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leonw4nter · 2 months

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Lovebirds (of Prey)

Husband!DI!Leon x F!Reader

Here you are, quietly hanging out in the darker corners of an old-money party and waiting for Leon to arrive. Parties were never your scene and though you’d avoid being in one, duty calls and now you find yourself being dragged to one. You weren’t just assigned to be someone lurking in the darkness and carefully waiting for the time, no; you were assigned to be a bellhop and gather people’s coats and valuables before they entered the party proper. Unfortunately for you, you and Leon wouldn’t be able to come in as a couple to read people and the room for the neo Umbrella bioweapon trader you’re assigned to take into custody. You protested to your boss about this arrangement, especially that you and Leon are literally married. Just like you did, he also protested against this but you two had no choice but to accept this arrangement.

“I’m sorry baby. I know this will be slightly awkward for us both but it’s just for a mission right? I promise that this is the first and last time we’ll have something like this,” Leon reassures you as he drives you both home.

“Yeah. Don’t tell this to the kids, they’ll think we’re separating,” you softly respond. With a soft sigh, you unbutton the topmost button and lean against the window as you mindlessly stare at the cars speeding past.

“Yeah,” Leon responds. He puts a large hand on your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze even if he keeps his eyes trained on the road and the other hand on the wheel. “I love you honey. You know that?”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

A few hours later, you two send the kids over to your parents’ house before suiting up for the mission: Leon in a sharp suit and you in your bellhop uniform. You fitted all straps and subtle holsters, making sure they were secure and well-concealed in the clothing you guys wore. Leon handed you the earpieces and cuff mics, making sure they were also well-hidden. Since Leon will be entering the party via the main entrance where everyone else is required to enter through, he will enter unarmed but with connections to the expertly placed agents throughout the party he’ll be able to arm himself while looking for the target, a neo Umbrella genetic engineer named Svetlana Noble. You two left separately, sharing a kiss and words of good luck before leaving the door and heading for your destinations.

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A few hours later, you’re lugging around dense fur coats and several car keys as you head to the storeroom of the guests’ belongings. You haven’t seen Svetlana yet and Hunnigan hasn’t given her a signal yet so you safely assumed that she isn’t around yet although you reminded the other agents planted around the scene to stay sharp. A sleek black Aston Martin DB9 Carbon Black pulls up into the driveway, which catches your attention but you don’t pay it much attention. That is, until you heard Leon’s voice.

“My lady,” he says in a low voice, though his words are not meant for you. You turn your head and see another lady, a fellow agent, take his hand and exit from her side of the car. She looks beautiful: her glossy hair that fell until her tailbone straightened, elegant glitter makeup highlighting her features, and a matching black dress with gemstones sewn in. She giggled at Leon’s voice a little too hard, making you seethe and glare at them from a distance. You know that this is all for a mission and the appearance of a woman in love with the man she came in with is necessary to throw off suspicions. Before another bellhop can accommodate them, you step in and put on a well-mastered fake smile.

“Good evening, esteemed guests.” you greet. You meet Leon’s eyes and he almost chokes on his own spit, his ears slightly going red but maintaining a composed appearance despite this.

“Good evening,” he greets you back before handing you the keys to the car. Since the lady didn’t have a coat, there was nothing to carry back to the storage room and as the pair of them left, you couldn’t help but burn holes into that perfect hair of hers. Y/N calm down, this is just a mission and they’re just faking it. They’re just faking it.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now that all the guests have arrived, you move from your post at the entrance and towards a darker corner of the party while lugging around cases filled with guns and other weapons to send to the other agents stationed around; some agents had partners like Leon, others went alone. Some were like you, assigned to a hotel staff role. It was hard to keep your eye on the target while Leon and the younger agent were dancing, a well-manicured hand on his shoulder as he sways them. If Leon is truly amazing at putting on a pleased facial expression then he’s doing damn too well of a job at keeping up that facade, the insecurity pushed to the front of your mind and threatening to take full rein of your decision-making yet you fought for control again, knowing that you can’t fuck this mission up. Leon leans in to her and whispers against her ear and suddenly you feel as if steam could start pouring out your ears. Luckily for you, you managed to spot Svetlana and another man taking a seat and have a discussion amongst yourselves. You inform all the agents in the area, giving them the details of the location the target is currently in. Svetlana takes a small metal briefcase out, showcasing several tubes and vials of a strain of the C Virus before promptly closing it and handing the case back to her guards. The guards, now in possession of the case, nod to her before moving somewhere. Given the go signal, you quietly follow them from a safe distance and start moving, a combat knife hidden on the inside of your black uniform. After a few minutes of following them and making sure they’re far from the party, you plunge the knife into one man before kicking on the other, making sure that you go for the kill as swift and noiseless as possible. You manage to do the job, taking the case and opening it up to make sure that you have the real thing and not just a copy.

“Osprey to Roost, I’ve obtained the case. Took two guys down, Noble’s men,” you radio back while getting your shoes back and trying to look as subtle as possible.

“Osprey, get out of there. I’ll request extraction for everyone. Noble’s looking for the guys,” Hunnigan responds. With a nod and a look back, you make your way out of the hotel. Entering an elevator, you expertly block the cameras and swiftly remove the top of your uniform and stay in the gray shirt you were underneath. You didn’t bother changing out of your skirt because that was all you had and without the uniform’s top, it looked just like any other pencil skirt. Swiftly walking to your red Ducati Panigale V2, you put on your black helmet and put the visor down before turning it on and getting the hell out of that place. All was well until a bullet barely even grazed your shoulder, causing you to almost lose balance and crash on the road.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. You switched lanes, making sure to get as far from whoever was shooting you. You swiftly looked back to look for the case that you had; it was still there luckily but you prayed that the vials were still inside and unshattered. It wasn’t like you could take out your own gun and start shooting since you carelessly forgot to take the firearms of the men you took down. When all seemed lost, you saw a familiar black Aston Martin near you with an agent hanging from an open window and shooting at the enemy car shooting at you. Taking advantage of the distraction, you speed away and into the meet up point right behind a port.

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Now that the mission briefing is over and the adrenaline from last night died down, exhaustion and jealousy settled in your body.

“Baby, I know you’re jealous,” Leon softly says as he sits down beside you, handing you a cup of coffee.

You take the cup, taking a cautious sip since it’s still steaming. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Leon laughs, taking your free hand and nuzzling it against his stubbly cheek while he shoots you puppy eyes.

“Saw you loud and clear last night, you were practically shooting lasers out of your eyes,” Leon recalled. “Even when I wasn’t directly looking at you, I could still feel the unfiltered jealousy seeping from your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, gently withdrawing your hand from Leon.

“I was not jealous. Just making sure she didn’t canoodle up to my man.”

“So you were jealous?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure. Whatever you say but I find it endearing. It means you want me the same way I want you,” Leon rasps out.

You finish your small cup of coffee, getting up to throw the paper cup into the bin before sitting back beside him.

“She was looking at you with the goo-goo eyes, it’s my duty as your wife to make sure only I can give you those eyes,” you retorted with a suggestive lilt to your voice.

“I especially love those eyes from you when they’re below me,” he whispers.

“I can make those eyes for you again when we get back home,” you suggest with a wink.

Before you can say another thing, Leon drags you up and with a hand around your wrist he leads you two to an empty janitor’s closet and seals you two inside.

“Why wait until we can get home when we can do it now. Think of this as a teaser for the real thing later,” he breathily mutters as his hands roam every inch of your skin.

"Let me show you just how loyal I can be from down here."

NOTE - I'm finally done with my Valentine's Day series!!! This was really fun to do and I never thought I'd be able to accomplish this but here I am!!!! I know Valentine's Day was like a week ago but I still srsly hope you had a fun time :) I literally ended up rushing this bc I had no ideas at first 😭😭Um something interesting that happened in my day was that my teacher said that the class will get a buzzcut if I get a buzzcut (as a joke ofc) and the fact that me and my friend are forever known as the students obsessed with fictional men bc we screamed when we got Gallagher from HSR leaks on twt (I don't play HSR but my friend does, I just find the characters attractive). I also found out I don't have a gag reflex (milked so much dirty jokes from this fact). Anyways, TYSMM for keeping up with my Valentine's Day fics and I <33333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #biohazard #rebhfun #death island leon #resident evil death island #resident evil x reader

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yourgentlegirlfriend · 1 year

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Bro, infinite darkness Leon is plaguing my mind I’m being so fr rn. So my req is like DomInfiniteDarkness!Leon and like this reader who rlly sarcastic and bites back and shit like that and the plot is (porn 🫶 obvi) that he asks reader to ride his face (after a few days of sexual tension) and like she’s taken aback at first but then she’s like ‘he’s hot tho’ (not rlly I can’t think of a better response, u can choose) so she rides his face yeah, and he has this grip on her thighs that she can’t even try squirming away

And omg, there should be like this one part when he’s eating her and like she grips his hair and he goes feral and sucks harshly as a motion to continue the grip on his hair, also the stubble that he has should like graze her poussay and like she clenches bc of it and Leon notices 😮‍💨🤭🤭

Leon just gives pussy-eater vibes, is it jus me? 😭 anyways in not asking this anonymously bc I need this shit so bad

If u wrote anything similar, I’m sorry 😭 😭

Tyyyy ♥️♥️♥️🫶🫶🫶🫶

( I had to, he’s so fine)

ID Leon is a plague in my mind he never goes away. I was actually writing a request super similar to this so i hope the other person who requested this sees this!! I honestly don’t think it’s that good but i try my hardest FOR YOU GUYS. I made the reader plus size deal with it and if you hate it so much just block it out with your mind okay because i needed to write a lil something for me in this one. Sorry i haven’t been posting much writing i hit little blocks sometimes and feel like my writing sucks but nothing a little sleep couldn’t fix!

Disclaimer!!! This blog is 18+ only! If you are underaged please don’t interact with my posts thank you!!

mentions of afab slighty plus size reader x ID Leon!!

Warnings: Angsty kinda! Mentions of yelling, holding guns and close to death experiences. Leon forces reader to sit on his face, he’s kinda rough with her

word count: 2,826

Heavy. Your arm hanging from the metal that had been broken not even seconds before. Though you and Leon had far to many disagreements he was still your partner. Just the way his head tilted up and his hand gripped at your wrist you knew he was so angry that you would throw yourself so close to death just to save him. The metal beneath you made a loud creaking noise as you gripped at Leon's hand, your other arm folding over to pull him up onto the platform with you.

“You have a death wish?”

Leon yelled as he tried to carefully crawl up next to you as you let go of his arm. You leaned back on your arms, catching your breath, your eyes followed Leon standing up, his hand reaching down to help you off the floor.

“That must’ve really bruised your ego huh, kennedy.”

Mascara caked a bit under your eyes due to all the running and the tank of water exploding all over you. Your hips swayed side to side as you put your hand up waving goodbye to Leon, yelling something about how you’d see him next week.

——-

Leon’s jaw tightened watching your hips sway, the way your soaked shirt clung to your body. You were his rookie once, he trained you from the ground up. Once your promotion hit you never let Leon talk down to you again, and he hated it. Snarky comments about his aim, about the way he talks, how he looks in his suits.

His body screamed at him for relief, preferably whiskey. The bar was quiet and he couldn’t help but thank the god he didn’t necessarily believe in. His fingers traced over the rim of his glass in front of him. The man had too much trauma, a troubling past and current that just weighed on him so heavily that it made everything he does difficult.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Your silky voice snapped him from his day dreaming, his chin tilting down as his eyes traced every dip and curve of your body before he brought the glass to his lips, the liquid stinging his throat as he tilted the glass against his mouth. You wore that pretty black dress you had been wearing back in Grahamas office, but of course you had to change when actual shit started to go down. It hugs your hips and thighs so good, your plush legs crossing over each other as you sat down staring at your partner.

“You okay?”

For once you seemed genuinely concerned for him, Leon’s head nodding as the bartender poured more whiskey into his glass. Your delicate hand reaching forward and pulling the glass from him. Leon sighed turning himself to you in full, his hands reaching down to unbutton his jacket that held it to his center.

“What.”

A smirk quickly grew on your lips as you took HIS whiskey down your throat, your nose scrunching as you pushed the glass back to him. He was so tired of your bratty demeanor, it’s so unprofessional, so unclassy. Your hands reached out to fix the collar of his white button down as you still processed the burn of the alcohol.

“I worry about you sometimes.. Anyways, I was looking for you then Claire told me you were rambling about desperately needing a drink.”

Leon couldn’t help but admire the way your hands moved when you spoke, your eyes rolling at the mention of his small drinking problem.

“Drinking everyday is bad for your liver Leon.”

Leon groaned at your lecturing, his hands coming up to shush you.

“Fuck you..”

He grumbled, causing your mouth to drop open. Honestly you were offended. For once you were really concerned about the man which was rare from either of you because if you weren’t working, you were fighting.

“You’d like that too much, old man.”

———-

“Cmon Le.. Let's just have one more drink.”

Leon’s hands held at your waist as you stumbled into him. So while you lectured him for drinking so much you downed shots one after another right in front of him. Leon watched you ramble all night, the night he was supposed to spend for himself. After he pulled the both of you outside, you shivered pointing to your car, you hand grabbing for your keys in your purse.

“Okay bye Leon.”

You slurred as a whistle left Leon’s lips, his much taller frame coming in front of you to catch you yet again. Your hands nudged at him, trying to push him off you as you whined about it being cold and how you wanted to lay down. His hands worked at his jacket, shrugging it off and reaching for your arms and slipping it onto you.

“Stop talking and walk, let’s go, you're not driving.”

You were an idiot. Leon’s head shook in disappointment as the two of you began your walk down the street in silence. Even through your drunken fog you could see he was upset with you, your hands playing with the long sleeves of his dark blue suit jacket. He did have his moments where he got genuinely upset with you, like when you had accidentally stabbed him during training, or when you stepped in front of him and Chris during a mission to take the damage of a blown hit. You didn’t belong in this field and he had no idea how you even made it this far. He reached into his back pocket pulling his keys out before he pushed open the door, turning himself back to you.

“Inside.”

His palm rested against your lower back as you stepped inside his home, your eyes adjusting to the lighting change. Leon pulled the jacket off of you and threw it on his couch before he leaned on the counter staring at you. Standing in the middle of his living room. His annoyance was making you sober, playing with your fingernails as he glared at you. His back turned to you as he pulled a glass from his cabinet, turning on his faucet to pour water into it. You flinched as he slammed it in front of you.

“Drink.”

A laugh left your lips as you reached for the glass, taking a sip. But Leon didn’t seem to find it as funny as you did, his hands resting on the beautiful marble counter.

“Lots of one word responses tonight huh.”

You asked as you finished off the glass of water, your hand rubbing your stomach. He was in his own world, it was shocking he cared as much as he did.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

Leon mumbled as he pulled the glass into his sink, pointing to the blankets on the couch. Watching his figure walk down the hall made your skin crawl. You wanted to tell him how scared you were today, how you almost lost him. How he didn’t notice the bruise on your right shoulder from almost breaking your shoulder saving him.

————

A loud thump of a pillow hitting your face shook you from your sleep, your hand reaching for your gun as you sat up.

“Oh calm down. Let’s go Grahams called.”

Leon spoke as he handed you your shoes. You yawned, pushing your heels on before running out the door after him. It’s your favorite time of day, even though you have a violent hangover and it feels like you are going to puke with every step you take trying to catch up to Leon. Out of breath finally walking beside him you push your neck forward, nodding with that stupid smug look on your face that Leon hated.

“You clean up really nice Leon, what straightener do you use?”

How could you be so bitchy at eight in the morning, Leon’s eyes rolled, his lips pressed together as he got into his car, you not falling too short behind. Out of all the people in the department he didn’t understand how he ended up with you as his partner.

——-

“What?”

Leon stood next to you, him and the president sharing a glance as he sighed.

“Listen, Leon told me what happened yesterday and we decided collectively it would be best for you to go work for another agency.”

Your jaw grew tight, it felt like your teeth were being grinded down and your cheeks were flushed a deep red in anger. Your head snapped to Leon, your eyes squinting at him. How could he file a complaint about you saving his life? He is lying directly to the source but you had no proof he was lying which is what made the situation so much worse.

“Fuck you.”

Your words smacked Leon in the face, your body purposely shoving into his shoulder- and hard too. The sound of your heels clicking filled the hallway, your anger building in your chest as you stormed out the back door. This was your life purpose, being an agent. When your younger brother had died at the hands of Umbrella you tried working your way up to demolish it all. None of it mattered anyways because when you met Leon and Chris your life had completely changed. Even though you and Leon had too many unsolvable problems, you thought he still cared? Now you were left jobless, clueless. You looked down at your phone as it buzzed in your purse ‘Leon’ Flashing on the screen.

Stupid son a bitch.

————

Loud banging on your door woke you up, your eyes fixing on the clock on your nightstand. Three in the morning? Sitting up quickly you pulled your handgun from your dresser, tip toeing into the living room area of your flat.

“Who is it? I have a gun!”

When not at work your self defense skills were beyond poor, the banging stopped, the sounds of shuffling were heard before a small thud was heard against your door. Peering into the small eyehole of your door, there stood Leon. His eyes squeezed shut as he rested his palm against your door, you immediately swung the door open causing Leon to fix at his posture.

“Jesus christ Leon, what the fuck?”

Leon’s body pushed into your flat, slamming the door behind him. His hands grabbed at the gun in your hand, laying it on your counter. Your lower back smacked against your couch as he towered over you, his hands reaching down to hold at your face before his lips smacked into yours. No alcohol? Leons teeth nipped at your lip, pulling a low moan from you before you put your hands out pushing him away from you

“What are you doing?”

Leon’s chest heaved as he stared at you, you still looked so sleepy, your pretty nightgown resting so beautifully on your thighs. Your hair was a mess and now your lips were all puffy, he couldn’t fucking stand you. Leon’s hand ruffled through his hair as he looked down the hall to your room, your bed sheets a mess. Leon’s hand gripped your upper arm, walking down the hallway with you in his hands.

“Leon! Stop! Look at me”

Pretending you didn’t like the way he touched you was a joke, and you knew Leon could tell just by the way you reacted to his touch. A whine spilled from your lips as he shoved you down onto your silk sheets, your fingers reaching down to fix your nightgown that had flown up. The sound of Leon’s knees hitting the floor echoed through your ears, your upper body lifting as you watched him lick at his chapped lips. His head shook at the sight of your glistening folds in front of him, your thighs squeezing together as you stared down at the man. Stammers of protest left your lips as Leon’s fingers dug into the flesh of your meaty thighs, of course he was strong but you didn’t know he was this strong. A deep groan emitted from his chest as he lifted his hand, his tongue running across his fingers. His eyes finally met yours, his fingers slick with his spit rubbing small circles on your clit.

“Not so much to say now, huh?”

Oh. Your heart dropped as you remembered the paperwork you had sent in placing a complaint for him. Talking about how unprofessional he was, how he drinks on the job, and stuff about his personal life in general, your lips shook as your mouth opened, a moan ripping from your throat as Leon's thick fingers pushed into you, your hand reached down grabbing at his wrist but he pushed it off to side as he rose his way up your much smaller body. His other hand gripped at the inner part of your knee, locking it beside him as he pushed his fingers into you.

“God you piss me off, Grahams was so mad at me you know? But unlike you I didn't lose my job. You had me with your little comments but I swear if you try something like this again, I will do more than fuck you stupid, Do you understand me?”

When did Leon get the capability to be so fucking mean? Your head nodded up at him, his fingers drawing from you. Leon’s head shook in disapproval as he pushed himself off you, laying down on his back.

“Sit.”

Great. Back with the one word responses. You sat up confused as your hand reached down to cover your exposed self. Your gaze shifted to Leon who looked so pretty sprawled out onto your black silk sheets. His pupils were blown with lust.

“Sit?”

Laughter came with the question as Leon tilted his head to the side to admire you tilting your head back as you laughed at yourself. His hands tugged you towards him, making you lose your balance. “fucking brat.” He mumbled as he dragged you onto of him, your body sitting on his chest.

“Sit on my face. I know you’re not stupid.”

Leon spoke up to you as he pulled your hips towards his face but you pushing yourself back made his eyebrows raise.

“Leon, I'm going to kill you..”

You sat up slightly trying to take more weight off his chest. You weren’t the skinniest but Leon knew that you were always a bit self conscious about your weight, and the amount of times he has caught you has been extremely surprising. One look down at him changed your mind, he was looking at you as if you were the only person in the word, his tongue continuously licking over his lips, you let out a shaky breath before you brought yourself forward grabbing at the headboard. Hovering over his face still too scared but Leon’s hands reached up, pushing you down onto his face.

“Leon!- oh-”

Screams of worry turned into soft cries of pleasure, Leon’s hands reaching back to cup at your ass in his hands, somehow pushing you further into him. Your eyes finally fluttered open, staring down at Leon who seemed to be enjoying much more than he should. Never did you imagine Leon’s face so deep into you, your thighs pushing against his cheeks, the scruff on his face scraping your soft skin. His eyes opened hazily, staring up at you as he pushed his tongue into you, his hands still rocking you into him.

“Leon wait!-”

You cried out as a boiling burn started to build in your stomach, your body going to crawl off of him. Leon’s arms wrap around your thighs before you’re flipped over, his thighs laying over his shoulder as he laps at your folds on long strokes. Your hands reach down, grabbing at his soft hair. Leon moans out, vibrating your entire body as he uses his fingers to hold your folds open. He’s sucking at your clit so fucking good, your hands trying to push him away as he hold you’re hips down. He could have this view forever, the way you’re crying for him and the way you taste so good in his mouth. The amount of times Leon has wanted to force you down and suck on your pretty little clit was too many to count on his hand.

“Fuck!”

Your scream could probably be heard from all the flats around you as your orgasm flashed through your body, causing tears to drip from your eyes. A cry left your throat as Leon sat up, his fingers gently rubbing small heart shapes on your clit with a big smile on his face. He looked so beautiful, your slick covering his chin and his lips swollen from sucking at your folds for so long.

“Le.. s’ too much.”

Leon shook his head as he leaned down, sloppily pressing kissing on your lips, your own taste filling your mouth before you screamed out at the feeling of Leon once again pushing his long fingers into you.

“Jus’ give me five more of those pretty.. I'm enjoying this too much.”

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon infinite darkness #ID leon #LEON EATS PUSSY YUP

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starlightkun · 4 months

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❧ word count: 8.7k ❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (new year’s eve party) ❧ genre: fluff, new year’s themed, attorney kun, wedding planner reader (i know next to nothing abt wedding planning, sorry!), aged up kun (he’s like mid/late 30s and reader is implied to also be around that age) ❧ extra info: this is the last of my impromptu series of three (and a half) hallmark-esque fics starring kun for the 2023 holiday season. i've made a mini masterlist here for fun ❧ author’s note: i once again wrote this in like 48 hours and had even less time to proof it bc i wanted to get it out before new year’s so im sorry abt any errors! also a happy early birthday to the loml

“Hopeless for the Holidays?” You snorted, reading the email flyer your friend had just forwarded to you. “You told me you had something fun for us to do for New Year’s.”

“This will be!” She pleaded with you. “It’s a mixer for single professionals who, you know, have no other plans on New Year’s Eve. Like us.”

“Hopeless for the Holidays?” You snorted, reading the email flyer your friend had just forwarded to you. “You told me you had something fun for us to do for New Year’s.”

“This will be!” Eunji pleaded with you. “It’s a mixer for single professionals who, you know, have no other plans on New Year’s Eve. Like us.”

“So, an excuse to get drunk and mack on a stranger at midnight. Did that enough in my twenties. Pass.”

