#but i know that fussing over designs is me overthinking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mkkk12345 · 11 months

Text

Student Crewel x Reader headcanon/fic

This is set when Crewel was still a student at NRC, reader is a first year and Crewel is a second year.

Its 3 am I don’t know what I am doing please take my offering and feel free to request I guess.

- There's no doubt about it he is a Pomfiore student

- Because of his unique and fabulous fashion sense he became the house-warden in his first year

- Back then he did not dye his hair white it was solid black

- As the house-warden he is smart, he has perfect grades to go along with his looks

- In his free time, you could likely find him sketching out new fashion designs for his next show

- Did I forget to mention that he is already an established and renowned fashion designer?

- As a house-warden he is strict not as bad as Riddle but similarly to Vil he requires everyone to look their best at all times

- You and Crewel met in his second year when you were in your first year

- Upon seeing you in the hall of mirrors he would firstly critique your ceremonial robes seeing that although your looks were good my god u did not know how to put that thing on… he can fix you… I think?

- He had mixed feelings when you were assigned to Pomfiore

- Only once you had been sorted into his dorm did he begin to really think about your ill fitting ceremonial robes

- On one hand, he had never seen someone like you before

- On the other hand… there was a lot of work to be done regarding your choice of clothing

- Your first interactions with him were likely right after the ceremony

- You were talking to a couple of first years before being sent off to your dorms when you heard the clicking of footsteps quickly approaching you

- This is followed by your ceremonial robes being adjusted along with murmuring about how troublesome it's going to be with you in the dorm

- Once you arrived at Pomfiore you found out the one who had been fussing over your clothing was nonother than the house-warden himself Divius Crewel

- Although all the fussing over you was annoying at first as you slowly got to know him things became slightly better

- Once you found out that he was a famous fashion designer all those times he held his sketchbook up to compare to you finally made sense

- Now whenever you catch him doing this your face would flush and you would quickly turn away

- When you start doing this he is confused, you use to at least acknowledge his presence when you looked at him but now what? Don’t tell him he was about to lose a future model of his?

- After a month of this happening he decided to confront you about it

- Of course, at first you denied anything like this even happening but as the conversation continued an unexplainable hint of pink surfaced on your cheeks

- And that's when he pieced everything together

- With a smirk on his face, he decided why not torment you for a little longer before confirming his suspicions

- “Say Y/N why don't we continue this conversation in my room there's something else I must discuss so let's leave it at this for now, shall we? We cant be late for class can we now?”

- Your friends practical dragged you to your next class that day as you continued to overthink everything he had just said

- Once all school activities had ended you slowly inched your way back to the dorms and to the grand doors of Crewels room

- Your shaky knock on the door was met with an annoyed “come in” from Crewel

- “Ahh why if it isn't my dear puppy”

- Your dead

- On the floor even

- What did he just call you??? Puppy???????

- While you were too stunned to speak he continued

- “I needed to discuss some work-related things with you, would you like to model for me in my next show?”

- What? Did you just hear him correctly?? He wants YOU to walk for him?

- “Are you sure Divus? I mean I've never done anything of the sort before and-”

- “Look dear it either you walk or this show doesn't go on I did design this collection with you in mind after all”

- That smirk god damit that smirk

- “Fine, I can't let work like yours be thrown into the shadows after all.”

#divus crewel #crewel x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst #divus crewel x reader

339 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 1 year

Note

Jay!!! I have a question about the aot boys holding reader's hand!!!! Whom traces little lazy designs and who does the cute little circles and who kisses reader's knuckles!????

THANK U IN ADVANCE!!

I squealed about this not even kidding- (ง ื▿ ื)ว Tysm for ur request lovey!!

AOT fluff | Handholding habits

With; Levi, Erwin, Armin, Eren

Just thinking about the cute little habits the AOT boys would indulge in when holding reader's hand.

Requests are open, sweeties! I love to hear from you all! ♡

A playlist for the vibes!

Levi

I think it would take him quite some time to break out of his shyness. You'd have to start a habit for him to catch onto it, because he's not sure if it's okay, otherwise.

But, also, I like to think that he naturally tends to squeeze your hand. It starts off as little tender squeezes, then after some time he'll be holding your hand much, much tighter than before.

Sometimes you let him know that he's 'squeezing the life out of your hand', and he'll blink and be overwhelmed with embarrassment (ah, but of course, acting indifferent).

"Sorry..." He'd mutter, then let go. Yes, you'll have to take his hand in yours again to let him know it's okay.

"I just don't want you to flutter away." He'd mumble inaudibly.

"What?" You'd ask, then you'd beg him to repeat what he said, but he'll refuse with his face all red, mumbling for you to shut up or he'll 'never hold your hand again'.

Oh, and he def does this deadpan joke about you having dirty hands, then he proceeds to take your hand in his <3

Erwin

Ah, he definitely does the back and forth caress thing with his thumb, then he'll halt his movements, raise your hand to his lips slowly and press a kiss to your fingers.

Like Erwin + Hand kissing goes together perfectly, you can't argue, he gives those vibes. He'll press the gentlest of kisses to your fingers, too, always timing it so that you're surprised.

When you walk alongside each other, he gently commands you to come to his left side, so he can hold you with his left hand (The reason why is as cheesy as you can imagine.)

If you fall asleep with him, he'll hold your hand right over his heart.

Armin

He overthinks holding your hand so much, poor baby boy. Any habit that naturally comes to him he'll apologize for, in case you didn't like it.

He really likes holding both your hands while hugging you from behind, interlacing his fingers very slowly, then pressing a tender kiss to your cheek (sometimes nibbling your ear, it's an ongoing joke about him being a fish or something)

Sometimes he'll start playing with your fingers, wiggling them and putting them in his mouth and saying dumb goofy shit like "Delicious, 5-star dish, could eat this forever".

You two started a 'squeeze-back' habit; he squeezes your hand, you squeeze back, then you two just keep doing that until it makes you laugh.

Eren

EREN. DOES. THE. PATTERN. TRACING. FOR. SURE!

Like, not that he notices it, it's utterly subconscious of him; he'll do any pattern, but there's this one that you noticed because your skin recognizes it, it's sort of like he's tracing the shape of the curvature of a butterfly wing, almost bouncing semi-circles, if you understand what I mean...?

He's the type to kiss any wounds you might get on your hands. You'll be fussing over the band-aid, and he'll swoop your hand up and mutter "Let me do it, you're helpless." then he'll put it on himself <3 Ofc giving it a lil peck afterwards, "To speed up the healing process."

Also a bit of a jealous boy, so he's going to go in for your hand and be extra if he notices someone getting a little too comfortable in your presence. And he'll give you what you call 'lil possessive squeezes'.

If you're sitting, he'll take your hand and hold it securely on the rise of his thigh, his palm on top of the back of your hand; once you get alone, he gives you this squinty look and kisses your hand as if to say 'mine >:('

Oh, and he likes to make this joke, where he pulls his hand away from yours if you reach out to grab it. And the two of you just keep fooling around like that until he grasps it firmly. Anyone who walks in on you two doing that always asks wtf you're doing tho lol

P.s. one of his favorite things in the world is how tiny your hands are in comparison to his <3

P.p.s. He smiles to himself and does this lil' twirly thing when you leave the room, because he's all fuzzy after holding your hand.

That's all! I think I might write some habits of sleeping beside them, I'm just in that kinda wholesome mood hehe

149 notes · View notes

ijustwant2write · 3 years

Text

Subtle-Remus Lupin x Professor!Reader

(GIF credit to @shurley)

Requested by anonymous: ‘hello! can i request professor remus lupin x professor reader where they are married but try to keep it in secret just to avoid gossip but eventually students get suspicious because of their closeness? thank you, love your work💕’

Characters: Remus Lupin X Professor!Reader, Severus Snape x Reader (platonic), Minerva Mcgonagall x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, gossiping, hiding relationship/feelings

�� *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Please make sure your homework is completed and handed in to me at the beginning of tomorrows lesson. You’ve had a week to complete it, so I expect full pile on my desk.” I shouted over the hustle of the students packing away their things.

I hated having the last lesson of the day. No one was focused, they were tired from their other classes, and all they could think about was getting to the Great Hall for dinner; although I was exactly the same, I couldn’t wait for a good meal. Now alone, I started to tidy up my classroom, yawning when I realised how tired I was as well. Luckily, it was the end of the week, and this weekend I was chaperoning the students to Hogsmeade, meaning I could have some retail therapy. I heard the door open, thinking it was a student who had forgotten something, but I was pleasantly surprised when I saw my husband waltz in.

“Oh, hello you.” I smiled as I approached him.

“Hello you.” he leaned down to kiss me before glancing around the room.“Need any help before dinner?”

“No, not tonight. I’ve just got to put a few things away in my desk.”

I went back to tidying, making sure I wasn’t coming back to a mess after the weekend, and that everything was in its right place.

He perched on a student desk.“Are you still going to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“Of course. I can’t wait.”

“Did you want to...did you want to go for a drink?”

“I don’t think we should be drinking whilst looking after the students Remus.”

“We won’t have anything alcoholic. Perhaps even a meal?”

“What if someone sees us?”

“How many students have we seen go into a restaurant on any trip, hm? And if they do, it’s a meal between friends!”

“You know, I don’t think that whole story about us being old friends worked.”

He suddenly looked panicked.“Why? Have the children been saying anything?”

“No. I can just see it in their faces.”

“You’re overthinking this. It’ll be fine. Let me treat you.” a charming smile spread across his face.

I rolled my eyes, giving in.“Alright. But I’ve got to pop round some of the shops first.”

He groaned.“So we’ll have time for a starter then?”

I scoffed a laugh at him, grabbing a nearby scroll to hit him with.“I might be going shopping for you, did you ever think of that? I am a very loving wife after all.”

He chuckled, shielding himself.“Alright, alright!”

“Plus, and as much as it pains me to say this, we’ll be apart for a while. That means students won’t see us together.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right. We haven’t been too careful as of late.”

“Saying that, should we head to dinner?”

I walked out of the classroom first, checking the corridors, and like always at this time, they were empty. We freely walked towards the Great Hall, daringly holding hands whilst we were still far away. But as it neared, we sadly looked at each other, having to let go. It broke my heart that we had to hide our marriage, we couldn’t even wear our wedding rings for fear of being questioned, and accidentally revealing a detail that was too specific towards each other.

“You two might want to be more careful if you don’t want your secret out.” the monotone voice of Severus said behind us. How was he always so quiet?

Remus sighed.“Well, do you see any students?”

“I was able to sneak up on you,” we were at the entrance of the Great Hall now,“and with all this chatter amongst the students, I would take extra precaution. The gossip is starting to disrupt my lessons.”

He walked away from us, and we glanced at each other. Severus was horribly truthful about these kind of things. I was right. The students had their suspicions.

“Remus, what are we going to do?”

We began walking towards the head table.“Relax, we’ll draw more attention to ourselves otherwise. Look, just forget about what he said. I’m sure it’s a group of first years thinking they’ve discovered something and have irritated him.”

Although he was attempting to comfort me, the dreadful feeling of all the students eyes on me was making me feel sick. It wasn’t that I was ashamed to be with Remus, I loved him with my whole heart, I couldn’t wait to be with him forever. When we both got a job at Hogwarts, we had had a long discussion beforehand. Obviously we were excited to have new jobs, until I thought back to a friend who also worked with her partner. They were open with it, and unfortunately, the students would gossip, make up rude stories and interfere, ask too many questions to get into their personal life. It was awful for them. It sounds like a bunch of children ‘bullying’ professors wouldn’t effect them, you should be able to handle children as a professor; but it really took a tole on them.

"Chin up dear," Minerva said as everyone started eating,"I'm sure this will all pass by."

"You might be right. But I can't help thinking...maybe everyone knows." I stated down at my plate.

"Would that really be so bad?"

"I just don't want them talking about us. I've seen it happen to my friends, and I know a lot of married couples aren't work together because of it."

"Perhaps you two will be different."

I sighed."How many times has someone said that?"

"But, don't they see you leaving the castle together?"

"We said that we live near each other so we share lifts to work. It was the only thing we could come up with."

There was empathy on her face."It will all be fine (Y/N), just you wait and see."

The next day had arrived, meaning it was time to chaperone the students to Hogsmeade. When we returned home last night, I had dropped the subject, knowing Remus was much calmer about all of this than I was. I would only cause a fuss, which would perhaps lead to a small argument between us; and I didn't want the tension there tomorrow, if anything came out of this trip, I wanted to enjoy my time with Remus.

"Are you sure I cannot accompany you on the way there?" Remus had asked as the children's permission slips were approved.

I nodded."I just think it's best to split up for a few hours, then we'll meet up at that restaurant, yeah?"

"Alright, see you later."

In any other circumstance, we would have shared a small kiss before leaving one another, but everyone was here. A small smile graced our lips as he walked away, though mine disappeared as soon as he turned around. Sighing to myself, I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep warm as my group was assigned to me.

The students practically ran off as soon as we got there, leaving me alone to wander. Remus was no where to be seen, but we had a set time to meet up. For now, it was aimless wandering.

I couldn't stop checking my watch throughout the day. I was too excited to see my husband, have a dinner out together. Teaching was hard, it took up so much time. Although in the evenings Remus and I were together, we weren't actually together. We weren't present because we would probably be marking papers. And having to constantly remember to hide our love at work was tiring and infuriating. Passing some students in shops, I politely smiled, maybe asked if they were having a good day or making sure they stayed in line, before it was finally time to meet my husband.

There was much more of a spring in my step as I made my way to the designated restaurant. Luckily the number of students got smaller as I strayed away from the main hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade, though they should be minding their own business anyway (that would have avoided this whole mess in the first place). I almost missed the place because it was so small. It was made out of old, dark brick, with a narrow but long window, made of old wooden panes. The door was also small, and I smiled at the thought of Remus ducking through it.

It felt more like a cafe than a restaurant. Like the window, it was long and narrow, tables either side of the room, because if there were tables lining down the middle, no one would be able to move. Remus caught my attention by standing up from our table.

"You look beautiful." he greeted, kissing me.

I scoffed as I sat."You knew what I was wearing, we do live together."

"Doesn't mean you're not beautiful."

I bashfully smiled."You're still able to make me blush after all these years."

"Good, I must be doing something right then."

The lunch together reminded me of old times. It was easy to forget about the stress that had been piled on top of our usual schedule in that moment. We laughed, started reminiscing on our lives when we met each other, it was as if we were catching up after not seeing each other for a long time. When we weren't eating, one of our hands was holding onto each other. I knew I had to cherish every moment, especially since it went by far too quickly.

We found ourselves putting on our coats and scarves, taking a few seconds to just gaze at each other. Neither of us wanted to leave. We felt safe here, hidden away from any prying students. Our marriage shouldn't have been hidden, we loved each other, it was supposed to be shown.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

We quickly kissed each other before making our way to the door. Thanking a waitress as we passed by, I was about to open the door when something in the window caught my eye. My heart dropped as I spotted three children poking their heads up, watching us until they realised they had been caught.

"Remus!" I snapped."We've been spotted."

He had his usual calm tone."We're just two friendly colleagues getting lunch, there's nothing wrong in that."

"We don't know how long they've been there. What if they saw us kissing?!"

"Very friendly colleagues?"

I huffed as I opened the door, trying to see if the kids were still there. They had started running off in the distance, headed in the direction of our meeting point. We had to head back now, it was the end of the trip, and I was expecting a lot of hushed whispers as we arrived.

"Professor (Y/L/N)?" a fourth year student approached me as we rounded up our groups for counting.

Here we go.

"Yes?"

She seemed nervous, glancing back at her friends."Um...just so you know, we all think you and Professor Lupin make a really cute couple. Like, you two are probably the coolest professors we have."

I was shocked by her words."O-Oh. Thank you...that's a very nice thing to say."

She just smiled before leaving to join her friends again. There had been no point lying to her, it was obvious to everyone. But that small opinion meant a lot to me. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing to put our marriage on display.

" You see?" Remus approached me."It's not as bad as you thought."

"No, I guess not. I just...I didn't want anything to effect us."

"You're my wife. I love you with all my being. A few gossiping children wouldn't change any of that."

He leaned in to kiss me again, but I giggled as I stopped him.

"What?"

"We may let them know about our marriage, but PDA from staff is still frowned upon."

"Do you know how hard it is to resist you?"

"Guess we'll have to make up for it when we're home."

#remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fan fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fan fiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fan fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan fiction

470 notes · View notes

twistedtranslations · 4 years

Text

Cater Diamond - H-Huh?

You can unlock this story by getting Cater’s SR Lab coat

Translation under the cut

General TN

Cater refers to himself a lot as Cay(-kun), aka in third person, which is pretty important to know. I’ve only translated the line when he uses “Cay” to refer to himself once in the last paragraph for emphasis.

Laboratory

Cater: Damn, our break's already over. Hm, gotta find an empty seat… Ah, if it isn’t Vil and Lilia! I’m butting in and taking this seat~

Lilia: Oh, Cater. For you to be in the same elective as us.

Vil: It’s quite surprising that you chose poison refinement as your elective.

Cater: You think so? The other class sounded really boring.

Vil: Are you talking about "The transition and comparison of abbreviating incantations in ancient and modern times?"

Cater: That one! I've heard that it's the kind of class where you only make chronological tables and write reports. I'll definitely get fed up with something as boring as that. It's not like poison refinement is flashy either, but it has a dangerous vibe~…

Lilia: So when you weighed them against each other, you find this more preferable? I too chose this class for the same reason.

