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spenciegoob · 3 years

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Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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slytherinwh0re · 4 years

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Dinner date

Draco Malfoy x female reader AU

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors dni) and swearing

Summary: Where you and Draco are coworkers and he asks you on a dinner date.

Masterlist

You need a drink.

The job of an auror is always difficult but this week was so busy you’ve had absolutely no time to yourself. Thank Merlin it’s Friday and you have the rest of the weekend off.

Once you walk into The Leaky Cauldron you go straight for the bar, Tom already pouring your drink. You give him a small thank you as he walks away to attend to the rest of the packed bar, it is Friday after all. The brandy burns your throat slightly but it’s exactly what you need right now.

You look over at the man taking a seat next to you immediately recognizing him as your coworker, Draco Malfoy. You went to Hogwarts together but never talked until after the battle when you both received jobs as aurors at the ministry. Many people still didn’t trust him completely because of his father’s choices but now he’s a man who chooses for himself and there’s no denying his change in character. He’s a good man and proved himself to be a great wizard.

You see him often at the ministry but any conversation with Malfoy is about work and maybe a quick hi here and there. He does his job and keeps to himself.

“Busy week wasn’t it (y/l/n)?” He looks tired but handsome nonetheless.

“Bloody horrible, I’ve been looking forward to this drink all week Malfoy.” You take another swig to prove your point.

“You and I both, tell you what, next rounds on me and call me Draco.” He slap a few galleons on the table and Tom brings us each another drink. You can’t help but smile feeling as though you just made a friend in the blonde.

The next hour is full of conversation between you two. Draco is surprisingly easy to talk to and even sorta funny, although that could just be the effects from the Brandy.

“Who would’ve known that Draco Malfoy actually has a sense of humor.” The serious look on his face makes you burst out laughing and you notice he’s trying to keep from smiling.

“I’ve always been hilarious for your information.” This just makes you laugh harder.

“Over dramatic maybe, but funny? I don’t think so.” He can’t hold back his laughter anymore and all you can do is stare at the handsome man in front of you with a big grin on your face.

“Well it’s getting late and I’m completely knackered but I had a great time (y/n). One of my best nights in a while actually. I was wondering if you’d maybe want to come over tomorrow afternoon and I could cook us some dinner?” Your already pink cheeks turned bright red.

“I’d love to Draco.”

***

The next morning while you’re eating breakfast a beautiful white owl taps on your window with a letter from Draco.

(Y/n),

Hope you’re having a good morning, dinner will be ready at 7. See you then.

Draco

You read it at least ten time, letting the fact that you’re going to Draco’s house for a dinner date sink in.

***

Your walk to the Malfoy manor was a short one, the crisp fall air feeling good against your skin. You had decided on wearing your favorite pair of black skinny jeans, the ones that made your ass look great, a cream sweater, and matching cream boots.

You knock on the gigantic wooden door twice and not even 10 second later Draco is letting you in.

“You look amazing (y/n), I’m glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having me, it smells great.”

As you walk through the house with Draco you’re in awe of how spectacular the entire place is. You’ve never been in a house this big.

“I hope you like ham.” He looks nervous.

“I love it, everything looks amazing. You’ve really out done yourself.” He really did, the ham was in the center surrounded by a ton of side dishes.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I made a little bit of everything.” His cheeks were slightly pink as he pulled your chair out for you.

***

Dinner was as amazing as it looked, both of you ate far too much so you went to the living room to lounge around.

You sat on the same couch as Draco facing each other, about a foot apart, each of you with a glass of Brandy on the table, laughing at some ridiculous joke he made. Suddenly he reached his hand out to push a lose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand skimmed against your jaw and grabbed your chin for a second before letting go.

“You’ve always been so beautiful (y/n).” He was so close you could feel his breath on your face. You put your hand on his knee, needing to touch him in some way.

You couldn’t handle it anymore. You looked at his lips once before leaning in. Draco met you halfway, finally connecting his lips with yours. It was a short sweet kiss that made your stomach flutter. He brought his thumb up to your bottom lip dragging it across before lightly grabbing your throat with his long fingers and going in for a much rougher kiss, not that you were complaining.

You broke away so you could swing your body so you had one knee on either side of his legs straddling him. He put his hands on your hips as you kissed him again, he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you shifted your hips slightly making him groan, holding onto them tighter.

Your reach for his shirt, Draco takes one hand behind his head and yanks it off in one swift motion. That was possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed. He reaches for the hem of your sweater, fingers grazing your bare skin.

“May I?”

Instead of answering you take the sweater off yourself showing off your deep green bra.

“I love the color.” He smirks at you knowingly.

“I thought you might.” You giggle as he starts leaving open mouth kisses on the tops of your breast. You reach around to unclasp the material, feeling way too impatient to wait for him to do it. You let it fall in between your bodies, picking it up and tossing it to the end of the couch. His hands move from your hips, running across the sides of your body.

Draco looks right at you when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, making you throw your head back and moan quietly. You feel him straining against his jeans so you start moving your hips in small circles. You grab his belt and undo it quickly, you unbutton his jeans, and slowly slide yourself down until you’re kneeling in between his knees on the floor.

“You look so sexy love. You gonna suck my dick for me pretty girl?” You bite your lip and nod, never breaking eye contact with him. You grab his pants and boxer and pull them down, his big length slapping him in the stomach.

You wrap your small hand around him, slowly pumping him. You lick a bold stripe up the base of his length making him hiss and then you’re taking him in your mouth. Draco grabs your hair from falling into your face and you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder. You love how in control you feel of the sexy man in front of you. You twist your hand at his base in rythm with your mouth as you look up at him.

He pulls your head back by the hair, makes you stand up and starts taking off your pants.

“These jeans have been driving me crazy all night but I think they’ll look better off.” He slide them down your legs along with your underwear. He sits back on the couch so he could look at you standing completely naked in front of him groaning more to himself about how perfect you are.

You climb back on to his lap so your straddling him again, this time grabbing his dick and slowly stroking it inbetween your soaked folds. You’ve been soaked since he grabbed you throat. Finally you can’t take it anymore, you sink down until you’re sitting all the way on him. You can’t help the loud moans that leave your mouth as you bounce up and down on him.

He’s sitting back, his hands roaming your entire body, finally resting on your ass. One hand smacking down on it, the feeling causing you to scream his name.

“Scream my name (y/n), let everyone know you’re mine.” He grabs your hair again, pulling your head back so he has better access to your neck and starts laying kisses everywhere, sucking on certain spots, leaving dark marks. One hand is on your hips and he starts thrusting up, meeting your hips with his, his name falling from your lips continuously.

“Draco I’m gonna cum, I’m so close.” You feel the knot in your abdomen tightening more with every bounce, his hand in your hair moves down to your clit. He rubs it with his thumb, tracing figure eights onto you while you lean back, a hand on each of his knees.

“Cum for me (y/n), you look so fucking sexy riding my dick, such a good girl.” With one final flick of his thumb on your clit you come undone. Your ears are ringing and all you see are stars. Second later Draco’s spilling in to you, his face in the crook of your neck.

You both clean yourselves up quietly, he hands you his tshirt to put on and you do so without question. It smells just like him.

“Spend the night with me?” He’s looking right at you and you know you’re a goner.

“Only if you get me another cup of Brandy.” He laughs quietly while pulling up his jeans.

“Sounds good, I was gonna make you hang out with me tomorrow anyways.”

#draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #slytherin #draco lucius malfoy #draco #malfoy #request something #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #draco x you #harry potter smut #hp smut

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zevlors-tail · 4 years

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Retail Therapy

A/N: If you work retail like I do and get frustrated with your job on a weekly/daily basis, if you’re just fed up of all the crazy at work, this one’s for you! Covid has made it extra garbagey to work retail so here’s a little vent. Also, me writing soft Bakugou content? Yes.

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Shouto Todoroki

Warnings: Mentions of Covid in Bakugou’s part. Cursing. Customer invading your personal space (also in Bakugou’s part), tiny mention of anxiety in Todoroki’s scenario.

Summary: You’ve had the most infuriating day at work. Lucky for you, he knows just how to fix it.

Izuku Midoriya

Oh my god this gif is so bright i love it

“Hi baby!” Izuku greets you as you haphazardly toss your shoes on the floor, not caring where they land. One ends up under the dining room table and the other ends up somewhere among the chairs, but you could care less.

You’re pissed. More pissed than you’ve ever been, but specifically with work. You constantly feel like you’re babysitting your coworkers, and they never listen to anything you have to say, even when you’re put in charge of your department- if only for the night. Every time you turn your back, they’re pulling some sort of dumb stunt; how are you supposed to get work done like that? You can hardly focus on your own task when you’re trying to clean up after everyone else. Picking up slack is something you’re used to by now (unfortunately), but it shouldn’t have to be. You shouldn’t have to do your work and everyone else’s work too. Not to mention, you were tired of being the middle man whenever there was drama. Why did everyone feel the need to tell you everything?

“Ughhhh!” You just groan in response, half a smile on your face while a wild look enters your eyes. Izuku knows that look. He can tell you’re frustrated after a long day of work, that you’re at your wits end with your job. “I swear, Izu, I came this close to rage quitting. I mean I wouldn’t, because I’ve got bills to pay and stuff, but, just- this close.”

“Oh yeah?” He gives you a trademark smile despite your woes and invites you to follow him to the dining table where he sits down with you, taking your hand in his. “Tell me all about it.”

And you do. He listens diligently, nodding and getting into the gossip playfully, asking about certain coworkers and making silly comments to get you to laugh. Things like, “But they would never!” and “Oh my god, no they didn’t!” along with your personal favorite, a very dramatic “No!” He even makes over the top facial expressions to go with his comedic comments, and he has you laughing with him in no time, the stress of the day melting away under his electric green gaze. Your vent turns into more of a fun story than it does a bad experience. Izuku is a good listener and he’ll always be there for you.

“It was just ridiculous! Man, I can only take so much in one day. Usually I don’t let them get to me, but I couldn’t take both of them coming up to me every five minutes and complaining about each other. You know, as much as they like to talk about each other not doing their jobs, maybe they would get more work done if they just stopped talking and got back to work in the first place!” As you tell him your story, he hums a response, nods, and gets up from the table. He pats your head as he passes by you on the way to the kitchen, and you follow him with your gaze, questioning him silently.

“I’m still listening, love. I can hear you from here, promise! Do go on.”

You continue, not paying much mind to what he’s doing since you’re so engrossed in your tale of idiocy and annoyance turned silly. And he is listening to you, still making eye contact as he moves about the kitchen, still putting his two cents every once in a while. But before you know it, a savory smell hits your nose, and you realize he’s not only started dinner but that he’s practically finished with it by the time you’re done talking. He wastes no time in making two plates and bringing them over, setting one in front of you and the other in front of his usual spot.

You’re extremely grateful to him for taking the initiative to make dinner while you de-stressed after the day’s events, and you make sure to tell him that as you both dig in to his cooking. He learned from the best (bless mama Midoriya). You’re reminded that no matter how bad your day has been, you get to come home to your favorite human being on the whole planet and love him, and be loved by him in return.

“Thanks for making dinner, Izuku. You’re truly the love of my life.” You say it in such a manner that makes your partner laugh, bits of food falling from his mouth as he struggles to swallow properly. “That’s attractive,” you tease, but you’re laughing too. It’s a happy moment for the both of you.

“Good to know you only love me for my cooking!” He jokes. He eyes your plate before not so subtly reaching over and stealing a piece of food. You gasp in mock surprise, but save your revenge for later. There are plenty of ways to get even with him. But for now...

Izuku: 1

Y/N: 0

Katsuki Bakugou

soft bb

“Shit, fuck! God, I hate today!” you exclaim as you slam the car door shut. Bakugou had been kind enough to pick you up from work, and you were glad that it was him driving and not you behind the wheel. You were shaking in your seat, your hands trembling in anger and teeth grinding in frustration as you glared out of the window silently for a moment.

“Bad day?” Bakugou asked gruffly, foot gently pressing against the gas peddle as you took off on the drive home.

“Yeah, you would not fucking believe people. You’d think everyone would listen to directions and stay home since it’s like, oh, I don’t know- the middle of a fucking pandemic?”