“Nooo, it’s going to be super classy; I swear! It’s happening at the old courthouse downtown. It’s so nice there. The dress code is literally festive black tie—”

“What does that even mean? Is it festive or is it black tie? And how did you even get invited to this?” You read the domain name of the original sender, then zoomed in on the details of flyer to double, triple check. “It’s being held by the Bar Association?”

“Attorneys aren’t that bad,” she replied, clearly miffed.

“Yeah, you aren’t,” you said pointedly. “Former debate bros are.”

“There’s going to be so many mature, serious, single professionals there for you, I promise.”

“It’s literally called Hopeless for the Holidays.”

“So it’s a bit tongue-in-cheek.”

“If its tongue were any more in its cheek, it would bite it off.”

“See? You’re so witty, these guys are going to be falling over themselves trying to have intellectual conversations with you.”

“If a single one calls my job cute, I’m out of there.”

“That’s a yes! Thank you thank you thank you!”

On December 31st, you stepped into the old courthouse downtown with Eunji, out of the freezing cold and into a bright, glamorous venue. The main entry had been converted into a ballroom of sorts for the occasion, all the original marble flooring and walls, and oak and gold detailing preserved. Round, standing cocktail tables had been set up all around, a bar to the back and the side, waiters coming around with hors d’oeuvres, and even a live band set up on the landing of the grand staircase at the back. It was decorated in festive, New Year’s appropriate gold, silver, and black decorations, tinsel, baubles, stars, miscellaneous firework-adjacent shapes.

“Okay… not bad,” you muttered to Eunji as you took it all in.

“Told you it would be classy!” She whispered victoriously to you. Latching onto your arm, she pulled you into the crowd. “Come on!”

She diverted your course towards a table, and you saw a dark-haired man standing there in a neutral grey suit with a red-and-green plaid tie.

“Y/N, you remember my coworker, Kim Doyoung.” Your friend gestured between the two of you.

“Of course, it’s good to see you again, Doyoung.” You greeted the man brightly.

The few lawyer activities that Eunji had dragged you to before—more casual affairs—you had been introduced to many of her coworkers, but Doyoung must have been the only one that fit the criteria for tonight: single and hopeless on New Year’s Eve.

“You too, Y/N.” He nodded to you politely.

You liked Doyoung and all, he was a nice man, but you could already tell from the few times you’d met him before that he was a workaholic. Now, you were aware that most lawyers were, but Doyoung seemed beyond that. Eunji brought you to their firm’s Holiday Party last year, where he was recognized for putting in the most billable hours out of dozens of attorneys—and he was only a junior partner. You doubted he went anywhere but work, the courthouse, and home, where he presumably did even more work.

“Eunji, I’m so glad you’re here, actually,” Doyoung pulled out his phone, opening up his email app. “I was at the office right before I came here and—”

“No, Doyoung.” Eunji snatched his phone from hands, turned it off, and tucked it inside his jacket pocket. “No work. Don’t make any work calls, take any work calls, check your email, none of that.”

“But we’re surrounded by other lawyers.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you can talk about some law stuff, informally. But I want you to actually talk to human people not for the purposes of a file tonight, okay? Sound good?”

“I suppose I can do that for a night.”

“And I want you to find someone to kiss at midnight.”

“What?!”

“That isn’t me or Y/N.”

Doyoung seemed like he was about to pass out. “Eunji, this is very unprofessional—”

“I just said I’m off-limits.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m going to get Eunji and I drinks,” you interrupted their typical bickering.

“Negroni!” She chirped, squeezing your arm before going right back into with her coworker.

With the sounds of their squabbling fading into the din of the crowd, you slowly meandered to the bar on the opposite side of the room. Putting in Eunji’s negroni and your own cocktail order with the bartender, you watched as he got caught by a very insistent older man who clearly thought himself to be very important as he put in what seemed like seven different drink orders as he ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke.

The bartender stopped by you to grab a glass, and you offered, “You can take care of him first, if you need. Seems like he’s in a rush. I don’t mind waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go for it.”

And he moved off to do that, you were happy to turn around and people watch for the moment. You’d always known that law was a boys’ club, but this was just… sad. The few women who were here were interspersed, but you were definitely outnumbered at least 10 to 1. That left a lot of the men to group off and chat among themselves. If Eunji didn’t find somebody tonight after dragging you out here, you’d kill her.

A movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you saw three men coming towards you through the crowd on your left, at least one of them already visibly tipsy. You shifted your eyes forward, trying to gauge if you should just abandon your drinks and find Eunji and Doyoung again wherever they ended up.

Then, someone was sliding up to the bar on your right, a pretty, smooth voice, “Hi. Do you have a moment to talk?”

You turned to your right, the voice matched to a rather handsome man, face framed by chestnut brown hair, and lips pulled into a charming, dimpled smile. He wasn’t too close to you that you felt like he was invading your personal space, a polite distance, just near enough so that you knew he was talking to you. Well that, and his piercing, dark eyes focused entirely on you as if there were nothing else he could possibly be looking at in the room. Not unblinking, but not distracted. He was the only man that you’d seen so far who had figured out the festive black-tie dress code, in a traditional tuxedo except in a deep midnight blue color, with several glittering brooches of fine materials on one lapel. Not overdone, and definitely not Christmas, which was a week ago. He already had a drink in his hand, some kind of dark liquor, neat. Whiskey, scotch, or bourbon, presumably.

“Sure.” You offered a small smile in return. “I’m waiting on my drink.”

The man set his drink down on the bar then, and offered his hand that hadn’t been holding it out to you.

“Qian Kun.” He introduced himself. “I haven’t seen you at a Bar Association event before.”

You shook his hand. It was warm. “That’s probably because I’m not a member. I’m a plus-one.”

“Ah, well that makes sense.”

“Y/L/N Y/N, by the way.”

“So what do you do then, Y/N?”

“I’m a wedding planner.”

“Wow, I’ve heard that’s pretty high-stress.” He actually seemed impressed, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair for a moment.

“I’ve heard the same about being an attorney,” you pointed out coyly.

“I don’t have bridezillas or in-laws to deal with on a daily basis.”

“I’ll take talking down a bridezilla over why she can’t have those specific orchids she saw on Pinterest because they won’t survive the two-hour outdoor ceremony and four-hour reception at her summer wedding due to how sensitive to heat they are over having to argue with my whole chest some position that I don’t even believe in just because I’m being paid to.”

“You think trial lawyers are sleazy?” He asked, the corner of his lip quirking up as if he found this amusing.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend,” you apologized flatly.

He sipped his drink. “Not all attorneys are trial lawyers, you know.”

“You aren’t?”

“Corporate. General counsel for businesses, contracts, that sort of thing.”

“Paper pusher.”

“You were brought here by a litigator,” he said knowingly.

“How’d you know?”

“Us paper pushers don’t really call each other that.”

“Right. She does insurance defense.” You were interrupted by the bartender finally returning with your two drinks, and you thanked him, opening your clutch for whatever cash was in there to hand him as a tip. Turning back to Kun, feeling the need to clarify something. “I don’t think she’s sleazy, exactly. You know, in criminal proceedings, the defendant is entitled to an attorney, right? And the state provides one if they can’t afford it. I think normal people should have competent representation in civil proceedings, too, just to help navigate the legal system. I think she does something good overall. I just… couldn’t do it myself.”

“A lot of time, it’s not about the facts, or what you believe, it’s about the law. Making the better argument.”

“Yeah, which is kind of what I hate about it.”

“That’s more than fair,” Kun agreed. “So what do you like about wedding planning then?”

“The moment that everything finally comes together, and I get to be the one who delivers the couple’s perfect day to them,” you sighed happily. “Every single meltdown, canceled vendor, whatever, is worth it when I get to see it all come together.”

“You love love?”

“Well, that, and I’ve also been told that I’m a bit of a control freak.”

“Playing to your strengths with your choice of career.”

“I’ve long embraced the control freak,” you declared genuinely. “What do you like about corporate law?”

“I’m not a trial attorney, first of all,” he started, making you chuckle. “And I really like contracts. Reviewing them, drafting them, refining them. I’ve been told I have an eye for detail.”

“Isn’t that a nice way of saying of saying control freak?”

“I suppose it is, yes.”

“And you know why that is, right?” You asked pointedly. “Why you ‘have an eye for detail’ and I’m a ‘control freak?’”

Kun didn’t miss a beat. “Of course. You’re a woman, so the same traits that are desirable in men are things that you get shamed for.”

“Huh.” You hid a pleasantly surprised smile behind your glass as you went to take a sip. So far, he had passed every level on your mental flowchart that you used to quickly weed out men who weren’t worth your time. “So you’re responsible for the Terms and Conditions nobody reads?”

“Possibly.”

“And you’ve definitely heard that one before.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I hadn’t?”

“No,” you shook your head with a smile.

“It was worth a shot.”

You gathered up both of the drinks you’d been given. “It was nice chatting, Kun, but I do have to get this back to my friend before the ice melts and waters down her drink, unfortunately.”

“By all means; I’m grateful for your time that I did get.” He nodded to you graciously. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I hope we’ll talk again later.”

Taking the two drinks back over to the table that Eunji was standing at, she looked at you with wide eyes and a knowing smirk. Doyoung had disappeared at some point, presumably to get on with his assignment from Eunji.

“Your drink, ma’am.” You handed it to her with mock fanfare.

“So who was that?” She asked lightly.

“Hm?”

“The guy you were talking to at the bar for so long.”

“Oh, uhm, Qian Kun? Have you heard of him?”

“No, I haven’t. He say what firm he works for?”

“Didn’t think to ask. But it makes sense you don’t know him, he’s a paper pusher.”

“Ohh… corporate?”

“Yep. General counsel for businesses, contracts. Guy really loves contracts.”

“Oh boring.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste, then took a sip of her drink. “Ack. Y/N, seriously? You let my cocktail get watered down for a contracts guy?”

“I thought I had excused myself before it got watered down, sorry,” you apologized, rolling your eyes at her dramatics. “But he wasn’t talking about contracts the whole time I was over there, really. He was asking me about my job.”

You opted to not mention the part of your conversation about trial attorneys such as your friend.

This detail piqued her interest again. “Oh, okay. You didn’t walk out, so I assume he behaved accordingly?”

“He… was nice.” You conceded.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say about a guy!”

“Eunji, hon, I didn’t come out here expecting to find my soulmate, alright?” You patted her shoulder. “A couple free drinks, hanging out with you, chatting with some nice people, and I’ll consider it a success, alright?”

“Why can’t you be open to something?” She sighed.

“I am. If it happens to find me. I’m just not exactly looking for it right now, okay?”

“Fine.”

“How about we worry about you in the meantime, alright? Since you definitely are searching,” you suggested, looking around the large room with intent. “What about those guys over there? By the Christmas tree?”

“God, no.” She coughed and turned her head, very conspicuously covering her face with her hair. “You see the tall one?”

“Yeah, he’s really good-looking.”

“And we’re going to be avoiding him all night. Johnny Suh.”

“Wait, as in—”

“Yeah.”

“—your ex from law school.”

“That one.”

“Well. I definitely get it now.”

“Could you be more obvious that you’re staring, Y/N? Christ.”

You casually moved around the table so that both of your backs were to that group as you continued talking. “How have you been attending like any Bar Association functions then? If you’re like this?”

“He just moved here. I heard rumors but didn’t want to believe it until I saw him with my own two eyes. Which ended up being tonight.”

“Okay, well…” You looked around again, spotting another group at a nearby table. “How about them? The guys that Doyoung is talking to.”

Eunji peered over at where you were looking. “I mean, one of them is Yuta, which, ew. He works in international law at my firm but the other three… yes, sure, yeah. I think I did my clerkship with one of those guys, actually. Let’s go.”

After being introduced by Doyoung to the three men with him—Jungwoo, Sicheng, and Taeil—you found out that Eunji had in fact done her summer clerkship under a federal judge with Jungwoo during law school. As they got to chatting, and the others talked about some recent fascinating court ruling, you slowly sipped on your drink, zoning in and out of conversations. You loved your friend, really, but there was a reason that you had met at yoga and not in law school. Hearing lawyers talk about law was going to make your brain bleed out of your ears. Your thoughts drifted back to Qian Kun, and your eyes briefly flitted around the room, wondering where he had ended up.

“And what do you do, Y/N?” Yuta suddenly yanked you back into the conversation.

“Hm?” You blinked. “Oh, I’m a wedding planner.”

“Cool. Sounds fun.”

You immediately looked over at Eunji, and she flashed you the quickest lift of her eyes in an eye roll that would be imperceptible to anybody else.

“So how’s your mission coming along, Doyoung?” You decided to entertain yourself.

Sicheng and Taeil immediately stopped their conversation to look over, confused.

“I’m talking to people not directly about cases at work.” He looked at you with wide eyes, obviously hoping you wouldn’t divulge the other half of it. “I’ve done it.”

“Okay, and who are you kissing at midnight?”

“Huh?!” Yuta let out a comically bewildered noise.

Doyoung groaned, then pointed an accusatory finger at your friend. “Eunji… ordered me to not work tonight and find somebody to… kiss at midnight…”

You shrugged. “I’m checking in on his progress.”

“Are you offering, Y/N?” Yuta questioned teasingly.

“No,” you snorted. “I’m ineligible. Sorry.”

“You came to a singles event and you’re… not single?” Jungwoo cocked his head.

“I am. I’m just not letting some stranger put their tongue down my throat at midnight because of it.” You finished off your drink. “Sorry.”

“And there’s no way I’d let either of you do anything to my friend,” Eunji grabbed your arm protectively, pointing between Doyoung and Yuta. “I know how you live. And I’m not impressed.”

“Gee, thanks,” Doyoung scoffed.

“Yeah, understandable,” Yuta shrugged.

After a bit more mingling, you and Eunji once again ended up by yourselves at a table. She had her cheek dejectedly in hand, visible pout on her face.

“So? Have you liked anybody so far?” You asked her. “Felt a connection? Seemed like you and Jungwoo were getting along… Or that environmental attorney, uhm, Taeyong?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” she sighed, straightening up. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Come with?”

“I can, or I can get us drinks again. Which do you want?”

“Mm, drinks. Thanks.”

“Of course, hon.”

On your way back to the bar, you spotted a familiar blue suit jacket in the crowd and decided to make a short detour.

“Kun.” You approached, stopping behind him at a table.

The attorney turned around, a wide smile coming to his face as he recognized you. “Y/N, hello again.”

“Yeah, hey,” you beamed. “Mind if I chat with you for a second?”

“Please do.”

“I was on the way to the bar to grab another round for my friend and I while she freshens up, then I saw you,” you explained, settling in to lean beside him at his table. “But she’ll be a while…”

“Lucky me then.” A dimple appeared in his cheek. “And honestly, you might want to hold off on the drinks. They’re going to start bringing out champagne at eleven.”

“What time is it?”

He checked his silver, analog watch. “Ten fifty-four.”

“I think I will hold off, then. Eunji loves champagne. Thanks for the tip.”

“Of course.”

“You here all alone?” You indicated the empty table he was standing at. “I mean, I know it’s a singles event or whatever, but people have at least been talking to friends or colleagues too.”

“I was with some others a few minutes ago, we were celebrating a recent promotion, but they all seemed to have left me.”

“Promotion? Whose?”

“Ah, mine,” he admitted, hand habitually smoothing over the lapels of his suit.

“Congrats. And what have you been promoted to?”

“Senior partner. Non-equity.”

“Celebrating your promotion at an event for lonely singles? Bit sad.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m only here because my friend pressured me.” He nodded towards a dark-haired man in an emerald green velvet jacket, who you had seen darting about the event the whole night. “Ten helped organize it.”

“I was forced here by my friend too, Eunji,” you laughed. “She just about dragged me in kicking and screaming.”

“I didn’t put up that much resistance myself, admittedly,” Kun chuckled.

“Oh? You secretly wanted to come?” You half-joked and half-asked.

“Something like that.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“When Ten was first telling me his plans for the event, I thought, knowing him, it was just a convoluted way to get wasted and make out with a stranger,” he shook his head. “But the promotion sort of put some… things into perspective. And I feel like the New Year always makes me reflect more than others.”

“Why is that? You feel like you reflect on New Year more than other people?”

“My birthday is January 1st.”

“Oh…” You nodded in understanding. “Time marches on.”

“Yes, it does. I get the hit of a New Year and getting older on the same day.”

“I know we just met, but I feel like you’re already sharing something pretty personal, so I’ll ask: How old will you be? At midnight?”

“Thirty-six,” he said it like he was in a confessional, quietly, dipping his head down to looking down at his feet, then straight up at the ceiling, tilting his head back.

“Kun… You know that’s not even half your life, right? Statistically?” You arched an eyebrow.

“I’m aware. I’m not ashamed of my age, really. I’m quite happy to be out of my twenties. But now, about to be closer to forty than thirty… there’s things about my life that twenty-year-old me thought would’ve been quite different than they actually are.”

“Is this connected to your new perspective from your promotion?”

“Yes. A lot of people take their promotion as an incentive to work harder but… I think I’m going to cut back.”

“Does your firm know about this?”

“My new position comes with a certain amount of security.”

“You’re a damn good lawyer, Kun,” you chuckled.

Kun seemed caught off-guard for the first time in your conversation. “Well, I mean, yes, I suppose—”

“You’ve been talking around your point for the past five minutes. Now that you’re at a certain place in your career, you want a family. When you were twenty, you promised yourself you would do it all, career and family, then along the way you slowly started conceding more and more in order to get ahead, and now you’re looking back and realizing you wanted to have more in your life than just work by now. So you let Ten talk you into coming out to this singles mixer hoping that maybe you’d luck into your future spouse in one go.” You poked him on the chest. “Sound about right?”

He raised his gaze from your finger on his dress shirt to your face, a wonder-filled smile on his lips that turned into a knowing smirk as he challenged, “Seems as though you’re… familiar with similar circumstances.”

You took your hand back before giving a casual shrug. “Maybe. How close was I?”

“Scarily accurate. Did my mother put you up to this?”

“No. But, let me guess, she’s been not-so-subtly asking for grandchildren?”

“Only for the past decade.”

“Ouch.”

A waiter then came by carrying a plate of champagne, offering some out. Kun grabbed two flutes off the tray and offered one to you. You accepted it graciously.

“Thank you.” Tilting the golden liquid back and forth contemplatively, you asked, “Do you happen to know if Ten got real champagne or sparkling wine?”

“Whatever real champagne is, he probably did not splurge on it, no,” Kun chuckled.

“Nobody actually knows the difference, I was just curious.” You took a sip. “Good quality wine.”

“What is the difference?”

“Technically, real champagne can only come from the Champagne region of France,” you explained. “Whenever a couple comes in insisting on real champagne, but without the budget for it, I have tell them that they’ve probably never had real champagne in their lives anyway, and their guests will not know the difference between real champagne and a good sparkling wine.”

“Your job must require you to be knowledgeable about a lot of different things, doesn’t it? Wine, flowers, food, logistics.”

“Money, budgeting, color theory, weather, you name it, I probably have to know at least the basics, maybe more.”

Kun’s admiration and interest once again seemed genuine. “And what sort of degree do you get to be a wedding planner? Is there a degree for it? Certification program? I mean, it’s not as linear of a path as being an attorney…”

“There’s some event planning associate and bachelor programs. I have a degree in hospitality, and then mentored under a wedding planner to learn the ropes before going off on my own.”

“So you own your own business?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Wow…” He trailed off, eyes focused on you, beholding you.

You laughed self-consciously. “I don’t think I’ve ever made anybody speechless with that information. You alright, Kun? How much have you had to drink?”

“I’m quite sober, this will only be drink number two.” He lifted the champagne.

“Really?”

“I do need to drive myself home tonight.”

“I’m DD as well. And I’m also past my ‘getting shitfaced in public’ days,” you chuckled, lifting your drink to your lips again, looking out over how many of the other partygoers were more than tipsy.

“You’re beautiful, by the way.” Kun’s voice brought your eyes back to him, his eyes twinkling under the lights as he looked at you.

Your skin felt warm, and your heart jumped a bit. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I was thinking about, when I trailed off a moment ago.”

“You didn’t open with that. Earlier, by the bar,” you commented. “Why not?”

“I needed to know if you even wanted to talk to some random man first.”

“But after that.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was walking up to every woman here tonight and telling her that.”

“You’re not?” You teased, the corner of your lip quirking up.

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Well, you’re a paper pusher… so I suppose I can take your word for it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Checking the time on your phone, you then got up on your tiptoes, peering around for Eunji.

“Looking for your friend?” Kun asked.

“Yes, she should’ve been out by now.” You frowned.

“Do you need to go look for her?”

“Let me shoot her a text first. She might just be taking a while fixing her makeup…”

[you: jiji, you fall in? everything okay?]

Thankfully, but much to your surprise, she texted back almost immediately.

[jiji: i’m okkkk! chatting with taeyong from earlier! sorry for leaving you!]

[jiji: GREAT champagne btw 🍾🍾🥂🥂]

[you: that’s fine. you two have fun! call me if you need anything]

“She’s alright,” you chuckled, turning off your phone. “Found a friend. And the champagne.”

“Does that mean you’re free right now then?”

“Why yes, yes it does.”

“Lucky me.” He grinned. “So have you ever been in the old courthouse before this?”

“No, I haven’t. Never been to an event here, and it closed before I was born.”

“Well, we have…” He looked at his watch again. “Fifty-three minutes until midnight. How would you like a personal tour?”

“Can you do that?” You raised an eyebrow. “There’s ropes blocking off the hallways.”

“Ten’s part of the event committee for the Bar Association, and I’m part of the historical committee. We’re in charge of the preservation and restoration of the courthouse. I know which parts we can go in and which ones we can’t. Besides, if we were caught, the person they would report us to would be me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, sure. Sounds fun.”

“I will have to ask that you leave the champagne. No liquids.”

“Of course.” You nodded, stepping away from your drink.

Kun cordially offered you his elbow, and you took it, well aware that the giddy, warm buzz in your body wasn’t from the few sips of champagne you’d just had. He led you through the crowd, and as you approached the black velvet ropes cordoning off the hallways, he looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then stepped over it. He offered his hand out to you, and you placed yours atop for him to steady you as you also stepped over the rope. You took one more look over your shoulder before you two quickly ducked around the marble column and out of sight.

The darkened hallway you entered was much smaller than the grand foyer you had been in for most of the night. In the dim light being let in through the windows, you could make out the multitude of frames along the walls, sconces clearly meant for oil lamps, and a few pieces of furniture—mainly chairs and tables pushed against the wall.

“This is where the clerk’s office was,” Kun explained. “The door at the end of the hall. But first—”

He stopped at a frame, and with your eyes adjusted to the low light, you could see the art that was in it. It was of the courthouse itself, but a whimsical interpretation, with flying chariots in the sky above it, and mermaids swimming in a river in front of it that certainly had never been there.

“It’s a beautiful etching,” you commented. “Do you know who did it?”

“We think a local artist, but they didn’t sign it,” he sighed, gesturing to the four corners, all blank. “And there’s nothing on the back. It’s something we’ve been working with local art curators and historians to try to track down.”

“That’s… sad.” You couldn’t find a better word. “I mean, it’s incredible that their work survived all these years and is still being seen and people are working to find out who created it… but it’s still sad that their identity was lost in the first place.”

“One of the experts we had look at it believes it’s a first or second state that the artist never intended to actually be the final piece, so that’s why they didn’t sign it.”

“It makes you wonder if they never made the finished piece or if the finished piece didn’t survive.”

“Also makes you imagine that artist all those years ago looking at this and thinking that it wasn’t good enough to put their name on, and now we’re looking at it wishing we knew who made it because we think it’s so beautiful.”

Your eyes scanned over the chariots and puffy clouds and mermaids swimming among the waves, then drifted over to Kun. “What was your undergrad degree in, Kun?”

“History, why?” He looked over at you inquisitively.