Cater: Really~? You and I, as fellow members of the light music club, really get along~

Crewel: Stop your yapping mongrels. Class is starting.

Everyone: Yes!

Crewel: Our first topic is cultivating mandrakes. If you bestow magic upon the seedling, it will grow faster. Be careful when you concentrate your magic, because how you raise it will affect the effectiveness of the poison. Then, godspeed, cultivate the seedlings you have at hand until they're a suitable size. Start the experiment!

Cater: Okay, let's put in some magic… Wow, the leaves and roots are steadily growing, nice~ If this keeps on, I'll have some healthy crops!

Lilia: … Oho? Cater, your mandrake has bigger leaves than mine.

Cater: You're right. Vil's mandrake… its leaves and roots look really glossy~

Lilia: Now that you say so… When I traveled in the past, I happened upon a soil of mandrakes and their shape and nature all differed.

Vil: The color of a crop can depend on the farmer, especially when it comes to vegetables.

Cater: So you mean to say that mandrakes raised by humans will reflect the character of the person whose magic it absorbed? Isn't that interesting! If we pour our magic in with all our power, we can make some distinctive mandrakes! Don't you think we'll trend on MagiCam if we manage to make some with funny poses and vegetable shapes?

Vil: That doesn't sound bad. I don't really care about the mandrakes trending though.

Cater: Really?! I mean, I proposed the idea, but I thought you, of all people, would find it stupid.

Vil: Now that I think about it, it's about imbuing your own hues in the mandrakes. Isn't that the perfect job for the elegant me? I am interested.

Lilia: I too will take part. I am most looking forward to the result.

Cater: Yay! Then, when we're done cultivating our mandrakes, we should come together and show 'em to each other! I look forward to seeing what mandrakes you'd make!

Vil: Here it is. What do you think about my mandrake?

Cater: Wow! This mandrake has an outstanding spine and build. And its roots are so crisp, it looks like a supermodel! Even more, it's moving rhythmically in cool poses. Glorious!

Vil: He's performing as if he's working. It must have been the influence of yesterday's magazine photoshoot.

Cater: As expected of you, Vil. Your amazing self awareness reflects in the individuality of your mandrake!

Lilia: Fufufu, mine is complete as well.

Cater: Huh, your mandrake is energetically dancing?!

Vil: The way it's moving its arms,is this a pop dance? What an awfully cheerful mandrake.

Cater: When you pull out a mandrake, it desperately cries with, resolved to its grim fate, but… Lilia’s mandrake looks completely different from what I expected. It's nice that it's having fun.

Lilia: Kufufu, I am glad I satisfied you. Raising a mandrake like this is very pleasant.

Cater: I won't lose to you two either. I'll make some real interesting guys! Okay, concentrate. While you're pouring your magic in, you should form an image of the mandrake you want to cultivate… There!

Chapter 2

Cater: Okay, concentrate. While you're pouring your magic in, you should form an image of the mandrake you want to cultivate… There!

Lilia: Oho, this is… a mandrake with cute, round, pink eyes.

Vil: Cater, you are unexpectedly girlish.

Cater: No, no, that's not it at all! I have two sisters after all… The Diamond family rates everything on its cuteness~ From drawing, to doing crafts and even when it came to the sweets I bought, I'd get criticized daily if it "weren't cute"…! That's why I got something cute on my first try. Well, I'll show you. The next one will be way cooler!… There!

Vil: Huh, the deep crimson body has a trump card pattern over it… What a bold design.

Lilia: Hoho, it lookes as if it is holding a guitar. It is very handsome indeed. This is the workmanship fitting of one who belongs to the light music club.

Cater: Thanks, you two! Now that I've got the hang of it, I can make other glamorous guys like this in a flash! If I concentrate once more… let's go!

Vil: This mandrake… this one is sitting on his knees as if he's prepared for gym class.

Lilia: Quite pessimistic, this one.

Cater: H-Huh?

Vil: ... Hey, Lilia. You said that the appearance of a cultivated mandrake depends on the personality of the human whose magic it was imbued with, right?

Lilia: Yes. It might be that the usual cheerful Cater hides a very downer side of himself.

Cater: Huuh?! No way, you guys are just overthinking! I sucked at imbuing this one with my magic!

Lilia: Cater, why are you so flustered? So your real essence might be~

Cater: There's no such thing as that~! Lilia, you're just playing with me, right? Come on… From now on, I'll show what I can really do!

Vil: Heh… I managed to cultivate three mandrakes.

Lilia: Me too. This amount of ingredients should suffice for refining the poison. How is Cater doing…?

Cater: Tada! These are my mandrakes!

Lilia: Oho, you also have three! A skipping one, a rainbow colored flashy one… and one who is holding his belly while laughing. They all seem fun from their appearance!

Cater: Right!

Vil: Hm, only three? I thought I saw you make more.

Cater: Hah! Don't joke around like that, Vil. These three are all of them.

Vil: Hmpf, if you say so, I won't pry any further.

Cater: A-Anyways, since I went through the trouble of making them, I should take some pics for MagiCam!

*shutter sounds*

Cater: Phew~ Be good, little mandrakes~ I'll keep on shooting 'til I get the perfect shot!

Lilia/Vil: …Ah.

Cater: Hey, which picture do you guys think is the best?

Crewel: Cater Diamond.

Cater: !

Crewel: What do you think that happens to fussing mongrels that do not stop barking.

Cater: A, Ahaha~ my apologies. But it's not like I was the only one…

Vil: It's like Mr. Crewel said. You should take this seriously, Cater.

Lilia: Neglecting the basic principles of being a student, namely the pursuit of knowledge, is deplorable.

Cater: Hey, don’t play dumb, that’s so unfair! Now I'm the only one getting in trouble! You're mistaken, Mr. I just got really excited about the study of this experiment… Here, please look! I put so much effort into the experiment that I grew six mandrakes. This is enough for the poison, right?

Crewel: So you weren't simply fooling around… But you know what happens if you howl any longer than this… right?

Cater: Yes, I'll watch out!… Vil, Lilia! How cruel could you be, abandoning me like that?

Vil: You were the one who started this.

Lilia: Agreed. It is of utmost importance to know when to pull back from entertainment.

Cater: That's not what I agreed to~~!~

*humming*

Cater: *sigh* Finally the class is over. Time to pull myself together with some shooting time~ Which mandrake will Cater finally upload to his MagiCam? Yep, the stylish and cheerful guys are great, but this one… I’d better pick this one. Oh. Maybe this mandrake that's always cackling. Cay should always be excited and happy after all~ Okay, mandrake, please look over here~ Stay still for a while. Okay, cheese!

*shutter noise*

#twisted wonderland #cater diamond #lilia vanrouge #vil schoenheit #personal story #translation

453 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years

Text

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 4

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2846

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a double bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Shy!Reader, angst, John is number one douchebag, talk of escort services, language, I think that’s it y’all.

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

“Relax, you're gonna be just fine.” Dean said soothingly as he stood in the doorway of your small apartment bathroom, watching you fuss over your makeup.

Giving him your best bitch face in the mirror, you check your hair one more time before turning to him, letting your arms fall to your sides in a huff.

“Well, I guess it’s gonna have to do, because this is as good as it’s gonna get.” you tell him, fighting the urge to throw up, scream, and run away all in one.

True to his word, Dean had stayed at your place all night, and even though you hated to admit it, you did feel a little more comfortable around him now that the two of you had spent all of last night, and most of the day, together.

If you were being honest, you weren’t sure what you were feeling as a whole. It did feel nice to cuddle with Dean last night, and it did help you a lot that he now knew you were a virgin, and didn't fire you from this strange job thing you had between you, or laugh in your face, but he was still a Winchester, and you were still in way over your head.

If you fucked this dinner up today, you were both fucked, and that wasn’t something to take lightly.

Dean crosses the floor in one, maybe two strides, picking you up as if you weighed nothing at all, and sat you on the sink in your bathroom before slipping between your knees, his large hands on your waist in order to keep you from falling off, and your hands making their way around his neck to stay balanced.

“I want you to do me something,” Dean said, leaning down and catching your lips in his in a swift peck to get your attention. “Stop worrying so fucking much!”

Leaning your head down on his shoulder, you closed your eyes and attempted to take a deep cleansing breath. You knew you were overthinking this.All you had to do is sit there and look pretty, much like at the party Friday night.

Dean had gone over the “details” of your relationship over breakfast this morning, and now, at least, you had a story of how you met.

Dean had said since you were an accountant at JPMorgan, he would tell the family that he’d met you on one of his basic runs to the bank, and gotten your number.You were a few dates in, and had only been dating close to two months, which would explain the fact that you don’t know each other very well, and cover up the fact that you were still a little awkward around each other in some aspects.

As far as the lack of job now, Dean said that you picked up a job as an editor for a local publishing company, and worked from home so that you could study graphic design on the computer. Something you always wanted to do.

Dean also told you that he could help get you on at the publishing company to work from home reviewing different transcripts next week, so that everything would be legit. He also promised to pick up the slack in whatever money you needed, so that you would want for nothing, seeing as he was technically still your client, even though this had taken a turn far surpassing escort services, and client, clientele relationships. That ship sailed the moment that you had to be introduced to John fucking Winchester.

“I just don’t want to fuck this up.” you tell him, searching his mossy green eyes as he searched yours.

“Pretty girl, you’re not gonna fuck this up. Everything is gonna be just fine, just follow my lead, nothing bad will happen, and I have already told you, I will pay you very well, you know that. “

Nodding your head, you let Dean give you another peck on the lips before helping you down off of the sink, and lacing his fingers in your own, leading you towards your apartment door, and down to his car that was parked on the street.

When you came to a stop you couldn’t help but drool over the sleek black ‘67 Impala that was waiting for you both there. Dean gave you a smirk as he opened the door, his features shifting to an almost playful, boyish smirk that seemed to wash away some of the years that he held so close to the surface, yet so out of reach.

“You like?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully.

“Dude, she’s beautiful!”

“She’s my Baby,” he said, helping you off the curb and into the car, shutting the door, before jogging around to the driver’s side.

Baby purred to life, as Dean turned the key in the ignition, and pulled onto the busy New York street. Reaching over he grabbed your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

‘You can do this Y/N,’ you thought to yourself, ‘just act natural.’

God, you hoped you weren’t lying to yourself, because if you fucked this up, there was no word in any language that would describe just how fucked you were.

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

A short drive later, and Dean was turning onto an expansive estate in Upstate New York. Rolling hills with green grass, a long paved driveway, and a large house that looked more like a castle sitting on top of a hill greeted you as Dean pulled up in front of the house, and put Baby in park.

“Okay sweetheart, you ready?” Dean asked, giving you a reassuring smile as he put his hand on the door, ready to open it.

“As I’ll ever be,” you tell him in what you hoped was a confident tone. Dean smiled at you, giving you a peck on the cheek and whispering in your ear.

“It’s already show time Y/N. People are watching and there are cameras everywhere, but it’s okay, I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you remember that.“

Nodding your head, you lean over and boldly give him a peck on the lips, which caused a grin to spread across his face. His eyes sparkled as he kicked the door open, and made his way around the car to open your door.

You weren’t even out of the car all the way when Sam came to a stop in front of the two of you with Jessica in tow.

“Dean, Y/N, It’s good to see you again.” Sam said, greeting you warmingly and Jessica smiled at the two of you. You managed to give Sam a tight, nervous smile as Dean pulled you closer to him.

“Where is everyone Sammy?” Dean asks, turning Sam’s attention away from you, and to his older brother.

“Out back in the garden. Dad said he wants to have dinner out there. He’s been in a mood all day, you know how he gets. He’s not happy about that deal that didn’t go over so well this week with you, so get ready for that.” Sam warned, and Dean let out a heavy breath.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Dean said, as he and Sammy started making their way towards the garden in the back part of the estate with you and Jessica in tow. Jessica gave you an encouraging smile as you both rounded the corner, and you wondered just how nervous you looked to her.

You didn’t really have time to speak to her before the booming voice of John Winchester crossed the lawns, as John, Rufus, and another man in a ball cap came into view. Rufus excused himself, heading towards the other side of the house, as the four of you approached the long table that was already set with plates, beers, and wine.

“Dean, I was wondering where the hell you got off to when you got home from that job I sent you on, I should have known this pretty little thing would have had something to do with your disappearance.”

You blushed deeply as you hid slightly behind Dean, wishing John would find another target, and just leave you alone.

“Easy old man, you're gonna scare her off, and then I’ll be down to the only girl amongst all you boys.” Jessica chided, as she flopped down at a chair at the table.

“Jessica, so nice of you to join us this evening.” John said, giving her the side eye before turning his attention back towards Dean, who was helping you sit down in a chair before taking a seat next to you, Sam sitting down next to Jessica.

“So boy. What the hell happened?” John asked, jumping right to business as waiters appeared out of nowhere and started plating food for everyone at the table.

“He didn’t like your terms, so I executed the order you gave me before I left.”

“You could have at least tried to change his mind.” John said, taking a bite of his food, eyeing Dean like a wolf that was eyeing his pry. You hated the way he looked at Dean. Sure you didn’t know much about their business, but you certainly didn’t feel Dean deserved the way John treated him.

“That’s not really a conversation for dinner Dad,” Sam said, stepping in for his brother, “Dean’s the best we got. If he said the deal didn’t fly, it didn’t fly, it’s that simple.”

John gave Sam an irritated look, but didn’t press the issue.

“Oh, Y/N, where are our manners, so wrapped up with business and all that I almost forgot to introduce you to our guest! This is my friend Bobby. He’s going to be opening up a garage in the area, so he’s here scouting property, and Bobby, this is Y/N, Dean’s new girlfriend."

Bobby gave you a smile and a nod, but said nothing, letting the conversation fall away a little as everyone tucked into their food. What conversation did flow was a lot lighter. Sport, cars, family members that John hadn’t seen in a while.If you didn’t know better, they almost felt like a normal family. Almost.

One thing you had to say for sure was that you did very much like Jessica.She bit no bones with the large, dangerous men at the table around her, and had no problem putting each and every one of them in their place if they needed it. Especially John. She was like Sam’s personal pitbull, and you made a mental note to make sure that you stayed on her good side.

Soon enough the dinner was over, and Bobby had excused himself, saying he needed to get back to work, leaving only you and Jessica with the Winchesters. John wiped his face, and threw his napkin down on his empty plate in front of him, his eyes dancing across the table at Dean and you, a smirk that would make the devil blush on his face, as his dark gaze stuck on Dean.

“Sammy, why don’t you take Jessica in the house and do something to entertain yourselves, I want to have a word with your brother and Y/N in private.” John said, and you saw Dean and Sam exchange a confused look as Sam and Jessica got up from the table, making their way towards the house. Dean shifted closer to you, lacing his fingers through yours to stop your hands from shaking.

Whatever John had in mind to discuss with the two of you, you had a feeling that this was going to be uncomfortable at best, and humiliating at worst.

When Sam and Jessica were no longer outside, John turned his full attention to the two of you.

“So, Y/N. How long have you been seeing my son?”

Swallowing hard, you try to speak past the lump in your throat, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you would have liked it to.

“About two months.”

John nodded, biting his lip and running his hand over his beard.

“Two months, hmm. So I assume you know by now the line of work our family does.”

Dean made to say something, but the distinct sound of a gun cocking behind you made you both stop dead in your tracks. Your shaking became visible, but Dean stayed calm, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“She knows in theory, but she doesn’t know any details.” Dean said, completely unbothered by the gun that was pointing at his back.

“Let the girl speak for herself Dean.” John said, leering at his son from across the table.

“I don’t know a lot sir, nor do I want to.”

John nodded his head, chuckling to himself before reaching in his pocket and pulling out his phone, throwing it down on the table in front of you. The picture of Your Sugar Daddy app on full display. Your eyes went wide, and your mouth went dry. Even Dean sat up a little straighter next to you.

“You two want to cut the bullshit and explain this, because you know I don’t like to be lied to Dean.” He said, his voice dripping with venom. “Did you bring a fucking whore into my house Dean? To my dinner table?”

“No.” Dean said, eyes locked on his father.

“Then what the fuck is she doing on the site son?”

“It’s not like that.” Dean said, shifting in his chair.

“Really, because there are DM’s on this account asking her to escort you to your brother’s party last Friday night. Did you think I wouldn’t do a background check boy?”

Suddenly your brain that had turned to a mush of fear started working, an idea hitting you like a lightning bolt.

“Roll play,” you blurted out, and both men looked at you with shocked expressions, before Dean’s became slightly amused.

“That’s right father, it’s just, roll play, nothing more.” Dean said, licking his lips sensually, throwing his arm around you, and running his teeth over your ear, sending a visible shiver down your spine that landed somewhere deep in your belly.

The shock faded from John’s face, and pure amusement took its place as he clapped his hands together, throwing his head back in a laugh as the man with a gun behind Dean disappeared.

“I’m sorry you two. For a moment I thought you were actually an escort.” John said, still chuckling to himself.

Dean gave a tight laugh, and you blushed deeper than you ever have in your life.

“Well father, my sex life isn’t something I like to brag about, I like to keep what happens in the bedroom between the two of us.”

John nodded, still looking very amused, but you thank any God that was listening that he bought it.

“Speaking of your bedroom, that’s something else I want to talk to you about.” John said, and Dean sat back seriously in his chair.

“In order to keep your girlfriend safe, and keep the high table off of your ass, I want your girlfriend to move onto the estate with you.”

Your eyes bugged out of your skull, and Dean stiffened next to you.

“Dad, this is, sudden, I’m not sure that’s necessary. We’ve only been together two months.”