“Oh, believe me, I know. People are stupid. Don’t let them get to you, baby.”

Maybe those words were odd coming from him considering he used to be so angry all the time himself, but Bakugou had really mellowed out since his days at UA, and he knew how to hold his tongue. Unbeknownst to him, however, this was more than a bad day for you. Bad days you could let go of, but this- this was something else. Not quite the worst time you’d ever had at work, but much more than a bad day. Today had been somewhere in between the two, and you weren’t sure what to call it. You’d been yelled at, berated, understaffed, and blamed for pretty much all the problems going on in your specific area even though you were trying your best. There was only so much you could do yourself, and even though you knew it was better to just let it go, you couldn’t. Especially not after what that wretched customer had done to you.

“I’m trying not to, but it’s really god damned hard not to fucking smack a bitch when they invade your personal space and tap on your shoulder. In a fucking pandemic. Actually, I don’t even think she was wearing a mask now that I think about it. How considerate of her.” The words are like venom spitting from your mouth, your fists clenching as you vent to your partner in confidence.

“They did what?” Normally he’s good about keeping his anger in check. Normally, he could handle you venting to him about anything. But someone else touching his Y/N? No way in hell. And during a period of time where touching people was especially rude and inconsiderate? Fucking no way in hell.

“Yeah! Tapped me right on the damn shoulder and didn’t even say excuse me. Words exist! Just tell me you need something and I’ll get it for you! I hate people who do that shit, it’s so unnecessary and rude! And it violates my personal space and creeps me out. I feel disgusting. If you touch me at work, then I’m not liable for anything that happens to you! You get slapped? Then that’s on you, bitch! Don’t fucking touch me!” You finish up your speech with a wild hand gesture, your head shaking in disbelief while you try not to think about too much.

It takes Bakugou everything he has not to just slam on the breaks right then and there and put the car in reverse to drive back to the store and find that piece of trash. If he could give them a piece of his mind, he would. But he can’t, so he settles for the next best thing: comforting you and making sure you’re okay. You did just have your personal space violated after all, so it’s understandable you’re pretty shaken up and angry about the whole thing. He would be too, honestly.

The rest of the short drive home is mostly silent, save for the small talk you make with each other and the quiet background noise of the radio station that he let you pick. His general rule of thumb is that the driver picks the music, but he knows you’ve had a hard day, so he doesn’t argue when you change it to your preferred station and start drumming your fingers to the beat. He’d rather you wind down this way than keeping it all bottled up. When the two of you finally arrive to your shared home, you let your shoulders fall a bit and sigh as you trudge to the couch, not even bothering to take your shoes off before plopping down and face planting into the soft cushions. You listen as Bakugou wanders off to the bedroom and returns a moment later with a shirt in his hands.

“You said you felt disgusting earlier, so I brought you a new shirt to change into. Figured you probably didn’t want to stay in your work clothes.” His tone is softer, a little more careful since you’re home now and he knows you don’t like to fall apart in public. Home is where your true heart is, with him. If you’re feeling any sort of negative emotion, it’s more likely to come out here. And he wants to offer his help, but... “Do you want some help with it?”

You shift so that you’re sitting up on the couch and raise your arms slightly for him. “That would be nice, since I’m utterly exhausted and worn out. I’d really appreciate it,” you reply honestly.

He hesitates a bit, unsure of something before he asks you a question. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Your response is immediate. “Of course it is; I trust you. I never mind your touch.”

He smiles at that.

He helps you get changed into the ultra comfy shirt he brought you, and after that the two of you heat up some leftovers before cuddling up in bed together, the worst of the day washed away by Bakugou’s soft fingers running along your side as you lay your head on his chest.

“Thanks for always taking care of me. You do an amazing job at it.” You yawn into his shirt and snuggle your face against it, the soft cotton making you feel safe and secure.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Katsuki.”

Shouto Todoroki

I’m feeling extra soft for Todoroki recently

“Hi, Y/N. How was your day at-”

Before Shouto can even finish his sentence, you’re flying into a vent about work, passing right by him on your way to the bathroom as you start to pull of your work uniform angrily.

“Oh my god, it was an absolute disaster!” You’re still breathing heavy from all the stress, eyes darting around wildly and face flushed from being mad and under pressure all night.

“What happened, love?” Todoroki coaxes gently. He comes to stand in the door frame of the bathroom and leans against it, his hands in his pockets and hip cocked out to the side. He has a sympathetic look on his face as you explain all your troubles of the day.

“Everything, Shouto. Everything happened. I mean, not everything, but it sure felt like it! Our delivery showed up late, and we didn’t have product all afternoon, so our customers were really angry and I kept getting yelled at! It’s not my fault it showed up late! If I had the product to put out I would! It’s complete and utter bullshit!” You make your way to the bedroom to pick out pajamas, not really caring about the pair you take out of the drawer or anything else for that matter. Your mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: your day at work.

Sometimes you had a hard time winding down from work, especially on days like these, and Shouto knew that. You usually were able to separate work from home fairly well, but occasionally you just needed a little reminder that it didn’t have to follow you home to bed, and he knew how to help with that. He’d seen you like this before, had witnessed your break downs and freak outs over your job and the stress that came with it. Retail was not for everyone. Todoroki always told you that you had the patience of a saint, though everyone had their own limits, and you must have hit yours tonight.

“I don’t appreciate being called names and told that I’m practically useless. Customers can be real fucking snobs all the time. And I was trying so hard too, but even after the delivery showed up, it was busy as hell, and every time I put something up on the shelf they just kept taking it down! I think I sold through at least three boxes of something I normally have to throw away at the end of the week. Seriously! It was a mess, and we didn’t have enough staff because one of us was still suspended, and our normal person who works the backroom doesn’t work weekends, and even our supervisor called off, so it was just me and this other girl. It was awful. I can’t even- ugh! It’s not fair!”

You started to work yourself up, your anxiety skyrocketing as you thought of everything that went wrong earlier. Rationally you knew there wasn’t much you could do about the situation, but that didn’t mean you felt the same way. You should have done more, pushed yourself harder, but you also didn’t want to stay and work overtime on an empty stomach and not a lot of sleep the night before. Shouto must have seen the guilt in your eyes, because the next thing you knew you were being moved to the bed where he wrapped you in the softest blanket he could find, and then he was telling you he’d be right back as he slipped out of the room.

You sat there, a little confused for a while, before you heard a beeping noise from the kitchen and the door to the microwave open and close. Todoroki returned with a steaming mug in one hand and a book in the other, and he said nothing as he set the book and cup down on the nightstand before working around you, positioning a few pillows against the headboard of the bed. He fluffed them up a few times and grabbed the giant comforter, pulling it up over your lap and practically swaddling you. Finally he sat down behind you on the bed and pulled you into his lap, and you rested your head against his chest as he petted your hair softly. Slowly, you felt all the tension from earlier on in the day ebb away into drowsiness and exhaustion.

“Alright, blanket burrito,” he said, referring to your form all wrapped up in soft cotton, “I warmed up a cup of your favorite drink and brought us a book. Do you want me to read to you, or would you prefer to play a video game or movie?” He gazed down at you with a brow raised in question, a look of amusement on his face at the sight of your head just barely peeking out from the blankets.

“If you don’t mind, could you read to me? I like your voice...it’s soothing.” You melted into his touch, work already forgotten about and a wave of calm washing over you.

“Of course, dear.” He gave you a precious smile and kiss on the top of your head.

Todoroki always knew how to fix your bad days, and he always did so without hesitation and without you having to ask. He handed you the warm mug first which you took gratefully, and then picked up the book and began reading to you.

How did you get this lucky?

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ziaxkawaii · 4 years

Text

I need a Hero (Kaminari X Reader)

Paring: Denki Kaminari x Reader

Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Attempted suicide, Bad language?

Other: Characters are aged up and most working as pro heroes.

Summary: One step in any direction might seem like such a small distance, but for you, it's just enough to find out what's on the other side. In honesty, you were looking forward to it, but then a certain hero makes you think differently.

~When it came to Denki Kaminaris love life, it was basically none existent.

~As much as he was a carefree, goofy, and fun person to be around, Kaminari didn't really attract anyone's interest romantically.

~When he isn't working, he's most of the time hanging out with friends or meeting new people, be it in a baseball game or at the local park or mall.

~Even when he was at work, he would still meet a bunch of new people on the streets if they stop him and ask him to take a picture with them. He might not have as many fans as his previous classmates, but he still gets recognized here and there and he couldn't be prouder.

~He was happy that he had friends and people that cared about his well being. But there was a voice in the back of his mind, telling him he longed for something more. Someone special to care for, fight for, and love unconditionally.

~Yes, he needed to find a partner. Someone to share his life with.

~Seeing his friends with their girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, and wives made him feel a bit jealous. Of course, he was happy for his buddies and friends, but he too wanted to jump on the train of relationships and he was afraid that he never would. He dreaded the thought.

~Lately Kaminari had been busy with his hero duties. From morning till evening, he spends his time at the hero agency he worked at. Mostly doing paperwork.

~It made Kaminari curious and kind of saddened, how rarely he went on missions lately. For the last three weeks, the only "missions" he did, were patrols. Mainly night patrols because if he did end up fighting a villain on the street, there was a less of a chance of harming any civilians with his quirk.

~He was glad he at least had patrols, otherwise, he would die from boredom.

~At 0.24 AM, Kaminari along with his coworker and buddy, Hanta Sero, are on a night patrol together. The weather was nice and the city seemed pretty calm for a Saturday night. Maybe it was because the night was still young, and the ruckus is yet to start but it didn't bother either of the males to have a little breather. Currently, they were having a quick break on a rooftop.

~Sero inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. "Man, you really start to appreciate the fresh air when you stay cooped up in an office every day." He commented. Kaminari nodded in agreement as he looked at the bright and beautiful city lights while the chilly cold air tickled his face.

~"Can't say it any better. It feels awesomely great to do something. It has been way too quiet in the office for my liking." He said as he stretched, feeling relief once he heard a satisfying 'pop' from his back.

~"That's right, you haven't been out of the office much, have you."

~"Yeah... it sucks. I kinda wish there was more action going on, it's kind of weird that nothing has been happening lately, it's somehow making me feel nervous." Kaminari admitted as he scratched the back of his head.

~"I feel ya, it is kind of unsettling. For all we know, some villain is planning something dangerous right under our noses and we wouldn't know a thing." Sero jokingly said and then both men heard a short 'ding' from their pockets. Both of them confusingly pulled out their phones to see who had texted them. One look at the text, both males groaned.

~"No way! He seriously can't dump this on us tonight!"

~The one texting them was one of their coworkers, explaining that they had "an emergency" at home and "needed" to leave work early, meaning someone would have to cover their patrol area. Guess who?

~"This is the third time he has done this!" Kaminari complained as he was ready to give the dude a piece of his mind but instead pocketed his phone before he could say something he would regret.

~"We gotta find a way to expose him." Sero nodded. This guy was known for skipping work for the most ridiculous reasons and the other coworkers suffered from it. Not many liked him for this very reason. "Not very manly." As Kirishima once put it when he heard about him.

~"Hopefully in the near future, but for now, we have to go patrol his area too. We heroes can't give the villains an idea that there are parts of the city that they don't patrol." Sero reasoned.

~"I agree, but that's gonna take way more time than what we were scheduled for." Kaminari reminded. "I don't know about you, but I want to sleep tonight." Sero thought for a moment.

~"What if we split up? That way we can get the work done and don't have to spend more time than we have to." He proposed.

~"That's a good idea, but we're supposed to patrol in pairs..." Kaminari muttered.

~"I'm sure it's fine, the city has been quiet the whole evening." It wasn't uncommon for heroes to do solo patrols, but it was always advised to have two-person teams during a night patrol. It was safer that way.

~Kaminari nodded. It was decided that Kaminari would finish their own route while Sero covered the extra. They also agreed that if either of them suddenly needed back up, they would send their location from their watch to the other person, and they would come help.