“Just curious.” You shrugged. “I know you can do anything before going to law school, so I thought I’d ask.”

“A lot of my peers did Political Science or Criminal Justice, but you don’t actually learn much about the law in those programs like people think you will. Everybody starts on a pretty even playing field when it comes to stuff that’ll be on the tests. But as for practical skills... majors that give you good research, writing, and critical thinking skills were really the best ones to go with. So the humanities majors were honestly running laps around everyone else the first semester or so.”

“You’re on the historical committee, so you just like history, too. Right?”

“Yes, I do.” He nodded, slowly guiding you further down the hallway. “I like knowing how we ended up here. The people that came before us, how they’re still influencing us even today. I think we have a duty to remember them, learn as much as we can, and preserve that knowledge and pass it down. Because I would want somebody to do that for us as well. I know we have cameras, and phones, and can document things so much better now, but that’s probably also what they thought a hundred years ago. But things still get destroyed, and lost, and people pass, and stuff gets forgotten. So I hope we never stop being curious about where we came from.”

“I like that, Kun.” You squeezed his arm. “I really do.”

He smiled almost bashfully, looking down at his feet, then back up as he stopped in front of the door at the end of the hallway, gesturing in. “This is the clerk’s office. We can’t go in since it is very much still pre-restoration and I’m afraid you may get injured.”

“That’s fine, I’ll peer in from here,” you chuckled, looking around from the threshold. There were floorboards haphazardly strewn about, but you could see one main desk, in the same dark oak color as everything else, multitudes of filing cabinets, and several different large, old manual machines that you weren’t quite sure what they did but you were sure there were probably an electric version of most, if not all, at any office building in the city.

“So this is where all the court documents were filed?” You clarified your knowledge that you had picked up from knowing a few attorneys in your life.

“Yes. Court documents were filed, real estate documents, and notary applications. They also did a few other things in this building that weren’t just trials, but weren’t handled by the clerk. I’ll show you in a second.”

Around the corner, Kun showed you where business licenses used to be processed, and where motor vehicle and driver’s licenses were taken care of before they got their own office long before this courthouse closed. In between all of these rooms, there were various pieces of art, painting, photographs, drawings, maps, or historical documents to look at on the walls as well.

The next room was a bit larger, and you were able to actually walk into this one, the first out of all of them. It had higher ceilings and a skylight, but not quite the infrastructure and grandeur to make you think that you were in the courtroom yet.

“The historical committee has been focused on getting this one ready sooner, with some pressure from the event committee. They think it’ll bring some outside business in,” he explained, guiding you towards the front, where there was what looked like a wood countertop of some sort. The windows on the far wall had a funny sort of tint to them, and you realized they were stained glass in various colors. They didn’t depict any specific religious imagery, but they were the only ones you had seen in the entire courthouse, almost giving the impression of a chapel.

“Why is that?” You asked Kun curiously. “Also, why is this the only room with stained glass windows?”

“This was where all the marriages in this jurisdiction were performed for hundreds of years. At least the legal part, the signing of the certificate. The actual wedding ceremonies were obviously up to the couples.” He said, then gestured to the wood countertop. “That’s where the certificate was signed. The stained glass was to emulate a religious setting without directly referencing any one religion. The event committee thinks people will want to hold their actual weddings here.”

You looked around at the room, already thinking about how many people would fit in here, how you would set up a possible wedding ceremony in here.

“So what do you think, wedding planner?” Kun prompted you.

“You want my advice for free?” You teased.

He held his hands up. “I’m humbly making conversation.”

“As a favor for taking me on this lovely tour, I’ll tell you what I think,” you giggled. “It’s pretty small. This area attracts a lot of big money weddings. It might work for a couple who wants an intimate ceremony but a bigger reception, if they can also use the foyer for the reception. Especially couples who aren’t necessarily religious, but don’t want to completely go off-book by not having a church wedding, since it feels similar to a chapel, and a courthouse is still formal like a church. You’ll also attract the kind of couples who are looking for unique venues: old bank vaults, railroad stations, cemeteries, that kind of thing. But again, the size of the room for the ceremony is really going to be a limiting factor for booking.”

Kun looked at you with wide eyes. “You can get married at a cemetery?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, unfazed by that factoid at this point in your life. “Halloween weddings are pretty popular in a certain crowd.”

“I don’t think I’d want to get married on a holiday.” He shook his head. “Christmas, Valentine’s Day, anything. Or one of our birthdays. It’s…”

“Tacky?”

“There we go.”

“I agree. I think the only special date that I can make an exception for would be an anniversary. Anniversary of getting engaged, anniversary of our first date, anniversary of when we met, that kind of thing.”

Kun had the same look in his eyes as when you told him that you owned your own business, like you were the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed, and he couldn’t imagine ever looking at anything else for the rest of his life. “What if one of those is on a holiday?”

“Then we’d just have to pick a different date. Can’t be tacky.”

“Oh God, of course not,” Kun chuckled jokingly. “My worst nightmare.”

Still gazing around the non-denominational not-chapel, you were overcome with a feeling of unease, suddenly being overwhelmed with memories that you hadn’t thought of in a very long time. You glanced down at your empty left hand, then wrapped it back around Kun’s arm, looking up at the stained glass windows again.

“I was almost engaged once. In my twenties,” you stated into the stillness.

Kun took this pivot in conversational tone in stride. “And how do you almost get engaged?”

“He had me pick my ring and then… never proposed with it.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

“Mm, could’ve been worse. I could’ve married him,” you laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

“Tell me.”

You turned to him still with a grin on your face. “He was a lawyer.”

“What kind?” Kun asked, then immediately followed up with, “Don’t say a trial attorney.”

“Nope.”

“Family law.”

“A wedding planner and a divorce lawyer getting married? That sounds like a pretty savvy business model. Or a really great rom-com.”

“You like rom-coms?”

“I’d call it a guilty pleasure, but I’m at the point in my life where I can’t be ashamed of the things I like.” You confirmed your love of the movie genre. “I just can’t watch any that are about wedding planners.”

“Too inaccurate?”

“Yes! It’s always about falling in love with the best man or brother of the groom or something. I’m way too busy to find my soulmate on the job.”

“So was I right? Family law?”

“Nope.”

“IP. Intellectual property.”

“No.”

“I can keep going, there’s practically infinite areas of civil practice that are non-trial.”

“I’m not the one who turned this into a guessing game!” You guffawed incredulously.

“Wait, was he… a corporate attorney?” He let out a fake gasp. “Do you have a type?”

“And who says I’m attracted to you?” You fired back immediately.

“That’s fair, I shouldn’t have assumed.” Kun laughed, smoothing down his lapels. “So what kind of attorney was he?”

“He wasn’t.”

“Wait—”

“He went to law school, so he’s a lawyer, but he never took the bar in order to practice law, so he’s not an attorney,” you declared victoriously through chuckles, much to Kun’s disbelief.

“I can’t believe you got me with that.”

“Don’t contracts require precise language or something?” You feigned cluelessness, making him snort as he knew that you weren’t that dumb.

“Yeah, they do.” He was shaking his head at himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You really got me with that one, goddamn.”

That was the first time you’d heard him curse all night, you realized, despite the fact that you’d already done so multiple times.

“I do… think you’re attractive, by the way, Kun,” you admitted. “And you’ve been great company tonight. I’ve had a wonderful time on this little impromptu tour.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, attorneys need their egos checked every once in a while. I’m honored to have such a stunning woman checking mine this time.”

“Well, any time you need me to lie to your face and say you’re not one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen, I’m there.”

Kun patted down the front of his tuxedo jacket almost self-consciously, a pleased smile coming to his face and both of his dimples making reappearances. “Really? Well…”

“And I haven’t been walking up to every man tonight saying that, by the way.”

He laughed with his whole chest, eyes and nose scrunching up as he leaned forward, hair getting knocked out of place with his sudden movement. You smiled fondly as you watched him laugh so genuinely, so unrestrained, not in the practiced, manicured way as before. You didn’t think that they were necessarily forced laughs earlier in the night, you were sure that he did genuinely think what you said was funny, but he presumably had a laugh for these formal types of scenarios. And you’d been right, as the sort of laughing he was doing now was far different, warm, joyous, mirthful. It made your heart full to know that it was because of you.

As he caught his breath, the thought occurred to you of how much time you’d spent on your tour already.

“What time is it?” You questioned.

He checked his watch once more. “Eleven thirty-five. I should hurry this tour up to get you back in time for the countdown.”

“Lead the way.”

You and Kun slipped back into the main party with five minutes to spare, and grabbed a couple more glasses of champagne off a waiter as he walked by. You looked around to see if you could spot Eunji now that you were on the opposite side of the room as before. Funny enough, you saw Taeyong and his colleagues that you had met earlier, but not your friend.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” Kun asked.

“I’m sorry, do you mind if we go talk to someone?” You couldn’t shake the feeling of something being off, despite the large screen set up behind the band displaying the timer now at less than four minutes.

“Of course not.”

Pulling Kun through the crowd by the arm, you landed in front of Lee Taeyong out of breath, offering him a wide smile. “Hi, Taeyong. I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Y/N, we met earlier.”

“Of course, yes, you’re… an event planner, right?” He offered you a bright smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” You didn’t have the time to correct him. “My friend Eunji that was with me, have you seen her? Is she with you?”

The man’s features immediately turned confused. “No, she’s not with me. But I have seen her.”

“Oh, good. Where?”

“Over there,” he nodded behind you. “With Johnny.”

You turned around, eyes zeroing in on a corner of the foyer where Eunji was in fact pressed up into Johnny Suh’s side, giggling and laughing, his arm around her shoulders. He looked about as tipsy as she was, pink-cheeked and giggling too.

Looking back to Taeyong, you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Taeyong, one more thing: To the best of your knowledge, she’s been with him for the past hour or so?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” He nodded. “They look like they’ve been having a, uhm, pretty good time together. Not to be indecent...”

“Cool, thanks.” You walked off, taking Kun with you.

“So what was that about?” Kun questioned.

“Johnny Suh is Eunji’s ex from law school,” you explained the gravity of the situation. “Not a pretty breakup. Or second breakup. Or third breakup. From what I heard, I didn’t know her then.”

“Are we going to do anything?” Kun questioned as you were very clearly not walking over to Eunji and Johnny.

“I only got Eunji two drinks spread across two hours, so unless she has been chugging champagne at superhuman rates for the past hour, she’s probably only had one or two glasses, which with her alcohol tolerance would put her at mildly tipsy,” you responded with a shrug. “I’m not going to let her leave with him. But otherwise… she can deal with her choices in the morning. It would be way more trouble than it’s worth if I went over there and tried to remove her right now.”

“Gotcha.” He nodded.

“Besides…” You looked over at the countdown, which was now at 1:30. “It’s almost midnight.”

Kun tapped the side of his glass, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Y/N, I don’t want to be presumptive. Just being able to enjoy your company tonight has been more than enough—”

“Kun, I would be offended if you didn’t want to kiss me at midnight.”

“I do, I do,” he chuckled, clearly relieved. “I’m just aware that you had your reservations about coming here tonight, and about the entire premise of the event.”

“Well I said I didn’t want to get drunk and mack on a stranger. I’m not drunk, and I wouldn’t exactly call you a stranger. I feel like I know you a little bit.”

“Yes, I feel like I know you as well.”

A bauble nearby refracted the light into Kun’s eye just right and turned it a rich honey brown color, and the crowd around you began chanting the final countdown from ten. You and Kun both set your champagne flutes down on a nearby table, and you happily stepped into his personal space.

On one, you leaned forward to slot your lips with his, the cheers of the crowd fading out to silence. Kun’s mouth was gentle against yours, even as you curled your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, resting your other hand on his lapel, fingers mindlessly messing with his brooches. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You squeaked into his mouth as that arm around your waist was suddenly used as leverage to dip you, the other supporting your back. You laughed against his lips as you wrapped your entire arm around his neck instead of just one hand, before kissing him again.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he murmured.

“Happy New Year, Kun,” you stole another kiss. “And, Happy Birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course.”

When he pulled you back up to stand on your own two feet, you were still grinning like a madwoman, and stayed pressed against his side. “I have to say… I’ve never been dipped before.”

“Seriously?” Kun seemed dumbfounded.

“Seriously.”

“Every man in your life has been dropping the ball, Y/N. Absolutely unacceptable that you hadn’t been dipped before that.”

“I’ll keep that it mind,” you giggled. “Find a guy who’ll dip me when he kisses me more often.”

“Y/N…” He sighed taking both of your hands in his.

“Yes, Kun, I would love to see you again. Specifically, to go on a date.”

“Wedding planner and a mind reader.”

You laughed, cupping his cheek to kiss him again, letting him slowly, tenderly move his mouth against yours. Just as he went to deepen the kiss, you heard a throat get cleared much too close for it to be coincidental, and you damn near jumped out of your skin.

Breaking the kiss, you dropped your hand down to his shoulder and turned towards the source. Eunji was standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised. Except she wasn’t alone, as Johnny Suh towered behind her.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about getting wasted and letting a stranger stick their tongue down your throat?” Eunji cocked her head to the side, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Kun.

“I’m sorry, and what were you saying about Johnny Suh?” You snorted, pointing to the man with her.

Johnny looked down at her, surprised. “Yeah, what were you saying about Johnny Suh?”

“Nothing you didn’t deserve. Good or bad,” Eunji replied dismissively.

“Okay, that’s probably fair.”

“Anyway, I think it’s JiJi and I’s bedtime, so, goodnight, guys.” You took Eunji’s arm and backed away from both Johnny and Kun. Eunji went willingly on both hers and Johnny’s parts, which you were relieved for.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Kun immediately offered.

“We’ll walk you to your car,” Johnny tacked on, flashing you a million-dollar smile that you were sure had done a lot for him in life.

And so you and Eunji headed out, Kun and Johnny on either side of you. As you were heading for the front doors, you saw a familiar face though, and just had to stop.

“Hey, Doyoung!” You called out to him. “How’d your mission go?”

He stopped, and despite the fact that it was you who asked the question, it was your friend that he focused his stern gaze on. “It’s done, Eunji. Happy?”

Her jaw dropped. “Who was it?!”

“It would be improper of me to say.”

“Oh come on. I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“The deal had no clause for supplying proof. Only that I find someone.” He straightened his tie. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m going to kill you, Kim Doyoung!” Eunji lunged forward, but Johnny easily caught her and kept her from her intentions of presumably ripping Doyoung limb from limb.

“Maybe you should’ve had a paper pusher like Kun there, Eunji,” you snickered, squeezing Kun’s arm.

The four of you continued your journey outside, Kun holding the door open for the other three of you, as Johnny was still restraining Eunji, just in case. Once the doors had closed behind you all and Doyoung was contained on the other side of them, he let her go.

“God, you get corporate dick one time and you’re brainwashed,” she complained. “Y/N, come back from the boring side! Please!”

“You’re drunk and dramatic,” you deadpanned, leading the way in the direction of your car. “Stop embarrassing yourself more than you already have at your big age.”

She immediately became more serious, but with a slight pout to her bottom lip. “Fine.”

Approaching your car, you slowed to a stop.

“This is us. Thanks for all your…” you paused, looking at Johnny, “…help, guys.”

Johnny flashed you that same million-dollar smile. “Anytime. It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Eunji talked a lot about you.”

“Yeah, sounds like you two were doing a lot of talking from what I heard,” you replied lightly, opening your passenger door for her.

“You’re not subtle, Y/N,” Eunji grumbled, willingly getting in.

You handed her the seatbelt buckle. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

After she had gotten herself situated and you gave her the keys to start the car and the heating, you walked around to the driver’s side, where Kun was waiting for you. Eunji had rolled down her window, and Johnny was bent over, leaning his elbows on the open window to talk to her.

“I have to say, I did not expect to meet someone like you tonight, Y/N,” Kun chuckled, his laughter coming out as fog in the winter air. “You’re… amazing. More than amazing.”

“I think I made it more than obvious that I wasn’t expecting to meet you either,” you laughed. “But thank you, for making this night not only tolerable but incredible. Unforgettable.”

“We uhm, got interrupted earlier, but if we want to see each other, we’ll need to contact each other…?”

“Right, right.” You brought out your phone, handing it to him with a new contact open. “Here.”

He quickly typed in his number, then handed it back to you. “I’ll let you go, since it’s cold and late and you have to get Eunji home.”

“Thanks. I have your number now, so I will definitely be using that.”

“I’ll patiently be awaiting that time then.”

“Goodnight, Kun.” You went to hug him. “And Happy New Year and Happy Birthday one more time.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed you back. “Happy New Year, goodnight, and drive safe.”

“Will do.” You pulled back, giving him a final peck on the cheek. “See you.”

“Bye.” He was beaming, and you took in the beautiful sight of his dimples one last time before turning around to get in your car.

As Eunji took over the Bluetooth in your car to change it to her own phone so she could play her music, you did one more thing on your phone, going into Kun’s contact that he had just created. Qian Kun, and his number. You had one slight correction to make.

Qian Kun 💍

Putting your phone away, you drove away from the curb, looking at Kun waving to you out the rear window. Yeah, you had a good feeling about this one.

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

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mochinomnoms · 2 months

Note

I’m not sure but I thought I might as well ask

is Yev based on Yzma from Emperors New Groove? Some of the reasons I thought this was due to his hairstyle (high ponytail) looking similar to one of Yzmas hairstyles where her black hair is pointed out or represents the lavender feather(?)/accessory , the purple makeup suiting her equally purple color scheme, and the mention of the “secret” lab which is like Yzmas lab in the palace. Also (this might be wrong) I think Quispe (his last name) is Quechua which is a language spoken in different South American countries such as Peru (which Emperors New Groove is based/set in).

Even if not I think Pomefiore is a great dorm for Yzma since she has been known to be stylish in the movie changing into several different outfits + the original concept of the movie was going to make her hate the sun since she blames it on making her age faster (snuff out the light was going to be her villains solo I recommend searching it on YouTube)

sorry for the rant I just really love Emperors New Groove, one of my favorite Disney movies

YES HE IS THANK YOU FOR NOTICE THE USE OF QUECHUA I STUDIED INCA FOR A CLASS AND WANTED TO REFERENCE THEM AND CORRECT!!! YZMA FITS BEAUTIFULLY IN POMEFIORE!!!!!

WAAHAHAHAHAHA I WILL ADD HIS FUN FACTS BELOW AS A REWARD!!!

Yev Quispe

“The new Housewarden of Pomefiore. A remarkably beautiful young man with skills rivaling the most experienced apothecaries. He demands attention and respect from all due to his status as a young heir, lest you become an unwilling subject in his experiments.”

Birthday: December 24th (Capricorn)

Age: 20

Height: 180 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Homeland: Kusco Mountains

Family: Unnamed younger brother

Other Names(s): Bluebottle (Floyd)

Grade: Junior

Class: C (No. 18)

Club: Science Club

Best Subject: Potions

Hobbies: Experiments

Pet Peeves: Mislabeling

Favorite Food: Ceviche

Least Favorite Food: Spinach Empanadas

Talent: Transformation spells

Appearance

Yev is a tall, lean man with tanned skin and dark brown eyes. He has dark purple layered hair that goes below his shoulders, with long side swept bangs framing his face. His usual hairstyle has him wearing his hair in a French braid, with his bangs and two pieces of hair curled below his chin. His hair is tied with a thick blue hair tie.

He wears blue, turquoise earrings and is always seen wearing purple eyeshadow, dark eyeliner, and wine colored lipstick. He is often wearing a polite smile and critical gaze.

Personality

Yev is a confident, haughty young man who is self-assured in his looks and skills. He is well known to dislike being questioned by his underclassmen, holding very few in either equal standing or high-regards. Because of this, he is quick to point out others’ flaws when others point out his own shortcomings, known to be overly harsh when doing so. Over the years, this has made him overly critical of others to the point that he is condescending to most, especially to those that aren’t of his same social status.

Despite this, he is renowned for his skills as an upcoming potionologist, sought out by both cosmetic and pharmaceutical scientists for his unique skills in transformation potions and spells. Surprisingly, when compared to his predecessor, Yev has no issue getting dirty and cluttered when experimenting in his makeshift laboratory and enjoys making new discoveries, sharing them with others. He also has no qualms in involving others in his tests, allowing other students to take his potions and note down their reactions rather than testing them himself.

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #PTM

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damien-wolfram-art · 2 months

Text

A Fish Out of Water

Tobirama sighed wistfully, resting his head heavily into his work roughened palm. His heart felt sunken with a longing that up until recently, he had never experienced. He looked past his fish stand at the deeply forested boundary of the village that he and his family had stopped in for the season. “Did you see the way she looked at me?” Asked the young fishmonger to his older brother. The two of them had just begun cleaning up what remained of the day’s sales. “It’s as if those dark eyes could encapsulate my very soul. She took one look at me, and I swore she really understood me. All this time– in all our travels, never once have I been so- so,” dropping the last wet bucket into the stack of others, Tobirama found the right words, “captivated. Everything about her felt …designed. To. Reel. Me. In.” Tobirama paced a few steps back and forth on the dirt road before gripping into the rim of a fish barrel as if it were grounding him– keeping him from acting upon his most carnal instincts. His brother, Hashirama, only watched him pityingly– knowingly. When the heated moment passed, Tobirama dragged his thin fingers through his coarse white hair; it had been a while since he’d washed, making his connection with the gypsy woman even more of a surprise to him.

“You know I am quite the fisherman, so I know all the tricks, but I have never felt Myself so hooked on the end of a line,” he groaned, lifting the barrel with some apparent effort. His sturdy brother took it from him and motioned with his head back to the smaller and lighter stack of buckets. As he moved ahead, his long brown hair trailed behind him in a gentle breeze.

Tobirama obeyed his brother, grateful for the assistance. Grabbing hold of the stack, he continued to recount his encounter, “you saw what she was wearing too? Those pants could hardly contain her! And the way her midriff was exposed, ugh!” His legs sped up as his desire grew. “The tassels and jewelry were also a nice touch. What I wouldn’t do to give her a nice- … Elder brother?”

Hashirama was lagging behind with the heavier gear. “Ah sorry. You were just moving so quickly, and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he apologized.

Tobirama shook his head, backpedaling to his brother. “Nevermind that. I’ll slow down.” He adjusted his hold on the buckets and settled into a slower pace. “Where was I? Ah, yes, her silky black hair was just… beautiful. She was wearing a mask too if I’m not mistaken. You could see through it if you looked closely,” the lovestruck young man nearly swooned. “Her lips looked so… kissable,” he trailed off and his brow wrinkled in thought.

Hashirama too had never seen his brother so enamored. Their walk home was punctuated by Tobirama’s mumbling and when they arrived at the place they were calling home for the time being, the younger brother spoke up again, “I should have kissed her. I should have swept her away and told her how she has influenced me. Perhaps I should go look for her. She might still be around, and this might be my only chance. Who knows? Things might work with this one. I mean, think of the children we could make-”

“Tobirama,” Hashirama said sternly. There was a seriousness in his normally welcoming brown eyes.

“What is it?”

“I don’t mean to ruin this moment of yours, there was one crucial detail you didn’t notice.”

“What detail?”

“Well…” Hashirama hesitated. It was not a strong suit of his to break bad news.

“Spit it out already,” insisted Tobirama impatiently.

Hashirama had no choice but to tell him, “that was no woman.”

Tobirama’s red eyes opened wide, his blood ran cold, and his pale cheeks somehow grew hot.

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heyidkyay · 1 year

Text

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name

Part Seven

A/n: Might've cried a lil writing this part:/ But I hope you enjoy it all the same x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Talks of a struggling relationship with a parent, (doesn't go into detail but alludes slightly to other things, so take that as you will), and the mention of previous deaths of relatives (again, there's not much detail)

Masterlist

“Mum?” I croaked out.