John raised his hand, stopping Dean mid sentence.

“It wasn’t a request. I expect you to have her completely moved in by tomorrow morning. I know you said she doesn't know a lot, but a little is too much these days.”

You didn’t know whether you were going to cry or pass out, but John seemed to have sensed your upset state. Placing a hand on your shoulder as he came around the table that made your skin crawl, you leaned in closer to Dean.

“It’s for your protection Y/N. Trust me. Also it won't be so bad here! Most women would give up everything to find themselves in your shoes! Now Dean, take her and get her settled in, you can go and help her collect her things tomorrow.”

With that John left the two of you both sitting alone as the dark sky spread over the expansive lawn.

For just a moment you thought you were going to succumb to tears, but Dean’s hand around yours, lifting you from the table, and leading you through the house that would now be your home kept you grounded and in character.

Dean said nothing, just led you through the overly done halls, and rooms filled with expensive furniture.

You got to his bedroom. It was a large room with a fireplace of its own, the same expensive furniture that lined the whole house, and a huge king sized bed. With the door safely closed, you fell into his arms,letting the tears wash over you, and he let you cry it out, picking you up, and laying you down on the satin sheets that covered the bed. Shushing you, and kissing the top of your forehead.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

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

Forever Tag List: @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @waywardsistershy @deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean wincherfanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #dean x you #mobster!dean winchester x virgin!reader #mobster!dean #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #x reader inserts #when the lights go out

326 notes · View notes

leemotionalwreck · 3 years

Text

Of Black Chats and Fallen Angels (chapter 2)

Read it here on AO3!

Chapter 1 | You are here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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

Tikki rolled her eyes for what had to be the millionth time that afternoon as Marinette flopped back on her bed. She had spent every moment-- from the moment Adrien drove away to the second she shut her trap door-- ranting about ‘how could he possibly think offering me an umbrella could win me over’ and ‘why was he looking at me with that stupid smile on his face’ and on and on and on. As much as Tikki adored her holder, she could be exhausting with her overthinking and lack of, for lack of a better term, ‘chill’.

“Marinette,” Tikki chided.

Marinette hadn’t heard a thing as she walked over to a project she had started earlier that week. It was white nylon off-the-shoulder number with numerous belts and buttons that shouldn’t have worked as well as they did together, with a hem that stopped mid-thigh. She fussed over the neckline and Tikki worried that she would pick up a needle. Or worse-- decide to change something.

“Marinette… ” Tikki warned.

Nothing good ever came from a ranting, angry, Marinette; especially when said Marinette decided to start sewing. Tikki had witnessed far too many meltdowns just hours after an angry sewing session and decided it was best (and safest for the sanity of all involved) if working on any project, school, or otherwise was best reserved for a time when her holder was more stable.

Much to Tikki’s relief, Marinette walked away from the dress, fiddling with the ends of her hair instead.

“-And don’t even get me started on the way he showed off his stupid limo.” The girl huffed as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I mean who even does that!? Ugh, and the way he-”

“MARINETTE!” Tikki interjected.

“Huh?” She said as if Tikki calling her name had brought her out of some sort of trance.

“You’ve gotta stop overthinking this,” Tikki sighed. “I know you don’t like him, but isn’t there a possibility that he was just trying to be helpful? People do that type of stuff, you know.”

She shot Tikki an exasperated look. “Then explain the whole gum incident.”

How? Tikki thought as she brought her tiny hands up to her face. How can she possibly be the most intelligent while also being the densest holder I’ve had in a millennium?

Tikki took a deep breath as she prepared to explain the situation for the millionth time. Marinette was going owe her so many cookies later

*********

Marinette was confused as hell, but that was nothing new. What was new was the source of her confusion. Oftentimes, when Marinette had a hunch or a gut feeling, she listened and that was it-- but this was different.

There was something unusual about Adrien Agreste. That was what Marinette knew. She also knew that she should not, and didn’t, trust Adrien Agreste. She knew that she had no real reason not to trust Adrien Agreste, as he had done nothing to her.

Marinette knew that she was, at the very least, physically attracted to Adrien Agreste.

Well, she didn’t know it-- not yet at least. And maybe that was why she had been ranting to Tikki for the past three hours-- getting an extensive lecture/explanation in return. Being a teenage superhero who fought evil purple butterflies with a punning leather catboy for a partner, there had to be some shred of normalcy in her life. If obsessing over the minute details of a five-minute interaction with a guy she didn’t like was her normal, then so be it. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

“Marinette” Tikki sounded like she wanted to drown herself in cookie batter. “I’m going to find something to eat. I’ll get back to you when you’ve calmed down a little”

Or that’s what she thought until something outside her window caught her eye--

An akuma.

Damnit. Marinette knew she wasn’t exactly in the best headspace for fighting, but it wasn’t like she could coordinate certain dates with Hawkmoth. She chuckled aloud as a mental image of her, Chat, and Hawkmoth meeting at a round table popped into her head.

“Ahem” came a noise from across the room.

Marinette looked over at Tikki and nodded, transforming. She couldn’t help but wish for the absurd scenario as she soared above the buildings of Paris.

*********

“What’s the damage so far?” Ladybug asked as she landed right in sync on top of a building next to a running Chat Noir.

The past few months Chat Noir had been around, everything felt lighter. While Hawkmoth had most definitely been getting more intense, it seemed as if it didn’t matter as long as her partner was around. He was able to sense what needed to be done without asking or meticulously planning ahead, along with the fact that he was good with the press. While not as important, Ladybug treasured the fact that she didn’t have to worry about answering questions that required vague answers.

They had become best friends as well. Despite not knowing the other’s identity, they knew each other inside and out. Ladybug couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the countless nights they had spent perched atop the Eiffel Tower, discussing everything from school to Hawkmoths identity to how different their lives would have been having never met. Or if one of them had been someone else.

But there was something strange about him that she couldn’t figure out. Sure, there was the standard strangeness you would expect from a punning leather catboy, but there was something else as well. She saw it in the way he seemed to float a second longer than he should have whenever he was using his staff, or in the way his gaze lingered on shimmering patches of stars in the sky. How she had sometimes seen him whispering to the sun or moon… almost like a prayer.

Ladybug eventually noticed that she and Chat had stopped running; he was calling her name, concerned.

“You there M’lady?”

She shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. So what are we looking at today?”

“Chemist from PSL Research University,” Chat began. “A coworker refused to take proper precautions before testing, which ended up hurting a couple of other chemists and about 4 interns.”

Ladybug sighed. “These are the worst kind.”

Chat nodded. “Right reason, wrong reaction.”

“Let’s get this over with?”

“Ready when you are bugaboo.”

*********

“Goddamnit,” Chat seethed as he and Ladybug ran into the sewers for a third transformation.

Ladybug grumbled from around the corner. “I’m starting to lose sympathy for this guy.” She fed Tikki, and a pink light flashed just a second after Chat’s. “Ready to go?”

“Just a minute.” He said before she got the chance to come around.

She fiddled with her yo-yo while she tried her best to think of a plan. So far, they had tried the lab coat, safety goggles, and ID. What more was there?

The akuma’s design was simple enough. A pitch-black lab coat and neon yellow safety goggles-- really, Hawkmoth?-- along with their ID and a belt that held several different colored vials. Their hair stood up in an Einstein-like fashion, wild locks jutting out from all sections of their head, along with some sort of chemical that fizzed everywhere they stepped. How was that even possible?

Ladybug grimaced as she heard The Alchemist shouting from outside. “Grow a pair and show your damn faces! Why can’t Paris’ so-called heroes protect their city?” They were silent for a moment and Ladybug knew Hawkmoth must have been speaking to the victim. “Forget you both. I’ll get your miraculous and take care of this place myself. They don’t need you.”

The akuma-- or The Alchemist, as they named themselves-- had spent the better part of two hours spraying people with a liquid that kept them safe… while also making them invincible. Why the hell anyone, even an akuma, thought that would be a good idea was beyond her.

With their newfound invincibility, people lost all inhibitions.

In her three years of being Ladybug, the heroine had never seen havoc wreaked upon Paris like this. The streets were pure chaos as it seemed that the city’s lowest and most evil had come out of hiding. Looting, rioting, and arson could be seen anywhere you looked. She knew the screams from that night would haunt her forever, and she was sure she had seen a dead body or two somewhere. There had to be some other factor here. How could the city she had worked so hard to protect possibly be this self-destructive?

Marinette was afraid and stressed beyond belief. They had never faced anything as intense as this, what if they couldn’t fix it, what if Hawkmoth finally--

Wait…

Momentarily pulling herself out of her thoughts, Ladybug heard a murmuring from around the corner. It was Chat Noir, but what was he doing?

“All I’m asking is that you help us out,” Chat muttered. “Just this once, then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

Was he--

Was he praying?

“Thank’s in advance I guess. If not, screw you.”

Before Ladybug got the chance to say anything, Chat came around the corner with a grim look on his face.

“Let’s get this over with,” He said.

And they did.

After three transformations, plans A through S, and several words Master Fu definitely wouldn’t have approved of, The Alchemist had finally been de-evilized. Once they left the sewers, Ladybug called upon her lucky charm once again and received a canister of liquid nitrogen and a test tube. Scooping a small amount of the fizzing chemical and freezing it, the substance froze in the form of a butterfly, then smashing it and fixing the damaged caused. Ladybug took a shaky breath before making her way towards Chat and the victim.

Horrified at the destruction his abilities had caused, the victim, Dr. Marcel Roux, apologized-- close to tears. Calming him down took a while, but after reassurance, they managed to find him a safe ride home.

Despite the ladybugs fixing everything, Ladybug and Chat Noir both had a sinking feeling that some people weren’t returning home that night.

*********

Wishing both him and the driver a good night, she and Chat sat atop the Eifel Tower, exhausted. Being home was most likely the smartest and safest option, but after what they had seen that night neither of them wanted to be alone with their thoughts that night.

“Chat,” she began.

“Hmm,” came a noise. Ladybug turned to him to see that he was against one of the support beams. The moonlight hit his face, and Ladybug wondered how someone could look that angelic any time of day.

“You never told me you were religious.”

His eyes snapped open and his gaze was locked with hers. “What do you mean?”

“Earlier,” she began. “While we were in the sewers, I heard you praying. Kind of a rude one but a prayer still.”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself religious. I don’t go to church or practice any religion, and I definitely don’t have any sort of relationship with the man upstairs,” Ladybug noticed that he seemed to give the sky some sort of look. Almost imperceptible, but he looked as if he was angry. “But I figure when you’re that low, a little wish can’t hurt.”

She hummed in response, then yawned as she looked over the city.

“I had no idea they were capable of something like that,” she said.

Her partner gave a grim chuckle in response. “Give someone enough power, they’ll do plenty of shit you weren’t expecting.”

Marinette knew he had a point, but there was a nagging feeling in her gut that something really wasn’t right. Of course she didn’t know the people of Paris that well. She had only been a hero for a short time, but to go from hopeful and faithful to complete anarchists was drastic and unlikely.

Chat glanced over at her, seeing the gears in her mind turning and the worry on her face. He reached over and placed a hand on her knee.

“Tonight was weird, yeah. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified too. It's horrifying seeing the city we fight so hard to protect turn on itself like that--"

"You're really not helping, you know."

"That's ‘cause you didn't let me finish," She snorted and gestured for him to continue. "Sure, all that's true, but we have each other, and that's honestly all that matters."

She rolled her eyes at him as she stood, leaning on his staff for support. "You suck at pep talks."

He grinned and squatted back down to her level. "My point is, bugaboo, that no matter what happens, I’ll be here to get through it with you. The world could be ending, and it would be ok as long as you're next to me."

She knew she was blushing and turned away as he chuckled.

"I should get home, Chat." She smiled at his wounded dog expression. "Some of us have curfews you know."

Chat Noir grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Until we meet again My Lady." He turned away from her and vaulted off the Eifel. She watched him freefall and he spun in mid-air to face her, winking and giving her a two-finger salute.

He eventually disappeared behind buildings in the distance. Ladybug swung away, grinning stupidly at her partners' antics. While Chat had done his best to reassure her, doubt seeped into her mind. It didn't seem normal for the people of Paris to have that sort of reaction.

What also wasn’t normal was the pair of glowing red eyes watching her from down below as she made her way home.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #of black chats and fallen angels

12 notes · View notes

sollitudde · 3 years

Text

haikyuu & cafes (1/?)

bigass creds to @luvoikawa with this post that inspired me to write too much nonsense about nonsense

all my writing got deleted edition 🐸 also jesus christ sorry this is super long i just really like cafes and drinkys and coffys...

karasuno

ukai

for a guy who gets up early every morning coffee is a must. canned coffee is his drink of choice for getting up and it’s one of his morning routines before starting work. he actually dislikes cafes because they have an atmosphere he isn’t too fond of and likes bars (enjoys shit beers = enjoys shit coffee) more- but he could go to a cafe when asked by his friends or if he’s going on a date, just don’t ask him about what type of coffee he’d like specifically because all he wants is it to be hot and black, no milk no sugar. when he was younger he actually disliked coffee, but with age he learned to 1. not be fussy about it 2. just tolerate it to pick him up. it’s not like he dislikes the tastes of it but i don’t see him as picking up oh many tannin inteiciasies cause he’s not developed a pallete, also gets the cheapest no fuss shit. prefers hot over cold even in the summer

for food, he doesn’t enjoy completely western menus. likes meat and doesn’t order any sweets like pastries and whatever the fuck, not only is it too expensive but also he’d just rather have the coffee unless he’s particularly hungry. like i said he isnt a cafe guy but life takes you to a lot of places so ☕️

takeda

actually can taste tanins like some sort of a legend. still though on a teachers salary you’re not going to have an espresso machine at home so he settles for his drip brew. actually doesn’t like espresso too much either if hes working at least. but since he is a teacher and a club supervisor he drinks 2 (two) of those shits a day, one in the morning from home one in the afternoon from the teachers lounge- needs it to deal with the energy at practice. takes just milk in his coffee and prefers it steamed, but has that shitty milk foamer thing that takes so much time to get results out of he just ends up drinking drip w cold milk; the workingmans choice.

with cafes and food he still enjoys drip brew (this time fancier) coffee with milk. could ask to taste test the plain bean coffee if he enjoyed his first cup so much. LOVES a pastry with his drink, if he goes there to do work will get a coffee and a pastry of any kind, i think he likes cream so expect him to get a cream puff esp if on a date cause then he gets to share it and be cute 🥴 loves a cafe hangout with friends or an s/o

kiyoko

pre time skip she did not need coffee at all. like her face at first says either only black coffee or shes so well adjusted she needs nothing and i’d say it’s the latter though i could debate. though she was an enjoyer of canned coffee milk later in life before having to consume coffee for life energy in her adulthood. nothing too fancy either though, small coffee machine that only she uses (tanakas a pussy!) for making coffee, pours milk and adds a teaspoon of sugar into it- doesn’t really like flavors cause to her they taste artificial. busy lady! so she can pick up some starbucks or sit down for a brief second and get coffee wherever she is, thinks it energizes her and also is an enjoyer of the novelty of steamed milk. it actually doesn’t buzz her ever even when she first starts drinking it so rather than having to drink more coffee as the tolerance builds up she just has a plateau of coffee give me caffeine boost

for cafes she just gets whatever looks good to her. also not the biggest fan of sweets rather than a good bread, enjoyer of plain croissants and good bread if she gets a sandwitch. who doesn’t love carbs

yachi

the sweet sugary drink enjoyer has arrived. didn’t even touch coffee until her 3rd year at college, tried a sip of black coffee from her friend in junior high and became instantly afraid of it- managed to skirt by college with a good schedule until the junior terror seeped into her veins and now her early classes she has to drink coffee for. but like she still gets good grades so it’s only the morning she’s required to partake in bean water for- doesn’t even do anything on weekends if she doesn’t have anywhere to be. at home she has 2 syrups 5 milks and overloads her drink so much she’s barely drinking any coffee at all, still the sugar and the hot stuff in the morning has an effect (placebo lol)

loves a starbucks for its accessibility, but gets refreshers and iced drinks more often than any of their caffeine. not only does she think it’s not worth it if she can make coffee at home, but she has a tiny cafe she goes to to cram that serves a mean lavender rose vanilla latte (fucking ew?) that shes in love with. but it costs a lot and she’s a rare visitor, gets sweets and small sandwitches if she goes. w friends she doesn’t know that well she’ll get a flavored coffee to seem mature&cute, but with old friends she’d rather drink a milk tea or a seasonal drink rather than bother w a latte (since she uses it to get energy if it’s 5pm and her day is nearly done whyd she need it then?) no 7-11 coffee or vending machine coffee (junior high trauma) rather sweets and candy if she’s buying from one

daichi

courtesy to @sugardaddykenma, i think daichi oinking his way to the top ended after he had a midlife crisis- so he stops drinking coffee the way he would at the pig pen. sorry ok enough puns but yeah i think he was drinking way too much coffee in both college and at his “job” so coffee now messes with his stomach so much he thinks he might have a heart attack if he drinks more than one cup a week. i don’t know if that directly makes sense but too much coffee can literally kill you and since now he doesn’t fear the revolution here’s another thing for his mind. no coffee, maybe like once if hes at a cafe with his friends but really really prefers plain tea more- especially as he gets older. likes green white and black teas rather than herbal cause caffeine, and doesn’t put sugar in either cause hes #real and genuinely enjoys the flavors more that way

doesn’t go to cafes except for reunions or hanging out with the boys, always more of a “what do they have to eat” rather a “what’s new and exiting to drink” boy. i actually think the only reason he does drink coffee occasionally is because sugawara teases him and also sometimes it’s easier to order something to not be embarassing and to live up to the expectation of a dilf on the prowl rather than well like. dilf drinking tiny mug of jasmine tea. surprisingly an atmosphere enjoyer, people talking all around him is comforting- though if he were to go there frequently he’d grown annoyed

sugawara

king of looking fuckable at a cafe. literally can’t drink coffee black and hates it but still uses it for that energy boost in the morning. has a cheap espresso machine (like 2nd hand and super busted) with a milk frother cause he can’t even drink coffee with just milk it’s so repulsuve to him, he’s gotta fancy it up with syrups & steamed liquids to get anything out of it. but like i said hes king of looking fuckable at a cafe and that’s cause he goes to them all the fucking time. to study to hang for dates like part of it is the ambience is unparalleled but also i mean 1. he likes looking hot 2. he can study 3. man idk hes just a little bitch that wants to look smarter than he actually is. literally in love with the concept of a meet cute so hes in there like “wow... i look so pretty and i’m reading such a big book won’t someone come talk to me”enjoys smiling at other hot patrons and the nines. i think he’d start banter only if you spilled a drink though or something happened hes not that confident to go up to someone full force, and well while he is there sometimes for the hell of it he does actually study there too cause it forces him to do something rather than fuck around on the computer at home. win win system

frequent cafe flyer and frequent cafe snack enjoyer. he’d much rather go for the small snacks like chips and nuts rather than big meal shit cause since his stuff is there he doesn’t wanna get anything on it, and would rather lounge back at home while eating anyways. frequent buys you a sweet on a date type of move, asks if you wanna give him a small bite but doesn’t actually enjoy most sweets that much. ICE LATTE ENJOYER but only when hes on the go or it’s summer, they make a mess when condensation happens.