~It made Kaminari feel more secure. Nothing bad was probably not gonna happen. But if something were to happen, help was only one button press away.

~~~

~Kaminari roamed around the area checking alleyways that seemed shady enough to make sure it was empty, walking past closed shops and businesses and checking the occasional rooftop.

~By now, it has been an hour since Kaminari and Sero split up. It might sound like such a short time to be alone, but for Kaminari, it quickly grew boring. It was almost unreal that nothing was happening on a Saturday night. Or should he say Sunday morning?

~Kaminari walked into another alleyway. Nothing more than dumpsters, trash bags, and mice that ran over his shoes.

~"Ah, damn it!" He exclaimed in a whispering tone as he began shooing the pests away. As he did so, he heard soft humming. He stopped what he was doing and looked around. There was no one there.

~The faint humming kept on going and Kaminari found himself listening to the beautiful tune. He didn't recognize what song it was, but it was beautiful none the less. He spotted a ladder to the building rooftop next to him and he started silently climbing, hearing the humming louder and louder each storey he climbed.

~As he made it to the top, he was expecting to find someone mindlessly humming while they sat on a stool while maybe drinking a warm beverage in the cold outdoor wind. But what he saw made his blood turn to ice and his eyes widen.

~There, on the very edge of the rooftop, stood a young woman, barefoot and wearing a pale yellow cardigan. Their hair fluttered wildly in the wind while they looked all the way down to the street, but they didn't seem to mind as they kept on humming the song Kaminari didn't know, sounding now loud and clear in his ears.

~He didn't know what to do.

~Is that woman about to jump? If so, then how in the world is he supposed to prevent it from even happening? A case like this was a first for him, he has never been in a situation like this and somewhat hoped that he never would.

~But here he was, about to witness death from the front row seat if he didn't do anything.

~The (h/c) haired woman lifted their feet, as though they were going to step over the edge. Out of reflex, Kaminari abandoned his spot on the ladder and dashed onto the rooftop shouting the first sentence that came to mind.

~"DON'T!!!" He stood good five meters away from the girl, but he shouted so loud he might as well been standing next to her.

~The person stopped and lowered their foot back next to the other one. They didn't even flinch when Kaminari shouted. They absentmindedly turned around halfway and looked Kaminari in the eyes.

~Kaminari gulped when the person didn't show any emotion. None at all. They just stood there on the edge like a beautiful porcelain doll.

~"Why are you here?" The woman asked, not blinking once. Kaminari was at a loss for words. What should he say? Should he even say anything? Would that even do anything? The girl waited for his answer patiently.

~"I... I w-was p..passing by and... heard your humming..." Was he making the right move?

~"I see... I hope I didn't bother you." She said nonchalantly. Kaminari immediately shook his head.

~"N-no! I-I thought it was very beautiful. That's why I climbed up the ladder to see who it was..." No... he was making the right move. As long as he's talking to them, they hopefully won't do anything rash. He just needs to keep going.

~"I've heard that plenty of times." She looked back at the city. Shit... What should he say now?

~"H-has someone hurt you? What happened to you? If you want to talk about it, I-I'm here to listen." He dared to take one step forward but not anymore. The woman remained unmoving, this could be a positive sign.

~"How is my personal life any of your concern?... Hero.." Sweat started to drip from Kaminari's forehead. Now he was more than nervous. Was she one of those people who didn't like heroes? Can he handle this by himself?

~Kaminari remembered his watch. He could get Sero here at best in 10 minutes. He would just need to keep her busy. Kaminari was about to push the button on his watch when the woman suddenly spoke again.

~"Actually... Tell me something, Mr. Hero..." Kaminari paused his movements. "Is life worth living, when you are successful in your field of work you love but feel miserable and depressed every single day?" Kaminari lowered his hands, forgetting about the watch completely.

~What did she mean? If you love your work then how can you feel miserable? The stress of success?

~"I guess I can't really answer... I'm happy to work as a hero even when I have a bad day... But, if I would feel I'm unhappy in my agency, I would try another agency to see if I would be happier there." He truthfully explained. The woman nodded softly.

~"That is one way to say it. "Keep trying until you're truly happy." is one of the sentences I've heard a lot. But unfortunately, I can't just do what you would do Mr, hero, that just isn't how it works." She explained in return and then began lightly hopping on the edge as if she was playing a childhood game, which made Kaminari sweat bullets and take more steps closer to you.

~""Three steps forward, smile, come back, lift your hands to your face, and pose." That's how it usually goes. No freedom to choose what you want to do or say in your own damn craft. You just get ordered around and you don't get to decide anything, but they'll still use your name as though you did."

~She looked at Kaminari in the eyes again. Now that he was closer he could kind of distinguish what color her eyes were. A nice (e/c) that now seemed to burn into his own eyes, the same yellow as the woman's cardigan.

~"Are you now going to say that I'm overreacting? That I just had a particularly bad day today? That I just need to go to sleep, and it will be a better day tomorrow?" It felt like she was taunting him. Daring him to say what the others have said.

~His mind was going in all the directions, trying to figure out how to save someone that doesn't want to be saved. He could easily say that you were just having a bad day because of the short story you told him. But he possibly couldn't. He hasn't seen the whole picture yet. In the heat of the moment he blurted out:

~"No..." For the first time, the woman's eyes widened slightly. She wasn't expecting that.

~"I... I'm in no position to say any of that. I can't possibly judge how much pain you're in if I haven't heard the whole story." He looked down at his feet.

~"I might not know who you are or what you are going through... But all I ask is for you to give yourself more time to maybe talk to someone, one last time. If it doesn't work, then decide what to do." He spoke. He wondered, from where exactly he heard the things he was talking about. He didn't care at the moment, all he wanted right now was for the woman to step down, and away from the roof's edge.

~The woman's demeanor changed. Instead of the blank look on her face, her expression looked... shocked?

~"You... You don't know who I am?..." She questioned, already 80% sure she knew the answer but still wanted a clear confirmation. Kaminari lifted his head from to face the surprised woman and looked at her dumbfounded.

~"I'm sorry, but I don't. Were you expecting me to?" He asked, trying to figure out if he has seen the woman somewhere before but came up with nothing.

~"Kind of..." She admitted while she still stared at him, looking like she didn't believe what she was hearing.

~'Is she a girl I met in High school and forgot? Or even in middle school? Why can't I remember?!!'

~'Or is she a...'

~"I'm not a villain if that's what you're thinking, I assure you. Nor have we ever met talked face to face." Like magic, she read his mind, but he was still on the edge a bit which she seemed to sense.

~"If you think I'm a villain, Mr hero, then you can just arrest me now." She lifted her hands in front of her, half-expecting him to actually put her in handcuffs.

~"No no, there's no need for that! I believe you." Kaminari waved his arms in front of him and stopped once the woman lowered their own hands. "Also, you don't need to call me, Mr hero." He scratched the back of his head embarrassed.

~"What should I call you then? What's your hero name?" He thought deeply for a moment.

~"No... You can call me Kaminari even Denki is fine." He replied confidently and the woman cracked a small smile. It made Kaminari, in turn, to smile lightly, it felt relieving that he managed to make her smile while she was still in a dark place.

~"Alright." She said and hopped off the roof's edge, walking towards a door that held stairs behind it. "It was nice meeting you, Kaminari-kun." Kaminari turned his body to face the departing woman as he slightly panicked.

~"Wha-? W-W-Wait! What's your name?" He asked in a hurried tone. She turned to him.

~"I kind of don't want to tell you." She admitted.

~"I want to have someone who sees me as for who I am, and not as someone who I was presented as." She finished and left the rooftop, leaving behind a confused Kaminari.

~'What was she talking about?'

~~~

1 Week later...

~Even after a week, the (h/c) haired woman was still in his mind, repeating the last sentence she said to him before leaving the rooftop like a broken record.

~Kaminari didn't tell anyone about the incident. Somehow Kaminari felt like he wanted to give the poor girl a chance to figure things out before involving more people. Then again, even if he did tell someone, what good would it have done?

~He didn't know the victim's name nor her exact address. Plus, no one could force the woman to therapy unless she was breaking the law or causing a disturbance, which she wasn't so his hands were tied either way.

~Speaking of names, Kaminari was driving himself mad over who she was. In the beginning, she assumed that he knew her but he didn't. She also confessed that they have not met each other in real life, and the way she asked for his name indicated that she really didn't know him. So she wasn't someone who he might've known at one point.

~He also believed that she wasn't a villain, so his options were very limited. How come he can't think of anything?

~"Hellooo...., earth to Denki." Someone spoke from beside him and the said male jumped in his seat. He turned to the owner of the voice and sighed.

~"Wow, for a minute there I thought I won't be able to get you to your senses." Sero joked while chuckling. Kaminari shook his head and turned to his friend again.

~"So what brings you here Hanta?" He asked, trying to get his mind off his previous thoughts.

~"Uhhh... We have patrol remember?" Sero reminded him, already wearing his hero costume and ready to go.

~Oh damn it, he was an idiot.

~"Oh yeah, I remember now! Just give me a sec." Kaminari said as he headed towards the changing rooms. Sero following him.

~"Did you already hear? He got fired this morning...." Kaminaris brain turned on autopilot for the rest of the conversation.

~Before he even realized it, he was already walking down the familiar streets. Alone. What he could remember from Seros explanation was: Since the guy was fired so suddenly, there was no one to do his patrol. So Kaminari and Sero split up again and Sero went to the other route while Kaminari took care of the same one he handled last Saturday night a week ago.

~Last Saturday night...

~Would she be on that rooftop again?

~Kaminari's curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to stop by the apartment building when he got to that part of the area. Just to make himself feel more relaxed when he goes to bed for the night.

~Part of him hoped that the rooftop would be empty and that the person was doing something more mentally healthy, but there was also a 5% part of him that wanted to see the person again. Definitely, not the 'standing on the edge of the roof' way he saw them a week ago, but more like 'they just wanted a breath of fresh air and nothing more' way.

~Kaminari found himself moving faster through the area, while still making sure there was no suspicious activity going on in the middle of the night. Soon enough, he came to the familiar alley and started to climb up the ladder. He peeked from the edge and sure enough, the woman was standing there with the same yellow cardigan. This time, however, she wasn't standing barefoot at the very edge at least.

~She was wearing shoes which was a good sign.

~He made his presence know to the other person by stepping his foot on the roof with stone pebbles crunching under his boots. The person slowly turned around to face him once he walked a bit closer.

~"I wondered if you would show up." She spoke in a half teasing manner, not sounding as hollow as a week ago. Did something happen during this week?

~"Something told me to come and check on you." He told truthfully, not knowing what to else to say.

~"I figured. It must be hard for a hero to accept someone dying so they at least do an effort to see how the person's life is going if they're alive." She mused.

~"Saving and protecting civilians is what we heroes do, we like to see if our actions have made a difference in people."

~"Well, some heroes could surely do a better job if that's what it's about." She commented. Before Kaminari could ask what makes her say such a fact, she changes the subject.

~"But enough about that, instead tell me about your week, Kaminari." She addressed him by his name as she casually sat on the roof's edge, making Kaminari a tad nervous again.

~'Why must she sit so close to the edge?' He grimaced in his mind.

~"You want to know about my day?" He questioned a bit confused.

~"My everyday-life isn't something I much enjoy nowadays, so I'd like to hear someone else's day instead." She looked at him. "Perhaps that would make me feel better." Kaminari hesitantly nodded his head in agreement and started to talk about his day and the past week.

~It wasn't really anything that interesting to talk about to someone, but the look on the woman's face told him differently. They were actually listening to his non-sense rambling and asking questions here and there.

~Maybe working as a hero who likes to joke around and help people with common problems, was by itself more interesting for some, than some other career. But it even surprised him how intrigued the woman was from all the things he had done that week.

~'Maybe she hasn't done things what I have in a long time...'

~After minutes and minutes of talking, Kaminari checked the time from his watch and almost screamed out loud when he read the numbers on the smartwatch.

~"Oh dude! I've been rambling on and on for half an hour! I still haven't patrolled the area!" He exclaimed, already thinking how Sero or his other friends were going to question hat took him so long.

~"Then you should get going, I'm not going to hold you any longer." The female said and stood up. Already walking towards the door.

~"Thank you for chatting with me Kaminari, now I feel less lonely." Kaminari looked at the (h/c) haired girl, now seeing a bit more happiness in her eyes. Seeing it made Kaminari feel better and glad that he decided to stop by.