…

The woman in which had birthed me and given me my name was stood in the very same cafe, ignorant to my presence.

There was no denying it was her. Her hair was still the same shade it’d always been, only now it was cut into a sleek sort of bob that better suited her face. She was thinner now too, I supposed. Her figure only accentuated by the fitted silk shirt she had tucked into a pair of dark jeans.

I scanned over every detail she had to offer me, or rather the world, but came to an abrupt pause when I saw a sudden similarity between us. It was a simple one really, but I saw then it in the way she was laughing away heartily at whoever she was on the phone to, her smile so wide and unapologetic. It was very same smile I'd caught myself wearing in pictures with friends, or when I rewatched old videos of us at gigs.

The realisation made my stomach turn, as though everything inside of me was slowly being vacuumed up into the big black hole that had suddenly replaced it.

I was snapped back to reality rather quickly when George’s head whipped around to see what I was freaking out over. His wide eyes darting between both myself and the woman who was stood waiting in line for her order, his jaw dropped. He looked just as unsure on what to do here as I was.

Because, well, what were you supposed to do when the parent you hadn’t seen since leaving home was stood right in front of you? It was a headfuck, a complete and utter headfuck. That had me ripping at the very seams.

George must’ve seen it on my face too because he reached across the table then to take my trembling hand in his, forcing me to divert my attention. My eyes found his.

“Birdie…”

His low whisper paired with that godforsaken nickname wasn’t even enough to distract me from the way I was beginning to spiral. Suddenly, I felt so out of it. As though I was floating out of my body, or on another plane all together.

I took a deep breath then shook my head at him, hoping to somehow clear my mind.

“I know, it’s fine- I’m fine. I’m okay. Really.” But I didn’t know who I was trying to reassure here, him or me. “She just, brings something out in me. I didn’t expect to see her here is all.”

“No shit,” George mumbled distractedly with another long glance over his right shoulder. When he looked back at me, he hunched further across the table to keep his voice low. "You gonna say something?"

I blinked, but the thing that shocked me wasn't his question, it was the real anger I saw then in his eyes. It wasn’t a typical emotion for George.

“Sorry.” I apologised for the interruption, then attempted to steer us back on track. This wasn’t about her. This was me trying to fix things with George. Us trying to salvage the friendship we’d had long before we’d ever messed things up between us by getting together. “Where were we again?”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Not with me.” George interrupted, his grip on my hand tightening by a fraction. “You don’t have to pretend. I know what it was like. What you went through with her, how bad things got. I was there. You don’t have to build back up all those walls you tried so hard to knock down around me.”

I felt my eyelids fall shut when that familiar burning sensation begun to tingle the tip of my nose and started to sting just behind my eyes. My throat was slowly closing and the hairs that ran down my arms stood on end.

It was hard to hear, especially when I’d worked so hard to come to terms with the distance that our breakup had wedged between us. But ultimately, that was only because I knew he was right. He knew better than anyone what I’d gone through. Seen more than I’d care to admit I’d wanted him to.

“I just can’t do this. I-" I choked out, the tremble in my hands seemed to invade the rest of my body now. Everything appeared to be working against me.

George was still there though when I reopened my eyes, and I had a vague guess as to how red and watery they must’ve looked as I stared back at him hopelessly.

“Take a second, yeah?” He murmured to me, his thumb gently skimming over the back of the hand he still had yet to let go of.

The action seemed to soften things somehow, gave me a feeling to ground myself to. I swallowed down the tension I'd felt balling in the back of my throat, letting it sit heavily now in my chest.

I couldn’t bring myself to look back at her though, at the hazy stranger I just about recognised.

Not yet.

“When was the last time you spoke to her?” George questioned me quietly and I couldn't silence the humourless chuckle I let go of, playing with the fraying tear in the booth’s tablecloth that someone must have caught their zip on.

“Other than that birthday card? My nana’s funeral.”

George’s brow pinched further. “That was almost a year ago now though. I remember it. You two hardly said more than six words to one another.”

I shrugged, feeling small. “Well…”

With a sigh that was more of a scoff, George shook his head and worked his jaw. “Who’d you spend Christmas with then?”

I mustered up a sad smile. “Matty’s family took me in. With both my grandparents gone now, and well, us being…”

George dipped his chin curtly, eyes darting away for the briefest of seconds just as the vein in his neck ticked. I tried not to react to it.

“I didn’t have many people offering to put me up.” I told him honestly as I glanced towards the counter, shrugging a shoulder again. The rip in the tablecloth had grown now too.

“I-” George begun but faltered as he inhaled, sucking in far too sharply for it to go unnoticed. But then he shook his head as though irritated and his brown eyes found mine again shortly after. “Do you want to say something now? To her, I mean.”

I felt myself frown as I thought it over. Did I? It was a chance to face her again, to talk things over, maybe get some answers now that I was older and not so sheltered. But, then again…

My gaze flickered up to see her still stood there waiting. She was by the counter this time, leaning in and flashing a smile at the worker whilst she accepted the drink she’d ordered. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

George seemed to have followed my line of sight too and he turned back towards me a bit too quickly to get my reply. “Well? This is your last chance.”

And I watched on as she called out her hasty thanks, still prattling away on the phone whilst she started to make her leave. The only thought that crossed my mind though was whether or not it was the same number I’d tried calling her on a few weeks prior. Or in the months before that. I opened my mouth to say something, but I just couldn’t do it. Unsure if I even wanted to.

She was gone then. A whirl of hair and sweet laughter as the wind swept her back up, closing the door firmly shut behind her.

It felt like a strange metaphor for my life.

I slumped.

The cafe seemed to grow nosier after that and I wondered when everything had started to dial back for me. George was still there though, studying me closely like he always used to do. Only, it was for an entirely different reason this time around.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” He said, looking at me almost like he could sense every thought I was thinking, every feeling I felt. I dropped my eyes so that I could paste on a semi-convincing smile.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You can let it out, you know. If you need.” George mentioned, and he chewed on the edge of his bottom lip for a blink before shrugging lightly, on anyone else the gesture might’ve appeared abashed but whilst George was many things, he was far from that. Not with me at least. “Dunno. Just used to help.”

And it had. Whenever things would happen, when a memory would resurface, or I'd just be having one of those days… I’d close up and hide away from everything. It was only whenever George prompted it out of me, or decided to my mind off of things, did I see the bigger picture again.

In the time we’d been apart, those days had grown a little more frequent. Longer too. Because I hadn’t had that around to distance me from the thoughts. There was no light to keep the shadows at bay.

“I don’t know. It’s just weird, ain’t it?” I swallowed thickly and had to force my gaze outside, focusing on all the chips in the pavement and the birds that were now scouting around the decking. “Of all the people. All the places! And when I’m here with you too, trying to muddle through all our shit. Just feels like someone’s gone a dropped a massive bomb on my life.”

I waited a while for George to say something, to maybe pull his hand away or draw me in closer. But he just gave me that moment. And I didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for it, especially when it only seemed to spur me on.

“She was supposed to be all these things. A role model. Someone I could turn to. Look up to. A person I could always count on to be on my side. But she was barely ever there. Not when it counted.”

I could feel every hurt I'd ever felt in the breath I took then.

“She was meant to protect me. Keep me safe. But after dad- she just let anyone walk in and out of our lives. She was just a doorstop to them, a warm bed, and I had to face the brunt of it all. The leers and the looks.”

I scoffed, blinking away all the emotions of that sad little girl.

“You’d have thought that after his death, she’d might've wanted to keep me close. Make sure nothing bad happened to me too. But she just shut me out. Sent me away- to my nana’s, and my aunt’s.”

My next whisper was sharp and it stung, it tainted the air around me.

“She couldn’t even bare to look at me, G.”

George was there. Sliding into the booth beside me. He wrapped an arm around my waist and shielded me in his side, blocking anyone else who might have looked over then from watching me fall apart. I focused on my breathing, in and out. Out then in. The fog seemed to lift slightly as I continued, and George must’ve sensed it because he let up a little.

“Sorry," I sniffed, "If I’d've known that today would end up like this I would’ve spared you the lost time.” I made a chuckling sound that was mostly belittling and rolled my eyes at myself.

“Oi, don’t say that. She’s the one who fucked up. She’s the only one who should be apologising. Alright?”

I nodded slightly, because I couldn't not, and took the tissues he handed me, ruffling them between my fingertips.

“It just hurts, I 'spose. ‘Cause somewhere deep down inside, I’ve always sort of felt like I was disposable.”

That confession felt like too much even in the moment and so I turned away from him, sniffing as I blinked back the welling tears again. Only, one slipped free, but I was quick to swipe it away, chuckling sadly at myself.

“God, bet you regret asking me out now.”

George was sure in the shake of his head. Face solemn. “Never. Just thankful to be here.”

I snorted softly in turn, not believing him for a second.

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged, gifting me one of his small lopsided smiles.

I used the tissues then to wipe at my nose and caught him staring as I did. I tried to smile back. “Alright if I go clean myself up? Feel like I’ve been hit by a lorry or summat.”

George and I shared a small chuckle between us and he nodded as he stood from his seat, allowing me to slide past.

“I’ll just be a minute.” I assured him, but it was useless as he only rolled his eyes at me. Waving me off.

—

By the time I’d sorted myself out and fixed my makeup as best as I could, George was nowhere to be found.

My heart lurched as I walked back over to where we'd just been seated, eyes scanning the length of the shop whilst a million stupid thoughts ran through my head at a million miles an hour, only to be silenced by the very sight of him waiting outside for me by the curb. Obviously having gone out for a cigarette whilst he waited.

I calmed my racing heart. He hadn’t just upped and left.

As I made my exit and thanked the gent who held the door open for me, its bell jingled, grabbing George’s attention from where he’d been toeing the outline of a drain. His lips curved up into a smile as I made my way over.

“Alright?” He nodded and I copied the action, releasing some of that remaining tension I’d just been working on shredding off in the girls loo’s.

“Can I?” I requested, titling my chin over towards the fag he held. His eyes dropped down to it too and he took a small drag before willingly giving it up. I hummed my appreciation, inhaling deeply.

“Feeling any better?” He quizzed, squinted stare unmoving from me as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Air helps.” I replied, then tried for a joke, wanting to lighten the weighted atmosphere I’d created. “But hey, they say bad things come in three’s, so I won’t be too surprised if I end up under a bus on the walk home.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” George grimaced, and shook his head as he looked away from me, seemingly paler at the very thought. I glanced away too, feeling a bit stupid.

A long silence fell between us then and I used it to finish off the cigarette he’d lit. Already itching for another. But I wouldn’t. At least not yet. Not until I’d made it home and started running a bath. Waiting for that second where I could just hide away from the rest of the world again. An avoidance method I often frequented, which was appearing more and more enticing after everything that had happened over the last two days.

Still, I couldn’t leave things like this with George. I didn’t want to, try as I might. He’d been such a big part of my life growing up and today showed me that that fact hadn’t changed, even though our relationship had.

Whatever had happened between us in the lead up to our breakup, and the period after it, could be sorted out if we tried hard enough. I didn’t want to lose him, I couldn’t. And if things panned out the way I hoped for them too, then I’d have to get used to dealing with a lot more than just patching things up between us, like him eventually falling in love with somebody else.

Just the idea of it had me rolling, nausea creeping its way up my spine making my head spin.

I moved to stub out the butt on a nearby brick wall, tossing it into the plant box sat outside the cafe. George had calmed somewhat and was gazing over, watching me as I walked back towards him.

I rubbed at the tip of my nose, eyes lingering on my feet a moment too long. He cleared his throat.

“I um, Ross and I were gonna meet up down the local in a bit for a drink, if you wanted to join.” He mentioned, scratching the back of his head. “Only if you fancy it though. Figure we could just put this on pause for a bit. Let you get your head sorted first.”

I blinked, a little surprised. By the offer or his sincerity, I wasn’t quite sure. But I found myself nodding slowly anyhow, shocking myself even further. The hot, relaxing bath I’d been dreaming about vanishing in a blink.

“Uh yeah, yeah that sounds nice, I think.” I replied, caught off guard. But I inhaled and got over myself enough to give him a sly smile. “Did MacDonald plan it this way, believing that our meet would end in shit?”

George snorted at the insinuation, smirking over at me from where he stood rocking back and forth on the paved path. “Maybe, but when’s he ever been this prepared for anything?”

I gave a light laugh, unable to help myself. Because wasn't that the truth.

“So we’re encouraging this sort of behaviour now?”

“Why not? He’s growing up.” George grinned and I felt my feet moving before my brain could catch up.

“Alright then. Lead the way, Daniels.”

Part eight>

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digitalbath1988 · 6 months

Text

Manipulation

Yandere Cate x Homelander

Background: This is a “what if” so I’m taking liberties with canon. No relationship with Golden Boy or Andre or friendship with the rest of the Gen V kids.

Also we can sub in Homelander for Soldier Boy for that scene in Episode 6, right? ;) a lil change in dialogue and we’ve got that in the bag.

TW: cunnilingus, manipulation, unhealthy relationship dynamics, yandere themes, age gap

“Red and green was the color of her dress, manipulation

Pale blue was the color of her eyes, manipulation

Yellow, yellow was her hair

Orange sunburst red hot glare, manipulation, manipulation

And you can feel her madness

She will call you out

Watch out for her dark side

And you’ll soon figure out

So run on

She’s training you

And she’s got you dancing”

Manipulation, The Black Angels

—-

The young woman shifted nervously in her seat. Her leather gloves crinkled, a normally inaudible noise heavy in Homelander’s ears.

“I’m so glad you agreed to this interview. The student body at Godolkin University is really eager to hear your side of the story.” Cate smiled at him, despite her heart beating harder than normal.

“No problem at all. Anything for my fans. Although that part of the interview will need to come from Legal.” He let a smile lazily play across his face as he met her pale blue eyes with his own. His legs uncrossed in her direction, suit serving to make the cavernous room seem smaller. To make everyone else seem smaller. He glanced at her gloved hands before continuing. “Dean Shetty mentioned they changed interviewers last minute, but she assured me you’d run your final draft through Vought Legal.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s part of the deal. And I’m sorry that Andrew isn’t interviewing you, I think he has a stomach bug or something.” Interestingly enough, her heart rate kicked up as she said that last bit, and her pupils dilated. He let the smile on his face fade a bit. Undeterred, she went on with her questions.

“What advice would you give our students at Godolkin looking to fill some of the vacancies on the Seven?”

She watched his lips as he spoke. “Right to the point, huh? Well, obviously they’d need to have incredible talent and presence, but bravery, modesty, strength and leadership abilities. And a desire to serve their great country.”

She nodded.

“What about the rumors that Vought will be scouting for new talent from the graduating class?”

“I’m happy to confirm that we will be scouting from Godolkin. Of course, it’ll be highly competitive. We’re looking for the best and brightest to join the Seven.”

Subtly enough to be perfectly subconscious, Cate crossed her legs facing him, leaning forward earnestly, as if hanging on his every word. She had a quiet intensity about her that might have unnerved anyone else.

“Understood. Only the best for the Seven. But, that being said, we’ve got some very talented students.” Her smile was bright, despite the sadness of her eyes.

“Anyone you’d like to recommend?” Like, yourself?

“I would prefer to remain perfectly professional and not bias you towards anyone. Sir.”

Homelander smiled and his eye twitched slightly. He’d hoped she would have taken the opportunity for herself. And he’d worked with other Supes long enough to know who was quietly powerful.

He suspected this was a human grenade in a pretty package. Why choose PR or Marketing, or whatever she’d majored in? Was Crime Fighting somehow ‘beneath her?’ He inched closer, mirroring her posture.

“Off the record, I think you should try out.” His eyes flicked over her gloved hand, then quickly over her body. “Dean Shetty told me about you. How strong you are, and loyal. Loyalty is rare in this world, Cate.” An image came into his mind unbidden, Black Noir’s final moments, and he made a face.

Cate looked at him. “I’m so sorry. I know people have let you down. I’m sure that you’ll pick out the right ones now that you have full control over the process.”

They wrapped up the interview fairly quickly after that- after all, it wasn’t like she could ask him any questions about the infamous water bottle incident.

“Will you try out?”

“I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.” She got to her feet, packing up her bag.

—

All he could think about was the sadness in her eyes for days afterwards. But there were plenty of candidates, probably ones physically stronger or more vocal.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He even thought about asking her over, making some excuse to get her there.

A text popped up on his phone eventually, something so mundane. She’d left a cardigan and she didn’t have Ashley’s number, could she have it.

“Don’t worry about that. Why don’t you swing by and we can talk outside of an interview?”

The silence bothered him for an overly long fifteen minutes. Finally a text back:

“I’d love to.”

She showed up later that evening, dressed more casually than at the interview in a cropped shirt and bias cut skirt. The gloves were a constant.

Cate pushed the sweater into her backpack with a little “thank you,” and a smile.

The small talk only lasted for a few minutes. “I meant what I said the other day. You should try out. Dean Shetty told me what you’re capable of.”

She gave him a look. “Well, did Shetty tell you what I’ve had to do for her?” Her body language seemed to open up, even as her heart rate pounded harder.

He leaned back, curious now about the push and pull. What lay underneath it.

“Explain.”

“Shetty is having me wipe people’s memories to protect herself. Because she’s working on something. Whatever it is, I know she’s hiding something from Vought. You know about The Woods, right? You need to send someone there.”

“How do you know?”

This was real Cate. “I’ve wiped too many people for this to be something Vought ok’d. I’m getting worried.”

“Why didn’t you tell me at the interview?”

“You didn’t trust me yet. Now that you’ve reviewed my draft..”

“I haven’t had time.”

She bit her lip. “I can tell something has changed. And I swear I haven’t been in your head, it’s just- things seem different.”

The thought of her inside his head was deeply disturbing, that she’d be powerful enough to do that to him. But also there was something else there, something he couldn’t quite get his finger on. Truth was, if he’d been in front of Mirrorlander, he might have had that introspection to see that he was still longing for someone to truly love him, to see everything he was and did and still care for him, to not recoil in horror from him.

But he probably wasn’t willing to admit it, so he ended up attributing it to attraction. It was a far more comfortable motivator.

She shifted closer to him, waiting for his response. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, hands again nervous in her lap.

The longer he held his silence, the more nervous little movements she made. It made him want to hold out and see what she’d do.

“I’m sorry- you can trust me. I promise I wouldn’t go in your head without asking first.”

“I can tell you’re not lying to me.” He slipped his hand over her knee, holding it in place just as he held her gaze.

“You can?”

“I trust you because you’ve been so honest. Well, except for Andrew getting sick.. but I was much happier having you interview me. You just made Andrew think he was sick, didn’t you?”

She squirmed. Fuck, he loved having that effect on her. “Yeah, I might have pushed him a little. I knew Dean Shetty trusted me enough to do the interview on such short notice.”

“So I’m dying to know why you maneuvered yourself right here. Because you left your sweater on purpose too.”

She gulped again.

“I just wanted to tell you about what Shetty was planning. About The Woods.”

“Now you’re lying to me.” His hand crept up her thigh slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I don’t need to be psychic to see the way your eyes change, the way your heart rate is going nuts. It’s almost like you knowing I can read you is making it even worse.”

“Ok- the truth.” She breathed in, hard. “Truth is, I have been a fan of yours for a long, long time. I just didn’t want to creep you out.”

“Oh, a fan. You should have said something, sweetheart.” He couldn’t help but smile.

And Cate cringed. “I’m so sorry, I made things weird, I should go.” She tried to grab her bag but it was hard to get it away when he was holding it now. Practically dangling it in front of her.

“Hey, don’t worry, it can be our little secret. I’m flattered. Do you have posters of me in your dorm?”

“No comment,” she giggled, trying to get her bag back with an awkward smile.

“So you do. I could give you an autograph if you want one.”

Cate sat back down, getting the idea that she wasn’t going anywhere until he was done with her. “Honestly? I wanted to prove to you, over time, that you could trust me. That I’d do anything for you. I don’t think I want to be part of the Seven.”

“That’s a lot to give someone without wanting anything in return.”

“Who said that I was selfless, I’d totally be getting something in return.” She smiled coyly. “Also, you don’t think it’s crazy that I’m telling you all this?”

“I think you’re a smart fucking cookie, Cate. I think you know honesty is the best policy with me. And it’s kind of nice, don’t you think? To have to be honest with each other?”

She nodded. “I like it too. Ok, I’ll tell you. I want someone to care about me. I want to do things for you so that you care about me.”

Now it was his turn to swallow. “I know what that feels like. That’s what you do for Dean Shetty but it’s not.. it doesn’t feel right.” An image of Madelyn flashed, he pushed her memory away before it could hurt him.

“It doesn’t scratch the itch, no.” She pushed his hand closer to her core. “I just knew you’d be the only one who I could trust- the only one who could keep me safe from her- I had to go to you and tell you about what’s going on in The Woods. I can’t be free on my own.” Her large eyes looked to his beseechingly.

“I know you’re not lying, but that’s not true. They’ve all lied to us- told us that we need to be reigned in, shackled. Imagine if they all saw what we’re capable of.”

His hand climbed higher, over elastic and cotton, glove now abandoned in favor of bare flesh against the soft fabric of her panties. She pulsated through her engorged cunt, he could hear the blood pooling in as he rubbed and rubbed.

Cate sunk deeper into the chair and into her own mind. One day she’d let him in there too, but for now she’d revealed more than she was comfortable with, and he needed to reward her. “If you’re more comfortable with transactional things for now, why don’t you do me a favor.”

“Anything you want.” He pressed her clit, feeling her get closer and closer to release.

“These little members of the press who are not in Vought’s pocket- I’m going to make sure you get to meet all of them over the next month. Give them a nice firm handshake without your glove on. Then tell them what to write about me.”

“I’m gonna have them wrapped around your finger.” She looked so beautiful like this, pleading at him with her eyes. He truly felt like a god.

“That’s a good fucking girl.” He got between her legs on the floor, not bothering to worry about symbolism, just following desire and some feral need to bind this powerful creature to him forever. “You’d really do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” His tongue feels heavier than normal, despite a desperation to control.

“Yeah, I would, anything.” Her overworked mind went blank as Homelander tongued her over soaked panties. Her scent and taste and devotion drove him wild, he wanted to consume her. “Anything for you, fuck.”

He groaned in appreciation, lapping at her beneath the elasticy pink cotton, finally biting them off of her once he’d had enough of the barrier between him and her taste, tongue all over her warm slit.

She gasped and he could have sworn she’d tried to get up, but he clasped her carefully to the seat. Cate wouldn’t be going anywhere until she came at least once. If anything, the wriggling was attractive, he wondered how long it had been since anyone had taken care of her needs. They had both spent so long taking care of everyone else, lesser beings that demanded their constant attention and care.

She gasped again and clenched, trying to hold something back from him, maybe feeling embarrassed about being so vulnerable so quickly. “Keep your fucking legs spread. Darling.”

She did despite it being clear that that was indeed the source of her issue. How anyone could ever be ashamed of that was beyond him- she was perfect. He flicked the little bud of nerves until she was back at the precipice.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” He added a few fingers and it took a little bit longer, but she did eventually, thanks to a continuous sucking on her clit and his clever fingers inside her.

Everything she’d been holding back came with her, eyes rolling back slightly and shutting, quenching his thirst, hands grabbing the seat as if she was afraid of falling.

“Good girl,” he murmured into her quivering flesh.

She got up with a heavy breath, hands still too shaky to hold herself.

“Are you going to send someone to check out The Woods?”

He tilted his head. “What makes you think I’m done with you yet?”

—

(Pt. 2 is on the way this weekend, I just wanted to post Homie’s perspective first. Pt 2 will be Cate’s perspective.).