asahi

hate to tell you folks, but you won’t find this guy in any cafes ever. if he needs to study in a public place he’d rather go to a library and if he can’t go there he’s just seriously gonna sit on the street if it’s the worst of it. can not only not handle cafes if it’s at full capacity, sugawara once shared his cafe strategies with him and now he overthinks whenever he steps foot into one. if he does enter a cafe it’s for a to go order of a cafe au lait (with soy milk, he got in the habit from ordering the wrong thing and never asking them to fix it) because espresso beverages give him anxiety, and add anxiety with a lot of people there it’s just no good and he becomes nervous. he does relax when his friends are there though, and a la p5 enjoys a quiet cafe at night the best. he like herbal teas without sugar (maybe some honey) and aromatic tea blends, but not refresher like beverages at starbucks

since he doesn’t sit down and eat at cafes hes not getting anything substantial, but has a pertulance for sweet stuff! nothing too big but if he gets something sweet with his coffee (and he does get coffee out a lot actually i feel i should clarify. it’s the devil wears prada influence and if you’re a fashion designer chance is you need to go somewhere fast so he needs the energy to power walk and actually ends up picking up coffee for his crew sometimes)

nishinoya

oh christ dude if he got coffee while in high school he’d go fucking insane. way too much current energy + caffeine is such a bad combination- but i think he’d never step into a cafe until his world traveling days. in which case i mean like first of all if you are traveling you’re going to have to keep a tight schedule unless you’re like rich as fuck and can afford to leisure around, and i think he does have some savings but at the same time if he’s himself he’s very likely running around- in summary, cafe visits very dépendant on the culture. cafe dates and cafe stops to get a pick up i think would be the most common stuff here, and coffee would be only used as a wake up i need more energy tool

with food i mean going to a great underground cafe is a right of passage if you’re traveling so i’m sure hes tried all sorts of shit and also hes a big eater, so i can see him getting whatever looks the craziest. big coffee ice cream enjoyer but like i said that’s just to wake up & i think there’s better places to get better juice (& international soda) than a hole in the wall coffee place. did someone say italian sodas or do i have to get my hearing checked

tanaka

man this guys a pussy. thinks starbucks is the fancy coffee place even though it’s a chain and can’t enjoy a non sweetened coffee- even sweetened coffees are a bust. honestly also is too concerned about caffeine being able to “hinder” him, it’s not going to kill you or make you crazy but probably saw someone go balls off the walls with it and is too pussy to try it himself because he thinks he’s so energetic already it’ll make him turn super saiyan. very big enjoyer of a juice, a smoothie, or a refresher again if we’re going from starbucks’ menu. actually yeah it the place offers smoothies he definitely gets that 100% no questions asked, cause it’s the one sweet he can permit himself because he actually thinks it’s healthy when the only reason it “is” is because it’s fruit. does not enjoy the vibes whatsoever and is kinda spooked by everyone drinking coffee in coffee drinking establishments. his wife is more of a man than him in that regard but he can take it

cafe foods aplenty though! likes to walk in and run to get smth and leave, cause it’s less effort than making something and more effort than going to a convenience store. actually has this thing where he picks wifey dearest up snacks he thinks she’ll like. before that he used to scoff at them but now seeing as shes a frequent patron and he is married to her he’s all like look at this treat i bought for you at (blank). it’s kinda sweet! plus he prolly gets a takeout drink for himself too so win win

ennoshita

physical therapy is a lot of work! sorry for the lack of substance for this guy but like a normal adult i think he is normal with his coffee consumption. aka- drinks it to get up, and when hes tired. i think he has a particular interest in trying new things though and will get whatever is interesting to him or something that is weird on the menu like a pumpkin chocolate latte or some shit like that that is unusual but still tasty. adventurous and also you can’t tell at all that hes had coffee, acts completely the same and people even tell him he should drink some coffee cause of the low energy. hes had two cups already and that’s enough!

kinoshita

i think this guy just doesn’t like coffee for whatever reason. he seems like the type of dude to just not drink it and instead go for something energizing in the form of tea or an energy drink but not bean juice, just a vibe! enjoys a cafe every once in a while but goes rarely, i mean hes just chilling! there is a place that hes gone to that he is now an irregular regular of that has a tea infusion of different berries and ingredients that’s meant to clear up your sinuses and calm you. they don’t sell it in packets and hes disappointed about that but the very reason it exists at all is because it’s made out of fresh chopped shit and spices, also it’s a gimmick. they serve them in tea pitchers and he stays there and reads until he finishes. it’s the little things!

kazuhito

writing got erased again but like literally just think of a guy. a guy that works at a company who has to go to work everyday so yeah he drinks coffee and the chances of it being instant are very high. actually doesn’t know that starbucks is a chain and just has the regular drip coffee machine at home, probably takes it with milk and sugar and whatever is there at the time. relaxed guy and relaxed preferences

kageyama

dude doesn’t even know what coffee is to be completely honest. well no that’s a lie he definitely tried some but it made him jittery and he can’t be jittery or else he’s not doing perfect tosses, so no can do. like i know the milk joke is old but i don’t think the habit stops at high school i genuinely think unless one of his teammates or someone with him is like no getting milk or they don’t just serve raw milk because who the fuck would he maybe gets a milk tea at most. honestly not a fan of sugary drinks such as juice or refreshers and whatnot nor iced drinks because well hes just a weirdo. if you take him to a sbucks or somewhere else either order him a london fog or water or a cup of milk if you want your cashier to have something funny to tell. he likes matcha lattes but since they’re high caf he only gets them on off days and like when does he have those? never. genuine weirdo

okay for food it’s anything goes but i think thr funnier thing to talk about would be the amount of time it takes him to read a menu. literally can’t decide on anything especially if a place is out of stock well hes gonna be out of comission for a few minutes as he reconsiders. asks what this has and what’s in this if it’s not listed so it’s really best to just pick smth for him, plain simple and he won’t have any complaints and just sit down w you.

hinata

actually got fond of espresso in brazil but still prefers juices and shit to actual caffeinated beverages. they don’t make them like they used to there 😔 but he does get lattes. LOVES coconut milk and nut milks cause they have an “oomph” (what?) but honestly anything goes kind of guy in where he can get coffee out of a machine at a convenience store starbucks a cafe anything anywhere no problem. thing is though he can only consume it in a short amount of time aka just the morning or else he’s unable to sleep at night, a thing that is most definitely a placebo but like he believes on it so insistently that he just doesn’t mess with it. is a fan of anything new and anything that catches his interest in coffee places, likes to pick stuff up rather than sit down cause he’s a fan of walking and talking and drinking

pastry guy :) or just anything breaded. again likes to pick whatever catches his interest cause he became more adventurous with food for sure, enjoys a sandwitch or some shit i mean you get the point i think. he’s just a funny little guy

tsukishima

honestly? cant fucking drink black coffee. i think it’d be so funny and well also fitting that if he does drink anything he does drink super sugary sweet stuff, like i mean we know he enjoys sweets anyways so why not push it further and say this motherfucker can’t handle tanins at all? and like by all i mean he has to have tea with milk and sugar no matter what it is (well not herbal tea 🍵 that’s an emoji of a green tea but herbal tea never should be enjoyed with milk) his go to is a hot matcha latte and a cold iced vanilla latte. cause both are sweet and make him look a little less pussy when ordering them. straight up will chug purely black coffee out of spite and suppress gags to seem cool, it’s okay tbough hes so far only worried about this happening in front of friends and it hasn’t yet. he has practiced at home though and he can so far not gag but still squint, which he’s thinking if he has to explain will explain by “well uh it tastes like shit so”

i don’t think he needs coffee to get up but instead does need something sweet. since cake doesn’t last a while i’d see him trying to buy some for himself discreetly like i know this dude isn’t a pussy but also imagine being so hard and then being made fun of for eating a cake alone by yourself in a cafe. doesn’t order sweets therefore unless hes in a private room or with a trusted friend. yamaguchi won’t tell on you bro in fact he’ll order the cake and let you have it. doesn’t like any savory thing on the menu for some reason, no matter the place he goes

yamaguchi

actually enjoys tanins but chugs cheap shitty coffee for energy no matter the time of day. he just got used to the lack of taste and definitely grabbed a caffeine addiction to add to his problems to worry about but it’s okay cause hey while he’d never say it he thinks it’s better to be able to taste them and enjoy a normal cup of good beans than to be like his unnamed friend. enjoyer of the whole menu, entirely dependent on the mood. focusing, straight espresso shots, reading, matcha or peppermint tea, vibing, lemonade or lemonade mixture idk you name it. very into cafe energy and feels good whenever he enters one, but doesn’t do it out of neccesity cause once he did actually have someone slightly hit on him at a cafe and he stopped going to it because he interacted with them very awkwardly. is sure the baristas heard and just can’t do it anymore. has pulled all nighters and 24-hr study sessions in internet cafes chugging coffees like a motherfucker. hasn’t yet poured a redbull into coffee yet but i mean it could be coming we never know (nah hes afraid of it)

not a fan of ordering stuff in cafes at all cause hes not there to eat. can be persuaded for a bite if friends are there but if not then hes avoidant of foods. you can’t blame him! it’s kind of awkward to order food at a coffee place anyways so he just steers clear

#obituaries☠️(headcanons)#haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #karasuno hcs #karasuno headcanons #genuinely do not want to tag tbis more at all. i am tired

3 notes · View notes

notimefics · 4 years

Text

Chemistry From The Start

Word Count: 2.8K (the longest one so far!

Requested: Again, no. But pretty please send request! For example, it can be a music to serve as inspiration or something like that would be cool too!

Warnings: Again... none. Like mild swearing? does that count?

"I'm sorry," I say trying to get collect my breath. "I didn't know you were waiting," I tell him as I take my boxing gloves off. I've got to admit this was not how I was hoping to meet him. I had just trained, done some boxing with my coach. And when I say some I mean a lot, I mean to the point where I am now sweaty (very!), red in the face and trying my best to keep my breath regular- and failing.

"Oh no, no worries. I've stretched a bit in the mean time." He says with a nice smile and I smile back at him -why couldn't we just meet on set or something when I was looking a little better than this?!

I pull one of the ropes from the ring up and get out of it. He puts a hand out for me to shake and I, after discreetly passing it over my shorts to dry it, shake it.

"I'm Ben,"

"Y/N" I answer.

"You're the new one on the team, right?" He asks me referring to he movie that we would start shooting tomorrow.

"Yeah, I'm Eight," I say and he chuckles.

"Come on Y/N! We've got work to do, you're barely even painting anymore" my coach yells and- well I was already red in the face but if I wasn't I'd get redder.

"Well, duty calls," I say lamely, but he does his part and chuckles. I jog over to coach rolling my eyes at myself.

"He's cute but not so cute that I'd let you skip your train for it," My coach tells me in a whisper as I get near her and I chuckle.

""If he's not cute enough I'm afraid there is no one you let me skip training for,"

"Now you got me!" She tells me with a laugh. "Come on, leg press let's go!" She says a little louder and I move over to the machine.

"Come on Ben, focus up! I could knock you out right now and you wouldn't even try to defend yourself before," I hear from the ring and when I look over, for just a split second I make eye contact with him. My trainer wiggles her eyebrows at me, and, smiling, I shake my head.

That was the first time that we met. It's been over a year since that day and we are still friends. Just friends. Yup. It's good!

Seeing him film his stunts was...hard! And once when I finished one of mine I saw him bitting his lip, his hands holding on to a chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. I almost went insane when our characters kissed in the movie, because we were kissing and it didn't feel like we were there as our characters but how do I know? So, yeah, it's real good. Great even!

Well, it is. But it's also incredibly frustrating. Ever since that day I think we've had pretty great chemistry, but because we're working together I also know that it would not be a great idea to start dating, or worse ask him out and get rejected. We shot for god knows how long and in the wrap party we spent almost the whole night dancing with each other and I rally thought something was going to happen, it was the way he was holding my hips like he wanted be impossibly closer to him. But then we were at the bar ordering something and someone started talking to us and they said "Aw, you two have such great chemistry I bet you'll end up paired for all the press tour,"

Of course. The press tour. Our work together was not over. It was like someone had dropped a bucket of ice over me. I wondered if it was the same for him, if that's why he didn't ask me out after that night, why he didn't kiss me, why after that when we danced it wasn't the same, it was slower and sadder.

Or maybe I was reading too much into this and we were truly just good friends. Not being sure was one of the reasons why I couldn't afford to ask.

After months of texting and calling each other almost everyday, going for coffees whenever we happened to be in the same city, we were now finally starting the press tour. We had about a month ahead of us of interviews together (because yes, whenever we weren't doing the whole cast at the same time me and Ben were together), of flights, and hotel shuttles. And I didn't want a whole month of just a very awkward and tense environment between me and Ben, plus me and him were paired up because we were fun and cool and relaxed together- I would be coming between that if I asked him out and he said no.

I know what you're thinking, maybe I'm overthinking it. And maybe I am. But what if I'm not?! And what if I am ruining not just this press tour, that would be a bummer but okay, but what if I am ruining our friendship?!

And this morning when we were coming from the hotel over to wherever this was to start the interviews I was yawning and he just said.:

"Not to brag, but I've heard I've got a great shoulder to sleep on if you want to give it a try until we get to the venue," and I chuckled, but I did rest my head on his shoulder and it was a fucking great place to sleep on! I don't want to give that up just because I've read too much into the situation!

After that I was rewarded with an entire morning of interviewers hitting on him, they were mostly women and most of them were professional as soon as the camera started rolling but before that...oof! And then a guy came and I thought I was going to have a rest, but I didn't! I deserved that one as well, for falling for the heteronormative patriarchy and thinking that just because he was a dude he wouldn't find Ben the most attractive human being on earth. I'm a fool!

And also, who could blame them?? If I could I would be doing the exact same thing right now!

"This next reporter is taking a while," Ben said looking at me and I nodded. "You still look a bit tired," He said warmly.

"Is that your way of telling me that I look like I've died and came back to life?" I joke and he laughs.

"God no! You look stunning as always, it was my way of offering my shoulder as what is now its official duty: your head rest," That makes me laugh but our reporter walks into the room. It's a man.

"Please god," I mutter to myself, let him not hit on him- I think.

"Did you say something?" Ben asks as the interviewer gets closer.

"Me? No," I shake my head.

"Hello!" The interviewer said cheerfully reaching to shake our hands and we smiled and shook them.

"How are you?" He asked.

"I'm ok," I nod.

"I'm grand," Ben says at the same time.

"Well, you look absolutely lovely," the presenter says to me. "you both do," he adds after a moment.

"Oh, no. I think that was fully intended for Y/N," Ben says and I look at him and laugh, but he doesn't look too happy. I mean, he's smiling but it's one of his camera smiles... something about his eyes wasn't right.

"Ok, let's start rolling shall we?" Ben's publicist asks and we nod.

The interviewer gets on with the questions, they are pretty basic: how much of the stunts we did, what was our favourite part to shoot, what was it like to work with Ryan, the usual. He did manage to get a few compliments to me in the middle of it, I smiled and thanked him while thinking to myself Dude, when I asked for you not to come on to Ben, you didn't need to go so off to the other side.

In the middle of the interview, not too long after the interviewer said that I looked incredible in the trailer, he was asking us if either of us had gotten any injuries from the stunts that we did do.

"Yes!" Ben said with his eyes wide and as he turns around he puts an arm around my chair as if it was the coolest, most normal thing in the world. And it kind of was, but we usually only did this little things, these little cuddles, when we were alone. "Do you remember when you fell? That was gruesome!"

"Oh, you're making a fuss out of it, it wasn't much. I just scrapped my knee," I say turning to him as well.

"You scrapped your knee? Is that what you called it? There was blood everywhere! I thought Ryan was going to pass out!"