~"It was nothing, it was fun talking with you." He assured her.

~"Well ain't that nice to hear, have a good night." She lightly bowed her head.

~"Same to you." He responded.

~~~

~Week after another, it became a routine for Kaminari to visit the person who he still didn't know the name of. Both grew quite close during those visits and by now they were very good friends.

~ After meeting two more times after the second meet up, the (h/c) haired female had proposed that they could see each other perhaps at different times, rather than during Kaminari's patrols at 1 AM. Kaminari agreed and she gave him her phone number so they could text or call each other when they would meet again.

~Since Kaminari didn't know her name, he gave her the nickname Sunflower, due to the yellow cardigan she wears every time they see each other.

~And each time they met, Kaminari started noticing that every day she was happier than the previous day. In the beginning, she only nodded to his jokes, but as time passed, she began to smile more. Fixing her smile from stoic to a small smile and then to a genuine grin was a huge achievement for Kaminari.

~He was proud that he was able to change someone's life for the better. Surely his job's not over, and he doesn't like to refer it as a 'job' since he was doing it because he wanted to, not because he was a hero.

~He mentally made a promise to himself that he'd fix her even if it was the last thing he would do because it would be worth it in the end.

~~~

4 months later...

~"Hey, have you guys heard?" Mina's voice grabbed the attention of all her companions at the table.

~Her, Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and even Bakugou (Convinced to come by Kirishima) were enjoying a cup of coffee at a cafe. It was pretty rare for the old 'Bakusquad' to have a hung out together with all five of them there, but by some miracle, they all either had a day off from work or they had a night shift.

~"Heard about what?" Kirishima asked with his usual happy tone.

~"About the latest celebrity rumor, silly!" Mina exclaimed as she fished out her phone to open the news app, showing it to everyone. There on the screen were countless of articles of the same matter but with different theories.

~'(y/n) (l/n), a well-known song artist is sending love messages to someone with her music videos and interviews!!?' Read more...

~'Hidden love messages!!? To whom!?' Read more here...

~'The newest music video by (y/n) (l/n)!!' Read more...

~"Oh, you're talking about that one singer. Yea, I watch and listen to her music videos, but I haven't really seen anything that would stand out." Sero commented while taking a sip of his coffee. Kaminari raised an eyebrow, as he was confused by what was going on.

~"What are you guys on about?" He asked.

~"Are you joking? It's so obvious that even I realized it after a while. Here let me show you." Mina opened up one of the news articles and started to explain.

~"Before, her music videos were normal and there wasn't anything out of the ordinary for her, but then two months ago the same things kept appearing in her videos, magazine covers, and interviews." She tapped the screen and started playing the most recent music videos published by the artist titled: I need a hero.

~She tapped play and the video started, showing a young woman with (h/c) hair wearing a sparkly black dress and a black blindfold. Though what caught most of Kaminari's attention was the sunflower shaped jewelry/pin on the right side of her chest.

~As the woman sang and moved around, Kaminari saw the same pin also on the woman's hair.

~"She has been either wearing sunflower themed clothing slash jewelry, or she holds an actual sunflower! There isn't a single picture of her without it from the last two months!" She giggled as if she was still in high school. Kaminari continued to stare at the phone as the video continued on playing.

~It was as if his brain had stopped working. 'This has to be a coincidence.' 'There's no way.' Kaminari kept on saying to himself, but it was hard to deny the evidence that lay in front of his eyes.

~The singer looked a lot like the woman he has been seeing for the past four months and even a middle schooler could link the nickname he gave her and the sunflowers together, not to mention her voice. But he still could not believe it.

~Then came the final confirmation. The video shifted from the singing woman to a scene where a man wearing a cape ran and jumped on rooftops, presenting a hero running to the rescue. Then it cuts to the woman standing on another rooftop, singing, and dancing awfully close to the edge.

~"I need a hero!!! I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light. He's gotta be sure, and he's gotta be soon, and he's gotta be larger than life."

~Then the singer jumps on the very edge, reminding Kaminari how the woman wearing a yellow cardigan jumped on the edge the same way. And no matter how high of a building she seemed to be standing on, she showed no fear while dancing.

~"I need a hero!!! I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night. And he's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be fresh from a fight!"

~"I need a hero!..."

~At the final line, the woman leaned back on the edge as though to fall to her demise, but a hand grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her against them to safety. The woman and the hero looked at each other for a moment before they embraced each other in a loving hug. Then the video faded into blackness with a caption:

~"Only one hero can save this sunflower."

~That was all that Kaminari needed to confirm once and for all that, his sunflower, is (y/n) (l/n).

~"Why are you looking so much into shit that might not be even true?" Bakugou commented gruffly and Mina gasped.

~"Because it's romantic and the last video just basically proves all the rumors! There's no doubt in my mind that she has someone she cares about but just doesn't know how to express it! It's basically a love story!" She argued with the ash blond. The blond 'tch'ed and went back to drinking his latte.

~"I admit that your theory isn't completely ridiculous, but aren't things like confessions supposed to be done with only the person they're confessing to?" Kirishima pointed out, kind of surprised that he himself was actually this interested about it.

~"Who cares!? It's cute!" Mina squealed but her momentum stopped when Kaminari abruptly stood up from his seat and started to gather his things.

~"Whoa, What's the rush Denki?" Sero inquired as he watched as the blond grabbed his phone from the table and started to exit the cafe.

~"I suddenly realized that I have something to take care of!" He called behind him and bolted out of the store to the street. While running, he sent a quick text to his sunflower that he wanted to meet her at their usual spot. He pocketed the device and ran faster.

~He needed to see you. He needed to ask why you didn't tell him the truth. Why you would think that he would see you differently if he found out.

~Honestly at this point he didn't even care if you were actually a villain or a mafia boss, he just wanted answers to his questions.

~Did you like him back?

~Kaminari ran into the alleyway and jumped on the ladder to begin climbing at record speed. Just as he made it to the top, the handle on the rooftop door turned and from behind the door, out stepped you, wearing the same color cardigan as his eyes. You looked semi-happy as you stepped outside, but as you got a glimpse of his own slightly out of breath expression, yours turned into a one of concern.

~"What happened Denki? Is everything alright?" You asked him as you stepped closer to him, ready to hear him out. The said male panted and looked at her.

~"Why... Why didn't you... tell me?" He said between short pants.

~"What are you talking about?" You inquired. Kaminari breathed in deeply and looked into her eyes again.

~"(y/n) (l/n). Your name is (y/n) (l/n)."

~In a half a second, your caring demeanor changed and you looked at the ground with the stoic face you used to wear before meeting Denki. But despite your blank expression, you were shaking as if you were standing on top of a windy mountain while gripping your fists tightly.

~This was it... Now, he is either going to begin geeking out on how much big of a fan he was of your music, or he's going to leave you because he doesn't want the pressure of hanging out with someone who's known by almost every other person in Japan.

~You were surprised how long it took for Denki to finally realize who you really were. In all your videos you wore a blindfold because that's what your manager and producer want you to do. In their mind it makes you look mysterious and "Limited", referring to a limited object that not anyone can get.

~Because of that blindfold, he might've not realized it before. Now that he did, everything's going to go back to your depressing reality that he light up with his goofiness...

~"When did you notice?" You asked him.

~"Just 15 minutes ago, I was at a cafe with my friends and they started talking about this popular song artist." As Kaminari said the last words, he could visibly see you tense up. "I didn't know what they were talking about even after they said her name. Only when I saw her in a music video did I know who the person was." He stepped closer to you.

~"At first I didn't believe my eyes and ears when I saw their (h/c) and heard their voice. I was fully convinced when I saw the ending of the video, where you almost fell from the rooftop you stood on. But a hero came to your rescue and in the very ending, you quoted yourself as a sunflower." He explained and you looked at him in slight confusion. Before you could say anything he speaks again.

~"Why didn't you tell me? Did you think I would leave or treat you differently now that I know your name?" He asked stepping even more closer.

~"I-I... I Don't-" You stuttered while tearing up. "What was I supposed to expect? That's how it always has been..." You shifted your gaze downcast once again.

~"Every person I know or knew, they didn't care about me, they only cared about my fame and how it was going to benefit them if we were a couple or my small crush would leave me once they realized my identity because they could not handle being in the spotlight."

~"The last relationship I was in went just like the first scenario, he trash-talked me and made me feel unimportant. He even said that he didn't care if I took the final step from the rooftop. I was only an art-piece whats sole purpose was to make money, anything I did wasn't about the art anymore, just income." Kaminari slowly began to piece the puzzle pieces together.

~"I somehow managed to make him leave, but things mostly stayed the same about me still being a puppet. That's all I ever am to them, an object. A doll that they can make sing and dance to make a profit, disguising it as "a modern business" or "That's how things go these days." I'm amazed how much bullshit they can spit out from their mouths every day."

~"You are not a doll! You are a human! A person, a living being! Why did you stay in that toxic environment!?" Denki gathered up all his confidence and gently gripped your forearms and exclaimed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You were suffering and almost ended your life because of it, but yet, you stayed...

~"Every time I thought of leaving and quitting, I knew my manager and everybody I work with would make my life even more of living hell if I did quit. And after every day, I thought things would get better one day. That's why I kept going, doing my best at being positive that one-day things would change."

~"And comically enough, it somewhat did after meeting you." You confessed. Denki was taken aback by it.

~"W-What do you mean?"

~"Everybody in my life didn't care about my feelings or what I wanted! You were the first person in years who treated me like a friend, a human with problems that CAN be fixed. After meeting you, I felt more confident to speak up and say no to things I didn't want. Two months ago, I even managed to change what I can do or wear in my interviews or videos."

~"You mean the sunflowers?"

~"Y-Yes... You gave me so much confidence that I wanted to have a reminder of you with me everywhere, like a form of comfort." You admitted now leaning on his shoulder while Denki shifted a bit to hug you.

~"You did that because of me?" He felt like he was now only asking questions and not saying things he probably should be saying, but this was new to him and he didn't know how to deal with it.

~"Yeah..." You nodded. "I felt happy again whenever I thought about you, and I wanted to be truly happy again while I sang. So I fought back against my producers and demanded change. Over time, I actually started to have more power over what I wanted to wear or how I wanted to do my music again. Of course, I had to still do many things the way they wanted, but it was one step forward." Then Kaminari remembered.

"So this was what you meant by what you said back then... You love singing and acting but you felt miserable because you were basically forced to do it how other people liked it rather than how you wanted to do it." You nodded.

"I felt so powerless so I didn't fight back. But then you opened my eyes and told me I can try again!" You looked into his eyes and he could have cried out of happiness when he saw the beautiful and bright smile on your face.

~"I'm so proud of you." Kaminari hugged you tightly and you two laughed together as he lightly spun you around.

~"I'm so happy I managed to save you..." Kaminari mumbled to your shoulder a single tear staining your cardigan.

~"So am I..." You mumbled in return to his shoulder, instead if one tear, you had many flowing down your face as you felt overly emotional and couldn't stop them from coming.

~"Are the news articles true?" Kaminari suddenly asked and you pulled apart.

~"New's articles? I don't really read them." You admitted as you dried your tears with your cardigan sleeve.

~"My friends were talking about the rumor of you hiding love messages in each of your videos." He explained. "And apparently your quote: "Only one hero can save this sunflower." has caused quite the ruckus." He chuckled nervously but found his confidence once again when you smiled at him gently.

~"So, are they?" He asked hopefully.

~"Heh... Looks like I wasn't sneaky enough." You chuckled. "I made that quote to see if you would notice, and in some way you did. Now I am curious, did you like it?" You questioned.

~"Of course I did."

~"Then... Will you love this sunflower?" You questioned again.

~"I'd love nothing more."

~He abandoned all his doubts and went in for the kiss. You happily kissed him back as you hugged his neck tightly while he did the same on your waist and back.

~The moment felt like time had stopped ticking and in the moment was just the two of you. You, a Sunflower and him, a hero. Both of you wished it would've lasted longer, but the need for air was no longer unnoticeable as you pulled apart.