#Homelander x Cate Dunlap #Homelander x Cate #homelander #homelander smut #the boys #fanfic #fanfiction #homelander fanfiction #feedback please

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an-evergreen-rose · 2 years

Text

When Worlds Collide

Kate Bishop x Female Spiderwoman reader (basically has Miles powers; invisibility, electric webs)

Summary: One minute you’re swinging around new york and the next you’re swinging into a different universe where you run into a very confused archer.

Warnings: Some swearing

A/N: sorry this is mainly dialogue but I just needed to get it out the way. I am planning on making this a mini-series so I need you guys to bully me into staying motivated:)))))))))))

PART TWO

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

If someone were to tell you that when you climbed out your window today, you would swing - quite literally - into another universe, well… You’re not sure what you would have said, maybe something along the lines of ‘you’re crazy' I guess. But they would have been correct, which is kinda crazy.

It would have been cool if someone did tell you that, though, cause then they would be this inter-dimensional psychic or whatever (not too sure on the correct term but you know what I mean). But they didn't, and you swung right into the streets of New York, and not the one you were used to. You would like to say it was graceful, however, You’re not too sure your screaming and a rather painful belly flop onto some bins in an alleyway wouldn’t have scored that high if it was out of 10.

And that's how you landed in this situation, sitting in bin juice, with a bow and arrow pointed at your head.

“Where the hell did you come from?” A woman asked with a perplexed tone, her dark hair in a ponytail and her face covered by her weapon.

“Uh, not too sure.”

“Like you literally just appeared out of nowhere,” She stated, my eyes adjusting allowing me to see her purple suit.

“Yeah… I guess I did… Can you maybe not shoot me, please? I’m kinda confused as to what just happened and the possibility of getting an arrow in my head is not helping with this situation.”

The woman lowered her weapon slightly and looked at you with a curious gaze, “What's with the spider-man suit? You a fan?”

“Spider-man? Spider-man? Are you serious?” What the hell is this girl on about.

She raised her eyebrows in response, “Yeah, spider-man, You know, got bit by a spider and now can climb up walls and shoot webs. He’s actually really nice, I’ve met him a few times at the avengers compound when Hawkeye took me, that was a really fun day. I also met The Hulk, and Falcon and-”

“What the fuck are the avengers?” You interrupted the woman's rambling, “Is that like a band or something? Are they all different bands?”

“Wait - bands?”

“Yeah, are you in a band? Why do you have a bow and arrow if you’re in a band?”

There was a small pause of silence between us until she spoke. “No.”

“So your not in a band or they aren't in a band? I'm confused.”

“No one is in a band, they’re superheroes. I’m a superhero… kinda,” she replied lowering her weapon to her side. “What are you from another universe or something, how do you not know who the avengers are-”

“Hey! She’s over here!” A loud voice shouted from the end of the alleyway, followed by an army of footsteps.

“Oh shit.” the woman said as you quickly webbed yourself to the wall behind her and then landed beside her on the ground, “Hey, how did you-?

“No time for questions!” You replied quickly, gabbing her waist as you turned invisible, your touch also making her disappear from the guy's eyes who were wearing tracksuits? Odd.

With your free hand, you released a web, allowing you to swing out of the alleyway a couple of blocks down with numerous Oh my God's and Holy shit’s in your ear, before landing (much more gracefully) on top of a building, placing the dark-haired woman next to you, turning off your invisibility.

“Wow, you are way cooler than Spiderman,” she said, a little out of breath from the adrenaline. “And totally not a man.” She added, being able to look at your body properly now that it wasn't covered in bin bags. You wore a dark green skin-tight suit (which looked almost black due to the time of day, or should I say night, it was), with black webbing covering it with a black widow-like spider on the front and back, and the signature white eyelets.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, thankful that your mask hid your crimson cheeks from her comment, “Good observation skills, archer.” you said, still not knowing the woman's name.

“So who are you exactly? And you never answered my question about where you came from.”

“I’m Arachne.”

(A-rack-knee is basically how you pronounce it if anyone was having trouble)

“Like the girl who got turned into a spider-”

“-By Athena, yes! Except I’m not actually a giant spider, I just have spider-like tendencies I guess.” You interrupted, a bit too excited that she knew where your name was from as you were a bit of a history geek.

“What with webs and stuff…” She added.

“Yep.” you said, giving a very awkward thumbs up in return. “So what's your hero name then archer?”

“Uh, I haven’t really worked out the whole superhero name just yet, but you can call me Kate.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in response, but Kate could only see the eyes of your suit go smaller, “Isn’t like the first rule of being a superhero is to not tell people your real name.”

“Shit. Yeah.”

“Promise I won't tell.”

“Appreciate it.”

“And about where I came from, I think another universe may be a good guess.” You joked, But when you saw the look on Kate’s face, she looked like she knew more than you.

“I think I know who can help.”

After helping Kate climb down the building, she lead you to an apartment complex a few blocks from where you landed in some bins. Again, not your finest moment. You watched in amusement as she pressed every single buzzer to get inside the building.

“I thought this was your place?” you asked when you guys were finally let in after a lame pizza excuse Kate gave one of the residents.

“Oh right, my place burnt down like 2 months ago, so I’m crashing at my aunt's place for now. Still haven't gotten round to getting a key cut yet,” She shrugged as I followed her up a tedious amount of stairs. Once the door was opened and you two were inside, you could immediately sense another heartbeat in the apartment. Just as your body tensed up, you heard the friendly sound of paws pattering across the wooden floor, calming your nerves. “This is Lucky, a.k.a Pizza Dog, a.k.a my best friend.” Kate introduced you as she knelt down to pat the dog. “That sounded less… sad in my head,” she muttered afterwards.

After confirming that no one else was there, you reached for the back of your mask, pulling it off, deciding that it would be kinda weird to leave it on any longer. With a quick breath, you blew the hair out of your face, finding the archer looking at you with a small blush on her cheeks, “definitely not a man,” she whispered to the dog.

“So… this person who you think can help… I’m guessing it's not the dog?” you joked, loosely pointing to the golden fluff ball on the floor. You managed to get a small chuckle from the raven-haired girl, and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw hers.

“No, unfortunately not. They’re over at the avengers compound.”

“Right,” you nodded, “The band.”

“Yeah, the band. But I don’t think they will like me very much if I turn up at 2 am with someone who I found in the bins.” She finished, smiling to herself at your little banter. “Especially since I don’t even know your name…”

“Ah,” you breathed out, looking down at your feet as you felt slightly embarrassed by the statement. After all, you had helped her with the tracksuits, she was helping you find out what happened to you, let you into her home (or at least her aunts'), and she introduced you to her dog. She was long overdue for a proper introduction.

“Hi,” Kate had stood up now, moving to stand in front of you with a warm smile.

“Hi,” you replied, unsure of where this was going.

“I’m Kate, it's nice to meet you,” She placed her hand in the space between you two, offering a friendly re-introduction. You took her hand in yours, giving her a shy smile.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you too.”

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop imagine #marvel x female reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #spiderman #spider girl #kate bishop x spider girl #gxg #wlw

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jokeringcutio · 7 months

Note

Okay first off you deserve so many more reblogs/likes, your writing is incredible! About the black phone/joker crossover prompts, would you write about reader being a teacher at the school where the kids are going missing and she accidentally helps a kid escape but is face to face with Albert, and they kinda have a moment but she’s actually on her way on a date with Arthur? Or something like that 😅

YES, That IS going to happen.

Rating: Teen? Fandoms: The Black Phone / Joker 2019 Crossover Pairings: Reader x Arthur Fleck (Established), Reader x Albert Shaw (attraction) Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Established relationship and crushing on another guy, talk about lust/desire. Summary: You’re on your way to a date when you meet him.

“Josh! Your mother is waiting for you.”

The boy stood in front of a man dressed in black. The boy’s head was directed at the ground, looking at something down there, and you were by his side within an instant.

“What are you doing, Josh? You need to go home. Your mother’s waiting,” you repeated yourself while you hurried over to them.

The boy with blonde curly hair looked up at you with big watery blue eyes.

“Sorry, Miss,” he said, calling you by your surname. “I was just helping…” And wasn’t he a sweetheart with his angelic face and his good manners? He was one of the favorite kids you had in your class. Being a teacher was a joy when there were good kids like him around.

You flashed him a small smile and was about to tell him that it was fine, when the stranger suddenly spoke up, his voice smooth and low. “Oh, it’s my fault, I fear.”

You instantly looked over at him. Black gleaming shoes, a dark suit, and shaded glasses that hid his face. Groceries lay scattered on the pavement in front of him. Splattered eggs and a pile of flower that had been ripped from its packaging and was now softly blown away like it was dust.

“Josh here was helping me,” the man continued in the same pleasantly low vein. “I’m afraid I’ve been ever so clumsy.”

You looked at the fallen groceries once more and understood why Josh had wanted to help him. This was an unfortunate accident indeed. Then you looked back up at the man and studied him.

He was slender, average height. His shoulder-length chestnut hair had whisps of grey in it, but that could also be smears of the makeup, you thought, as the man’s face appeared to be painted white. Big sunglasses obscured his eyes, and he surprised you by raising his hand and elegantly taking them off in one swift motion.

He nearly bowed as he did so. The top hat he was wearing seemed to topple over, but by a miracle of balance remained on the top of his head as he straightened his back again.

Your eyes locked and time stopped.

Bright blue eyes met yours and you felt it, instantly. A strong feeling that struck you to your core, had you rooted on the spot. He must have felt it as well, for you recognized how he stood frozen in the same way. How his lips parted slightly at the sight of you. How the look within his eyes changed until his pupils dilated and there was a spark there of something dark and dangerous. Something like longing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss-“ here he said your surname, probably having remembered how Josh had addressed you only moments before. He then gestured for Josh to move along, much as you had implored he would.

The man’s fingers touched Josh’s back lightly in passing as if he wanted to help the boy move along. You noticed the gesture, but it was a fleeting one. Josh stopped in his tracks and turned around to smile at you and wish you a good day. You watched him go before your eyes focused on the handsome man in front of you again.

Your name spilled from your lips unbiddenly. “That’s my name,” you said, as if he needed telling.

The man repeated it as if he were tasting each and every vowel and consonant. Then he looked up at you with a smile. No longer lost in thought.

“Hi, I’m Albert,” he said and thrust his hand forward as an offer for you to shake it. You did so, though hesitatingly. The spark in Albert’s eyes had you distracted and made your knees go weak.

“Not the best way for an introduction, eh?” Albert said once you let go of his hand, and he laughed nervously. He brought a hand up in his hair, awkwardly, the top hat tipping to the side. You could only imagine how he must be feeling.

“No, not at all,” you said, already getting down to your knees. “Let me help you pick this all up.”

Albert surprised you by kneeling down as well. His hands reached for the scattered groceries in an attempt to help you. “Thank you but I can’t have you do this all on your own,” he said, voice sounding jocular. “After all, it was this old man who made the mess, eh?”

Old man, you thought, giving him a quick once over. He didn’t look that old. In fact, he looked pretty decent for a man. Just the right ripe age. You quickly had to hide your blush, looking away. But your eyes darted back to him on their own accord not long after.

You recognized that he was trying to lift the tension and saw how the corner of his smile trembled slightly. Was he nervous?

“Not that old,” you honestly said, as you reached for another fallen product. “Besides, the older the wine, the finer, right?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, as if your comment caught him by surprise. He had not expected it.

You suppressed a smile and reached for another item when Albert’s fingers accidentally brushed past yours. A sharp tingle of energy warmed the place your hands touched, skin to skin. Your heart rate picked up and your lips parted.

You looked up to find his blue eyes waiting to meet yours.

The tension was familiar to you, as was the tingle deep in your tummy and the awakening of lust. You fancied him, there was no denying it. And by the look of raw hunger in his eyes, you could tell he felt the same.

Lips suddenly dry, you rose to wobbly knees, your head spinning with emotions. “I’m sorry,” you said, words a whisper. “I need to go.”

His smile faltered and the light in his eyes seemed to die down when he heard your words. Albert got up, a torn bag carefully clutched against his chest. The groceries that the two of you had managed to save were semi-safe folded into the tattered bag. “I understand,” Albert said, his voice more nasal now. It reminded you so much of him. It was the some tone of judgment, the same pitiful tone that Arthur would use whenever he put himself into the role of a victim. Whenever you had hurt his feelings.

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Albert,” the words were hard to leave your lips, even though you meant them. It was just that he was reminding you of Arthur so much right now. Even their names started with an A.

Averting your eyes, you shook your head and took a step away from Albert. They were so similar in looks and sound. You could easily confuse them, imagine them both inside your bed. But you knew you shouldn’t. You were only allowed to love one man in this society.

Plus, Arthur would never forgive you if he found out you fancied another. If you so much as looked at another man he would turn livid. And so you dreaded to think of what he would do if he found out you had actually met a man you found attractive. More than innocent looks. Not that you should worry about any of it. You seemed to have disappointed the man in front of you with your move.

But Albert surprised you.

“I’d like to see you again,” he said, voice determined. And when you looked up you saw his jaw clenched. His fingers dug into the bag he carried with force, the knuckles turning white. He was being serious.

“That is, if you’ll let me,” he continued, sounding a little less certain now. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

And there it was. Such a bold request, it made your heart skip a beat. With your hand fluttering to your heart you turned back to him, eyes locking with his bright and hopeful ones.

“Oh,” you said, sounding surprised. “Oh,” again. You saw the hope glimmer in Albert’s eyes, saw how his muscles tensed for the inevitable rejection. “I’d love to,” but I am already spoken for, you should have said.

Instead, your voice died in your throat and the words never left your lips. Albert’s blue eyes shimmered with gratitude, a look of victory and something dark passing over them. “Good,” he said, sounding relieved and determined at the same time. “Good. Let me give you my number.”

He placed the tattered bag with groceries in the back of the black van and then pulled out a piece of paper. Leaning over the car, he scribbled a number on it before he handed the paper to you. It crumpled in your hand as he wrapped his around yours, giving it to you like a secret to keep safe.

The small smile Albert flashed you made you feel warm inside again. It was a sin that a man like him was alive. And then, after a slight squeeze, his hand was gone. You stared at the wad of paper in your hand for a moment. What were you going to do with it? If Arthur saw it…?

“Call me,” Albert asked, leaning forward to whisper the words close to your ear, an intimate gesture, ready to lean in even further and steal a kiss.

But he didn’t do that. Instead, he leaned away again, giving you your space. A gentleman, after all, you mused. You quickly hid the crumpled paper in one of your pockets and flashed him a comforting smile.

“I’ll see you around, Albert,” you promised.

“See you around, little miss teacher.”

You liked the nickname he gave you, smiling brightly upon hearing it.

Even when walking past him and away, you could still feel his gaze upon you, eyes boring into your back. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder to confirm he was watching you go. A small smile appeared on his lips when he saw you looking and you returned it.

And then you were round the corner and gone.

You tried desperately to get Albert off your mind after that because you knew you needed to focus on your date.

Arthur was waiting two streets away, hands in his pockets and a puppy smile on his face when he saw you arrive.

“There you are,” he said when you came within his reach. With a bright smile, he circled his arm around your waist, leading you away while whispering sweet words about how he’d missed you in your ear.

You let him guide you away, hand on your pocket to conceal the forbidden number of a man you should try to forget.

While Arthur led you to a small and cheap coffee shop, elegantly opening the door for you, a black van slowly passed by, slowing down even more when it came up behind you. You hardly noticed it, too busy as you were being focused on your date. Arthur was making you laugh, doing one of his silly clown moves. Even in his ordinary clothes, you could see the clown in him.

And even if you had looked over your shoulder to see the black van parked in the middle of the street, you still wouldn’t have been able to discern the grim expression hidden by a layer of white makeup and black sunglasses, or the way the man’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned as white as the makeup on his cheeks.

You were oblivious to what you had started.

The beast of desire was unleashed. And one day, you would feel the brunt.

#joker x reader #joker 2019 fanfiction #arthur fleck x reader #albert shaw x you #albert shaw x reader #the black phone #Joker 2019 #Crossover fanfic #older men and a younger woman #prompt fill #I loved this #do send me more #sorry for the wait

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1-800-local-slut · 6 months

Note

I’m rewatching season 9 of Supernatural and it’s making me crave Cas fics. Maybe something where the reader met him as Steve but now he’s back to full angel mojo

Can I Get A Large Slushie?

Season 9 Castiel x Black! Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, heartbreak (on readers end), reader and Cas don't end up together romantically, it's more so an experience, i don't know why I can't write Cas that way but I think he's literally just too majestic for me. He's also weirdly hard for me to write so I'm sorry this isn't one of my better works

1.7k words

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Also sorry this took so long, I got really busy </3

She could still remember that day like it was yesterday. The cold afternoon breeze that blew over her arms that night. The night when it was the beginning of everything she ever knew changed.

Drunk tears streamed down her face, her white dress a muddled mess around her lower body. It was supposed to be her night. It was supposed to be for her, with her friends and family all there to celebrate her engagement. Yet, after half an hour, her ex-fiance was caught with his pants around his ankles and buried in her aunt Nella. All she could do was run. She ran out of that party like a bat out of hell. Where was she even going? Perhaps her location was the gas station.

She ran, until she abandoned her heels in her purse, her flask was empty and the Sun had long since set behind her.

Then she was there. Tipsy, depressed and at a gas station. Mascara streamed down her dark skin in big gooey chunks, and she wanted to rip off her false lashes. Even her wig was bothering her. A chilled breeze blew through the night sky, and she shivered. Rubbing her arms up and down her soft skin she looked up through tear filled lashes at the glowing sign.

If there was any place to wait for her Uber, she supposed it was better than the street. The door felt cold against her bare arms. Looking back, it was a cold night. That night gave her a distinct fondness for the cold. The AC blasted over her, as she looked around. The whiteness of the room blinded her. She called her Uber, probably the least important aspect of her night. She saw him then.

He was standing near the slushie machine, he was certainly handsome. Tall, with brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and pink lips. Perhaps if she wasn’t spending unnecessary time worrying about a man who cracked her heart in two, she would’ve taken a chance with him.

Sliding next to him, she glanced down at her phone again ‘Mickey, 8 minutes away’. How she wished she had more than those eight minutes.

“Is there something you need ma’am?” The voice startled her. She wasn’t expecting him to speak, in her 29 years of living she can’t really remember ever speaking to a gas station attendant.

“Yeah…can I get a large slushie?” She slurred and hiccuped. Oh what a fool she made of herself! If she could go back, she would’ve gone in there perfectly sober and asked for more than a slushie from him.

“Sure, you know if you mix 50% red and 50% blue together it’ll make a perfect shade of purple? Most people end up with either too much red or blue, so if we fill it up to the top of the ‘e’ with the first color, it’ll be a perfect 50%, and the rest will make it a perfect mix.” He enthused, pulling out a cup but dropping a few more on the ground. She flailed in an attempt to grab them, and she followed suit. After a few ungraceful moments her slushie was being poured, half red and half blue. Then, he (with a shocking amount of enthusiasm) shook up her drinking and placed a gorgeous colored concoction.

Maybe it was the liquor that did her in. The liquor that brought tears to her eyes, and made her start to cry once more.

“This is the nicest thing ever, thank you…” with a squint, she leaned in and read his name tag. “Steve. That’s a nice name, I knew a guy named Steve once. He was great, you know. He was a nice guy, dude smelled funky though.” With a pathetic whimper, Steve chuckled and led her away to the cash register.

For some reason, her heart thumped in her chest. Perhaps from the copious amounts of casamigos thrumming through her blood.

“Well hopefully, he smells better now.” Steve chuckled and she took a long and hard sip from her slushie, the cold freezing over her pained heart. With a swipe of her credit card, her slushie was paid for.

“I hope you have a better night than you’ve been having so far.” Steve grinned widely and she chuckled. A smile came over her sore features. How tired she was. Even talking hurt but in her drunken state it was all she wanted to do.

“Why thank you Steve, you’re such a sweetie pie! Oh but my night can’t get better. My life can’t either.” She sighed, laying her arm and head onto the counter. She can still recall Steve’s blue eyes glancing over her face.

“My fiance, or ex, or uncle or something. He plowed my aunt at our engagement party. Sure she’s only like six years older, but that’s still so weird. He already had me, who goes for a downgrade? Here I am. Sad, drunk, kind of sleepy. This slurpee is really good, thank you so much.” Her rant left her out of breath. He really was an angel, to listen to her depressing details of her life. A sigh that seemingly deflated her body made Steve rest his chin on his hands.

“Huh…I’m sorry that happened to you.” The response was earnest.

“I’m sorry it happened to me too.” Whipping tears from her eyes, and the streaks of mascara from her eyes. Her phone buzzed, ‘Mickey has arrived’.

“My Uber’s here.” She swallowed another giant gulp of her slushie.

“Okay, have a nice night!” Steve waved as the woman blinked in confusion, pushing herself off the countertop.

“You’re a very cheerful gentleman.” She waved back with a giggle and stumbled off into the night.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time she saw him, it was two weeks later. She went back to the store, craving yet another perfect slushie, and exhausted from the moving process. After kicking her ex to the curb, she was finally completely moved out. A nice little apartment that she’d spend the next three years off her life in even though she didn’t know it yet.

Pushing open the door, the AC blasted against her warm skin once more.Her beeline to the slushie machine was quick, and before she knew it she was faced to face with Steve again.

“Hello there Steve.” He turned around, and grinned at her with a level of excitement someone who loved their job could have.

“Good afternoon, how are you doing today?” He asked her. Something about him drew her in. What was it though? Was it his generosity? Was it his simple naivety? No, but what was it?

“I’m doing just fine.” With a chuckle, she swiped her card. And feeling brand new from just being near Steve for some reason, she went on about her day.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

It had gotten to the point where if you cut her open, she would’ve bled that delicious purple she’d been consuming on a near daily basis. Their conversations, about essentially nothing, were just filled with sweet nothings. It was like speaking to a person with a pure view. For a moment, just a moment each day, it cleared her mind of all the pain she’d been forced to endure. Until one day, Steve’s innocent glee was missing.

“Are you alright Steve?” She asked, while grabbing a pack of gum while she shook her cup around.

“I’m just thinking. Can I ask you something?” He took the gum from her and ran it over the scanner. Taking it back, she pulled out six dollars and prepared for her change.

“Sure, I’ve asked you plenty of questions.”

“When you know you belong somewhere else doing something else, but you’re forced to be something you don’t want to be, what do you do?” A silence settled between the two of them.

“I think you should do what you’re meant to do the best way you can. Even if you can’t do it the same way anymore.” She responded, sliding her gum into her purse.

“I think so too.” He gave her a tight lipped smile and a small wave goodbye. It was the last time for a while that she would see Steve.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time it was six weeks later. Life moved on of course. She still had slushie’s just not as often. Without Steve, there was no point in going every day. Still her heart couldn’t forget him. Nothing ever happened between the two. Nothing more than thoughtful and absent minded conversations. Still he left some sort of gap in her heart.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

“Hi there, my name is Jack Matherson, this is my partner David Kendall. We’re detectives looking into the break in across the street, may we come in?” But when she saw ‘David’ her entire world melted. Instead it was Steve. At her flower shop, standing next to a very handsome man.

“Sure…sure of course you can.” The two stepped in, and Steve or David or whatever his name was seemed to barely notice her. There he was right there, and this entire time she had been wondering where he had gone. What had happened to that silly guy from the gas station? Now here he was, a very well dressed cop in a trench coat.

He looked far more serious now, as if he was intent on whatever his mission was. Even the air around him felt far more cleansing. More so like whatever she had done in her life was judged and forgiven in his presence. He walked around absentmindedly, whispering to his green eyed partner. For a fast moment, they made eye contact.

“Hello there, it’s good to see you again.” She swallowed thickly. Was his voice always so gruff? Was this the thing he wanted to do the best way he could? It seemed like it, the way he was so domineering in the strangest way.

