, Momo has sent a message.

“You hooked up with Midoriya Izuku?????”

Then, ten minutes late, another message, this time with a screenshot of a Google search. “Like HERO DEKU MIDORIYA IZUKU?????”

Then, a minute later, a screenshot of a man in a green costume with his mask off who is, indeed, the same Izuku he’d been making out with last night. “Like YOUNGEST EVER NUMBER SIX HERO DEKU? THAT DEKU?”

Shouto stares at his phone for a very long moment, and holds onto his kitchen counter. He drinks his coffee. He wonders whether the dizziness is from the hangover or a brush with one of the few people in Japan more famous than he is. He’s about to send a reply when his phone buzzes, again with a message from an unknown number. Vaguely, Shouto thinks that this is the most popular he’s been in months.

“WAIT YOU’RE SHOUTO LIKE THIS SHOUTO?”

This is followed by a screenshot of a distant and blurred photo of him helping to stop a landslide. Shouto raises an eyebrow, deciding that deciphering whoever is messaging him can wait until after he’s reassured Momo that he’s still alive.

Then another message comes in from the same number.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it I totally understand I’m a hero too!! I don’t think we’ve ever worked together but my hero name is Deku so maybe you’ve heard of me? I’ve definitely heard of you, you’re really cool!! And also hot ;) oh man sorry you probably get that a lot”

Shouto stares at the three grey dots on his phone screen as the person he believes may very well be Midoriya Izuku, and therefore the man eight spots above him in the national hero rankings, types something else. He drinks his coffee.

“Anyway if it’s not weird or anything like I’m not weird about it well you know I’m not weird with the hero thing ANYWAY if you wanted to maybe we could grab coffee some time?”

Before Shouto has the chance to type a response, another message comes in. Vaguely, Shouto wonders how fast this man can type. His coffee is hot and bitter on his tongue.

“Please? I’d really like to get to know you. Oh and this is Midoriya by the way. Well you probably figured that out. And actually you can call me Izuku. I’d like it if you called me Izuku.”

Smiling, Shouto taps out a response. “That would be nice, Izuku – S”

His phone buzzes. It’s another message from Momo.

“ALSO TODOROKI SHOUTO IS THAT A HICKEY?”

In the quiet of his apartment, Shouto laughs until his cheeks ache.

Across the city, Midoriya types a quick message on his phone, then slips it into the pocket of his hero suit. In his ear, Kaminari’s voice comes laughing through his earbuds. “Loooooove is in the air, eh Deku?”

“Bet you’re glad we got you to come out.” Mina chirps, static buzzing through with her voice. Over the city, the sun is rising, huge and bright and liquid gold as it spills across the rooftops.

Kirishima barks a laugh from three blocks away that’s a little too loud over their earbuds. “What are you talking about Ashido? Deku came out years ago.”

Kaminari chokes, and Bakugou grumbles something about maintaining a semblance of professionalism. Though he adds, gruffly, “you got his number, right?”

“He got a coffee date!” Uraraka sings, laughing, and the channel is briefly an explosion of noise as all of them start talking at once.

Midoriya grins, and crouches on the parapet of the building on which he’s standing, watching the traffic below as he taps his communication device. “Alright alright, are you lot done? We’ve got a city to protect.”

Kaminari sighs. “You’re such a cliché, you know that?”

Midoriya laughs. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.” The wind pulls at his costume, whistling in between the folds to brush light and cool over his skin. He rolls his shoulders, and spots movement five storeys below. “Bogey spotted on 21-10. Five hostiles, but I can’t see Catfish. Kacchan, Ochako?”

Bakugou’s voice growls over the intercom. “On it.” Uraraka seconds him.

Midoriya stands and cracks his knuckles. These are serious criminals. They wouldn’t have teamed up like this if they weren’t. Objectively, it’s terrifying, and he doesn’t expect to make it out uninjured.

But as One For All hums through his body, and he crouches, green lightning wrapping round his legs, he thinks briefly of a man with mismatched eyes and a soft, shy smile. Midoriya jumps, and the wind roars past his ears, and he knows now as well as he did when he was fifteen years old the very simple truth of the matter.

He wouldn’t trade this for anything.

#bnha #tododeku #bnha fic #tododeku fic #momojirou #but only background #taavi i love you i hope you know this

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