~"I don't care if you're a popular singer or an ordinary office worker. I want to help you to be happy, and help you forget your dark thoughts." Kaminari confessed. "Let me be there for you when you need me." He practically pleaded, not wanting to let go of the person who he had grown to care deeply about.

~"Only if I can do the same for you." You answered.

~"I love you, my sunflower."

~"I love you too, my hero."

#kaminari #denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #fanfic #xreader #x reader #boku no hero academia

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somegirlsnerdywords2 · 4 years

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Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a W!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Watashi ga Motete Dousunda (Kiss Him, Not Me!):

Genres: Reverse Harem, Comedy, Romance, School, Shoujo

Synopsis: Kae Serinuma is a very kind second-year high school student and a devoted otaku. A little known fact about her, though, is that she's obsessed with BL, or Boy's Love. Serinuma can't help but to fantasize about her male classmates falling for each other and enjoys imagining them together. A more known fact about Serinuma, however, is that she’s noticeably overweight. While watching her favorite show one day, Serinuma witnesses the death of her most beloved character. Utterly depressed, she can't muster up the energy to eat her meals, let alone attend school. After an entire week, she finally recovers. But now there's something unusual about her—during the time she refused to leave her room, she ended up losing a large amount of weight and has somehow become strikingly beautiful! Now catching the eye of everyone who sees her, she finds herself at the center of attention of four boys she has always known at her school. Though they all wish to spend time with her, Serinuma would much rather they spend time falling in love with one another. How will Serinuma deal with the four boys pursuing her BL-obsessed self? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9.5 /10

Finished airing in 2016 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Love it! Love the art, characters, story, comedy, all of it. Also a big fan of the manga (which is finished btw)... now if only they’d release a second season and finish the story off.

Wolf’s Rain:

Genres: Action, Adventure, Drama, Fantasy, Mystery, Sci-fi

Synopsis: In a dying world, there exists an ancient legend: when the world ends, the gateway to paradise will be opened. This utopia is the sole salvation for the remnants of life in this barren land, but the legend also dictates that only wolves can find their way to this mythical realm. Though long thought to be extinct, wolves still exist and live amongst humans, disguising themselves through elaborate illusions. A lone wolf named Kiba finds himself drawn by an intoxicating scent to Freeze City, an impoverished town under the rule of the callous Lord Orkham. Here, Kiba discovers that wolves Hige, Tsume, and Toboe have been drawn in by the same aroma. By following the fragrance of "Lunar Flowers," said to be the key to opening the door to their ideal world, the wolves set off on a journey across desolate landscapes and crumbling cities to find their legendary promised land. However, they are not the only ones seeking paradise, and those with more sinister intentions will do anything in their power to reach it first. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 7.5/10

Finished airing in 2003 with a total of 26 episodes.

My Thoughts: That animation/ artwork is dated and I have trouble ignoring that fact. The soundtrack is also dated but in a delightful sort of way unlike the artwork. I don’t know... I just wasn’t that into this series but i’ve heard from plenty of folks who were so don’t just take my word for it and give it a try if you’re interested!

Wotaku ni Koi wa Muzukashii:

Genres: Comedy, Romance, Slice of Life

Synopsis: Having slept through all four of her alarms, the energetic Narumi Momose finds herself running late for her first day of work at a new office. As she races to catch her train, she makes a promise to herself that none of her coworkers will find out about her dark secret: that she is an otaku and a fujoshi. Her plan goes instantly awry, though, when she runs into Hirotaka Nifuji, an old friend from middle school. Although she tries to keep her secret by inviting him out for drinks after work, her cover is blown when he casually asks her whether or not she will be attending the upcoming Summer Comiket. Luckily for her, the only witnesses—Hanako Koyanagi and Tarou Kabakura—are otaku as well. Later that night, the pair go out for drinks so that they can catch up after all the years apart. After Narumi complains about her previous boyfriend breaking up with her because he refused to date a fujoshi, Hirotaka suggests that she try dating a fellow otaku, specifically himself. He makes a solemn promise to always be there for her, to support her, and to help her farm for rare drops in Monster Hunter. Blown away by the proposal, Narumi agrees immediately. Thus the two otaku start dating, and their adorably awkward romance begins. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8.5/10

Finished airing in 2018 with a total of 11 episodes.

My Thoughts: An extremely enjoyable series that I really hope gets a second season! Highly recommend for anyone looking for a romance that isn’t between teenagers... and really anyone who enjoys some good slice of life comedy about nerds.

#Anime #watashi ga motete dosunda #kiss him not me #wotaku ni koi wa muzukashii

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readysetstarker · 5 years

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Phone Sex AU: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

continuation of the above fic! thanks so much for the support on the original post! i apologize for any typos or mistakes; it’s late and i’ve got insomnia. this one is 3.7k words of filth for ya

Tag list: @strawberryparkers, @hoe4parker, @deliciousflapbanditfarm, @idontfeelsogoodmrspock, @srrnnrrs

Warnings: 19-year-old Peter. Phone sex, anal fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink if you squint.

—

Peter bit back tears as he threw his backpack down hard onto his bedroom floor and locked the door behind him. The stain on his hoodie reminded him of his failure from that morning; mixing up chemicals in his lab had resulted in a full-building evacuation, and his entire chemistry lab had no problem letting everyone know he was to blame.

It certainly didn’t help that Flash made one of his stupid livestreams wherein he broadcasted Peter’s fuckup to the entire school. He was a laughingstock, getting snotty remarks shouted at him all day while walking between classes.

Hey, Parker, where’s the fire?

Blow up any labs today?

Can you come to my 12 o’clock midterm and set fire to Professor Strange’s desk, too? I didn’t study for it and I’m totally going to fail.

Peter shed his dirty hoodie and shoes and tossed it across the room before flopping onto his bed and forcefully groaning into his pillow. He wanted to suffocate himself in it and scream so loud his neighbors would hear it. Every instance of mockery from the day stabbed at his ego like knives until he couldn’t bear thinking of it anymore.

He needed a distraction. Fast.

Studying? No, it just reminded him too much of his laboratory fuckup. He thought about working on his grad school thesis, but again, his mistake kept creeping up with each thought of schoolwork. Peter pulled his face out of the pillow only to pick it up and pull it over the back of his head. Smothering himself to death sounded as good a distraction as any.

The phone nestled in his back pocket vibrated, and Peter pulled his head out from beneath his pillow to check his incoming caller. Aunt May from her cell phone. He answered, giving her a greeting that easily covered up his frustration from the day.

“Hey, May. Are you on your way home from work?”

“Hey, Pete!” May said, and Peter realized he could hear a crowd in the background. “No, I got invited to dinner with some coworkers, so I’ll be late home. We’re getting Mexican. Do you want me to bring you home anything?”

“No, thanks,” Peter said with a small smile. At least May was having a good day. “I think I’ve still got some Chinese leftovers in the fridge. Have fun and call me if you need a ride home.”

“I’m not gonna drink, Pete. Night!”

Peter hung up and returned to his wallowing. At the very least, May wouldn’t be around to witness his lowest point in college.

He peeked out from where he had buried his face into the pillow and stared at his cell phone. His mind immediately supplied him with the memory from a few weeks ago of how he had jerked himself off while a complete stranger had cooed and called him pet names, told him how good he was, called himself Daddy. Peter had been completely blindsided by the things that phone call had done to him.

Not that he was complaining. The word felt so good rolling off his tongue.

“Daddy,” he murmured to himself, eyes slipping shut at the bloom of heat at his cheeks.

Teeth sunk into his bottom lip. May wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, and the bottle of strawberry-flavored lube certainly wouldn’t use itself. Neither would the brand-new “realistically-styled” didlo he had bought online and hidden in his room when the package had arrived. He had yet to use it.

Who better to help me break it in than You-Know-Who?

It was a better distraction than studying, that was for sure.

Peter didn’t know exactly what his Daddy looked like. He was an older man, that much he knew, with dark hair that was going silver from stress at his temples. (He had called it “a curse of age” until Peter told him how much he loved his Daddy’s graying hair.) He kept his facial hair neatly trimmed and always drank whiskey when he worked on the hotline. Peter definitely imagined how his mouth would taste if he could get his tongue between the older man’s lips.

Not knowing what he looked like didn’t stop Peter at all from trying to imagine him. He had even googled celebrities that shared the sparse details he was given to see if he could conjure up a face that matched the voice in his ear. Nothing fit so far, but Peter wasn’t one to give up.

He did know the man’s real name, though: Tony. Generic enough that looking the name up on social media produced hundreds of millions of results, but personal enough that Peter could feel somewhat closer to the person on the phone.

His stomach climbed up into his throat as he found the hotline’s number in his call history and redialed it. This part was nerve-wracking. He had no problem moaning into the speaker and getting himself off with someone in his ear, but having the anticipation of waiting for the hotline operator to answer his call gave him restless butterflies in his stomach.

There was a click on the other end, and the woman’s monotonous voice spoke through the speaker asking what “fantasy” he was looking for. It was maybe the fifth time he’d heard the cold open for the hotline and he still couldn’t get over how utterly uninterested she sounded while delivering it.

“Um, I’m looking for a specific person, actually,” he said. “Extension forty-six?”

“Hold, please.”

Peter felt himself relax as the hold music began playing. Getting past her was the hardest part; here, he moved on to someone who didn’t judge him. Or, at the very least, didn’t sound like they were judging him. Peter didn’t have to hide. His Daddy let him be unashamedly himself while they fucked.

The line finally connected, cheesy saxophone music abruptly cutting off in his ear, and Tony’s smooth voice purred at him through the earpiece. “Hey there, sweet thing.”

“‘Hey there’ yourself, Daddy.”

“Well, well, look who it is,” he said, laughing, while Peter bit back an excited giggle. “I haven’t heard from you in almost two weeks, baby boy. Where’d you run off to?”

“Just living life,” Peter answered. He moved to lay down on his stomach and prop his head on a folded arm, ankles crossed and resting on top of his abandoned pillow. “But I missed you.”

The growl that answered sent chills up Peter’s spine. His skin lit up.

“I missed you, too, Pete. I’ve been rather lonely since our last talk.” Peter liked to think that Tony was sincere, that he genuinely looked forward to Peter’s calls. It certainly helped that he recognized Peter’s voice.

Peter sighed contentedly and relaxed into his mattress. This was exactly what he needed after such a shitty day.

Tony seemed to pick up on his uneasiness. There was silence, probably drinking from his glass, before he said, “Heavy sigh, baby. What has my boy so worried?”

My boy. God, Peter was so fucked.

Peter intended to lie to him, but he liked pretending that Tony worried about him. It was hard to deny the man anything when he spoke like that, right in Peter’s ear. He supposed he could be vague enough, not going into too much detail so as not to take up too much of Tony’s time.

“I just fucked up at school,” Peter said. He repositioned himself to run fingers through his hair. “It was a public fuckup, so it’s not like the only people who know are my labmates. Hell, my advisor probably heard about it, too.”

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day. Anything I can do to make it better?”

Peter had hoped he would ask, and even if he didn’t, he knew just how to segue their conversation in his favor. “There is one thing I can think of,” he said, then lowered his voice to add, “Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby? What can Daddy do to make it better?”

Peter chewed on his lip before answering.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He could hear what might have been a choking sound on the other end of the line and tried not to smile at himself. The thought of surprising Tony by making demands made him a little lightheaded, but in the best way. He pushed himself up to kneel on his mattress while waiting for Tony’s response.

Tony groaned once he got a hold of himself. “That what you want, huh? Want Daddy to fuck you so hard you can’t think of anything else but his cock inside you?”

Peter held back a whine and nodded before remembering Tony couldn’t see him. “Yes, Daddy, I want it so bad.”

He was already growing hard in his pants, and he put a hand over his crotch to palm at the bulge there. He gave himself a few gentle squeezes but nothing more than that; Tony liked control, liked knowing that Peter listened to and obeyed him, and he didn’t want to come too quickly. He did roll up into his palm, though, to keep the ache from overwhelming him.

“What do we say when we want something, Peter?”

“Please.”

“That’s my good boy.”

Peter scrambled across his mattress to the nightstand drawer where he kept his lube and new toy. The lube still had the plastic seal around the cap, and he had to stop himself from excitedly ripping it off with his teeth. He returned to kneeling on the bed, the phone pressed tightly to his ear while he waited for Tony’s instructions.