“You too.” With a quick nod, she slipped away into the back. Now she curses herself, for running away from someone who made her feel so oddly full. Not complete, but like a part of her was added, one that she never even knew she wanted.

Now, she was slurping on a large slurpee, her tongue staining purple and she sat on her window sill. Years later, she still thinks about him. She still thinks about how his energy brought many changes. Something about him illuminated something…untouchable? Unique. No, divine. Divine was the only word that could be used to describe the feeling that the presence of Steve brought.

Now she was sitting at her window sill, slurpy finished, and missing that feeling and her Steve more than anything.

#x black reader #black reader #x reader #fem reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #castiel #supernatural x you #castiel x reader #castiel x you

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

Text

Drawing a Line on the Carpet

Summary: It's Y/N's first time alongside Jensen on the red carpet. She feels pretty exposed, but things could be worse, and they just might end up that way.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Light Smut. Brief fingering, lots of making out. Jensen being sexy af and also a complete badass. Brief violence. Slightly insecure plus-sized!reader.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Y/N (Surprise cameo from a non SPN actor! 😉)

Word Count: 2.5k+

A/N: So, I’ve decided to do all 30 of these writing prompts. I may miss a day here and there, but I’m going to try to do one a day, and I will be completing all 30 no matter what. They won’t always be in order. This fic will be for the prompt: Write a scene that describes your MC well. I think this whole fic describes my version of Jensen very well. 😊

I will be putting together a Masterlist for all 30 prompts and adding it to my main Masterlist.

A/N 2: I have like three ongoing series, that I should be working on and 2 requests that are still waiting to be finished. (I'm SO sorry! They're coming - PROMISE!)

So, of course I had to write this Jensen RPF that absolutely no one asked for. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ But I couldn't help it, the idea flew into my head and I couldn't get it out. So -

TA DA!! 😝😝

As always, of course this story is about a Jensen from a different part of the multiverse, who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist || Tag Lists

Y/N stood in front of the full length mirror hanging on the hotel wall and nervously ran a hand down the tight fitting bodice of the emerald green, silk, sleeveless dress she was wearing. Although it fit more snugly than anything she usually wore, she was okay with the way the material clung to her torso and exposed a healthy, but acceptable, amount of cleavage.

It was the high slits that ran up the sides of both her legs, exposing her thick thighs, and even giving a peek at the swell of her hip, that had her leery and wanting to change out of it.

When she stood stock still, the material of the skirt hung closed. But as soon as she shifted at all, her legs were exposed. She frowned at her reflection and wondered if she really had the courage to wear it.

A low whistle from the doorway startled her, but she smiled as she caught Jensen's eye in the mirror. He was dressed in dark gray pants, an emerald green v-neck t-shirt to match her dress, over which he wore a perfectly tailored black suit jacket.

He looked stunning. Of course.

"Man," he said with a regretful shake of his head, "it's just too bad, I was really looking forward to going to this opening tonight."

Y/N frowned, disappointed. "What? Why can't we go? What happened?"

Jensen wandered up to stand behind her. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, his forearm draped over her chest, pinning her back against him, while he snaked his other arm around her waist.

"Well, we're never gonna make it on time since I plan on ripping this fucking dress off you, throwing you down on the bed and not letting you up for at least three or four hours. Movie's gonna be over by then."

He shrugged as though there was simply nothing he could do about it before sliding his hands up to wrap around her upper arms, holding her still while he nuzzled into her neck.

Her hair was swept up and pinned in place, so there was nothing to stop his searching lips as they nibbled and sucked along the column of her neck and across the curve of her shoulder.

"Mmmm...Jensen..." she breathed. "Jensen, stop. You are not giving me a hickey that I'm gonna have to try and cover up, like I'm a teenager who stayed out past curfew!"

"Pfft! Don't cover them up." Jensen scoffed and Y/N didn't miss the fact that he'd said, 'them'. He sucked and nipped at her skin, and despite her protests, Y/N tilted her head so he had easier access. "Let everyone see them, remind them that you're mine."

Y/N moaned lightly before finally ducking her head and lifting her shoulders so he couldn't keep trying to mark up her skin. She turned to face him and looped her arms around his neck. "I'm nervous enough about tonight; trying to hide a hickey is the last thing I need."

Jensen shook his head. "I told you, you have nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart."

Y/N snorted. "Yeah, easy for you to say, you've walked down the red carpet hundreds of times." She sighed deeply. "Not really something an accountant gets the chance to do very often."

Jensen pulled her close and slid his hands through the slits of the dress giving her a light slap on the ass that made her gasp, before he grabbed up her fleshiness in both hands and squeezed, turning her gasp into a deep moan.

"That's because most accountants don't look this fucking hot in silk."

He dipped his mouth to hers, and thrust his tongue past her lips, licking up into her, greedily swallowing down her moans and stealing her breath.

He pushed her backwards until she was pressed up against the mirror, then pulled back slightly, panting into her mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N, you better tell me to stop or I swear to god, I really am gonna rip this to shreds and fuck you right here, where I can see you from every angle."

He spun her around so that she was facing the mirror, her hands splayed against it, bracing herself. Jensen's hands covered hers and he encased her completely within the muscular circle of his arms. His breath was hot and damp on the side of her neck.

All of a sudden there was a knock on their hotel room door and the hotel concierge could be heard on the other side.

"Mr. Ackles, Ms. Y/L/N? Your limousine is here."

Jensen's groan turned into a growl. "Maybe he'll just go away." He panted roughly into her ear.

But the man was persistent, knocking again.

"Mr. Ackles?" He called again, and Jensen finally pushed away from Y/N to call back to him.

"Thanks, be there in five!"

Y/N giggled at the way Jensen's cheerful voice did not match the look of death he was shooting the man on the other side of the door.

She pushed away from the mirror and checked her reflection. She was slightly flushed and she'd have to reapply her lipstick in the limo, but otherwise she'd survived her boyfriend's ravaging fairly intact.

Jensen straightened his suit jacket and Y/N reached up to wipe away the smeared red lipstick on his mouth.

"Mmm..."Jensen nodded. "Thanks."

She smiled teasingly at him. "Of course. Can't let people see I've been ravishing you."

Jensen growled again and playfully nipped at her fingers as she thumbed across his lips, making her squeal and yank her hand back.

He grabbed up her wrap from the chair and guided her forward and out the door, with a hand at the small of her back.

As they passed through the door, he whispered low in her ear. "Just wait till we get back here tonight. Then we'll see who'll be ravishing who."

***

As they stepped out of the limousine and a million flashes started going off, every single one of Y/N's fears and dislikes about herself came screaming to the front of her mind.

On a day-to-day basis Y/N had learned to love her body just as it was, and was okay with how she looked. She knew she'd never be considered supermodel material - she was short, her arms were too chubby and her thighs weren't the right kind of thick, her ass was too wide, and her waist wasn't non-existent.

But as she'd matured and grown she'd come to simply accept herself; her body may not fit conventional beauty standards, but it was strong and healthy and she was content in it.

However, with so many eyes on her, in a dress that was much more revealing than she was used to, she could feel old remnants of body issues popping up in her mind.

But Jensen had hold of her hand as they walked towards the beginning of the red carpet, and she squeezed it a little tighter as she saw the incredibly long line of photographers just waiting to get their shots.

Jensen pulled her into his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down her arm. He leaned down to kiss her temple and spoke quietly.

"You're doing fabulous, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunning. Just smile naturally and breathe. We're good."

Y/N wrapped her arm around his waist and took his advice, letting her mind get caught up in the fun, instead of the fear.

Jensen knew a few of the photographers by name and he'd waved and shouted out greetings over the noise when he saw them.

Things were good; but about halfway down the carpet, things went very wrong.

As they reached the halfway point, all of a sudden Jensen cursed quietly beneath his breath. But the guy next to them on the carpet, an actor she sort of recognized, was more vocal about his displeasure.

"Fuck me! Drummond is here? Who the hell keeps giving that asshole a press pass?"

Y/N looked where the two men had been staring but she couldn't tell which person they had the problem with at first. But then a tall guy with a medium build and a pointed face began calling out to Jensen.

"Hey Ackles! Back on the red carpet again, huh? Still not here for your own stuff though!" Drummond chuckled.

Jensen ignored him and kept smiling, but Y/N was frowning at him. His words had the cadence of teasing, but there was something mean-spirited layered underneath. Then Y/N realized what it was; this dude was oozing jealousy.

As they continued down the line, moving about two feet at a time, stopping while the pictures were taken and then shuffling further along, the so-called photographer wouldn't stop shouting out "teasing" digs towards Jensen.

Every once and a while Drummond would shout something at the guy beside them too, who began talking to a publicist, trying to see about getting the heckler tossed, but Jensen shook his head at him.

"Don't give him the satisfaction, man. You'll just give him a bullshit story to run with. He wants to piss you off so he can snap an angry picture and say you were an asshole. Just pretend he isn't there."

His fellow actor agreed, but Y/N found it increasingly tough to follow suit. At one point, as they were finally starting to pass him, he asked Jensen what role Kripke was gonna lob his way next.

"I mean, he's pretty much the only reason you've got a career, huh?"

Jensen had to tighten his grip around Y/N's waist to stop her from storming forward and smacking the douchebag across the face. "Not worth it." He reminded her in her ear.

Finally they'd moved a few feet away from him, nearly past him completely, and he was getting desperate.

So, he shifted his focus.

"Who's your chubster date, Ackles? Is she related to someone important? Is bangin' her part of your five year plan to kickstart your career?"

Y/N felt like she'd been slapped, her cheeks burned with humiliation. But she was immediately aware of Jensen's body going rigid beside her.

For the first time since he'd started heckling them, Drummond had Jensen's full and undivided attention.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Jensen asked as he moved back towards the paparazzo. His arm crossed over Y/N's body and he tucked her behind him as he moved towards his target.

"Oh, come on, man! I'm just messing with you. What, you can't take a joke?" Drummond guffawed as he lifted his camera to snap the picture he'd been angling for the whole time.

Y/N pulled on Jensen's arm as she noticed. "Not worth it." She reminded him, but Jensen seemed to not even hear her as he stalked closer to Drummond.

"I'm giving you fair warning right now asshole, you utter one more word that has anything to do with my girlfriend, and I will knock your fucking teeth out of your filthy goddamn mouth. You understand me?"

Drummond wore an expression that was half gleeful at finally having wrought the reaction he wanted, and half terrified of the towering Texan issuing his warning.

Y/N moved up beside Jensen again, pushing slightly on his bicep. He didn't budge.

"Jensen, come on honey. He's not worth this shit."

"Ooh, the lady coming to the rescue. But you don't have to pull him away so soon, Chubbs, we're just chatting." Drummond cooed at Y/N, reaching over the metal barrier to grab her arm and try to hold her there.

Within seconds Jensen's fist was smashed into the photographer's face with a sickening crunch that told Y/N that his teeth might actually be loosened, and his nose was definitely broken.

He immediately let go of her arm and before he could even screech out his indignation and pain, Jensen's other fist was twisted up in his shirt front.

"I fucking dare you you to touch her again!' He roared at him. As the crowd around them seemed to finally cotton on to what was happening, camera flashes were suddenly all focused on them.

Security, and the actor who'd been beside them, leapt at Jensen to pull him off, but they couldn't seem to.

It wasn't until Drummond started blubbering and holding up his hands in front of him, that Jensen finally tossed him away in disgust and shook off the men trying to hold him.

He turned to Y/N who stood in shock, just silently trying to process what had just happened.

"Are you alright? Y/N?" He cupped her cheek, "Baby, are you good?"

She nodded absently and he grabbed hold of her hand as they were hustled out of the line and into the theatre. They went through back entrances and narrow, staff only hallways, and she was only vaguely aware of what was happening, letting them shuffle her along.

Finally she and Jensen were put into what seemed to be a cozy staff lunch room, coffee makers and squishy couches sat around the room and Y/N dropped onto the nearest one.

A minute later Jensen got down on his haunches in front of her and pressed a warm paper cup into her hand and she slipped the creamy coffee, letting it help her focus.

"How are you, sweetheart?"

Y/N shook her head and took hold of his hand, running her thumb gently over the bruises she could see forming there, under the red scrapes.

"How am I? How are you? Does it hurt?" She asked bringing them to her lips for a gentle kiss.

"No, they're fine." Jensen said, dismissively waving his other hand.

Before they could say more, a middle-aged man in a neatly pressed suit came in and Jensen stood up to greet him.

"Hello, Mr Ackles." The man said as he shook Jensen's hand. "My name is Tom Gentry and I'm the manager here. The police are here to have a word with you about what went down. They're gathering other's accounts as well. But they'd like to speak with you and Ms. Y/L/N separately."

Jensen looked down at Y/N and she nodded, giving him a smile to try and ease the lines of worry on his brow.

She looked to the manager. "Yes, that's fine."

"Follow me, Mr. Ackles, and the officers will be in momentarily, Ms. Y/L/N."

Y/N nodded again and Jensen kissed the top of her head. "Be back right away, sweetheart."

The cops who came in to talk with her were brusque but not rude. They asked their questions bluntly, but let her answer in full, simply making notes and nodding. It didn't take her long to give her version of what happened and they thanked her and left.

She waited another ten minutes before Jensen came back into the room. She stood up when he entered and he opened his arms as he reached her in only a few bow-legged strides. She stepped into them gratefully, shivering slightly as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders, before pulling her tight against him.

"The cops are finished with us for now. So, let's get out of here, what d'ya say?"

Y/N nodded and followed along blindly. And before she knew it, they were back in the hotel room.

She dropped Jensen's suit jacket on the couch and wandered towards the bedroom. Jensen followed.

She sat in the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and Jensen sat on the corner of the bed, facing her.

After a minute, he spoke quietly. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Y/N tried for a smile, but didn't quite manage it. She shook her head. "I'm thinking...that...I don't know what to think."

Jensen's jaw clenched. "Did I scare you?"

Y/N was about to deny it, but then she realized that would be a lie. She shrugged. "A little I guess. I've never seen you like that." She frowned at him. "Where did that come from? I mean -".

"He put hands on you."

Y/N felt her breath catch at the look of ferocious intensity that was back in his eyes.

"I wasn't about to let that stand." He said in a deadly calm voice and she suddenly realized that a part of Dean really did live inside Jensen.

She shook her head. "But Jensen, you know that asshole is gonna press charges. Something like this could really put a dent in your career. He could make people think you've got some kind of terrible temper, that you'd be awful to work with, or even dangerous on sets."

Her voice was full of worry as she continued. "Speaking as one of the accountants at your agency, if I was there right now, I'd be telling them they're bound to lose money on this. You could lose potential roles, you're gonna lose -"

"I don't care about any of that shit, Y/N." He interrupted again. "I did what I did and I don't regret it for a second. The only thing I care about losing, is you."

A look of sadness came into his eyes and it broke her heart. "Have I lost you?"

Y/N's eyes widened. "What? What do you mean? Why would you lose me?"

Jensen scowled darkly. "I exposed you to that shit, to pigs like Drummond. He was cruel to you just to get at me." He shrugged. "And I scared you with how I acted. I'm not sorry about breaking his nose, but I am sorry about that."

Y/N stood up from the chair and moved to stand between his legs, leaning against him, and clasping her hands on the sides of his neck.

"Jensen, you startled me, more than scared me. It was just surprising to see that side of you. I know how calm you always are; so few things ever rattle you. I mean, you took his insults and taunting that entire time, without batting an eye. Meanwhile I wanted to fucking strangle him."

Jensen's mouth quirked up in the half smile she loved so much. She kissed his lips gently, briefly. A sad smile clung to her lips as she pulled back.

"As for him saying mean things to me..." she shrugged, "Well, sweetie, he's hardly the first and he certainly won't be the last asshole to judge me based solely on some bullshit beauty standards that exist in their own heads."

As Jensen looked up at her, she slid her palms up to grip his scruffy cheeks. "But I don't care about what he thinks. Or at least, I try not to. The only man's opinion I care about is yours, and," she patted her hair, "I know you think I'm hot right?" She said, her teasing grin not quite hiding the slight apprehension that colored her words.

She watched the passion and desire slide into Jensen's features the way it had so many times before, and her apprehension melted away.

He leaned forward to press kisses across her cleavage, his face being perfectly level with her breasts, before pulling her down to sit on his lap.

"You're the hottest fucking woman I've ever had in my arms and the only one who can make me hard instantly."

He pulled her hand to rest on his cock that was straining behind the fine material of his dress pants.

She bit into her lip, and whined loudly as he reached into the slit of her dress and shoved her thong aside so he could run two fingers through the wetness that pooled at her center.

"Fuck, Jensen!" She said in a voice made harsh by desire.

"Good idea, sweetheart. I believe I had plans to rip this dress off of you."

Y/N opened her eyes. "Jensen Ross Ackles, don't you dare!"

She was trying hard to see past her thrumming need to have him shred the dress to pieces, throw her onto the bed and fuck her into the mattress.

"Well then, darlin', you've got about 30 seconds to get out of it before I turn it into rags."

When Y/N didn't move fast enough Jensen started counting.

"One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three -"

Y/N squealed and started reaching for the zipper.

***

The next morning they sat in bed with the room service tray between them. As they finished up their breakfast, Jensen sighed.

"Well, shall we?"

They'd both turned their phones off last night, vowing to avoid the mess until the next day.

Y/N shrugged. "I guess we'd better."

Their phones beeped on and Y/N took a deep breath. She had dozens and dozens of text messages and social media notifications. She noticed that the vast majority of notifications seemed to point her to a specific Twitter thread. She clicked on it, just as Jensen chuckled beside her.

"Huh. I'll be damned." He said, mostly to himself.

She looked over to see he was clicked on the same thread and she started reading it on his phone. The thread was from the Twitter account of Chris Evans.

"That's who he was!" Y/N said out loud, finally recognizing the actor that had been beside them on the red carpet the night before.

Jensen looked at her incredulously. "You didn't recognize Chris? He's like, one of the most famous actors in the world!"

Y/N shrugged. "I knew he looked familiar. I was just too busy staring at my hot date!"

Jensen was still chuckling at her lack of Hollywood savvy as she picked up her own phone to read the thread.

Most of it was just a straightforward account of exactly how things had transpired, and an indictment of the entertainment industry in general for constantly letting men like Drummond get away with it.

Y/N noticed that Chris never repeated the gross, insulting things Drummond had said about her, simply stating that the paparazzo made misogynistic and body-shaming comments towards her.

The final two tweets in the thread, made Y/N get a little teary-eyed and made her even prouder to be dating the remarkable man next to her.

~~~~~~~

In closing, I'll just say this. I've known Jensen for more than 20 yrs in this business. We've never had the chance to hang out a lot, very unfortunately. But back in the day, we went up against each other for a lot of roles, and I'll be forever grateful he was too busy and stepped away, letting me take on the role of Cap. Whatever he says, I know he was a serious contender.

But throughout these 20 yrs I've been lucky enough to talk with him, and get to know him a little. He is always respectful, was always a gracious winner when the role went to him, and a good sport when I lucked out and got it. I've never seen him be anything but patient, calm and a true gentleman. Which should give some indication of just how disgusting the actions of this so-called photographer really were. For whatever it's worth, I think Jensen was completely in the right here, and I applaud his actions. @ jensenackles you're a badass, my friend.

~~~~~~

Jensen was smiling at his phone as Y/N finished reading. "Wow." She said simply.

"Yeah, he's a good dude." Jensen said with a nod. "That was really nice of him, and it seems to have made a pretty big difference. My phone is slammed with requests for interviews to talk about my 'heroic actions'."

Jensen shook his head and chuckled. "Man, this town is something else."

Y/N was beaming. "I'm so happy the truth is out there and that you're coming out on the right side of this."

She pushed his phone away and kissed him lightly. "I never did thank you, did I? For standing up for me?"

A wicked smile spread across Jensen's face and he pulled her close for a deeper kiss. They broke apart panting and Jensen cleared his throat.

"I'd say you thanked me plenty last night."

Y/N punched him lightly on the arm. "Well, if I remember correctly, you thanked me first, and then you thanked me again," she nibbled on his succulent bottom lip, "and again and again and again!"

"And again!" Jensen growled as he rolled her onto her back, knocking the breakfast tray to the ground.

Y/N giggled breathlessly and then moaned loudly as Jensen's mouth attached itself to her pulse point.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Ackles. Mmmm...my hero!"

1. Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@siospins2

@impalaslytherin

@akshi8278

@maggiegirl17

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

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3. Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

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4. Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

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#jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles smut #jensen x plus-sized!reader #jensen x y/n #30 days writing challenge #jensen ackles fluff

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shiorimakibawrites · 11 months

Text

Nelson & Murdock (Part 8 of Alley Cat)

Image credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3257

Summary: Reader meets two very good lawyers. And has an epiphany.

Can also be read here

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Awkward flirting. Pining. Legal stuff written by a non-lawyer, Mentions of ableism.

Nelson & Murdock

by Shiori_Makiba

You arrived at the small office building a couple of minutes before your appointment. It was an older building but not rundown. And judging by the signs you could see by the doors as you headed for the stairs, home to a number of small businesses.

As you reached the second floor, the door at the end of the hallway opened. Out stepped a handsome man with brown hair dressed in a black suit wearing sunglasses and holding a long white cane in one hand. He was average height with broad shoulders, muscular without being bulky and you were certain you had seen somewhere before.

But you hadn't. Surely you would remember meeting someone so handsome. That wasn't the kind of face you forgot. It's the kind of face that you fantasize about. Imagine yourself running your fingers through that fluffy-looking hair and feeling the roughness of that five o'clock shadow. Imagine those red, pouty lips pressing against yours . . . wait a minute!

You stood there in stunned disbelief. Could that really be him? Could those be the same petal soft lips that pressed against your cheek a few days ago? The same cheek that tingled from the memory. Or did this man walking toward you, his cane tapping back and forth in front of him, just happened to resemble what little you could see of Daredevil's face?

He stopped a little bit front of you, his head tilting in an equally familiar manner.

“Ma'am? Can I help you?” he asked. Your first thought was that he didn't sound like Daredevil. The Devil's voice was deeper, rougher with that gravely, growling rasp . . . but then you remembered how he had sounded when he promised not to go too far in that alley or when forgot himself while flirting or talking to you . . . a little higher but still deep, gentle and soft-spoken. Just like this man in front of you.

You couldn't believe what you were considering. This man was blind . . .

“Ma'am?” he repeated. “Do you need help?”

“N-no, I'm good,” you said. Then realized that you were blocking the walking path standing there gaping like an idiot.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling yourself flush as you moved to one side of the hallway so he had room to pass. “Didn't mean to get in your way.”

“It's fine,” he said with a smile as he continued on his way. It was (probably) inappropriate but you couldn't stop yourself from checking out his ass as he walked away. The trousers of his suit wasn't nearly as form-fitting as the Daredevil suit but still well-fitted enough for you to tell that this man also had one fine ass.

You shook your head. Blind ninja vigilante sounded like something out of a comic book. Even this crazy world with people like the Avengers, that still sounded ridiculous.

Then it got weirder. Because the door the man had come out of it? It was the office of Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law according to the metal sign with raised lettering. While it also proudly declared it was the home of Page Investigations, you were pretty sure that wasn't Karen Page.

Assuming Karen Page was the Karen you spoke with on the phone. It was possible that they had hired a receptionist who just happened to almost be named Karen. It was a popular name. Weirder things, especially in this city, had happened.

Not nearly as crazy as contemplating if a blind man was a ninja vigilante.

You opened the door and entered the office. Sitting at the front desk was a pretty woman with shoulder length blonde hair in a dark blue suit who looked up at your entrance and smiled.

“Hello, I'm Karen Page. How can I help you?”