"Oh you’re blowing it so much out of proportion! It wasn't everywhere, it was just big old knee scrap, you know like when you're a kid. It wasn't really that bad," I say turning back to the interviewer. "I just fell when I was jumping from one wall to the other, it wasn't a dangerous stunt either, that's why I wasn't wearing an harness. I just fumbled."

"Clearly you should have been wearing an harness," Ben says with a laugh.

"Anyway," I say a little louder, laughing as I ignore the last comment. "I fell and I scrapped my knee and everyone ran over to me and I felt like like I was dying of embarrassment because the whole cast and crew saw that, as well as a couple of tourists that were passing by! But then Ben was an absolute gentleman and picked me up and took me to the nurse,"

"And you had to wear trousers or something that would cover your knee for the rest of shooting," He said and we both laugh looking at each other.

"That's true! The poor costume designers, they had to rethink so much of what they had done!"

"Well, my time is up but it was great talking to you," The reporter says with a smile

"It was lovely talking to you too," I answer.

"And don't forget to go watch our movie," Ben says excitedly to the camera.

"Try to understand what was the scene in which I disfigured my knee!" I say with a smile.

"Cut," Someone yells behind the camera and the interviewer stands up, he reaches his hand out to shake Ben's hand, which Ben does with a tight smile. And then me, and as I am about to let go of his hand he hold it for a millisecond longer and, with his free hand, hands me his business card.

"If you want to text me, there's my number,"

"Oh," I say surprised and he smiles and starts walking away. "I think I'm good, but thanks," I say as he walks away, I'm left unsure if he heard me.

"The nerve in that guy!" Ben says as he walks out the door.

"Who the fuck hits on someone with their business cards? What is this?" I ask Ben waving the business card. "Is he hitting on me or asking me if we I want to invest in a joint-venture with him?" I say and Ben laughs.

"My god, I hate him!" he says and this time he is the one leaning his head on my shoulder. I notice how uncomfortable he must be in that position because we are in 2 different chairs, but he doesn't complain.

"The interview was alright," I say wrapping an arm around his shoulder my hand running over his hair, pretending we were alone despite the fact that we had the filming crew and both our publicists sitting behind us waiting for the next interviewer as well.

"He was a bit too forward," Ben says grumpily.

"Ah," I laugh. "What? And the ones before weren't?"

"Not this forward,"

"Only in that they didn't give you their number, but everything else they were much worse,"

"Why do you care?" he asks moving his head slightly to look at me with a small frown. His questions didn’t sound so much like an accusation as it sounded curious.

"Why do you care about this last guy?" I ask him. Before he can answer we have another interviewer coming in the room and we sit up straight.

The interview doesn't go as well, or at least I feel like I wasn't as good because the whole time I was thinking about this last moment between be and Ben. The interviewer says goodbye and walks out the room.

I want to push him and ask him the question again, but I remember that there are more people in the room and try to ignore that instinct. Ben rests his head again on my shoulder. and I let my arm and hand go back to where they were again.

"How many more interviews do we have today?" Ben asks.

"5," his publicist answers.

"5 interviews," Ben repeats and then looks at me again. "And then we are back in the car, just the 2 of us again," he says and I smile.

You see, my problem is that I am ever so slightly a hopeless romantic. Ben says this about being the car and for a millisecond I believe that he, like me, doesn't want to talk about it because there are other people here and being alone in the car is our opportunity for it. So when the reality hits that he was probably just excited about going back to the hotel, it hurts a little. The hopeless part means that I there is a little part of me that is still hopeful that he did meant that in the car we could talk about it.

Another interview goes by, once again he does not hit on any of us and honestly it's a relief.

Then another and I think he wasn't hitting on any of us: she was either a bit too nice and blinked a lot or maybe she was hitting on both of us? The jury is still out.

Then another and they are a bit flirty with me, but thankfully no business cards this time around!

Then another, Ben was showered with compliments and attention.

Then another, ending on a good note, no flirting!

"I think this went ok!" My publicist says walking our way as they took our microphones off.

"Quite alright!" Ben's publicist says.

"You look great on camera together," Mine continues turning to Ben's publicist.

"Such great back and forth," Ben's publicists agrees and then they turn to us again. "We have already emailed you your schedule for tomorrow!"

"So, for now, just go back to the hotel and relax! We already have a car waiting for you outside," My publicist says and, after saying goodbye me and Ben walk to the car.

He wraps an arm around my shoulder as we get out of the building.

"God, I love being with you but if we could do without the interviews," He says and I laugh.

"We're together when we are not doing interviews all the time," I say.

"Yeah, but never for this long," he argues and I have to agree.

"Fair enough," I say, slightly disappointed that he is not bringing any of that earlier conversation now that we are alone. Like I say, hopeless romantic. "What can we do, we're such busy people! In very high demand,"

"The busiest," He agrees getting in on the joke.

"But that's the price you pay for being brilliant," I continue.

"if only we weren't so damned good!"

"It's a gift and curse," I say with a laugh as we reach the car, before I can do it Ben reaches to open the door for me but before he actually does it he hesitates for a second.

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't-" he says and, with an inhale, he hesitates before going on.

"What are you talking about?" I ask with a chuckle. Hopeless.

"I know I shouldn’t ask you this and I'm being unfair because I heard you tell Adria that you were always weary of dating people you are working with and I might be making this so much more difficult than it has to be for us... but I think that if I go through another day of having to see people hitting on you and knowing that technically I have no business being mad at them and I can't say shit I might just go insane. So would please like to go out with me and date me and all of those things? Would please, please, tell me that I have not been misreading a year of us flirting and cuddling and you being the most adorable being ever," He asks leaving me in shock. For a second, as I process this situation, I see his smile falling.

"I'm so sor-" He starts before I interrupt him.

"Yes!" I say. "Yes, I would like that very much," I tell him with a laugh.

"Yeah?" He asks a little shocked and I kiss him. God it feels good to kiss someone you've wanted to kiss for over a year.

"Yeah," I say as we pull away and he chuckles.

"I've wanted to do for so long, you can't imagine," He says with a smile.

"I think I can maybe imagine," I say with a laugh and he kisses me again.

"Come on, let's get inside the car before someone takes a picture of us," He says and now he actually does open the door for me.

"Room service and a movie tonight?" I ask him when we're both in the car.

"My god, you're incredible" he says and, with a hand on my thigh, kisses me again.

Tag List:

@cubedtriangle love just to let you know this is, as you might have noticed, my first tag list and honestly it made my day to see that you wanted to be tagged! Thank you for that!

#ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy oneshot

35 notes · View notes

xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years

Text

Peter Parker and Bruce Banner’s Guide on How To Make Iron Man Sleep

For @sallyidss. Happy Birthday, Sally! This is about 1% hurt and 99% comfort, or in other words, pure fluff and chicken soup. I hope you enjoy it and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading and to @maikkuax for the video game reference.

____________________

Peter wakes up to a dazzling amount of texts on Saturday morning.

One is from Tony, sent at 3am, telling him that Bruce is sick and might not be able to help Peter with his biology project today as they had planned, but he is still welcome to drop by the tower.

Then there’s another one from Tony three hours later asking him whether he could pick up some soup while on the way; one from Bruce at 8am, telling him that Tony is sick too, but ‘he won’t admit it so just try to somehow get him to rest once you come over’; and then one more from Tony telling him to ignore whatever Bruce just told him.

Peter grins to himself while reading the texts - he can almost hear his favourite superhero couple bantering and fussing over each other. Then he gets up for breakfast with May and a shower before heading down to the corner grocery store. He gets soup (chicken for Tony and vegetable for Bruce), as well as some of the Fairtrade chocolate bars that Bruce buys for ideological reasons and Tony eats en masse because he’s got a secret sweet tooth. Peter stuffs the groceries into his school bag along with his laptop and makes his way to the tower.

Tony definitely looks under the weather when he opens the door; pale and with a very clown-like red nose that is dripping constantly.

“Hey kid, thanks for the delivery,” he jokes with a raspy voice. He takes the bag and mimics shutting the door in Peter’s face before smirking and opening it fully to let his unamused mentee in.

“Very funny, Mr. Stark.” Peter removes his shoes and jacket and then stops, frowning. Through the hallway, he can see that the bed in the master bedroom has been demolished into what looks like a heap of firewood. “Uhm, what happened to your bed?”

“Well…” Tony interrupts himself to cough harshly into his elbow. “So, uh, we had a bit of an exciting night. Not in the fun way, unfortunately…” he trails off. “Anyway, Bruce went back to sleep after breakfast, but I thought we could head to the lab and start working on the chameleon fabric you suggested for your suit.”

Peter is sure that working in the lab is the opposite of what Tony should be doing just now - his mentor looks even more tired than usual and the slightly glassy quality to his eyes suggests that he is running a fever - but Peter also knows that saying this out loud will only be counterproductive.

“What if we watch a movie instead?” he suggests.

“I’m not watching a movie at eleven in the morning,” Tony protests. “We have the whole day in front of us - time to build, invent, change the world..." He flaps his hand. "All that jazz."

“Okay, okay…” Peter thinks for a second before an idea hits him. “But before we start with the suit, I do need your help with something else.”

“Now what?”

“So, Ned and I have this gaming commentary channel on YouTube where we livestream playing “The Witcher 3”? And it’s going pretty well, but Ned says he needs help developing his stage persona, you know, talking in a way that is interesting and keeps your audience engaged? So, he thought that you might give us some advice because you’ve got a ton of experience with speaking in public and all that?”

(It’s not entirely a lie - Ned and Peter have joked about getting Tony involved in order to increase their viewership, but he is pretty sure that Ned would be mortified upon hearing that Peter actually suggested it to the billionaire.)

“Wait, you and Ned are making videos of you killing virtual trolls while talking about it? And people actually watch that?”

“That’s...another way of putting it.”

“Sounds like a gigantic waste of time.” Tony scrunches up his nose. “Either I play the game myself, or I spend my downtime watching something interesting.”

“Hey! Our last one has more than 3000 hits!” Peter defends.

“People have too much free time. Including you.” Tony points his finger at Peter before quickly covering his mouth to contain a sneeze. “But I suppose I can take a look if you really want me to…”

Peter grins. Stage one: complete.

They settle on the couch in the living room. Tony can’t suppress a small sigh when he leans against the cushions. He massages the bridge of his nose in a way that makes it clear to Peter he must be nursing a headache.

“Hit me, kid,” he orders.

“Okay, but before we start, you need to know a few things...” Peter launches into a long-winded explanation of the game’s storyline with more than a few unnecessary details of the characters’ backgrounds. He pretends to concentrate on the screen where he walks Tony through different tutorials, but out of the corner of his eye he sees his mentor slowly sinking deeper and deeper into couch.

“...and then they bring Uma to the witcher school of Kaer Morhen,” Peter goes on as Tony tiredly attempts to follow along, his blinks growing longer and longer each time, “where Yennefer removes his curse and transforms him into Avallac'h...”

When Peter can’t think of anything else to babble about, he starts playing their most recent video. Tony sits up a little straighter and rubs a hand over his face to concentrate. But at about the two minute mark, he stops the screen with a wave of his hand.

“So, not to be rude, but that was kind of painful, Tony declares. “You guys literally started with a 45 second explanation of why you prefer the old controller design to the new one. No wonder you’re putting people to sleep.”

Peter frowns a bit. “I mean, we weren’t that bad…” he defends. “And the new ones do kind of suck.”

“Sure, kid,” Tony huffs. He shifts position on the sofa with a sigh. “Alright, listen. It’s obvious that you two are knowledgeable about this game, but if you want to engage your audience, you’ve gotta try to establish your credentials in a way that’s still interesting and relatable. For instance, I once started a TED Talk by describing how I hacked NASA during an MIT frat party so that I could send a rocket to draw a dick over San Francisco. ”

Peter snorts at that admission.

“See? Exactly,” Tony points out. “That’s the kind of reaction you want your audience to have - that’s called a hook, kid.”

The longer they watch, the more Tony seems to be melting into the couch. His comments become less and less frequent, and at some point he leans his head back against the pillow, barely looking at the screen anymore. By the third video, Peter can see his mentor’s eyelids fluttering shut.

He waits for a few minutes and then pauses the screen, just to see Tony’s eyes fly open again. “I’m listening!” he assures.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter hides a smirk. “Just, uhm, relax a bit.”

“I see what you’re trying to do here, kid. I’m not stupid,” Tony protests nasally, stifling another sneeze, but he doesn’t make any move to get up from the couch.

Peter starts the video again, knowing that the battle has been won. Five minutes later, Tony is asleep.

Peter watches a few more videos on his own (now that he pays attention, he realises that most of Tony’s suggestions, despite being sarcastic, are actually in line with what the popular streamers do) before FRIDAY informs him that Bruce has woken up.

He finds the scientist in the kitchen, making tea.

“Hey Dr. Banner,” Peter greets. “How are you?”

“Hey Peter.” Bruce gives him a warm and slightly sleepy smile. His voice is a bit hoarse. “I’m fine. Is Tony asleep?”

“Yep,” Peter declares proudly. “Used my hypnotically soothing voice. And obscure video game lore."

Bruce heaves out a sigh. “Finally, thank god. I had, uhm… kind of an incident last night and I don’t think he slept at all after that.”

Peter thinks back to the broken bed frame and chooses not to comment.

“Do you want some tea?” Bruce asks.

“No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Bruce takes out a box of cookies instead and hands a few to Peter. “So, what was this thing you wanted me to look at with you?”

“Oh, it’s just a bio project,” Peter says with a shrug. “But we can do it some other time, when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m okay...” Peter gives him a suspicious look and Bruce’s smile deepens. “No need for that - I’m not Tony, I would tell you if I wasn’t up for it. But I am actually feeling much better after sleeping and I wouldn’t mind some distraction.”

“Okay, well then...”

Peter likes Bruce a lot. It took him a while to get close to him because Bruce is not a person who easily lets people in, but now whenever Peter visits the tower, he looks forward to seeing the scientist almost as much as he does to seeing Tony.

Tony is brilliant, energetic, and funny, and he constantly encourages Peter to think deeper, work harder, do better - to improve himself. Which is a fun challenge, but it can also be quite exhausting at times. Working with Bruce is the exact opposite. He makes Peter feel calm, slows him down when he overthinks, and makes it clear that mistakes are something that happen to everyone and nothing Peter should be too concerned about. While spending time with Tony is the equivalent of a rollercoaster ride, being with Bruce feels more like a calm day at the beach, and Peter has realised that he needs both from time to time.

They move to Bruce’s study (since Bruce doesn’t allow food in his lab and they don’t actually need to do any experiments for Peter’s project) with Peter’s laptop, biscuits, and several bars of Fairtrade chocolate.

Tony wakes up with the blurry images of a nightmare still on the rims of his consciousness. He feels cold, achy, and slightly out of breath. It takes him a few disoriented moments to realise that his face is mostly buried into a couch pillow, blocking his mouth and nose. He frees himself and sits up stiffly, wiping at his slightly damp cheeks. His nose is dripping annoyingly and he isn’t sure whether that’s only because of the cold.

“FRIDAY?” he prompts nasally.

“It is 1:17pm on Saturday afternoon. Dr. Banner and Mr. Parker are working in the study room. Everyone is safe and well, boss.”

“Okay. Thanks, FRI.” Tony takes another few moments to ground himself before getting up from the sofa, rather unsteadily. His body seems to have tripled in weight and his head feels like an overfilled balloon that’s ready to burst. He kind of wants to fall back onto the couch and go to sleep again, but at the same time he definitely doesn’t want to revisit the dreams he just had.

Instead, he ventures into the study where he finds his partner, who is sporting an adorable bedhead, together with his mentee enthusiastically modelling a DNA strand on a laptop screen.

“Coffee?” Tony asks hoarsely.

“Good afternoon to you too, Tony,” Bruce smirks and nods towards a pot sitting on the table. Tony pours himself a mug and downs it in one go, marvelling at how much better it makes his throat feel immediately.

Feeling slightly more human and ready to deal with the actual world, he leans over Bruce’s shoulder and nuzzles his head against his partner’s ear. “How you feeling, green bean?”

“I’m much better. Sleeping helped a lot, actually.” Tony gives him a critical once-over and seems to accept that. “Peter is doing an impressive job with his project, by the way,” Bruce adds.

Peter blushes at the compliment. “It’s not me - Dr. Banner is helping me a lot!”

“I’m really just sitting here and watching you work,” Bruce dismisses before addressing Tony again. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m”—Tony’s voice breaks in the middle of the sentence and he has to clear his throat before continuing—“I’m good.”

“Mm-hmm.” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “FRIDAY, what’s his temperature at?”

“100.2 degrees, Dr. Banner.”

“Thanks.” He turns to Tony, who is coughing again. There seems to be a brick stuck inside his chest and it feels like he can’t take a full breath at all. Bruce gives him a concerned look. “This sounds painful.”

“‘S okay,” Tony dismisses.

“Maybe you should try using the inhaler -”

“Stop mother-henning, Bruce,” he grumbles with a glance at Peter, who is very clearly trying to act as if he isn’t listening to every word, but the pain in Tony’s chest is suddenly replaced by a surge of warmth upon realising Bruce’s worry about him. The scientist seems to understand and just squeezes Tony’s hand before turning back to the screen.

Tony pours himself another cup of coffee and grabs a slice of toast as well as two of the chocolate bars before settling into the chair across from the two of them, munching away and watching them work. Seeing them together leaves him with an annoyingly sappy feeling. Bruce, usually rather shy, is much more self-confident around the kid and visibly happy about Peter’s genuine interest in everything scientific. He is also a much more patient teacher than Tony ever manages to be, which seems to be putting Peter at ease.