“Tell me what you’re wearing, pretty boy. I wanna know what I’m tearing off you tonight.”

Peter looked down at himself, wincing at the shirt he was wearing. It was corny, a red short-sleeve shirt with the words If it wasn’t for physics and law enforcement, I’d be unstoppable written across the chest. Ned had gotten it for him for his birthday as a gag gift, not expecting Peter to unironically wear it in public. On his legs was a pair of dark skinny jeans.

He really didn’t have anything sexy in his closet.

Tony never seemed to mind. Even at Peter’s vague answer of just a t-shirt was enough to get a groan from him.

“I bet you’d look good in one of mine,” Tony said into his ear while Peter made quick work of removing his jeans and underwear. “You’d have it falling off your shoulder, barely fitting in it. God, you’d look so delicious, though.”

“Your T-shirt and nothing else?” Peter supplied, and he rolled his hips down into the mattress. “I wanna wear that instead. Can you imagine me like that?”

Tony hissed between his teeth and praised how good Peter would look in a black AC/DC number. Peter sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and ground against his bed again. God, what he would give to actually wear it, straddling Tony’s lap, with a hand larger than his climbing up his thigh and underneath the shirt’s hem. He whined at the mental image now seared in his brain.

“Yeah, baby boy, I definitely can,” Tony said, and Peter hoped he was getting himself off with that image. “Fuck, keep that shirt on, will you? Look so fucking good in my clothes. The only thing better than having you naked.”

Peter moaned and rocked down onto his mattress again, the black and red bottle of fruity lube catching his eye. His mouth watered at the sight of it. He needed something inside of him, and he needed it now.

“Daddyyy,” Peter whined. He reached for the lube. “I need you.”

“Need you too, baby. Want you so fucking bad.” Tony’s voice sounded so rough, so wrecked, and it was all because of Peter. That thought went straight to Peter’s dick. Peter was sure he could have come on that thought alone, no stimulation necessary.

“You got lube?” Tony asked, and Peter confirmed it, popping the cap open where he knew Tony could hear. “Get yourself nice and wet for me, baby. Open up for my cock. I’m gonna fuck you so good, it’s gonna ruin anyone else for you.”

Peter scrambled to get onto his back and set the phone by his pillow on speaker. The lube was cool on his skin as he dribbled it out onto his fingers; the artificially sweet smell of strawberries flooded his nostrils and aided in his hormone-drunk high. He licked a small stripe of it off his fingertip and hummed at the taste. It wasn’t as sweet as it smelled, but the flavor was there.

Unprompted, Tony’s voice came through the speaker: “Spread your legs for me, honey, let me see that sweet little hole of yours. Fuck, can I even get my fingers in you? You’re so goddamn tight.”

Peter’s mouth fell open when he reached between his thighs and the first finger breached through. Instead of a moan, a breathy, high-pitched noise squeezed itself from his throat. His head fell to the side, eyes locating his slim black cell, and he pressed the finger in all the way until his knuckles brushed against his ass.

Each breath was accompanied by a quiet exhalation as he slowly fucked his finger in and out of himself. He clenched his eyes shut. Maybe, he thought, he could pretend it was Tony’s finger pressing into him, another one sliding in beside the first to work him open, teaching his body to welcome the pleasant intrusion. But he knew it was his own fingers by the ache in his wrist and their slender and long size. He liked to think Tony’s would be bigger, thicker, much more pleasurable compared to his own.

Tony moaned next to his ear, and with his eyes closed, Peter could imagine the man was lying next to him and watching his face contort in pleasure from being fingered open.

“God, baby, you feel so fucking good.” Tony groaned on the last word. Was he working himself in his fingers or just acting? Either way, it set a fire in Peter’s chest.

Peter let out a desperate whine and bucked his hips up onto his fingers. “Please,” he begged, opening his eyes. He half-expected to see his Daddy there and was disappointed to find only his phone, still mid-call. “I’m going crazy, Tony, I need you.”

“Yeah, baby boy, I know. I got you.” Tony hissed, high and sharp. “You good to take my cock now? Let me hear you.”

A dejected whimper left his lips as Peter pulled his fingers out of himself. The empty feeling that accompanied their removal was an unfamiliar sensation. He grabbed for the dildo still at his feet and slicked it up quickly. Peter made no attempts to be quiet, and Tony chuckled.

“So eager. Tell Daddy how long you’ve been waiting for him to fuck you.”

“Day one,” Peter admitted as he moved to lie on his stomach and prop his ass up in the air on his knees, cheek now shoved into his pillow, with the dildo held awkwardly between his legs. The mattress dipped and bounced beneath his struggle to find balance. “I’ve wanted you since day one. Wanted you to pin me to the bed and fuck me until I couldn’t stand.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” Tony’s voice held a promise Peter could only wish to be kept. “I’m gonna put it in now. Slow and steady. I want you to feel every inch of it as my cock splits you open.”

Peter followed his instructions, pressing the head against his unused hole and prodding it with wet and sticky fingers until he could nudge it past the tight rim and inside. His breath caught in his throat with the initial penetration, and the pleasant slide and pressure of the silicone dick pushing further inside of him ripped a moan from him. A litany of Daddy, Daddy, yes, Daddy, please poured from his lips until the fake balls of the dildo laid against his own.

Peter let out a heavy breath muffled by the plush pillow on his cheek.

He’s full, so full. Every inch of it Tony’s.

His fingers curled into his bed sheets when he shifted, and the head pressed against something that sent liquid fire through his veins. Peter nearly bit his tongue from the shock of it.

“Daddy,” he cried, pulling the phone closer. On the other end, he swore he could hear Tony’s breath hitching as though he was working himself over, masturbating to the sound of Peter getting himself off.

“Good boy, taking all of Daddy’s cock,” Tony said into the phone, and the praise went straight to Peter’s neglected dick. He managed to resist touching it, ignoring that ache to shove his fingers into his ass. Now, he was so hard he hurt. “How is it, knowing only your Daddy can make you feel like this?”

Peter’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He moved his hips, not daring to do anything more without Tony’s permission.

“Fuck me, please,” Peter keened.

“I could never say no to you, baby boy. You want Daddy to be rough with you?”

“Yes!”

Peter’s fingers struggled to find a steady grip on the edge of the dildo; so much lube, the smell of strawberries permeating each breath he took, that he couldn’t get the silicone to move the way he wanted. It took some doing, but he managed to lock his fingers around the shaft and pull it out of himself slowly. With how awkward the angle was, his shoulder now digging into the mattress, he couldn’t manage to pull more than half of the fake cock out.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he shoved some of the dildo back into his hole. He gasped as it pulled at his rim. Some more lube slicked its way in and out of him, until he could start a steady pace.

Tony sat patiently on the phone and listened to each sound he made. In turn, Peter focused on the other man’s breathing and groaning. He worked himself up to a steady rhythm of the cock pushing in and out of himself, hard enough to make his bed squeak beneath him. He shoved the dick into himself hard, hitting his prostate with the head, and bucked his hips.

His cock begged for attention. He kept his other hand clutching at his pillow.

The squeaky mattress, the sloppy squelching of the generously-lubricated dildo pushing into him; Peter wondered if Tony could hear all of it over the debauched moans and pleading. The word Daddy almost exclusively left his lips with each thrust. Pleas of harder, faster were met with permission to fuck himself that way.

Tony’s admissions were scattered amongst a nearly-endless stream of praise. “So tight, baby. I can feel every inch of you on me. Just for me, aren’t you, baby? You’re made perfect just for me. I’m going to come inside you and eat it out, watching you squirm on my tongue. You’d take it so good, baby boy, like you always take me, and you’d fucking love it. Every inch of you is so goddamn perfect.”

Peter thrust his hips again to seek some sort of reprieve from the endless throbbing between his thighs. The things those words did to him…

“D-Daddy,” he stuttered as a hard thrust sent stars blooming behind his eyelids. “Daddy, please, I’m so close. I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, Petey,” Tony said. He sounded like he was straining to smother his voice, holding back. Was he trying not to moan into the speaker?

Peter didn’t have time to dwell on that thought. His other hand gripped his dark cock so hard that his legs shook, and he was barely three pumps in before he spilled over his hand, strands of spunk tangling between his fingers and dripping down onto his bedsheets. Peter nearly screamed, Tony’s name on his lips as he buried his face into the pillow to drown out the sound so May didn’t get an awkward confrontation with the neighbors later.

He jerked himself furiously, the dildo pushed in as far as he could physically fit it, until the pain overwhelmed the pleasure. The sharp sting from the head of his dick under his fingers made him tear his hand away from himself.

On the phone, he could hear Tony had gone silent, breathing heavily. Peter frowned at having missed hearing his Daddy come, but made sure he was heard as he licked the sticky mess of seed and strawberries from his hand. That earned him a pained groan.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t have that kind of energy anymore,” Tony said, and Peter couldn’t hide his laughter. “But I appreciate the effort.”

The dildo took some work but Peter eventually pulled it out and tossed it onto the floor. He would have to remember to clean it before he used it the next time, and maybe find a better hiding place for it than his sock drawer. That one time May came close to finding it was the closest Peter had ever come to having a heart attack. He wasn’t looking for a repeat performance.

Peter laid on his side on the bed to purposely ignore the puddle of his release still resting on top of his bed sheets. Nothing grosser than laying in it, he thought.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said after he caught his breath. “I needed that.”

“Anything for you.” Tony chuckled on the other end. “We should probably wrap this up. I feel guilty knowing you’ve paid a good chunk of cash for tonight.”

I want to stay, Peter thought, but he caught himself before the words left his lips. Instead, he just agreed with a quiet, “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll catch you later, Tones.”

“Hey, now, don’t sound so disappointed. I could never ignore your calls, my sweet boy. I’ll always answer for you.”

For once, Peter’s thankful Tony can’t see how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He bid Tony goodnight and hung up. One breath, and then two. He really needed to clean up; his sheets and toy needed to be washed, and he needed a shower.

May still wasn’t home when he started the washing machine and when he finished bathing. He caught his wet-haired reflection in the mirror and tried not to cringe at just how disappointed he looked.

“He’s a sex line operator,” Peter said to himself while pushing wet curls from his forehead, “nothing more.”

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #my work #nff #phone sex au #good night i need to try to sleep #i work this weekend #but i'm gonna work on my inbox prompts i promise

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years

Text

The Crackship Sails to Molly’s Natalie Manning x Stella Kidd

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, mention of homophobia, Manning isn’t Nat’s maiden name, she changed it when she got married, just saying, Helen’s kindof a bitch, canon compliant accidents, implied artificial insemination, implied/mentioned smut

They had absolutely no idea how they ended up there. Well, that wasn’t strictly true... Molly’s and ladies’ nights. And tequila, tequila was definitely at fault here. For their hangovers and their nudity under the covers. Unfortunately, the tequila didn’t take their memories, so they knew exactly what they did. Or who they did, rather. And the answer was each other.

After Natalie’s awkward exit from Stella’s apartment above the Hermann house, Stella made quick work of the dirty dishes from their breakfast. She couldn’t help but think back to the previous night. They were so drunk, but Natalie was so hot and Stella just felt something inside her snap. It had felt like a coil, but everything that she and Nat did last night, it all just felt so right, so satisfying. She felt like she was on a high. There was no way she was going to last long without having sex with Natalie again, she could already feel herself going crazy.

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As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. And so, their friends with benefits relationship began. Stella was a bit nervous, she had a two-year-old son and a pretty crazy mother in law. But it felt so right. Until it felt more than right, and both women knew they were in trouble. It started with cuddling after sex and lead to watching movies in the afternoon and lingering touches and longing looks. But one rainy Sunday afternoon, they were cuddled on Natalie’s brand new GRÖNLID, and suddenly it just hit both of them. They were dating, in secret, but dating. Natalie licked her lips and looked Stella in the eye. “Will you go on a date with me?” Stella cradled her face gingerly, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I would love to.”

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It became obvious to Helen very quickly that Natalie was seeing someone, and the thought made her stomach heavy. She knew it wasn’t fair of her to hate the idea of Natalie moving on, but she couldn’t help it. She only had one son. She only wanted one son. And he was gone.