You introduced yourself and said you had an appointment for an initial consultation. Karen nodded and did something on her computer. She then stood up – she was tall and slim without being skinny – and gestured toward the row of mismatched chairs lining the wall. “Please have a seat while I get things set up. Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee,” you said as you sat down in one of the chairs. For all that it didn't match the other chairs and was clearly secondhand, it was comfortable. While Karen poured your coffee, you took the opportunity to observe. The rest of the furniture in the public space was just as of a hodgepodge as the waiting chairs. All of the visible electronics – computer, multi-line phone, printers – were older models. No clutter and nothing left where it could create a tripping hazard. It also said louder than any words that this was a no-frills operation.

“Cream? Sugar? Cookie?” Karen asked.

“Cookie?” You repeated as you looked over at Karen. She was standing beside a small table, half-turned toward you. Behind her, on the top, you could see two coffee pots – one with freshly brewed coffee, one with water. The water one had something wrapped around the handle of the carafe. Presumably so the blind partner could tell difference between the otherwise identical coffee pots. You presumed that was the same reason that the little baskets containing what looked like little cups of creamer and packets of sugar were entirely different shapes.

And in Karen's hands was a familiar looking Tupperware container about half full of cookies.

“Yes, cookie,” Karen said, holding up the container. “Mr. Murdock got these from a friend but felt like he couldn't eat so many cookies all by himself. Do you want one? They're really good.”

“Sure,” you said before giving Karen your cream and sugar preferences. A few moments later, she handed you your coffee in a plain blue mug and a cookie in a napkin. You weren't entirely surprised to see that cookie was chocolate clip.

It was a good thing that Karen had her back to you when you bit into the cookie. Because this tasted exactly like your cookies. The ones you had given to Daredevil. As you chewed, you thought furiously.

There were three possibilities.

The first was that all of this was coincidence. Daredevil wasn't the only drop dead gorgeous man in this city. No reason that Murdock couldn't be one of those aforementioned very handsome men. Other people liked to use organic and otherwise unprocessed ingredients for their baked goods. It was implausible, not impossible, that one of those other people just happened to be friends with Murdock and randomly choose to make him chocolate chip cookies at the same time you baked chocolate chips cookies for Daredevil. That Tupperware container was a common item – there were probably thousands of identical copies of it on Manhattan alone.

Still that was a lot of coincidence. Too much coincidence for your taste. It stretched credulity to its breaking point.

The second was that Daredevil had decided to give Murdock most of his cookies. This possibility stung . . . maybe he was just being polite when he said your cookies tasted good. Through Karen also said they tasted good and she didn't know you were (possibly) the baker. Besides what kind of friends gives terrible tasting cookies to their friends . . . maybe it was less a re-gifting situation and maybe those cookies were some kind of weird retainer fee. If rumor was to be believed, it wouldn't be the first time that Nelson & Murdock had accepted baked goods instead of cash for payment. On the negative side, cookies don't pay the firm's expenses . . on the positive side, homemade baked ones don't have a paper trail. The IRS doesn't expect you to report how many pies you got this financial quarter. Strengthened the argument that cookies couldn't taste bad. You doubted Daredevil was stupid enough to pay his legal team with terrible cookies.

That one at least sounded plausible.

The third was that Murdock was Daredevil and he decided to share his cookies with his coworkers.

Part of you wanted to dismiss this possibility out of hand. Murdock was a lawyer. Being a vigilante in general was illegal. The damage he inflicted on criminals easily qualified his actions as second or third degree assault. An ambitious DA could possibly make an argument for attempted murder in some cases. All of which were felonies with mandatory jail sentences. It was violation of the Attorneys Rules of Professional Conduct specifically and legal ethics in general . . .

You startled when a hand touched your shoulder. You looked up and saw Karen standing in front of you, looking concerned and holding a small stack of papers. You realized that you must have missed her previous attempts to get your attention.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Y-yes,” you said. “S-sorry. Got lost in thought.”

She smiled. “Happens to the best of us. And people coming to a law office often have a lot on their minds. Are you ready?”

You nodded and got to your feet. You would untangle the puzzle of Daredevil and Murdock later. You followed Karen to the door with frosted glass. She knocked and called out, “Foggy, your two o'clock is here.”

Foggy? That was a rather unusual name.

“Come on it,” a man's voice called back. Karen opened the door and ushered you into the small office. It was much like the public areas of the firm – secondhand, mismatched but comfortable looking furniture and older electronics, almost obsessively neat.

Coming around the desk to greet you was a stocky blonde man dressed in a brown suit. He wasn't as classically handsome as his partner but was still good looking in that comfortable, guy next door kind of way. He extended his hand and said, “Hello, I'm Foggy Nelson.”

“Foggy?” you repeated, shaking his hand.

“Yeah,” he said and grinned. “It's better than Franklin.”

There was nothing you could say about that. If he wanted people to call him Foggy that was his prerogative. Besides, as far as eccentricities go, an unusual nickname wasn't a bad one to have.

So you introduced yourself and got yourself seat as Karen had a low-voiced conversation with Foggy while she handed him the stack of papers, that had been bundled together into different sets with the use of alligator clips. He nodded and pulled two of the stacks out of the pile. He was careful to keep them angled so you couldn't see what was written on them but that didn't stop you from noticing that one stack seemed to be made out of a different kind of paper. He sat back down in his chair and the two stacks were tucked away in a drawer in his desk as Karen walked out and closed the door behind her.

Then he returned his attention to you and asked, “What brings you to Nelson & Murdock?”

“The police might want to interrogate me.”

“About?”

“Daredevil. They seem to believe that I know who he is,” you said.

Nelson went rigid with tension. He studied you with shrewd blue eyes. In instant, the air of amiable absentmindedness vanished for something sharper and harder. In that moment, you knew those who underestimated Foggy Nelson did so at their own peril.

“And do you? Know who Daredevil is?” he asked in a calm, manner-of-fact tone.

“No,” you answered. It wasn't a lie. Because you didn't know that Murdock was Daredevil. You suspected he was Daredevil. Suspicion were not the same thing as knowing. Besides, it was an awfully big accusation to make. Something that, if true and could be proven by the authorities, would cost Murdock both his freedom and his law license. Would cost Nelson his license if they could prove that he knew and hadn't report his partner's unethical behavior to the bar association. Maybe his freedom too if they could find proof that he was an accessory to Daredevil's illegal activities.

Nelson relaxed a little but not all the way. He said, “I think you need to tell me exactly what happened.”

You described the encounter in the alley and your interaction with the police afterward. He listened, took notes, and asked a few clarifying questions.

Then he asked the big question, “Anything else?”

You hesitated. You knew you needed to be honest with Nelson. It was important that the client be candid with their attorney. They can't give you the best legal advice without knowing all the facts. Even the ones that don't paint their client in the best light.

But if your crazy notion was right and his legal partner was a vigilante . . . something he may or may not be aware of . . .

“That wasn't the first time you meet Daredevil,” Nelson said. It wasn't a question.

“No,” you admitted.

“Tell me,” he said. And after a moment of consideration, you told him.

Well, you told him most of it. You left out that Daredevil was an outrageous flirt with a plethora of cheesy pick-up lines. Describing his sort of rivalry with Houdini had already earned you an incredulous “What?” from Nelson.

You also kept how hot you found him to yourself. Those thoughts were embarrassing enough in your head. The very thought of saying them out loud . . . especially somewhere that the man you suspected of being Daredevil could return at any minute and overhear . . . no. A thousand times no. You would have to fake your death, change your name, and move to another country.

And that kiss to your cheek. Because that might lead to discussing both the previously mentioned thirty thoughts and how much you have been pinning over him. And again, you would die of embarrassment if he came back and overheard that.

Nelson's legal advice was not unexpected. In that he recommended that you call the police the next time you encountered what was technically a wanted man. That some of your actions – namely assisting with his injury – could be considered slipping into murky waters of accessorial liability and that you shouldn't do that again. Or anything else that might considered assisting Daredevil commit crimes.

It was good advice. You felt a little bad that you weren't intending to follow any of it. But if you weren't crazy . . . and Nelson knew . . . then maybe Nelson would forgive you for ignoring his advice on this particular matter. Since he probably didn't want his partner to go to prison.

Nelson seemed to need a moment to collect his thoughts after that. You gave it to him since you also needed time to think. Preferably about something that wouldn't make you blush. Luckily your brain had the perfect thing to latch onto and over-analyze.

Murdock was blind. And you didn't believe he was faking it. The bar exam, for example, would have required him to visit an ophthalmologist so they could fill out a form verifying his disability, whether or not his impairment was likely to improve in the next six months, and what accommodations he needed to take the exam. And they wouldn't be the only ones who would want such documentation before they would allow him to use disability accommodations.

Between that and the ableism it would be subjected to a person to, you couldn't see why anyone would fake being blind for any appreciable length of time. It sounded like a lot of trouble for very little benefit.

You didn't know the extend of his blindness. Most visually impaired people weren't completely, no light perception blind. It was possible that Matt (and if you were right Daredevil) had some sight. Just not enough to do things like read documents with standard-sized lettering but enough that he could fight without a guide. You knew there were blind martial artists but you didn't know if they needed a sighted guide to compete.

Even if he was completely blind, you had seen a documentary once about blind people who had learned how to echolocate. It wasn't an easy skill to learn. It was your understanding that most people found the white cane or a guide dog far easier to learn and/or adjust to. But it was possible. And if it was possible for someone with human-level hearing . . . than it was entirely possible for someone with superhuman hearing.

And being blind might explain some of Daredevil's peculiarities. Like his strategy of taking out of the lights before attacking. If he was already used to navigating without sight, the resulting darkness wouldn't bother him. But it would bother his opponents who presumably weren't so accustomed to working without their sight.

And when you thought about, you realized that he never mentioned seeing horrible things happening to people. Only terrible things that he had heard. He didn't look for trouble. He listened for it . . .

It was crazy but . . . but . . .

The silence in Nelson's office was scattered by a knock on the door that startled both of you.

“Foggy?” called a male voice through the door. Murdock had returned.

“Come in Matt,” Nelson called back. There was a peculiar tension to his voice. Like he was barely restraining the urge to yell.

Well if what you suspected was true and if Nelson knew about it, you couldn't blame him for wanting to loudly demand what the hell Murdock was thinking . . . . A sentiment that only strengthened when Murdock came into the office and you saw the visible effort it took for Nelson not to glare at him.

Looking closely at the jaw line and that mouth, you were more than convinced than ever. But you weren't going to confront him here. On the off-chance that Nelson didn't know about his partner's extra-legal activities.

“Do you have the papers for the McNamara file? Karen was supposed to print them for me before she headed out,” Murdock asked, either obvious to or ignoring the tension in his partner. You were betting on ignoring.

“She did,” Nelson confirmed. While he was opening his desk drawer, he said, almost casual. “This is Matt Murdock, my business partner. Matt, say hello to our new client. She is sitting in the chair at your three o'clock.”

“Hello,” he said with a smile, turning his head in your direction. “I believe we met in the hall.”

“How –?” you started to ask before remembering that it was a silly question.

“Your shampoo and lotion. Makes you smell like coconut and vanilla.”

“I smell like a coconut macaroon?” You asked. Then wanted to groan. Why did you always lose control of your mouth around this man?

A wicked grin spread across his face. “Very much so. I quite like the taste of coconut macaroons.”

You felt your face flush. You had the feeling he wasn't talking about cookies.

Nelson gave his partner an irritated look. “Stop flirting with our client.”

“I wasn't flirting.” Murdock objected and did his best to look innocent. Nelson rolled his eyes and muttered something too low for you to hear under his breath. Which only made Murdock's lips twitch with amusement.

“If you can forgive my partner for being a flirt,” Nelson said, ignoring Murdock's objection to being called a flirt. “I would like to be able consult him about your case. Do I have your permission?”

“Yes, of course,” you said.

“Then lets get all the necessary paperwork filled out, read, and signed.”

So you did and soon all the Is were dotted and the Tees crossed. You made your first retainer payment to the firm before leaving your new lawyers to whatever discussion / argument about you that Nelson had been waiting patiently to have.

You headed home and tried to think about how you were going to tell Daredevil about knowing he was a blind lawyer ninja vigilante. It was going to be an interesting conversation.

Ending Notes

It finally happened. Reader has now meet Matt Murdock.

And yes, that Matt got to meet Reader in the hallway before she meet Foggy and her cookies being in the office were both intentional. Apparently he decided that being subtle was for the birds.

I'm not a lawyer. My assessment of charges the characters could be facing is based on my interpretation of the New York Penal Code. An interpretation that could be wrong. Since not a lawyer. Furthermore, Foggy's legal advice to Reader is my best guess for such as advice and absolutely should not be taken as actual legal advice.

Again, if any lawyers are reading these stories and feel I have erred on the legal front, please feel free to offer constructive criticism in the comments.

#daredevil #fan fic #the alley cat series #matt murdock x fem!reader #tw: mentions of ableism

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cassifictional · 2 years

Note

If you're taking requests, because I truly adore how you write, could you ever do something for Sevika and her ex-girlfriend? Maybe they really haven't gotten over each other after a few years and they still bicker and get jealous over each other, maybe something nsfw happens too. If you don't like the request, feel completely free to ignore it ♡

It’s so nice to hear that you like the way I write! 💕 And a perfect way to get me to write your request lol, compliments work really well on me. I’m not sure whether you wanted an Sevika x OC fic or Sevika x reader so I’m gonna go with x reader because that’s what I’m used to writing!

Sorry if it’s not as good as my other works, it’s really hot where I live rn and my brain is a bit foggy. Also somehow I wrote 1.9k instead of the 500 words I was going for. Lucky you.

My request are semi-open, if you have any fun ideas feel free to leave me an ask and I might write something for it if I have the time and inspiration. I'm gonna assume requests are sfw unless specified otherwise!

Tags: nsfw: mdni please. mean Sevika, jealousy, angry sex, fingering (reader receiving).

Infuriating

It’s one of those days again: cocktail night with all of Silco’s associates. Every once in a while, he rents out a place to invite everyone he wants to keep on his good side. A necessary evil, or so he says. On the surface it seems fun, but look a little closer and it’s all just one big, corrupt power game. If he didn’t insist you’d be there every time, you probably wouldn’t even bother to show up.

The air in the room felt thick with cigarette and cigar smoke, making you feel overwhelmed and disoriented. People surround you as you tried to locate a corner in the room where it was a little less crowded.

“Hey, having a good time? Can I get you a drink?” you suddenly hear a woman’s voice say as you noticed someone had walked up beside you. She had long, black hair, was wearing a tight blue dress and was adorned from tip to toe in fancy jewelry. Her dark brown eyes fixated on yours, she was waiting for a response from you.

Feeling flattered, you smiled and nodded at her.

“I’ll get you something nice. Save a spot at that table for me, would you?” she said flirtingly as she pointed to a table behind you. She winked at you before you watched her make her way to the bar. Like she had asked, you stood at the table and waited for her.

“She is so not your type.” you heard another voice say to your left. One a lot more familiar.

“I think I can decide that for myself, Sev.” you replied, annoyed at the sudden intrusion of the one person you really didn’t feel like chatting with tonight.

“Figures. Being decisive was never your strongest suit.” she taunted. Was she trying to pick a fight?

Sure, your breakup years ago had been messy. No, it wasn’t all her fault. Yes, you lost a good thing you had together, but you always figured you two had never really been meant to last. And yet, it seemed like as long you were in the undercity, you just couldn’t get away from her. In one way or another, you always found her again in the most random of places and situations, often resulting in bickering and petty arguments. Tonight seemed to be no different.

The woman from earlier returned with two drinks, one for herself and one for you. But when she noticed Sevika looming in the corner beside you, she seemed to hesitate.

“Oh.. I’m sorry.. am I interrupt- I think I’ll just..” she said nervously as she glanced back between you and Sevika, who was obviously scaring her off with her death stare.

“No, it’s fine, we’re not together.” you tried to diffuse, but the woman didn’t seem convinced.

“I really don’t want to intrude. Sorry..” she said before quickly making her way to the other side of the room, depriving you of the drink you were actually really looking forward to.

“Great. Thanks.” you said as you turned around and glared at Sevika. “There goes my once chance of having a nice evening. Happy now?”

“Just saving you the trouble. Like I said, she’s not your type.” she scoffed before lighting a cigarillo and blowing a few puffs of smoke your way, which you angrily fanned away.

“Like, what, maybe she’s yours? As far as I’m concerned, you don’t really have a type. It’s always been quantity over quality at the brothel with you.” you grumbled.

“Jealous?” she mocked. “I’ll talk to Babette, see if she’s hiring.”

So fucking annoying. She always knew how to get right under your skin. Eager to get some kind of revenge on her for scaring your flirt away, you considered your options. Empty her drink over her head? No, that’s uncivilized. Violence wasn’t your style either. Instead, in a move that was a whole lot more friendly, you reached your hand out and gestured for Sevika to hand you her cigarillo.

“Fuck you too. Let me have some.” you said as you angrily stared at her.

With surprisingly little hesitation, Sevika took the cigarillo out of her mouth and handed it to you, but not before making you reach for it a bit first. You took a few puffs, maintaining eye contact with her as you did. Even though you were still angry with her, you couldn’t help but feel some of your old feelings for her bubble up to the surface again as you looked at her. Things between you two had been amazing and intense while you were still together. A feeling you really missed from time to time. A feeling that made you doubt whether or not you had tried hard enough to fix it at the time. The constant bickering you went through together now didn’t motivate you to really try and patch things up, though. She was irritating, infuriating even. And yet. You wondered. What if it had worked out?

You took the cigarillo out of your mouth again, twirling it between your fingers for a second before you reached out to hand it back to Sevika again. But instead of handing it to her, you intentionally dropped it right into the drink she was holding.

"Oh. Oops."

Shocked, she dropped the glass right on the floor, shattering the thing into a million pieces and spilling liquor everywhere. And now, Sevika looked fucking furious.

“Alright, you little fucking-“ she growled, but she was cut off by Silco, who had noticed the rising tension and had made his way over to you both.

“That’s enough.” he hissed. “I told you to stay professional.”

Sevika gave him a death glare but didn’t reply, now realizing that she may have fucked up a bit. Silco pointed to a door nearby.

“Outside, now. Come back when you’ve cooled off.” he then turned to face you as well. “You too. Out.”

Not eager to challenge your boss and risk getting on his bad side, you complied and made your way over to the door. Sevika followed closely behind you, heavy footsteps revealing her anger.

“Like fucking schoolkids getting detention.” you grumbled as you pushed open the door. “You’re sure as hell as immature as one, Sev. And you’re- wait, this isn’t..”

“Move.” Sevika groaned as she pushed you forward into the room, almost knocking you over in the process. She quickly realized as well that this door didn’t lead outside.

“Side room.” she ascertained. “Not the exit. Dumbass.”

“No shit, sherlock. And cut it out with the insults.” you snapped.

“That last one was for Silco, not you.”

“For once.”

“So quit assuming everything is about you all the time.”

You sighed in frustration. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be mean to you, but tonight felt a little different from her usual verbal attacks. As if you had really struck a nerve with her.

“Why do you hate me so much?” you asked.

“I could give you a list.” she grumbled as she looked around the room for another exit, to no avail.

“I’m serious, Sev. What the hell happened?”

She sighed. “We’ve been over this. We didn’t work, end of story.”

“You used to like me.” you muttered. “I used to like you. Love you, even. Then it all went to shit and for what? Why?”

You watched Sevika as she was stood with her back towards you. Her shoulders were tense, her whole body looked stiff. The shimmer in her metal arm briefly started to kick in, but went away before it could send her into a frenzy. Then all of a sudden, she turned around and stormed towards you, only stopping when she was right in front of you. She loomed over you like a tower.

“You want me back so bad, is that it?” she hissed.

“I want to know why.” you said quietly, trying desperately to keep back your tears. “You never.. we never talked about why it went to shit. I want to understand.”

“I liked you better when you listened to me.”

“Sev, please, I just..”

She grabbed you by the jaw with her metal hand, squeezing forcefully but not hard enough to really hurt.

“Shut up. You want it to be like the ‘good old days’ again?” she growled, bringing her face close to yours.

Even though you were still angry, the urge to kiss her was greater. But once she noticed you leaning in, she moved her hand from your jaw to the back of your head to grab a fistful of your hair. She pushed you back into the now closed door behind you, effectively immobilizing your head to where her hand was.

“So fucking desperate.” she muttered under her breath as her other hand made it’s way to one of your thighs. “I remember you used to beg for it.”

“Then.. please?”

The look in her eyes still screamed fury, but behind the angry façade you could see that there was more to it. You had gotten to know her well during your time together. You could see something you didn’t quite recognize, not just yet. Lust? Jealousy? Regret?

Her grip on your hair forced you to keep eye contact with her. Without any further hesitation, Sevika moved her hand up from your thigh, straight into your underwear. Knowing there were probably people behind the door Sevika had forced you against, you struggled to keep yourself from moaning out loud.

She effortlessly found your sweet spot like she always did when you were still together. As if you had never broken up in the first place. Her movements were rough but precise, keeping you exactly where she wanted you, touching you exactly where she wanted to.

“Oh, god..” you gasped as you felt one of her fingers brush over your entrance before she roughly shoved it inside you.

“Try not to let the whole room hear you.” she sneered, pushing a second finger inside of you. “Or do. See if I care.”

“Fuck you, Sev.”

“You wish.”

“Oh, you- ah! Fuck.. fuck me.” you moaned as Sevika curled her fingers inside of you, continuing to roughly move in and out of you. Your pleas seemed to motivate her as much as they seemed to be pissing her off.

You gripped her arm tightly as she continued to fuck you against the door, surely making enough noise by now that people on the other side of it could hear something was going on. She kept her eyes on you the whole time, the look of anger mixed with unknown, messy feelings in her eyes unwavering. Maybe it had been the lack of intimacy in your life lately, maybe you had just really missed her despite all the harsh words spoken between you, but she knew exactly how you liked to be touched and she could definitely feel you were getting close. As she slowly but steadily pushed you over the edge, she moved her metal hand from the back of your head to your mouth to muffle your increasingly loud moans as you came.

You felt your legs turn to jelly but Sevika’s hand was still underneath you, keeping you upright. She briefly let you ride it out before she removed her hand from your underwear as quickly as it had found its way in. She leaned back in close you your face, your mouth still covered by her metal hand.

“Whore.” she hissed before removing her metal hand from your face.

She pushed you aside, opened the door and walked out. The door fell shut behind her. Still trying to catch your breath and compose yourself, you rested your back against the closed door again and slowly slid down onto the floor. Your eyes filled with tears as you processed what just happened. You finally got the courage to ask and she didn’t even tell you. Tell you why you ended up like this.

Notes: angry sex, sure! But I do need to sprinkle some explicit ✨consent✨ in to feel comfortable with it. I feel like this could use a continuation. Anyone interested in that? Let me know. Poor y/n’s having a hard time.

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane imagines #cat writes

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no6secretsanta · 4 months

Text

Dangerous Thoughts

To: @secretagentfan

From: @glorifiedscapegoat

Hi, SAF! Happy Holidays and a New Year! I’m so sorry for the delay on this! I hope you like it! You mentioned that you liked AUs, so I went for a Shadowhunters AU because I felt like it suited Shion and Nezumi a lot. Especially since there’s some mutual pining here and some humor. I really hope that you like it!

- - -

“Poseidon?” Safu said into her cell phone, her brow crinkling. “As in the Greek god? That’s what you’re calling this thing? Why don’t you just call it a kraken?”

Shion was only half listening to Safu’s voice. He looked around. The sun had just gone down. He’d always loved to go to the pier, ever since he was a little boy and his mother had taken him there to play arcade games and ride the Ferris wheel. He loved the fair food—burgers and fries, cotton candy and popcorn—and the sparkler parties the college students held on the beach.