After finishing his food, Tony debates moving to his own lab to get some actual work done, but he is so, so tired, and everything kind of hurts. Standing up seems like a lot of effort. So instead, he crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on top of them, closing his eyes for just a moment.

He listens to Peter and Bruce when their conversation shifts from Peter’s project, to May’s new vegan disaster recipe, to the idea of using Peter’s webs in order to create a hammock that can hold the Hulk. Tony smiles into his sleeves, imagining Hulk chilling at the beach between two palm trees, swinging to and fro, to and fro, to and...

“Hey.” Bruce rests his palms lightly on Tony’s shoulder.

He jerks upright. “Wasn’t asleep.”

“What, I would never think that,” Bruce says with a smirk.

Tony rubs his tired eyes and then his aching forehead. “Where’s Peter?”

“He went to heat up the soup for all of us.”

“Hmm.” Tony grabs Bruce’s hands and presses them against his overly warm cheeks, enjoying the cooling feeling they provide.

“Did you have a nightmare earlier?” Bruce asks, his hand now moving up to cup Tony’s forehead. “You seemed kind of out of it.”

“Yeah,” Tony admits, leaning into the touch. “I don’t remember what it was about, though.”

Bruce hums and presses a light kiss to the top of Tony’s head. “Fever dreams are awful. But at least you didn’t break any furniture upon waking up.”

Tony, sensing the guilt below the light tone, only huffs. “I’d been wanting to get a new bed anyway for a while now. Did you know there are self-making ones now? And levitating mattresses? Or we could go for one of those free-swinging beds, to match Hulk’s upcoming hammock.”

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. “A normal one would do, Tony. Or we could try something different. Did you know that sleeping on the ground is actually quite good for your back?”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, no. I’m a billionaire, Brucie, we’re not sleeping on the ground because our bed is broken. Levitating one it is.”

Peter comes back with the steaming soup, which does wonders for Tony’s raw throat. At Bruce’s advice, he takes some Advil that muffles his headache a little and remembers the times a few years ago when he would be sick with only JARVIS as his company, feeling a little chilled and very lucky.

In the end, Tony does agree to watching TV, but mostly because Bruce admits to still not feeling up for anything more demanding (which Peter suspects is not entirely true, but he definitely won’t call him out). They let Peter pick, who of course goes for the newest Orville episode, and settle on the huge living room couch with a steaming mug of tea (Bruce), a packet of chocolate (Tony) and another helping of soup (Peter).

Peter notices after a while that Bruce is gently massaging Tony’s head, playing with his hair. Tony seems to be sort of melting into the touch, his head leaning against Bruce’s shoulder, eyes almost closed. He looks old, but not frighteningly so - more in a serene way that makes Peter want to capture the moment on film.

In the years he’s known him, Peter has rarely seen Tony anything but buzzing with energy, jumping to and fro between ideas and lab tables. The only person who is able to slow him down and occasionally get him to take a break without having to outright trick him into it seems to be Bruce. And as sorry as Peter is to see both of them sick, it’s also heartwarming to observe how they are taking care of each other.

Peter knows that most people his age find the idea of spending a lazy movie Saturday with their family kind of boring, but something in him loves the idea of settling down like this. Maybe it’s the fact that it reminds him of how it used to be with Ben and May, or that the time he spends as Spider-Man is already adventurous enough, or the sheer thrill of seeing Iron Man and the Hulk’s alter ego in their pyjamas on the couch, nuzzled up against each other.

But whatever it is, there’s nowhere else Peter would rather be.

____________________

If you liked this, make sure to check out @twentyghosts‘ beautiful fic Cold, Comfort with a similar setting that inspired me to write this one.

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33 @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Common Cold’ square.

#sick tony stark #science bros #science boyfriends #irondad #sickfic #tony stark #bruce banner #peter parker #chocolate #common cold #fanfic #it was so hard to find a title for this

119 notes · View notes

kclenhartnovels · 5 years

Text

Episode Two

[Episode One]

Kate startled awake around midnight as music suddenly blasted in the apartment.

It started with a sensual saxophone solo, cresting with a low, steady back beat and a crooning voice that spoke of cheating lovers and nights of passion. Kate sat up abruptly, clutching the sheets to hold it over her naked chest. “DeWitt!”

“It’s alright,” they called, standing in front of the window and pooled by the neon city lights. They had sent Kate to bed fully clothed, and they had been the same, but now the pair of them were nude, and DeWitt didn’t seem at all surprised. “We were supposed to be having sex by now, that’s all. The music is to cover up the sounds.”

“But where is it coming from?” she asked, twisting her head to try and find the source. She had to shout over the volume of it, but she was sure that her voice was husky for a different reason.

DeWitt shrugged, toying with an unlit cigarette and leaning their forehead against the cool windowpane. “The same place the dramatic chords come from whenever someone dies. Or the trendy pop music whenever there’s a big battle scene.”

“But I’ve never heard that before.”

They lifted their head, and for once their lips cracked in a smile. “Really? This is the first time you’ve heard the sex music?”

She nodded. Her curly hair bounced with enthusiasm. “Yes, and Trent and I have had sex a lot. It seems every time he comes home from a night of danger, I patch him up and scold him, and then we make love all night. I’ve never heard this before.”

“That’s good,” DeWitt enthused. “It means we’re starting to break your narrative, and you can see outside of it. I mean, it’s not great for your eardrums, but it’s a step closer to saving your life.”

“How long is this going to last?” she asked, dropping the blankets in favor of holding a pillow around her ears. A black bar politely appeared to cover her nudity.

DeWitt shrugged. “Usually doesn’t last longer than a few minutes. It’s a story, after all, not an erotica.” Their eyebrows lifted a moment. “God, I hope this isn’t an erotic fanfiction arc. Those always go bizarre directions, and you never know who they throw in as a crossover.”

“What?” Kate yelled around the pillow.

DeWitt offered her a smile. They pushed away from the window at last, pouring two glasses from a bottle of whiskey whose label was politely tilted to hide the brand. “This is how you can tell we have no sponsors,” they remarked, picking up the bottle and turning it. No matter which way it faced the light, the label was crossed with odd shadow, and all that could be made out was WHISKEY in all capital letters.

The music at last faded off with one last triumphant blast of saxophone. Kate dropped the pillow with a sigh of relief. Her hair was attractively rumbled, and she pulled her shirt back on without trying to find her bra. “Why is that whiskey gray?”

They shrugged. Their hat had appeared on again, but no other clothing. The long shadows politely created a deep blackness between hip and thigh. “Some of the things I bring never seem to get colored. There are days my skin is gray, too.”

Kate took the glass with a little smile, the ice rattling too-loud. A bead of condensation rolled over the edge of the glass and skipped across her fingers. “You were saying something about breaking my narrative?”

DeWitt pulled on a pair of pants, and sat across from her. They laced both hands around their glass, and stared into it as if it held all the answers. “It’s the only way to pull you from the story before the writer decides to kill you off. Sometimes keeping you absent will make the writer forget about you, but the artist seems very fond of you.” They glanced up again, watching the way the neon lights caught against her dark skin, a myriad of color that highlighted her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the angle of her shoulder, the ice in her glass. “We may need to take more drastic action. You need to break up with Trent.”

She dropped her glass. It shattered. Ice skidded across the floor, landing in a pool of light.

“His villain’s name is Frosticle,” DeWitt muttered, then swore. “Foreshadowing.”

“I can’t break up with Trent,” she said, clasping DeWitt’s hands. “I love him, Agent. He’s--I’m nothing without him. And he needs me.”

“He needs you to further his story.” They squeezed Kate’s hand, then stood to get a broom. “I’ll go with you in the morning, and we will see if we can’t get you quietly written out of this story before you end up in a refrigerator. Or worse.”

“What could be worse than being put in a refrigerator?”

DeWitt swept up the glass. “Oh, Ms. Jackson, I’ve seen so much. Strapped to barrels and blown up while the hero saves a future villain instead. Dropped from a clock tower and and killed inches from the hero’s fingers. Shot with a bullet meant for the hero. Killed as they are confessing their love, killed while pregnant, anything to make the pain worse for the protagonist. Spy movies are even worse--I’ve seen girls encased in gold, attacked by dogs, drowned in oil, poisoned, hit by cars, eaten by piranhas, and shot more times than I can count. It’s a dismal world for the devalued woman.”

“I don’t feel like Trent devalues me.”

“It’s not Trent that I’m worried about. He’s not the one writing this, after all.” They stole a glance towards the window as day broke too quickly, sending lances of red across the floor. Too bright, too red, and DeWitt was sure that the artist was laying the doom on a bit too thick to expect Kate to last until nightfall. They would have to move faster. “Let’s get coffee, and go find your boyfriend.”

****

DeWitt swore that, despite being a city that spanned ninety square miles, Sugar, Honey, Ice, and Tea was the only coffee shop. They couldn’t remember ever seeing another one, but despite that, the line was never longer than it took for them to complete a conversation, and there was always a table available to sit.

“Have you ever noticed, Ms. Jackson, the incongruities of our daily lives?”

Kate fussed with her spoon, stirring her coffee more than necessary, though the swirl of cream and coffee refused to blend. “I’ve noticed that my coffee never cooperates.”

“It’s more satisfying to ink a high contrast swirl like that,” DeWitt said sympathetically. “Look around a moment. Do you ever remember getting coffee from any other cafe? Do you notice anyone familiar, even though you come here every day?”

“How did you know I come here every day?”

“Ms. Jackson. Where else would you go?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, just screwed up her face and stirred her coffee with more force. “I don’t know. I don’t really pay attention to people when I’m in line.”

“What about the workers?”

Her gaze flicked up, settling on the perpetually sullen goth girl manning the register, her colored contacts and lip ring never so much as twitching from the long line of flirtatious regulars and complicated orders. Behind her, a man worked as barista, his shoulders at least twice the width of the machine, the steam billowing in front of his face. His jaw was too square, and his brow too heavy, and DeWitt couldn’t help but think it was extremely lazy henchman design.

“They’re the same as I see every day,” she said mildly. “The barista hardly ever says a word, aside from calling out orders. His name tag says Joe, but everyone behind the counter calls him Steve. The cashier’s name is Demeter, and she hates it. She’s dating a man named Harold, and she hates his name, too.”

“I don’t think I would like the name Harold, either,” DeWitt agreed, still watching the barista fill orders.

“Hey, do you think we should think up a first name for you?” Kate asked brightly. “I mean, something aside from Agent.”

They shrugged. “Truth be told, Ms. Jackson, it doesn’t bother me any longer. Let’s focus on you, first.”

“I think you’re overthinking this, Agent DeWitt. I mean, we’re in the middle of a coffee shop. What could possibly--?”

“Kate?”

She whirled around, her hair flying out behind her to take up at least three panels. Immediately, she smiled, and stood to meet the young man who called from the door. “Trent!”

DeWitt swallowed a groan. Trent Terrigan was precisely what they expected: shapely muscles even in their civilian clothes, a mop of blond hair that they supposed was charmingly messy, and troubled green eyes. A perfect poster boy for a superhero. DeWitt could already see him holding Kate’s body, screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of a broken building, the light pouring in through the shattered ceiling.

“Kate, where were you last night? You never answered my text. I was so worried.” Trent crossed the distance between them quickly, and pulled his girlfriend into his arms. Kate’s head fit perfectly against his chest, tucked under his chin as she hugged him back. “When I got home and you weren’t there, I thought--oh, I thought something terrible must have happened to you.”

“I had a weird night,” she answered at last, and stepped back. She touched a fresh bruise on his jaw with a frown. “What happened?”

Trent pulled his head away, and looked off into the distance above her head. “It’s nothing.” DeWitt could see the flashback panels appearing behind Trent, showing quick clips of a battle with some great beast made of ice.

DeWitt cleared their throat, and stood at last. “Ms. Jackson.”

“Oh! Yes.” She pulled out of Trent’s arms, though reluctantly. “Trent, this is Agent DeWitt. I was staying with them last night.”

“Agent?” he repeated. “What agency do you work with?”

“The SCPA, Mr. Terrigan, and we’ve placed Ms. Jackson under our protection. And she has something she needs to tell you.”

“ASPCA? She’s not a dog.”

“Wrong acronym, Mr. Terrigan,” DeWitt corrected. “Common mistake.”

Kate tilted her chin, and stood beside DeWitt as if she could draw strength from them. “Trent. I want to break up.”

The lights in the cafe flickered, and the color drained from Trent’s face. “What? Kate, no. Why? Is it this--this Agent? Are you leaving me for them?”

“No. Trent, I love you, but--”

“%#@!,” said DeWitt.

I love you was enough. The espresso machine flew across the room, crashing between Trent and Kate and narrowly missing both of them. DeWitt pulled her back behind them quickly, and Trent turned to face the barista who was already climbing over the counter. Electricity crackled along Trent’s knuckles, and he immediately crouched into a dynamic pose.

“Power Surge,” the barista greeted, rolling up his sleeves as the other customers scattered to the corners of the room. “Frosticle sends her regards.”

DeWitt pushed Kate under the table as the barista picked up a chair and threw it at Trent’s head. The lights flickered overhead, then the bulbs popped one after another, sending shards of glass flying through the cafe. DeWitt drew their gun, standing guard over Kate as the first bolt of electricity from Trent’s hands sent the metal chair flying back at the barista, glowing blue from the charge.

“Please don’t shoot them!” Kate pleaded from under the table, grabbing DeWitt’s pant leg.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt them anyway,” they muttered, then pulled the trigger, firing the gun into the air. A vibrant red and yellow BANG accented the shot.

Both men stopped, staring at DeWitt in surprise.

“I have one question,” they said to the barista, the gun still pointed at the ceiling. “Is your name Joe, or Steve?”

The barista shrugged his massive shoulders. “It depends on the edition.”

DeWitt produced a business card, and offered it to the brute of a man. “Come by my office later on. I think you and I need to have a conversation. Kate,” they added, leaning down to help her back to her feet, “come on, you can come back with me.” They walked her to the door, picking their way through the broken glass and the tangled wreck of an espresso machine. “Gentlemen. As you were.”

The door swung shut. DeWitt heard the fight music swell again, and put their back to the chaotic fight within the cafe. Instead, they took off their coat, and draped it over Kate’s shoulders.

She held it close. “What do we do now?”

“Now, Ms. Jackson, we go back to my apartment and see if we broke your narrative enough.”

****

The rest of the day passed in relative quiet; when they returned, DeWitt’s apartment had at least expanded to a one-bedroom instead of a studio, and the couch and coffee table afforded them the option to play cards and talk. They ordered takeout for dinner, delivered by a tiny Chinese man who spoke only broken English, and DeWitt ate with a fork instead of chopsticks. Kate showered at least three times, and spent most of the afternoon in a towel or lingerie.

As the sun finally began to sink low, Kate stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing her hands against them as she watched the city. The evening light cast long shadows across her face, accenting the arch of her cheekbones and curve of her lips. Somehow, her makeup was still impeccable, even if her hair was still damp from the latest shower. She was about to speak, then gasped, the noise coming with tremor marks in the air around her.

“Agent DeWitt, something is happening!”

Her breath frosted the window. DeWitt swore under their breath as ice crystals crackled up the pane, thin and spidery at first, then cementing to a solid block that completely obscured the view of the waking city. The room dropped in temperature, and their breaths clouded in front of them.

“Frosticle,” DeWitt guessed, pulling down the brim of their hat and pulling the revolver from their belt. Their long black coat flapped in a breeze that wasn’t there. “I guess we’ll have to deal with her first.”

Kate shivered, wrapping a blanket. “Agent DeWitt, I’m frightened.”

“Of course you are, Ms. Jackson. Otherwise you wouldn’t be a damsel in distress.”

She bit her lip. Frost tipped her black curls. “I need to call Trent.”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you going to shoot her?”

“Shoot her?” DeWitt looked down at the gun in their hand, then holstered it with an irritated sigh. “Of course not. I’m going to talk with her.”

Before Kate could protest, they crossed the small room (still cursing that their two-bedroom had shrunken. They were sure that their rent wouldn’t reflect the new size.) They unlocked their door, put on what they hoped was a calm and disarming smile, and swung it open. The hall outside was at least ten degrees warmer than their apartment, and also devoid of life.

Behind DeWitt, the iced-over windows shattered inwards.

Kate screamed, throwing the blanket over her head to protect her face. The crunch of heels on glass echoed the smile that curled the corner of Frosticle’s white-painted lips, stark contrast to her dark skin.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

DeWitt closed the door behind them, turning to face Frosticle and sighing through their nose. “Ah, yes, we’ve been expecting you, Miss--?” They paused, and a frown creased between their eyes. Though six-inch heels made her look taller, and her mermaid-cut white rhinestone dress was almost more revealing than anything Kate had worn, her face was unmistakably similar to the one still hiding beneath the blanket.

“Ms. Jackson, why didn’t you tell me that you had an identical sister?” DeWitt sighed.

Kate cowered on the floor, lifting one corner of the blanket carefully. “I don’t. I have an evil twin sister.”

Frosticle smiled, and extended one hand towards DeWitt, curls of ice spiraling up from her palm. “And honey, I’m so good at being bad.”