So when Owen was picked up by someone else while Natalie was at work, months after Helen knew she had officially begun dating him, Helen lost it. Her mouth turned bitter as she drove to the hospital, fully prepared to scream at her daughter-in-law in front of her coworkers. When she got to MED she barely remembered to throw her car in park before slamming the door and marching past everyone. The people waiting, nurses, secretaries, the only one who was able to stop her was Maggie. “Helen, hi. How are you? You know you can’t be back here right?”

“I’m here to see Natalie, move.”

“Okay, no. You do not get to speak to me like that ever, much less so in my ED. Drop the attitude. Now.”

“It’s too soon, Maggie, it’s only been-”

“Four years. It has been four years Helen, I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through, but I know that it is absolutely no excuse for acting the way you are. You are not entitled to Natalie’s love life, and you still haven’t apologized to me. And since you’re not in an emergency medical situation and I do not feel like dealing with your BS right now, you need to leave.”

“Maggie you can’t-”

“I’ll call security.”

“Don’t interfere with something that-”

“Security, escort this woman off the premises, please and thank you.” The two security guards Maggie had summoned with a raised eyebrow ended up dragging Helen out kicking and screaming. All while Natalie watched in heartbreak. Was it really that awful that she didn’t want to be alone and empty for the rest of her life?

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Because of the incident at MED Nat and Stella decided it was time to sit Helen down and tell her that they were dating and to get over herself. Helen entered in a huff, somewhat pleased with herself that she finally got Natalie to admit she was seeing someone, but she would be lying her ass off if she said she wouldn’t give whoever this guy was shit for sneaking around with a widow. She didn’t see him though, only a Latina woman in a mustard sweater and jeans. “Alright, where is he?”

“Sit down Helen, you don’t’ get to talk to me that way.” Helen threw herself down onto the same chair she’d tossed her jacket and purse on while Natalie sat beside the woman on the light green couch. Helen felt all her rage and grief evaporate as she watched the two women intertwined hands. “I’m bisexual, Helen. So is Stella. I didn’t figure it out really until I met her. I guess a part of me always knew but I kind of ignored it, because, well, you know how people discriminate against LGBTQ people. But, she makes me so, so happy. And Owen just loves her.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t care about sexualities, really. Love is love and anyone who tries to limit the love of others is a fool and a monster. Truthfully, this is a relief. I was so scared that you’d found a man to replace Jeff. You dating a woman is actually a lot more comfortable for me. I already approve.”

“While I’m glad Stella’s got your stamp of approval, you have to understand that your behaviour recently is unacceptable, right? You are not entitled to anything, and you owe both me and Maggie apologies.”

“You’re... Right. Completely right. There isn’t an excuse or a reason, not a good one anyway. I’m so sorry Natalie. Really, I am... That... That psychiatrist you work with, Dr. Charles, does he, uh, is he accepting patients? I think, I mean I’ve put it off for so long, I think it’s time that I talk to someone. About everything.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Helen, I’ll talk to him tomorrow for you.”

“Thank you. Now Stella, you’ve been very quiet during all this, I’d like to get to know you. What do you do?- Oh! And how long have you two been dating?”

“I’m a firefighter, and we’ve been dating for- eight months?”

“Around that, yeah.”

“That’s wonderful, how do you like being a firefighter?”

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After Helen apologized to everyone and started therapy, things got much calmer. She also became Stella and Natalie’s biggest supporter. Like tonight, she was always offering to babysit for date nights, and the couple took full advantage of that. They were dining out at an intimate restaurant, glad for some time with just the two of them. “So I read this story on Reddit on my break today about this guy who, completely sober, was shoving a toilet brush up his... You know, so that it looked like he had a bunny tail. You guys ever get anything crazy like that?”

“Yeah actually, we’ve got this frequent flyer for ambo who regularly gets high off his ass, draws weird, nonsensical symbols all over his body, then call to complain that he was assaulted by aliens.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, hey, I found The Italian Job on Netflix, the one with Jason Statham. Wanna watch it when we get back?”

“Oh, absolutely. I love his movies.”

“I know right?”

“He’s like the British Ryan Reynolds.”

“Yes! Exactly!”

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TWO YEARS LATER

Stella was just finishing up with the snacks for Owen’s fifth birthday party when the Hermann Horde arrived. “Hey guys! Nat’s just about done with the decorations, but she and Owen are out back.”

“When does Helen get here?”

“She should be here in fifteen, she picked up the cake from the bakery.”

“I thought you were a pretty good baker Stella, why from a bakery?”

“I can bake many things, but a cake for forty people that looks like a shark? Nope. Not that.”

“Owen really likes the ocean, doesn’t he?” Cindy looked around at all the ocean-themed decorations, the snacks dressed up to look like different sea creatures. “He really does, can’t say I blame him though. We go to the aquarium pretty frequently, and damn these little guys are amazing and beautiful.” The placed the last of the jellyfish sugar cookies on the platter and smiled. She really felt like Owen was her son, and as far as anyone was concerned, she was. It would even be official in a couple of months when she and Nat get married. “I love seeing you happy like this Stella.”

“Thanks, Cindy. It feels good.”

“It looks good too, you’re both just so bright and sometimes I swear that Natalie’s glowing.” Stella kissed the older woman on the cheek, biting her lip to keep from revealing that Natalie was glowing, and that they’d be welcoming another member into their family in around eight months.

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TWO MONTHS LATER

Natalie and Stella were overjoyed, they were finally wife and wife, recognized by the state as a family. Hearts full and warm, they danced in slow graceful circles, the skirts of both their gowns flowing in cloud-like motions around them. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.” The music from the orchestra trickled to an end, parting the smiling brides. “Ready to tell them?”

“Yes. I am so excited.” Kisses were exchanged before the blushing brides made their way up to the stage with their arms around each others’ waist. “First of all, we would like to thank everyone for being here to celebrate the best day of our lives.”

“Second of all, we have an announcement to make. Nat’s three months pregnant.” Stella and Natalie placed their hands over Nat’s abdomen, smiling misty tears as they were met with cheers from all of their family and friends, no one louder than Owen.

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FIVE YEARS LATER

While working in the ED Natalie had been a witness to numerous tragedies. She’d also been through a few herself. And Maggie, wise, gentle, loving, Maggie, always knew when the worst of the worst were about to come through. She got this look on her face as she answered the head nurse phone, meaning that it was someone they all knew. After a few whispered words with Ms. Goodwin Maggie’s guilt-ridden gaze settle on Natalie. “Nat, I need you to go wait in the doctor’s lounge.”

“Maggie? What’s going on?” In the back of her mind, in the depths of her heart, Natalie knew what was wrong. But she didn’t want to be right. She wanted to be so, so wrong. “Dr. Conte,” Natalie had realized two months into her and Stella’s relationship that she still had the name she took when she married Jeff at twenty years old and decided to go back to her maiden name. “You need to go wait in the doctor’s lounge.”

“Sharon, no-”

“Incoming! Thirty-three year old female, firefighter, inside an electrical fire when the house went. Halstead, Noah, April, you’re in treatment three.” The sounds of beeps and medical jargon couldn’t be heard above the buzzing in Natalie’s ears. Choi was holding her back, trying to drag her to the doctor’s lounge, stopping her from being with her wife. And then her BP dropped and she flatlined. The instructions given could not be heard by anyone outside of the room over Natalie’s horrified, deafening, soul-shattering scream.

And then it was back. One round of epi and she was back. Natalie broke down into heaving, gut-wrenching sobs in Ethan’s arms. He was the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor, her legs had lost all their strength.

She didn��t remember sitting down, or getting any water or food. But suddenly she feels like she’s woken up and she has a bottle of water and thermos in her hands. “Eat.” Kelly Severide is beside her with a hand on her shoulder. Sylvie is handing her a spoon. Joe is handing her tissues. “Cindy and Helen are watching Owen and Celeste, don’t worry.” She’s drunk the entire water bottle and eaten five spoonful of soup when Maggie approaches her. “Maggie don’t tell me she’s gone- oh God, please no-”

“She’s fine. They’re closing her up now, she’ll recover just fine. Come on, I’ll take you to her recovery room. And bring that thermos. You’re going to finish eating even if I have to tie you down and feed you myself.”

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“Nat?” Stella had woken up, for good this time, and was staring at the love of her life as Connor and Crockett left the room. “You scared me. So, so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just be alive. Please, just stay alive.” Nat kissed her forehead and stroked her hair as all her tears just couldn’t be held back anymore. “I know you love being a firefighter, and I love it too, I will never want you to give up a job that you are so kickass at, but please, please be more careful. I’m begging you.”

“Okay... I’ll be more careful.” Stella’s coughing fit was cured by a glass of water, and the aches in her bones were cured by the gentle hugs from her son and daughter when they saw her an hour later. “I love you.” She chanted to each of them. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” And she did, until she and Natalie were in their eighties and living in Fowlerton. They were found by their neighbour who went to check on them after he didn’t see them on their porch like he did every morning. Stll. Peaceful. Tangled together. In love until their very last breaths.

#One Chicago #Chicago Fire #chicago med #Natalie Manning #stella kidd #natalie manning x stella kidd

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halictus-writer · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 4 of 5)

Remus woke early the next morning, feeling energetic. He brewed a fresh pot of coffee and sat down at his table/desk combination to work on his novel. Safely wrapped in an oversized sweater, he opened the window to let the fresh cold morning air in. It wasn’t until he had settled comfortably into a workflow and even lit a cinnamon-scented candle before he remembered that he should probably still be upset over being blown off from a dinner date last night.

Instead, he felt strangely at peace. Going to the Italian restaurant, laughing with Sirius, and eating pizza had seemed to wash away his troubles, and he wasn’t going to complain if it took a surprisingly short amount of time to feel normal again. After writing a chapter and a half, it was time to leave for his breakfast with the girls.

As Remus walked out of his apartment building, he tossed his jacket over his shoulder and almost skipped down the sidewalk–– tiramisu safely in hand–– with joy. Something about the day just felt good.

Walking into the breakfast nook, he spotted his friends already seated at a table.

“Marls! Dorcas!” He greeted them warmly, giving each of them a side-hug.

Dorcas responded with a “Hey, babe!” While Marlene fixed him with a look.

“You,” she said, index finger pointing at his chest, “are absolutely glowing.”

Remus’s cheeks began to turn red, a lingering side effect of any attention whatsoever being directed towards him. His smile stayed in place though. “What, no I’m not.”

“Why do you look so happy?”

“Also,” he drew out the word, talking over Marlene, “I brought you a gift!” Remus handed over the box containing last night’s tiramisu, previously concealed by his jacket.

“Oh my god, this looks so good.” Dorcas said, eyeing the dessert.

Marlene started to close the box again when Dorcas made a noise of protest. “What?” She asked, laughing. “We have to wait until after we eat breakfast.”

“No we most certainly do not, we are adults!” Dorcas protested, and reopened the box.

Conversation flowed comfortably between the three of them, updating each other on the events of the past week. For every minute of serious conversation, there seemed to be two more of random banter, staccatoed with flicking straw wrappers and play-fighting when Dorcas or Marlene wanted to prevent the other from telling a funny story at the expense of her girlfriend. After Marlene all but tackled Dorcas to successfully pass her phone to Remus–– displaying a video of a wine-drunk Dorcas driving backwards in Mario Kart, her face dropping in shock when Marlene’s voice from behind the camera points out that she is in last place–– they got disdainfully frowned at from a tourist family and an old married couple. James would have been proud.

Eventually, Dorcas brought the conversation back to Remus’s cancelled date. “So, Marls is right, you are glowing, and I love that, but tell us about last night. You don’t seem upset about it?”

Remus shrugged. “Well, yeah, I mean it sucked waiting around for the dinner date that never happened, but if it wasn’t meant to be then there’s really no use losing sleep over it, I suppose.”

Dorcas looked mildly impressed by his answer.

“Plus, I salvaged the evening by treating myself to pizza at the Italian restaurant right by my apartment. That’s where your pre-breakfast dessert hailed from.”

Marlene looked at the now-empty to-go box in surprise. “Wow, I love how we just devoured that and didn’t even ask you where it came from. I don’t think I even said thanks?”