The mundanes had poured thousands of dollars into renovating the pier into a tourist attraction. The miniature amusement park was filled with new rides, street vendors, and ticket stands where sleepy-eyed girls passed out bright pink strands to children.

The boards beneath Shion’s feet were still warped and weathered from years of sun and sea salt. The air smelled of ocean water and the sticky scents of candy apples. The merry-go-round in the distance poured carnival music over the assembled crowd. There were ring-toss games where players could win giant stuffed animals, and beneath the railings were dark places where sinister creatures liked to gather.

That was the thing Shion wished he could change about being a Shadowhunter. Shion could see the beauty of the LED lights and mundane-made structures, but he also noticed the things the mundanes didn’t. There were dark sprites gathered underneath one of the abandoned picnic tables, gnawing on scraps of garbage and dropped fries. Over the railing, a mermaid twisted and danced beneath the white-capped waves. She had what appeared to be a glow-stick clutched in her fist.

“Are you all right?” Safu asked. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her jacket. The wind tossed her dark hair, gathered into a high ponytail and spilling to her shoulders. Safu, Nezumi, and Inukashi had dressed in gear, but Shion was wearing street clothes. Safu hadn’t intended for him to tag along.

“I’m fine,” Shion replied. “Where are Nezumi and Inukashi?”

“Over there,” Safu said, pointing.

Shion followed her gaze to the brightly lit stand where mundanes had gathered to compete against each other and win prizes. The goal was to toss a plastic ring and have it land around the neck of one of the red glass bottles lined in the center of a plastic pool. Shion didn’t understand what was so difficult about it—he was uncoordinated by Shadowhunter standards, and even he could throw rings and have them land perfectly.

Nezumi held three plastic rings in his hand. Inukashi, dressed in all black with their hair pulled back, stood beside him, eating blue cotton candy out of a plastic bag. There was a teenager standing next to them—a mundane from the look of the pristine white skin up his bare arms, which were currently folded across his chest.

Nezumi threw the rings, all three into the air at once. Each of them—red and green and blue—spiraled into the air and came down around the neck of the same bottle.

“Shit!” shouted the mundane teenager.

“Told you,” replied Inukashi, their mouth full of bright blue cotton candy.

Safu sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

A mixture of cheers erupted from the crowd of mundanes at the ring toss. Nezumi snatched his prize, something in a plastic bag, from the game master and said to the teenager, “Better luck next time.”

He headed towards Safu and Shion with Inukashi padding along beside him. His hair was pulled back, too, several strands hanging loose over his ears and falling to his collarbone. Nezumi had faerie blood in his family, like Shion, and it showed in his features: his vibrant silver eyes, his angular cheekbones, and the porcelain color of his skin.

Dangerous thoughts, Shion told himself. There were things he thought about his parabatai that he could never give voice to—no matter how much it was killing him inside.

“So,” said Shion, attempting to distract himself, “Rikiga said the demon is a kraken?”

“Supposedly,” Safu replied. Nezumi and Inukashi had come into earshot. Inukashi was muttering something about a pretty girl with pink hair who kept squealing whenever her boyfriend told her a joke. “It snatches children from the side of the pier. Someone spotted it lurking next to the boardwalk and thought it was algae–all right, why does Nezumi have a goldfish?”

Nezumi held the plastic bag up into the air. Inside it, a small orange fish swam around in a lazy circle. “I put a teenager in his place and won a fish for my troubles.”

Shion shook his head. Nezumi had spent most of his life training with his parents—two brutal Shadowhunters who had, ultimately, been torn apart by demons. Nezumi’s misfortunes had made him bitter and sarcastic to most, and downright snarky to those he liked spending time with.

Nezumi had adjusted well to mingling among mundanes (partially because of his part-time job at the theater, where most of the cast were Downworlders who had once been normal mundanes) but there were still times when he seemed to forget (or simply not care) that he wasn’t supposed to pick fights in public.

Nezumi stepped around Safu and placed the plastic bag in Shion’s hands. “My bright one,” Nezumi announced in a rather theatrical voice. “I have won a goldfish and offer it to you as tribute.”

He bent forward and kissed Shion on the cheek. Nezumi smelled the same as he always did: jasmine and snowfall, compressed together into something so unique to Nezumi that Shion had never found it anywhere else.

Nezumi had called him “my bright one” long before they became parabatai. Shion looked like he belonged to the Fair Folk, Nezumi had said—with his winter-white hair, pale skin, and bright red eyes. Shion wasn’t surprised. He had a bit of Fae blood in his veins, on his father’s side. “My bright one” was supposedly a sign of high respect for a faerie prince or princess, and so that, on top of “Your Highness” and “Your Majesty”, was a nickname Nezumi assigned to him.

It was a sweet kiss, gentle and soft against his cheek. Though he knew Nezumi was merely joking, Shion blushed. He glanced over at Inukashi, who was watching with wide eyes. Safu looked pale and shocked. It was only a brief glance before she schooled her expression back into impassivity.

Shion took the goldfish. “Thank you, Nezumi. She’s beautiful. Have you named her yet?”

“I thought His Majesty would be upset if I were to impose like that,” replied Nezumi with an indifferent shrug. He took one look at the unimpressed expression on Shion’s face and snorted. “Don’t give me that look. No, I didn’t name her. Do you even name fish?”

“I named mine Bubbles,” answered Inukashi. They were leaning against the pole of a booth selling hot dogs and Coca Cola in massive red and white cups. “A kid in the Academy told me it was cruel to keep fish hostage and dumped it into the ocean. Didn’t have the heart to tell the brat that goldfish can’t survive in saltwater.”

“That’s horrible,” Safu said. Her cheeks were flushed from the mid-evening chill.

Nezumi put a hand over his heart—where his parabatai rune was located, peeking out of the hem of his shirt—and bowed his head solemnly. “A moment of silence, then, for our fallen comrade.”

Shion shook his head with a laugh. He eyed the goldfish in the bag and tried to think of a suitable name.

The goldfish had beautiful orange scales; upon further inspection, Shion saw that there were flecks of pale yellow and white along her sides and around her fins. She seemed to glow from within. Shion thought there might be a drop or two of fae blood in her veins and wondered if that would affect her ability to go into the Institute.

“I like Lady Macbeth,” Shion decided.

“Lady Macbeth dies, you know,” said Nezumi. “That does not bode well for that fish.”

“I can take care of a fish. I’m not forgetful like you.” Shion patted the side of the plastic bag and gave Lady Macbeth a small grin. “Don’t worry, Lady. You’re safe with me.”

“The hell do you mean I’m forgetful?” Nezumi demanded.

Shion opened his mouth to answer—and then he felt a shiver of cold pass over his skin. He knew. Demons gave off a distinctive aura, and though Shion had never been in combat with one, he’d been around them enough. Shadowhunters were instinctively capable of knowing when a demon was present.

All humor had gone from Nezumi’s face. Within seconds, each Shadowhunter had a weapon in hand: Nezumi had his knife, Safu had a seraph blade, and Inukashi clutched a needle-thin dagger. Shion clutched his stele in his fist, the crystal tip pointed outward.

“Where’s it heading?” asked Inukashi.

“Toward the end of the pier,” replied Safu. She jerked her head toward the assemblage of mundanes gathered near the railing overlooking the dark ocean water. “That’s where the most potential victims are located.”

“I’ll cut it off,” said Nezumi. He’d only brought his knife—but Shion knew how quick he was. Nezumi could move as fast as an elf, and though Rikiga required him to bring seraph blades and a sword, Nezumi could often make do with just his dagger and his speed. “Head to the beach and cut it off if it changes course and goes to the water.”

Inukashi and Safu were gone as soon as the command left Nezumi’s lips. Shion took off running toward the end of the pier, his sneakers thumping against the wooden boards. The wind threatened to knock Lady Macbeth from his hands, but he clutched her close and kept her from bouncing.

The stele felt warm and sturdy in his hand. Shion had no weapons, but he felt invincible. The dangerous thoughts from before had been cast aside. Everything in his mind focused on the task at hand: stopping the demon.

Shion heard the footsteps behind him. He didn’t have to look to know it was Nezumi. He’d been given no order, but Shion and Nezumi were parabatai—they battled together, traveled together. Nezumi’s footsteps had been at his side from the moment Shion had begun training.

“Over there,” Nezumi said, but Shion could already see it. A dark shape scurried along the railing, massive and thick, invisible to the eyes of unknowing mundanes. The Ferris wheel was coming back around for another stop. It had begun to slow.

Shion dove toward the Ferris wheel line and began to shove his way through it. He and Nezumi had not applied any glamour runes, so several people swore at them and shouted as Nezumi and Shion stomped on toes and elbowed ribs and knocked people to the ground without an apology. Shion had felt bad about it the first time he’d tagged along for patrol—and maybe he would after the demon was dead.

The carriage was coming to a halt. A young couple—a tall girl in a green school uniform and her petite girlfriend with her hair done up in blond pigtails—was about to climb in. Shion saw the demon beginning to head for the Ferris wheel, going for the metal rails.

“Sorry,” Shion shouted, shoving past the couple and nearly knocking them to the ground. The carriage was small, a colorful square with a pole in the center and two benches. There wasn’t much room to stand.

Over his shoulder, Shion heard the tall girl ask her girlfriend if she was alright. People in the line were shouting at the ticket master, but Shion had already collapsed against the side of the carriage as it had begun to lift back into the air.

The carriage rocked beneath his feet as Nezumi clambered in after him. He slammed the safety gate shut just as the thing hefted into the air. Nezumi leaned out over the railing, clutching his knife in his hand. “Where did it go?” he demanded, craning his head up.

Shion squinted through the lights. He’d seen it. He was positive of that. From this height, the Ferris wheel was a brilliant pillar of light and iron painted bars. The two carriages beneath Shion and Nezumi still had their previous passengers in them. The line below must have still been in a frenzy from Shion and Nezumi’s sudden arrival.

Nezumi set his boot on the bench, and Shion reached out to grab his arm. “Wait.” He set Lady Macbeth’s plastic bag on the ground of the carriage, safely tucked beneath the bench. “Runes,” Shion said, holding out his stele.

The carriage was still rising into the air. Shion could see the beach below, the dark water spilling across the sand. He saw the lights of Kronos in the distance. The mountains and the cliff edges were pinpricks of white towards the direction of the Institute.

The stars were dim and barely visible in the brilliant light of the amusement park. Nezumi glanced over at Shion, his expression blank. He stepped down from the bench and shrugged off his jacket. It slid down his back and landed in a heap, revealing his bare arms and collarbone.

Shion’s mouth went dry. This was the closest he and Nezumi had been to each other without any of the others near for almost a week, and Shion’s heart hammered a mile a minute. Nezumi picked up his jacket and held it out to Shion without a word. Shion took it, knowing the ritual well by now. Nezumi gave him his jacket to wear to keep him safe, Shion marked him with runes, and then Nezumi went off and slaughtered the demon.

The lights of the wheel had turned blue and yellow as Shion slipped Nezumi’s jacket on. The lights cast shadows across Nezumi’s face and arms. His hair hung down around his shoulders, most of it pulled back. Shion could tell by looking at him that he was a warrior: the bones beneath his skin and muscles were hard as iron.

Nezumi was beautiful. He had always been beautiful, even when he was bleeding in the foyer of the Institute. It was a memory Shion didn’t like to relive because it reminded him that there had been a time when he and Nezumi had not been parabatai. Nezumi’s silver eyes flashed in the changing lights of the Ferris wheel. He was beautiful, and Shion stood with his hand trembling around the hilt of his stele and his body aching.

He wanted to touch Nezumi. He knew he couldn’t. He and Nezumi had taken the parabatai oath—had stood in front of the Silent Brothers and pledged to fight together, to live together, to be together, but never to fall in love.

Nezumi stepped forward as the Ferris wheel brought the carriage around to the top. The collar of Nezumi’s gear was low, displaying the pale flesh of his collarbone. The top of his parabatai rune peeked out above his heart. The skin along his throat and shoulders was scored over and over with faded silvery lines that were only visible in brief flashes, the remnants of old runes.

Shion had to step closer to Mark him. He pressed the stele to Nezumi’s forearm. The runes bloomed beneath the tip of the stele: agility, stealth, night vision, glamour so the humans wouldn’t see him. Shion placed a Sure-Strike in between Nezumi’s collarbone, close to his heart where it would be the most effective. Nezumi was slightly taller than him, but enough to make a difference; Shion’s head reached to his chin, and he stared directly at Nezumi’s throat.

“Give me your stele,” Nezumi said abruptly.

Shion jerked his head up. He had just finished the runes. Nezumi reached out to take the stele from his hand, and Shion surrendered it without resistance. Nezumi stared at him, and Shion couldn’t read the expression on his face. Nezumi’s eyes had turned the color of storm clouds in the darkness of the carriage. The lights from the Ferris wheel had turned red and yellow, spreading out around them and spilling down to the pitch-black waters below.

Nezumi took Shion’s arm, the one with the parabatai rune on his wrist. He shoved the sleeve of his jacket and Shion’s button-down up. There was tenderness behind his touch, a gentleness that Shion had never associated with Nezumi before.

Nezumi pressed the tip of the stele to Shion’s wrist and pulled it in swift spirals around his skin. Bolts of warmth shot through Shion’s stomach and down to his toes. He shifted his weight to his other leg.

A single Mark appeared on the pale skin above his parabatai rune. Shion recognized it as the looping patterns of a protection charm. Nezumi’s head was bent forward, his gaze fixed on the task of finishing the rune. Shion fought to keep from shivering. His body felt warm.

Once the rune was finished, Nezumi handed the stele back to Shion. Nezumi’s pale arms were painted in runes of stealth and power, crafted in Shion’s elegant penmanship. Shion gazed down at the scratching on his arm. Nezumi had harsh handwriting, spiked at the corners as if he had carved it with the tip of his knife.

Nezumi gripped the hilt of his knife and stepped forward. He took Shion’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced their eyes to lock.

Shion’s heart clenched. “Nezumi?” he whispered. The lights of the Ferris wheel had turned to a deep, rich blue that almost threw Nezumi completely into darkness.

Something rose up on the other side of the carriage—a wriggling mass of frigid tentacles the color of blood. Not the fresh blood that came from a cut from a blade. The blood that welled beneath an infected wound that killed in slow, feverish tendrils. One tentacle had clung to the spoke of the Ferris wheel. Its mouth was open wide, its teeth sharp as needles.

“Nezumi!” Shion shouted, and Nezumi flung himself from the carriage. He caught himself on one of the many bars interlocking the spokes and carriages together.

Shion scrambled to the side and leaned over. Nezumi was holding onto the spoke with one hand. With the other, he hacked at the tentacle keeping the creature locked to the wheel.

The edge of the knife caught the creature’s tentacle as it reeled back. It screeched. Nezumi turned his face away as a spray of black ichor splashed against his neck and bare arms.

Shion clutched the stele in his fist as Nezumi pulled himself up on the spoke. For half a second, Shion considered throwing the stele like a projectile—but the creature, shockingly fast, was already scrambling down along the tangle of iron bars. And a Shadowhunter without their stele is as good as dead.

Shion ran to the other side of the carriage as the wheel began to descend. LED lights exploded around him in a sea of blues and reds and yellows. Nezumi clambered down the wheel spokes after it. Shion could see ichor spilled on the iron. He knew the creature was hurt.

The view from the Ferris wheel was beautiful. The pitch-black sea and the silver sand spread out beneath him in all directions. Shion felt like he was dangling off the edge of the world.

He could taste blood and salt in his mouth, and he knew it had come from Nezumi. Shion’s parabatai was jumping down the length of the wheel, using the spokes and wires and iron bars to steady himself. The creature had gone to the center of the wheel. Its crimson tentacles wrapped around the bolts and jerked. Shion leaned over to see what it was doing—and then he went cold.

The demon was attempting to wrench the bolt out from the Ferris wheel. If it succeeded, the whole thing would roll off the pier. Shion couldn’t pretend that any of the passengers on the wheel would survive, or that any of the groups of mundanes lingering below would, either.

The Ferris wheel rocked. Shion stumbled and caught the edge of the carriage against his stomach. He winced in pain. The creature had its tentacles around the wheel’s heart and was twisting it. Nezumi, spotting the demon and realizing what it intended to do, redoubled his speed and sprinted down the iron bars. He was too far above the wheel’s middle.

The carriage had begun to swing back down and around. Shion ducked when he passed the ticket booth. He couldn’t see the tall girl and her blond girlfriend, but the chaos in the line seemed to have died down. Once he was out of the loading dock, Shion raced to the edge and craned his head upward.

Nezumi stretched his body out along the iron bar. He wrapped his left arm around one of them, and then he looked down at Shion and nodded.

Shion knew, instinctively, without having to wonder, what Nezumi intended for him to do. He pushed the sleeve of his borrowed jacket up—pretending not to notice that it smelled like his parabatai—and etched a quick glamour spell on the inside of his wrist. Once the glamour rune had finished, once Shion knew he would be hidden from the eyes and ears of normal mundanes, he leaned over the edge of the carriage and screamed.

It was different from the squeals of delight from the Ferris wheel passengers. It was different from the laughter on the pier and the squeals of children up way past their bedtime. Shion poured all of his fear and concern for his parabatai into the sound. He released all the frustration he’d been feeling, all the late nights lying awake in his bed, all the dangerous thoughts he couldn’t seem to quell.

The demon stopped yanking on the wheel and raised its head towards the sound. Shion saw its three eyes, oval and glossed as pearls. Nezumi released his grip on the spoke and plummeted down toward the demon. As he fell, he angled his knife, his hair whipping back from around his face. He was a falling star, and the demon’s white eyes seemed to widen as it pieced together that Shion’s scream had been a distraction.

It was too late. Nezumi whipped the knife forward, driving it down into the top of the demon’s skull. The blade punctured its flesh with a slick, wet sound. The creature’s tentacles flailed in a dying spasm.

Nezumi wrenched his knife free and stepped off onto one of the spokes. The demon’s body jerked back and rolled along one of the downward spokes of the wheel. It reached the end and tumbled off. Shion thought he heard a splash in the ocean, but there was no time to wonder. He looked at Nezumi, who was scrambling down the side of the wheel and heading for the ground.

The carriage was coming back around towards the loading dock. Shion grabbed Lady Macbeth from her spot under the bench and hopped out of the carriage as it approached the ground. He was invisible from the glamour rune, so an empty carriage earned a few strange looks, but Shion was making his way through the crowd towards Nezumi long before anyone could wonder what it could mean. Mundanes had an interesting way of dismissing things they perceived as strange simply because it was easier to handle than the truth.

Nezumi was standing a few feet away under one of the pier LED lamps. He was breathing hard. He spotted Shion, and the tension in his body seemed to dissipate. Behind them, the Ferris wheel spun, lowering passengers towards the beach and picking up new ones for the ride. Shion could see the crowd of mundanes, the shimmer of water along the shoreline, and two dark figures standing on the beach that could have been Safu and Inukashi.

“Nice work, Your Majesty,” said Nezumi. He wiped ichor off his bare arms. It left black streaks on his pale skin, as if he’d been messing around with an inkwell and the whole thing had spilled on him.

“You, too,” Shion murmured, lowering his head so Nezumi couldn’t see him blushing. He clenched the plastic bag in his fist. Inside, Lady Macbeth swallowed bubbles and swam without a care in the world.

⁂

Safu and Inukashi were waiting for them beneath the pier. Inukashi had taken off their boots and waded partway into the waves. Safu was wiping ichor off her Hightower hunting knife. At her feet was a patch of drying sand the color of charcoal.

“Was the demon dead when it hit the water?” Shion called. The glamour rune on his right wrist burned in the crisp mid-evening air. “Please tell me it was. Even if it isn’t true.”

“Close enough,” replied Safu. “It rolled into the shallows. Inukashi caught it trying to crawl away, but they cut its tentacle off and it went down.” She nudged at the patch of ichor smeared into the sand. “The tentacle dove into the ocean, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

Nezumi had wandered away from Shion and down to the edge of the water. Inukashi splashed out of the shallows and jammed their wet feet into their boots. Both he and Safu were fully glamoured, and Shion saw a group of mundane teenagers completely overlook them as they walked across the beach. He wondered what the mundanes would think if they could see them now—a ragtag bunch of Shadowhunters splattered in black blood, with knives and steles rather than wallets and iPhones.

Inukashi made some snide comment in response to something Nezumi had said. Nezumi responded with a sound like a sardonic laugh and brushed some of the black ichor from his arms. All four of them were shivering. The night air smelled like dirt and seawater and popcorn. Shion could hear the carnival at his back. The city in the distance glistened like the carapaces of a thousand beetles, all silver and gold and blinking red. The ocean waves lapped against the sand in the distance. The moon had crept behind a small patch of clouds.

“We’d better get back,” Safu said, pulling her soaking wet jacket around her shoulders. “Before Rikiga sends a search party.”

“Where’d you park the Jeep?” asked Nezumi. He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Some of the ichor had splattered across his face, leaving a trail of black tar over his lips. “I’ll drive.”

“Doesn’t that burn?” asked Inukashi. They were soaked to the bone, their dark hair clinging to their neck. It had come loose from its ponytail sometime during the battle, and they looked every bit as wild as Shion thought they had the day they arrived at the Institute.

“Not really,” replied Nezumi with an indifferent shrug. “Doesn’t taste that great, though.” He spat a glob of black onto the beach.

“It’s parked back there,” said Safu, gesturing to the carnival parking lot. At Nezumi’s disgusted look, she answered, “Well, what was I supposed to do? I can’t put a glamour rune on it, and I don’t want it to get towed. Rikiga still hasn’t forgiven you for the last time that happened, by the way.”

Nezumi examined the edge of his blade, as if he were looking for nicks. “He’ll get over it. Come on. Let’s get the Jeep and go back to the Institute. I need a shower.”

Shion examined the surface of the water. The silver waves lapped against the sand, a gentle shushing sound drowning out the cheerful wails of the mundanes in the carnival.

“Are we sure there aren’t any others out in the shallows?” he asked. “We should check.”

Nezumi, who had been wringing ichor and saltwater out of his hair, shot Shion an incredulous look. “Can you breathe underwater? ‘Cause I sure as hell can’t. Besides, those things are solitary hunters. Extremely territorial. That was the only one. Trust me.”

Shion didn’t even think to argue. His parabatai was better versed in dealing with demons in the field. And if Nezumi assured him that the creature they’d fought was the only one, then Shion would believe him.

Inukashi shot Nezumi a disgusted look as he spat another glob of ichor onto the sand. “Could you stop doing that?” They shuddered. “Disgusting.”

Nezumi flashed them a wide grin, his teeth stained black. Shion smiled over at him, as much as he could. He felt unnaturally calm around Nezumi, but he assumed it was due to the fact that they were parabatai. He was unbearably grateful that Nezumi had asked him to participate in the Trial of Fire. Five years ago, Shion never could have dreamed that the thin, rain-soaked boy in the foyer of the Institute would want anything to do with him.

Nezumi’s silver eyes flickered over in Shion’s direction, and Shion felt a surge of warmth shiver through his body. There was something about Nezumi, something indefinitely strange, a hint of wildness that reminded Shion of a typhoon. He could see it in the glorious silver coloration of Nezumi’s irises, the beautiful color he had never seen on any other creature.

Shion watched as Nezumi wandered over toward him. Reaching Shion’s side, Nezumi lifted his hand and brushed a lock of Shion’s white hair out of his face. Shion leaned into the touch, without thinking, and then forced himself to draw away.

Dangerous thoughts, he reminded himself, gazing into his parabatai’s sharp eyes and hearing the sound of Safu and Inukashi’s voices fading out. Completely dangerous.

#submission #no. 6 #no. 6 secret santa #nezushi #nezumi #shion #inukashi #safu #secretagentfan #glorifiedscapegoat

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