Tag list: @gingerly-writing @rrrawrf-writes @thewinedarksea @writerofwriting @hechiceria @knightedwriter @kaypier @panhasablog @writevevo @janicelikeswriting @the-jennster @awakeingdreamer @starspangledscarf @dino-and-coffee @thedreamsofthesky @suckerforcryptids @mcubed35 @seadrianwrites @reality-s @emb3rash @beckaboi @spontaneoustornadoes @fandom-child-4life @power-in-plain-sight @timetravelingpigeon @eblisfiction @mercy-is-alive @anayalee @fryingpanbouquet @erinoddly @indigobadger @westywrites

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from tags

As always, patrons get first chance to read plus other goodies, and my ko-fi tip jar is always open. Also available to read on Wattpad!

#writeblr #superheroes #satire #heroes and villains #scpa #meta #secondary character protection agency #guys I hope this lives up to expectations #also Frosticle was not supposed to appear this early but #you all seem to be thirsting for her so #you get an early peek #and the next chapter I can really dedicate to her #also I'm playing with formatting to make it more comic book style #please let me know if you like the bold and italics or think that it's too much

143 notes · View notes

mad-queen-thorn · 5 years

Note

tell us some facts or headcanons you have about the mad queen!!

This has been sitting in my drafts longer than I’d like to admit. So I’m getting off my butt to finally finish this. (Long post, will be under the cut.)

Well, I think it’d be best to start with her origin. OC wise. She used to be a major comfort character for me. An idealization of sorts. And she kinda still is. Her design has changed since I first made her, she had an entirely different name and meaning. A “haha what if I lived in Tyria!” kinda thing. But then she changed and grew in time. But everyone who knew her from back then still sees her as a reflection of me and call me Maddie, when my actual nickname is Neon, only a handful of friends call me this. Which I’m not fussed about, she’s changed a lot. Which I’ve had close friends point out she’s been a big part of my growth in the past year. On terms of story, Maddie comes from Divinity’s Reach. She wasn’t poor, nor was she was a noble, she had a quiet comfortable life on the outskirts of the city and would head out to Queensdale for work. Not much is known about her family, she lived on her own and kept to herself. A complete wallflower in the middle of bustling city life. She never really traveled Tyria and always dreamed to be able to do so. And saved bits of money aside to go to a festival somewhere far away. Which ended up being Lion’s Arch in October. And thus began her path to madness. 🎃

When it comes to the courting, I’d say it took about… hmm, 2 years before things became solid and official?. And I’m talking from meeting right up to marriage. The first year she caught Os’ attention, but not much happened. She thought something was up, but just put it down as overthinking. The fact that she caught him looking at her on more than one occasion she thought it was just to try spook her. During the year after the festival she did find herself thinking about him a lot. But kept reminding herself that it was just an act, and how much of a terrible person he is. But her mind always returned to how much he made her laugh, his attitude and playfulness, there was just something about him she couldn’t stop thinking of. Occasionally beating herself up about how she could feel for such a terrible monarch, she was in denial, but by the gods she adored him. And he knew this. By her actions during the festival. Her eagerness for his attention. There was something quite different about it. She was fresh into the world, the first time further than her doorstep of Queensdale, and yes…moldable into the Maddie we have today. She had potential. On the 2nd year, of course, the two became more acquainted, Os made some moves, he would single her out or catch her when she was alone. Which scared the poor woman, but deep down she loved the attention. It wasn’t until a few months after the festival, near the end of Wintersday and after becoming a member of the Lunatic Court and staying in the Mad Realm to serve she was finally crowned. With exposure to the Mad King and the Realm in general, her confidence grew and his influence on almost changed her completely. She became cheeky, murderous, sly and clever. Murderous? Not many people know this, as Maddie became incredibly good at hiding that. Pose as a threat to her and she’ll plan, and scheme to eliminate her threat. Singling them out and making sure they’re completely alone when she does the deed and that nobody sees it. Her first kill was when she lost her temper with a subject and Os caught her in the act. And while she was sobbing and in shock over what she just did, filled with regret. Os praised her. He rewarded her for such behavior. And that planted a seed of uncertainty in her mind. She got away with it, and he kept rewarding this behavior. Which sculpted her darker side to Os’ pleasing.

Like I said, Maddie is clever, and sly. On the surface everyone thinks she’s harmless and fun, a very nice lady which makes people question what the couple see in one another. But deep down, pose a threat to her or anyone she loves she turns as dark as Oswald himself. People would point this out, but most likely won’t believe them. As Maddie seems nothing like Os apart from their sense of humor and attitude. She even as a plan for if Os tries to kill her, her plan being simply: “If he thinks he can take me down, I’ll bring him down with me.”

As you can see, Maddie’s body changed over time. She had the accident with her arms when she foolishly had a run in with some Inquest that promised to help her improve her elemental abilities with fire, but backfired and thus her arms became corrupted with destroyer magic. This took many months for her to adjust to, as her arms are linked to her emotions and was very hard to control and took a lot of time, tears and willpower to gain control of. This placed a rather big fear of destroyers in her.

Will her arms ever be healed? I don’t think so, I think the only thing that could do that is Aurene. And she’s never ever met Aurene. Like other Tyrians, she’s heard of the dragon and has briefly met the Commander on some occasions. The Commander doesn’t think much about her as long as she isn’t a threat.The more time she spent in the Mad Realm, the more she’s become attuned to it. With some slight powers of teleportation and wings, granted by Oswald himself, so she can defend herself when she isn’t in the Mad Realm. Maddie can freely pass between Tyria and the Mad Realm. And won’t share her method on how. With her boost of confidence and massive change in lifestyle, Maddie adores passing the time by traveling Tyria like she has always wanted to do, getting herself into lots of silly situations and scenes. And always returns home to Castle Thorn in the afternoon and spends the rest of her day at home.She is also 100% in on the rivalry with Joko, and on occasion likes to track him down and annoy him in any way she thinks. Always porting away at the last moment when Joko loses his temper with her. He’s yet to catch her. But she can’t outwit the lich forever, right?

Maddie’s cruel sense of humor sometimes leaks out when she’s out exploring, laughing at others demise if she finds it funny. Or taking opportunities shoving people to their danger or slight pranks in general. She wouldn’t kill for a laugh, although there have been a few times she’s overestimated a situation and caused a death. Only to laugh. Or bombard with bad jokes and puns so someones annoyance. Laughter and making jokes has become a big part on how she copes with things.The only other thing Maddie has on her body that is damage is claw scars on her waist from an awakened that swiped at her and the claws slashed her deep enough to leave a scar. Outside of that she’s been defending herself quite well. Maddie has the capability to heal herself being an Elementalist. But is now under protection of a very small and loyal water djinn called Zhaleh, who was gifted to the Mad Queen. Who has a habit of following Maddie everywhere and making sure she’s fine. He’s a mostly mute and shy little guy who adores her (and won’t admit it) and endures the lots of affection Maddie gives him. He acts as a servant towards her despite the multiple occasions Maddie keeps telling him he isn’t and that he’s a friend. And is free to roam the Mad Realm as he pleases. But Zhaleh just doesn’t take the hint and follows her around Tyria anyway. The little guy has seen so many places. I think he likes traveling as much as Maddie does.

Does Maddie have any music?I do have a Spotify playlist for her, but I’m constantly tweaking it, maybe I’ll post it someday once I feel like its complete. This is all I can think of so far. I hope you enjoy this Maddie essay!

#Anonymous #the queen's musing #The Queen's Answers

9 notes · View notes

illuminating-dragons · 7 years

Text

Fading Scars (8/?): Provincial Town

Time: 1998-2001

Summary: Two accidental proposals, and one that just might work. Also, Beauty and the Beast came out in 1991, which just happens to be their first year at Hogwarts. :)

When the Feeling Was Right But The Timing Was Wrong (1999)

Ron asked Hermione to marry him the day after she graduated.

He hadn’t planned to at all; he had no proposal, no ring, nothing. He was helping Hermione unpack in their new flat in London, close between Grimmauld Place and the Ministry. Hermione was scolding him for the state of the bathroom. To be fair, while everything was hygienic there was a terrible mess on the counters.

“You know I’m messy!” Ron retorted. “You might want to get used to it before we get married.”

Hermione dropped the box she was holding. “Married?”

“Well—well yes.” Ron cursed himself. “I mean—if you want to. Someday. Not right now, obviously, we’re too young, and—”

Hermione stopped him with a look. “Ron, do you want to get married?”

Ron bit his lip. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly. “I know we haven’t been together all that long, but when I think about the future, I think about marrying you.”

Hermione smiled. It was a kind smile, but Ron was still worried. “I don’t want to pressure you, darling,” he said quickly. “And I want to make sure that you’re sure, and I don’t even know if I’m sure, and it’s too soon, but that’s how I feel.”

Hermione kissed him. “Ron, love, I want to be with you too. And maybe get married. But I don’t think we should worry about that right now. We can just enjoy things, alright? We can enjoy us. I’m with you, I promise.”

When the Timing Was Right But The Feeling Was Wrong (2000)

Their second anniversary was a disaster.

It was bad timing, really. Neither of them wanted to celebrate on the same day as the Battle of Hogwarts, so they chose their first date (sitting in the Hog’s Head, drinking Butterbeer the day before the funerals began) instead. But it was still only three days later, and two years had done very little to heal the wounds.

Hermione couldn’t remember how the fight started; it might have been her necklace (the one Ron bought her did not match the dress she bought, and she wanted to wear that). Whatever the case, they missed their reservations because they were too busy screaming at each other.

“I don’t feel like you appreciate me at all!” Ron yelled.

“Of course I do!” Hermione screamed back. “I want to marry you, you idiot!”

That finally stopped the shouting. Ron started crying instead.

Three hours later, still in their fancy clothes, they sat in the kitchen passing a bottle of wine back and forth.

“What do we do?” Ron said helplessly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hermione said. “Maybe we need to work at it more, though. Talk, maybe? About what’s bothering us, and what we feel?”

“I thought we were talking.”

“Maybe some of our talking isn’t working,” Hermione suggested. “Maybe we’re not talking the right way. We can try new ways.”

Ron didn’t answer for a moment, but he put his arm around her, and Hermione relaxed.

“You always have great ideas,” he said.

“So do you.”

Ron scoffed, but instead of pushing it off, he opened his mouth. “I don’t always think I have good ideas, actually.”

“Why do you feel that way?” Hermione asked gently. “How can I help?”

It was dawn before they went to bed, throats dry from talking and crying. And they held each other close, both feeling like a layer of the wall between them—the wall they’d been hammering at for years—was starting to be dismantled, carefully and lovingly.

When the Timing Was Right and So Was the Feeling (2001)

Ron took a deep breath and put his change into the phone.

This phone booth wasn’t far from Diagon Alley, but it felt like it took an eternity to get there. He had to keep checking his pocket—did he have his change, did he still have the number, was he making a mistake?

Well. He was here now.

Ron dialled the number carefully. He was starting to worry that they weren’t at home, but someone picked up on the fifth ring.

“Jacob Granger speaking.”

“Hullo Jacob.” Ron spoke clearly and at a normal pace, just like Hermione had taught him. “It’s Ron.”

“Hello Ron! I don’t think you’ve ever called us before!”

“No, I haven’t. I’m not very good at the telephone.”

“Well I’m not very good at Potions, so we’ll help each other along!” There was warmth in the man’s voice that made Ron feel a bit more at ease. “Can I help you now?”

Ron took a deep breath. “Can I speak to you and Helena? I have a question for you.”

“Absolutely. Helena! Ron’s on the phone.”

The conversation took a few more coins, but by the end of it Ron had the best possible answer. Now it was time to pick Hermione up from work, and check his pockets once more.

Perhaps a few times more.

There were two things left that he couldn’t forget.

Hermione hadn’t asked why they were going to Lindfield. Ron hadn’t wanted to tell her at all, but he was still wary of Side-Along Apparition, so he told her the village name but nothing else.

Lindfield was a beautiful village; quiet with farmland all about. Ron was nervous now. Maybe he’d chosen wrong. Maybe it was too quiet here.

He took a deep breath. He needed to stop overthinking everything.

He led Hermione up to a house, a brick one with a light brown roof. It had another part next to it, but Ron led Hermione to the front door.

“Who lives here, Ron?”

Ron took the key—hadn’t lost it, hurrah!—out of his pocket. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

The door (thankfully) opened into a hall, so Hermione couldn’t see that there was no furniture in the main room—nor, indeed, any furniture at all in the house. Except, of course, in one very important room.

“Come upstairs,” Ron coaxed. He wanted Hermione to be properly surprised, before she figured it out.

Up the stairs they went, then down a hallway to a closed door.

“Ron…” Hermione said slowly. “Is this…”

“Open the door first, darling.”

Hermione went in.

Ron let her walk in slowly, taking in the room.

Bill had helped him build the shelves, but the design of the room was his idea—the magic books sorted by subject then by size, the way she did it at home, the Muggle books by author. He’d picked out the comfy loveseat, and spent hours fussing about the proper lighting to make the little library ideal for reading no matter the weather. The final touch—one he was proud of—laid on the loveseat: a pair of soft gloves with the fingers cut off. Hermione’s hands got cold when she read.

Hermione had her hands over her mouth. “Ron…”

“I brought the books here from home this morning,” Ron confessed. “There’s some new ones too: your dad’s been helping me pick new Muggle ones. I’d like to borrow a few when you’re finished.” He cleared his throat. “The house is ours if we want it. There’s a pool in the other building, and room for a workshop for me. It’s not far from London, so the Apparition won’t be totally awful.” Apparition took its toll as the years went on.

Hermione’s eyes were shining with tears. “You made this for me?”

Ron nodded. “And there’s three bedrooms, so one for you and me and two for…two for kids, if we want them.” He stayed upright, and took a ring from his pocket. “I know you don’t want a fancy proposal, and we’ve talked about it before…so will you marry me?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything, darling.”

Hermione pulled a box from her purse with trembling fingers. “Marry me too?”

Ron crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. “I think you can talk me into that,” he laughed when he pulled away.

She glared at him. “You’re horrid.”

“You’re beautiful,” he answered, and kissed her again.

When they’d calmed down sufficiently, Ron carefully placed the ring on Hermione’s hand as she did the same for him.

“We’re engaged,” Hermione whispered. “We did it.”

“Yes we did,” Ron agreed. It had been worth it, every minute of uncertainty and vulnerability. Then he narrowed his eyes. “You sure you’re not marrying me for the library, right?”

That earned him another glare. That one he definitely deserved.

He was sure he would get another one at their wedding a year later when her dad stood up to tell the story of his son-in-law checking with him to confirm that Hermione’s favourite Disney film was indeed Beauty and the Beast on the same day he asked permission to propose to Hermione, but instead he got a beaming smile from his bride. She even laughed when their first dance song began with “Tale as old as time…”

Hermione’s Ring

Ron’s Ring

Wedding Bands

#harry potter fanfiction #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley/hermione granger #harry potter AU #fading scars universe #acme146 fanfiction #proposal #crosspost from AO3

3 notes · View notes

lux-i-fer · 7 years

Text

Café Amor

Synopsis: For "Who The Hell Is Cupid" Valentine's Fic Exchange. Sitting in the precinct parking lot, completely clothed, and holding coffee was not Lucifer's plan for Valentine's Day.

Ao3 link

Rating: G

Notes: Hello and welcome to my week late Valentine's Day Fic!! I've been on vacation for the past week (without my laptop *gasp*) and so I had no time to post. So I'm super sorry it's so late! This is unbetaed because of my rush (it was a rush job transferring too) so any mistakes are mine. Anyways my prompt for the lovely Antarctic_Echoes was stuffed toys and such. It's fun, I promise. The title translates to "Coffee Love".

February 14th 2017, 21st century A.D. was officially the first time the Devil didn't know what to do.

Valentine’s Day, the holiday dedicated to lust and all things sensual. The one day out of the year that Lux's patrons and dancers alike blended together in a sexually charged lingerie filled menagerie. A time when red confetti and gold streamers rained down on the sea of debauchery every hour.

It was Lucifer's personal sin-filled playground and he wasn't attending.

No instead this year on Valentine’s Day Lucifer Morningstar found himself completely clothed, sober, and in the precinct parking lot. In place of holiday themed shots and chasers there was lukewarm coffee in the Corvette’s center console.

Lucifer didn't buy flowers because they reminded him of the hospital. There was no chocolate because that was for the spawn. He didn't do dinner because Chloe was working late. There were no cut out hearts because he was the Devil and good, menacing Devils did not give pathetic declarations of love on construction paper. And Lucifer certainly was not dressing up like a poor representation of his half-breed brother, “Cupid”; no matter how much he despised him.

In fact, Lucifer hadn't gotten anything at all. Well that was a lie, he'd gotten the coffee. But he supposed it really didn't count.

He glanced at the small hearts Sharpied in next to his name. The over-friendly barista had written his name with blatantly forced flourishes. She obviously hadn't cared whether or not the second cup was for someone else.

Hearts or no hearts, the coffee was not going to get him laid. No matter how many Lifetime movies tried to tell him otherwise.

Lucifer let his head fall heavily on the Corvette’s steering wheel. Oh Father maybe he should break down and get chocolate.

With a sigh he checked the time: 7:46. Only Chloe would choose to work late on Valentine’s Day.

Not that he minded, of course. He certainly admired her dedication. Especially when catching particularly nasty criminals put that spark in her eye.

Lucifer tried to ignore how his heart swelled with pride whenever he thought of her.

Her laughing at her own silly jokes, her taking down bad guys, her dressed in that low-cut shirt he loved, with the white buttons and the lace b-- no, no distractions . He mentally kicked himself.

Bloody emotions. Evil, bewitching woman. Stupid holiday.

He sighed. Why was he overthinking this? It was just bringing Chloe coffee. He did this every day; the only thing that was different was the damn label.

Lucifer forced himself to get out of the car. He grabbed the coffee with a little more force than needed and headed into the precinct.

It was no surprise that her desk lamp was the only light on in the building. It's owner, however; was missing. And that was a surprise.

“Detective darling?”

Lucifer's echoing query wasn't returned.

The coffee seemed to freeze in his hands as he stepped down the stairs.

Where could she be?

“Detective?”

As Lucifer neared Chloe's empty desk he saw half signed case papers. The pen lay uncapped next to them, ink seeping onto the cheap metal desktop.

Her coat hung untouched on the back of her chair, reassuring him she was here somewhere. Lucifer set Chloe’s cup down, taking care to avoid anything important. His newly freed fingertips danced thoughtfully across the worn leather as he scanned the rest of the surface for clues.

A glint caught his eye and Lucifer couldn't help the beginnings of a smile that played across his lips.

There among Chloe's legal work and silly little knick-knacks sat a tiny stuffed bear. Not just any bear, an angel bear; with tiny metallic cellophane wings and halo to boot. It gazed placidly at him with its cheerfully stitched smile teasing him.

Lucifer tugged the yellow sticky note out of its fuzzy white paws. The paper revealed a big pink heart on the bear’s stomach. In the middle, printed in bold white letters read NICE.

A disbelieving scoff rose in his throat. The bloody woman lived to torture him.

Lucifer turned his attention to the sticky note.

Conference room 166 was scrawled in Chloe's familiar chicken scratch.

He huffed out an amused chuckle and his smile stretched further. Sticking the note back to the bear, Lucifer stacked Chloe's coffee on top of his and swiped the bear off the desk.

Conference room 166 was a rarely used storage room, barely the size of a cubicle that sat at the end of a side hallway designated for far more important things than extra staples. Lucifer himself had only been in it once to grab a box of envelopes for Chloe's evidence forms.

His feet found the familiar path easily and soon Lucifer found himself at the door of conference room 166. It opened without a fuss and Lucifer found himself greeted with the same scene from before.

A single light shown on the small wooden table that just barely fit inside. Unlike Chloe's desk, the table was clutter free, save for a single black bear.

Lucifer took a step closer.

The new bear stared up at him with the same sewn on grin as the last one, but instead of wings and a halo, it had shiny red horns and a tail.

It's black paws held another yellow sticky note, tempting Lucifer just as the same as the first.

Under it was a similar red heart with NAUGHTY stamped on in white lettering.

Lucifer shifted his gaze to the paper in his hand. On it was a single word printed in all caps.

SURPRISE!

Confused, Lucifer searched the shadows for traces of Chloe.

He whipped his head around as a click sounded behind him.

“What--?”

Lucifer's words died in his throat at the sight of Chloe leaning against the door. He felt his grip on the coffee cups loosen as he took her in.

Her hair hung loosely in her face, hiding pieces of her bright grin behind slices of its golden strands. The white blouse Lucifer had fantasized about all evening lay unbuttoned a few too many holes to be modest.

Lucifer all but dropped the cups and bear onto the table.

“Hi,” he said, not trusting himself to say more.

Fire danced playfully in her eyes as she held up a takeout bag.

“Hi,” she echoed slyly.

“I suppose the coffee is a bit redundant now, isn't it?”

Chloe took a step towards him, a smirk spreading on her lips. “You brought me coffee?”

Chloe dropped the takeout bag on the table behind him before twining her arms around his neck, making sure to knot her fingers in the wool collar of his jacket. Her warm fingertips brushed languidly against the skin that lay underneath.

Lucifer drew in a sharp breath, trying to fight the lust creeping into his eyes. His hands didn't seem to get the memo and drifted low on her hips, itching to draw her closer.

Chloe seemed to read his mind as she leaned flush against his body and gave him a welcoming peck.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his lips.

The taste of her sizzled on his tongue. Every doubt he had about Valentine’s Day vanished. Lucifer peered down at her with a sloppy smile. His gaze swept over Chloe and drank in her divinity and grace, allowing it to wash over him like a winter storm.

To Hell with chastity.

Lucifer captured her mouth in another kiss. Deeper than the first but just as heated. Chloe's fingers tightened their grip on the back of his neck, hungrily returning it.

The passionate kisses quickly began to melt into softer ones as Chloe eased herself away, just enough to rest her forehead on his.

“Did you like the bears?” she asked breathlessly.

Lucifer chuckled and rose to meet her lips again.

“I bloody loved them. Do you truly like the coffee? It's a bit rubbish, I know I bring it every day but--”

He was cut off by Chloe's laughter pouring into his ears like honey.

“Lucifer, shut up, I love coffee. Now come on, the food is getting cold.”

Chloe unwound herself from Lucifer's body and moved to the table to rifle through the takeout bag. He watched in disbelief as she unconsciously grabbed her coffee and took a luxurious sip. It took everything in Lucifer's power not to cross himself then and there.

She flashed him another sultry glance and Lucifer knew that somehow, the coffee might actually be getting him laid tonight.

#deckerstar #my fics #lucifer on fox #valentines day #lucifer fanfic

41 notes · View notes

trendingnewsb · 6 years

Text

Struggling Mom Carries Baby With Poopy Diaper on PlaneThen a Man in 1st Class Sends Her a Message

ShareTweet

I tend to have anxiety. I also tend to overthink the things I’m having anxiety about.

So it was no wonder that when I had a trip scheduled to fly with my 6-month-old daughter, I was both anxiety-ridden and obsessively researching all the things one needs to know when travelling [sic] with baby.

It’s not hard to guess why I was so anxious.

For starters, it was not so many months ago when I was walking through REI, phone in hand, transfixed by a bizarre video of an Asian doctor being violently and forcibly removed from a plane.

Then there was the second viral video of a flight attendant who lost his marbles on a young mom with a baby over a stroller she was trying to carry on the plane.

Last, but not least, was my own experience seven years ago flying with an infant. I sat squished in the window seat next to a lady who had (I-kid-you-not) pants made from zippers. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since. Naturally, my almost-one-year old wanted nothing to do with the toys I brought, and only wanted to play with the unamused lady’s zippers. When my baby wasn’t fighting to get her hands on those delightful pants, she was biting the heck out of me every time we nursed with her newly budded teeth. Once we arrived, me barely intact, the stroller I had borrowed for the flight refused to lock, and so it kept folding up on my precious bundle as we wandered around the Denver airport ridiculously lost.

The way home wasn’t much better. The airline broke the stroller I had borrowed from a family member, and no compensation was received. And my baby bit the whole way back. Because why not? I think I vowed never to fly with a baby again.

Combine all of the above and I knew I needed to be prepared for All.The.Things. this go around. . .

Book an aisle seat on all flights — Check.

Bring a stroller I could trust and be able to handle easily in security, but make sure it’s not too expensive in case it gets damaged by the airline — Check.

Wear baby using a comfortable carrier with toys attached — Check.

Carry on enough clothes and diapers for baby and me for two days in case of a delay — Check.

Ask for doctor’s note for baby’s liquid medicine just in case — Check.

Only a few times in my life has my obsessive research actually benefitted me, and I would rank our flights to our destination as one of those times. I had neither too much, nor not enough stuff. Even when the pilot realized something was amiss on our flight at take off, and re-routed us back to the gate for an hour and a half delay, my baby did beautifully. She fussed for only about 5 minutes for the duration of our travel from Seattle to Georgia. And all the people around me ooh’ed and aah’ed over how well behaved my baby was.

Of course, all this combined made me an EXPERT on flying with baby. (I give you permission to laugh out loud, roll your eyes, or generally scoff — whatever’s your thing.)

So as I packed for the trip home, I mentally put together a blog post about how to travel with an infant.

I had the perfect outfit planned for nursing moms.

I had the perfect carry-on bags.

I had great hacks, like bringing your own empty bottle on for the in-flight drink — cause ain’t no way mama’s gonna be able to drink safely from a cup with an in-lap baby.

In fact, I was so absorbed in how to tell you all to fly that I lost track of how much time I was taking to get ready. Before I knew it, the hours I had to pack dwindled to a singular one.

“No worries,” I thought. “I don’t have any decisions to make. I just need to put everything in their bags.”

My daughter though, had her own set of plans. Which included at least 30 minutes of what I call nurse-sleeping (sleeping very attached to the boob.) My sister, Sarah, began packing for me until I could transfer the sleeping baby to her arms and take over myself. Before I know it, Sarah looks up and says, “We were supposed to leave 10 minutes ago.” 10 minutes after that, I’m finally ready. As I put my daughter in her car seat, I realize there is yellow-green on her back where there should not be any yellow-green. I have always been a Pampers girl. Through all my babies, foster, adopted, bio or babysat — Pampers have been my go-to. Except this time, Pampers wasn’t cutting it.

“No time to change her,” Sarah says. I rush back into the house once more to find my favorite red and pink strawberry muslin that is to die for, and then we’re off. I look up at the clock in the car console as she begins backing out of her driveway. Oh crap, I sigh. We have 45 minutes until my flight departs.

The short trip to the airport is made shorter by my sister’s speeding, and once we get to parking, we don’t have things perfectly planned. My daughter and one of my nephews is now asleep in the car. We desperately need another adult. “Quick,” Sarah says. “Grab your big bag, and whatever else you can take quickly, and get to ticketing so you can check your bag. I’ll park and get the kids and bring baby to you.”

And so I grab all my hands can, and rush to Delta’s tiny ticket counter at Augusta Regional Airport to check in at 4:29 for my 4:59 flight. (I know. I’m a rockstar at flying with kids, right?!?)

The courteous agent with dark skin and glowing white teeth greets me with a friendly smile. “I need to check in quickly,” I gush, mostly out of breath.

“Please do not tell me you are here for the 4:59 flight?” she questions.

“Yep — that’s the one!” I say.

“We have a minute, no seconds, to get your bag on the flight!” And with that she starts attacking her keyboard with lightning-fast fingers, as I quickly pass her my driver’s license then lift my 50-lb case onto the scale. She slaps stickers on my bag and urges me, “Get this bag to that agent right there, now!” I rush it off, then rush back to get my boarding pass. Sarah and the sleepy kids come in, and where the agent tells me it is now too late to check my car seat. “We just barely had enough time to get your bag on!” she puffs, mostly from being out of breath I think than from frustration. Everyone in the South always seems nice, so it’s hard to tell. I quickly kiss my sister and nephew good-bye, and take my poopy baby and boarding passes and a ridiculous amount of stuff off to security.

I never know whether to hold onto my boarding pass, or to put it in my bag through security, so I took a risk and shoved them into my Ergo which I loaded with all my other baby gear onto the conveyor belt: baby car seat, stroller, backpack, tote bag, ergo, shoes, electronics, liquids, etc. “Oh yes,” I say when asked, “I did leave the baby’s medicine in a cooler in the very bottom of my bag.” The TSA guards have a bit of compassion and don’t make me rummage through to get it. A jaunt through the “let’s-all-pretend-I’m-naked-device” and I scoop up my blowout baby back into my Ergo, toss my husband’s backpack on my back, put my tote in the stroller, with the upside-down car seat draped over the top, and slip on my shoes as I trek to the gate.

Trust me on this. No matter how crunchy granola you are — fly with a stroller.

I arrive to the gate as boarding is well underway. I try to steer to the right of the line to get to the ticket counter to gate check my items, but sadly the seats have barricaded me out. Straight through the line I must go.

“Excuse me, pardon me, so sorry,” I say clearly and loudly — far from my normal apologetic mumble. I hate creating a stir, yet here I am, parting the Red Sea of passengers. I am now totally sweaty, as my perfect outfit I wore did not account for the 90-degree heat outside nor frantic race inside carrying all things baby. Thankfully, the ticket agents were nice, and once again, I was thankful I was visiting the pleasant South where strangers generally are a bit more courteous than I am used to. With everything now officially taken care of, I part the sea yet again to make my way to the back of the line, then on to the back of the plane.

As soon as I get seated, I must make room for a svelte young man with blond hair and easy smile. I mentally crossed my fingers and hope he is as nice as everyone else I’ve encountered. As I fidget with my bag, loading toys and snacks for me in the pouch in the seat in front, feeling significantly less confident that I should write a blog about how to travel with an infant, a darling middle-aged flight attendant stands hesitatingly in the aisle next to me.

“Excuse me ma’am?” She taps on my shoulder.

And with that, my mind races. What have I forgotten? What did we do wrong? Am I losing my seat? Is someone complaining already? . . . My mind immediately throttles to hyper-drive. I don’t show it. I return her smile. She continues . . .

“There’s this guy in the front of the plane. He said he wanted to switch seats with the lady with the baby. And I think you’re the lady with the baby. Would you like to sit in first class?”

As I sat there a bit stunned, my fellow passengers began their own cheering session for me: “Yes, girl, you get that seat!” “Way to go!” “YES!” “Enjoy that first-class seat!”

So happy to be sitting in first class!

As I follow the flight attendant to the front of the plane, I pass a trim older gentleman with a big smile and kind eyes. “What seat am I in?” he asks. “21 D,” I reply (thinking to myself, “at the very back of the plane! I’m so sorry!”) After as many thanks as I can squeeze in, I sit down to a cushy wide seat, with enough room in front for both my bags and my legs. I somewhat sheepishly look around, hoping that no one is upset that they are now travelling with a baby in first class, where they presumably paid extra to get away from it all. Suddenly, another middle age man sitting directly in front of me swings around . . .

“Isn’t Pat the nicest? We work together at Huggies. He’s the lead designer on the diapers. At Huggies . . . we just LOVE babies. Hey . . . have you ever tried those teething tablets? We used those with my kids . . .”

And right then and there, I knew I was now a Huggies mom. Not because the diapers are better. (I’m sure they’re great.) But because a company who professes to love babies ACTUALLY hires people who LOVE babies. So much so that they’ll go sit on the back of the plane, where no drinks were served, so I could travel more comfortably with my poopy little squish in THEIR first-class seat.

Proudly wearing her Huggies diaper!

So Pat, the lead designer at Huggies, from Delta flight 725 from Augusta to Atlanta, if you ever get a chance to read this story — I want you to thank you again in a way I couldn’t on our short little pass in the aisle.

Thank you for restoring some of my faith in humanity.

Thank you for being an example of kindness I can share with my daughter growing up.

Thank you for living what you preach.

Thank you for being inconvenienced with a smile on your face.

Thank you for acknowledging the value of all little people in a world which so often discredits their worth.

Thank you for putting a smile on both our faces during what could have been a very difficult trip.

And for all the Delta employees who treated me and my baby with kindness and courtesy, you all did the best I could have asked for. Thanks so much for making flying fun again.

It didn’t take long for her to get as comfy cozy as I was!

As for the poopy blow-out diaper. Well, it turns out the flight was so short that as soon as we got high enough to turn off the fasten seatbelt sign, it was time to turn it on to start the descent. So it, and we, had to wait until we were in the Atlanta airport before I could change her. Still, baby fared great with a smile on her face. And nothing could wipe the smile off my face. Not even a stinky blowout diaper.

Oh so rarely will I ever ask you to share my blog. But in this one case, I would love for Pat to hear the whole story of how his one act of kindness touched our family. If you’d like to help Pat hear about this, please click “share” on this post. I would love for Pat, Huggies, and the Delta family to know their kindness matters.

Disclaimer: Besides the first-class seat, I received nothing in return for this post. Except maybe a strong desire to ALWAYS fly first class. I’m just saying — it was pretty amazing.

Thank you Pat from Huggies! We think you’re the best!

.IRPP_ruby , .IRPP_ruby .postImageUrl , .IRPP_ruby .centered-text-area{height:130px;position:relative}.IRPP_ruby,.IRPP_ruby:hover,.IRPP_ruby:visited,.IRPP_ruby:active{border:0!important}.IRPP_ruby .clearfix:after{content:"";display:table;clear:both}.IRPP_ruby{display:block;transition:background-color 250ms;webkit-transition:background-color 250ms;width:100%;opacity:1;transition:opacity 250ms;webkit-transition:opacity 250ms;background-color:#FFF;box-shadow:0 1px 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.17);-moz-box-shadow:0 1px 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.17);-o-box-shadow:0 1px 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.17);-webkit-box-shadow:0 1px 2px rgba(0,0,0,0.17)}.IRPP_ruby:active,.IRPP_ruby:hover{opacity:1;transition:opacity 250ms;webkit-transition:opacity 250ms;background-color:#eaeaea}.IRPP_ruby .postImageUrl{background-position:center;background-size:cover;float:left;margin:0;padding:0;width:31.59%}.IRPP_ruby .centered-text-area{float:right;width:65.65%;padding:0;margin:0}.IRPP_ruby .centered-text{display:table;height:130px;left:0;top:0;padding:0;margin:0}.IRPP_ruby .IRPP_ruby-content{display:table-cell;margin:0;padding:0 74px 0 0px;position:relative;vertical-align:middle;width:100%}.IRPP_ruby .ctaText{border-bottom:0 solid #fff;color:#3498DB;font-size:13px;font-weight:bold;letter-spacing: .125em;margin:0;padding:0}.IRPP_ruby .postTitle{color:#000;font-size:16px;font-weight:600;margin:0;padding:0}.IRPP_ruby .ctaButton{background:url(https://faithit.com/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts-pro/assets/images/next-arrow.png)no-repeat;display:inline-block;height:130px;width:54px}.IRPP_ruby .ctaButton{background-color:#3498DB;margin-left:10px;position:absolute;right:0;top:0}.IRPP_ruby:after{content:"";display:block;clear:both}