“Don’t worry babe, we were doing him a favor. Remus hates soggy cake.” Dorcas stated confidently.

Remus laughed. “You’re welcome,” he said, looking only at Marlene. “But yeah, I wish the waiter knew that about me. I would be totally happy with any other free dessert, but I guess tiramisu is their specialty or something.”

“Wait, hold on,” Marlene paused. “Are you saying you didn’t buy this for us? I’m withdrawing my belated thanks.”

“No, no, wait hold on, but to the other part of that sentence,” Dorcas said. “Are you saying a waiter gave you a free dessert?”

“Yeah, he kind of always does.”

“Wait, is he like, flirting with you?”

“No!” Remus said, assuredly, but his cheeks turned warm anyway.

“He gave you a free dessert. He has given you multiple free desserts? That is definitely flirting.”

Remus wanted to protest this statement, somehow, but all he could come up with was a strangled sort of noise.

Marlene seemed encouraged by his obvious embarrassment. “Oh my god, you’re going to fall in love and make babies with the help of modern science. Your baby is going to like tiramisu and be born with the personality of an old man. Half you and half waiter boy.”

“What’s his name what’s his name what’s his name,” Dorcas parroted, poking him in the arm with each question.

“Absolutely not.” Remus answered. Having already witnessed Dorcas’s impressive online stalking skills, he wasn’t about to give her a name as unique as Sirius. “Besides, uh,” his tone softened, “honestly I think he only brings me desserts because he feels sorry for me.”

Dorcas’s playful smile dropped. “Oh, Remus,” she began, “don’t sell yourself short.”

Marlene nodded with her, but mercifully changed the subject a minute later.

***

Remus shifted in his seat as his phone vibrated once, signifying an incoming text message. He was in his daily meeting with the other writers for the newspaper. They had just wrapped up the business side of the meeting, and had moved on to the fun side: presenting the best (worst?) reader comments from their online stories.

“Okay, okay, my turn,” the room quieted as Minerva spoke up. She was one of the older writers, and had been at the paper for almost ten years now. Everyone respected (and possibly feared) her, but Remus had immediately connected with her after they locked eyes during a lunch break to discover that they were both reading the newest Margaret Atwood novel and sipping Earl Grey tea. “On my article covering the shopping mall that tried to prevent breastfeeding in public, Ken M. wrote ‘aside from being completely unnecessary, breastfeeding encourages babies to objectify women.’”

The room burst into laughter, and Remus took the opportunity to subtly check his phone. Sure enough, it was Roy, the man he had been messaging for the last few days, and had even moved from Tinder’s chat platform to real texting. He smiled, but turned the phone to Do Not Disturb until the meeting was over.

“Ken M. strikes again!” Someone else announced.

“Ken M. deserves his own column, I swear.” A voice from the back of the room chimed in. “This man comments something completely ridiculous on every post. On my piece on updated bus routes he got into an argument with someone else, and I didn’t read all the comments to know how it got there, but Ken M. ended their dispute with, and I quote, ‘God is a ridiculous myth.’”

Remus laughed along with his coworkers, and took a moment to enjoy the fun banter. He loved his job for his career, but also enjoyed the little positive moments that arose from his sudden move to the big city: meeting Minerva, discovering the infamous Ken M., and laughing along with his coworkers during a meeting. His old job had been at a small newspaper where the main source of workplace laughter was Remus silently laughing at the incompetence of his coworkers, not his readers.

As the meeting ended and people began to file out of the room, he pulled out his phone. Roy told Remus he wanted to take him to his favorite restaurant on Saturday night, and Remus happily agreed to meet him in front of the Pike Place Market neon sign at 6:30. The restaurant was a short walk from there, and Remus was glad he didn’t have to awkwardly refuse getting into the car with someone he didn’t know on a first date.

I want the restaurant to be a surprise, Roy had sent, but do you have any dietary restrictions? Remus appreciated his foresight, and answered with, I’m vegetarian, but I eat pretty much anything otherwise! Remus took a moment to smile dopily after receiving a quick response: perfect.

Remus was excited for the date. Roy was very handsome, with curly blond hair, soft blue eyes, and dimples. He was also, if his profile was to be trusted, very accomplished.

***

The date was horrible. Roy kept most of the conversation centered on himself and his many achievements. Remus noticed that his eyes were actually brown, and while Remus had nothing against brown eyes, seeing as he had a pair of them himself, he couldn’t help but feel weirded out by the fact that Roy, or Gilderoy, as he referred to himself in the third person, had taken the time to edit or filter his eye color in all of his online photos.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Remus had already reminded himself over and over that it was just one date, and that even if it was disappointing, he would have a good story to tell later, and he didn’t feel unsafe at all. His friends had his phone’s location, and Dorcas had already assured him that she would “track down and throw from the Space Needle” any man who tried to harm Remus.

Remus tried to muster a polite smile as Roy told him about his obviously fabricated second meeting with Oprah, but his smile completely dropped when he read the front of his menu. They were at a steakhouse.

Their waitress approached, saving Remus from whatever monologue he was about to be subjected to. “What can I get started for you guys tonight?” She sounded bored, which Remus was willing to credit her for, as he understood working in the food industry was not exactly glamorous, but he still stupidly thought of Sirius’s excitement as he waited tables.

Roy had the nerve to try to order for Remus. Remus cut him off and appealed to the waitress. “I’m sorry, I realize you probably don’t get that many vegetarians here, but are there any vegetarian menu items?”

“You’re vegetarian?” The waitress said in surprise.

Remus didn’t expect that response, but he turned directly to Roy as he answered, “yes.”

***

An hour later, Remus was finally free of Roy. The aggravating man had offered to pay for the whole meal, with a public brandishing of his multiple credit cards, but Remus insisted they split it, just to ensure that no one thought he owed him anything. Remus wanted to never see this man again, and if that meant paying for half of a check that consisted of one expensive filet mignon and one cheap side salad, then it was well worth it.

Remus said goodbye in the midst of the Public Market, and then walked away. The last thing he wanted to do was get walked home by the insufferable man and have to listen to him, or worse, have to listen to him invite himself upstairs. As he walked home, he blocked Roy’s phone number, for good measure, and deleted the Tinder app from his phone. He dully realized that if he wanted to deactivate his account for good he would need to redownload the app first, but the symbolism felt nice in the moment.

Composure carried Remus inside his apartment building and up the stairs, but after finally locking his door behind him, he started crying. It was stupid really, and thinking that the idiot he wasted one evening with was making him cry only made him cry harder. His tears were out of frustration more than sadness.

He was frustrated that he couldn’t find a decent man on Tinder. He was frustrated that some asshole took him to a fucking steakhouse after knowing he was a vegetarian. He was frustrated because for whatever reason, he was alone on a Saturday night, again, and he very well may be alone on all future Saturday nights, because his ex-boyfriend decided that he didn’t love him anymore. What was even worse to think about, somehow, was that Remus didn’t even want his ex-boyfriend back. It would be so simple, he thought, to simply miss him, and hope that he would change his mind, and Remus could move back to his little college town and get his old job back at the small newspaper and compromise his life away. But he didn’t even want that anymore. Instead, he had to navigate the world not knowing if there was anyone that he could build a life with, all the while wasting his time on losers like Roy. And he was frustrated because he was hungry, having eaten only a small side salad for dinner.

Fueled by hunger and frustrated tears, he got up, grabbed his journal and pocketed a pen, made a halfhearted effort to wipe the tears from his face, and didn’t bother to change out of his date clothes before he headed out to go eat some comfort food.

He started crying a bit on his way to the restaurant, but it was dark outside and the anonymity of the large city granted some comfort. By the time he got to the restaurant, he was mostly calmed down, and just wanted to eat his pizza in silence, and process his emotions through writing them down in the journal he brought.

It was surprisingly busy at the restaurant for being so late on a Saturday night, and Remus took advantage of that fact to quietly slip into a booth as far away from Sirius’s normal section that he could. Remus didn’t think he would be able to keep up with Sirius’s banter, or familiarity, or free tiramisu tonight. Until he had taken the time to process his night on paper, he didn’t want to have to talk to anyone he knew. After a minute of solitude, a middle-aged waitress approached his table: success. He placed his order and went back to his journal.

As always, he started to feel better almost immediately after he started writing. Once he came to a good stopping point, he paused to look up, and drank some of the cold water the waitress had brought earlier. A few deep breaths later and he was feeling almost like a real human again.

Just then, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

“Hey there.” Sirius’s voice sounded warm, as always, but slightly hesitant too.

“I brought you something, uh, I saw that your pizza just went in the oven, so it’s still going to be a few minutes.” He placed a small platter of roasted green beans to the side of Remus’s journal, and gave a tentative smile.

Remus had a quick fleeting thought of do you think I don’t eat enough vegetables? But, he realized how tasty they looked and how hungry he was. He felt his eyes water slightly as he tore his gaze from the gifted appetizer back up to Sirius.

“Do you feel sorry for me?” Remus asked, suddenly, “because I’m always alone?”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Remus was almost as surprised as he was, for having verbalized the question that had popped into his mind at the moment. He supposed he meant to say alone here, in the restaurant, because that is where Sirius sees him, but it worked in the general sense too.

“How could I feel sorry for you,” Sirius said slowly, “when you look that good, even while you’re upset.” Sirius’s confident smile crept back onto his face as he walked away.

Remus watched him in surprise, and after a few seconds Sirius turned suddenly, instantly locking eyes with Remus. Caught. Sirius winked and turned back around again.

Remus frantically texted his friends. He first had to update them on the horrible date he had gone on, and then the friendly interactions he has had with Sirius over the course of his many visits to the restaurant, and finally what Sirius just said.

Marlene: First of all, Dorcas and I are gonna find this Roy guy and kill him, probably

Marlene: Second of all, REMUS! You gave me sexy-waiter-flirtation-tiramisu! What if he had put a love potion in it or something??

James: I think I’m missing something about tiramisu… is that some kind of euphemism??

Remus updated them on the desserts that Sirius had given Remus ever since he first came to the restaurant. He also started to smile again, almost unwillingly, at his friends’ texts. He remarked how much can happen in a night: excitement about a date, frustration during said failed date, sadness afterwards, spiraling into thinking he would never date again, getting flirted with, and eventually laughing as his wonderful friends tried to cheer him up, cheer him on, and just be their wonderfully unique and crazy selves.

Lily: Remus this is a sign! I said meeting someone organically would be the best, and here we are. You’ve been getting flirted with this whole time by someone you met in person!

Dorcas: She’s right, you should totally go for it! He obviously likes you

James: Come on mate, what do you have to lose?

Remus thought for a second, before responding to his support group.

Remus: my emotional support pizza

James: what??

The group convinced him to flirt back, and Remus silenced the phone before Sirius came back with his pizza. Evidently he had taken over his table from the earlier waitress.

“And here at last, one margherita pizza. Careful, it’s pretty hot, fresh out of the oven.” Sirius fiddled with the notepad he wrote orders in after setting the pizza down. “Um, enjoy your pizza.” He turned to walk away.

“Hey,” Remus spoke up, suddenly. Sirius turned around quickly at the sound. Remus’s eyes crinkled with happy mischief. “You too.”

Sirius laughed and continued his walk back to the kitchen.

***

When Sirius brought the check, Remus carefully penned his signature and a twenty percent tip. He idled for a moment, before flipping the receipt over and writing a string of ten digits. He paused for a second again, before adding underneath in neat scrawl “should you choose not to call, we must never speak of this, because I need to be able to eat margherita pizza here on my really bad days.” On a new line underneath, he just wrote “Remus”.

***

Thirty-four minutes later, Remus received a text message from an unknown number.

“Don’t worry Remus, I would never get between a man and his pizza.”

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thebickedwitchoftherest · 4 years

Text

Unraveled || Cece & Otto

Location: The Magic Circle

Featuring: @gravityfissure

Summary: Otto calls in Cece to talk about magic, but they mostly just flirt.

The Magic Circle was quiet for a Thursday. Although it was still early, Otto knew that a fair few of their regulars would be stopping in soon enough and was in the process of organising a few of the bottles. He knew precisely where each was located, it was a skill you needed when things got busier as the night drew on. Patrons didn’t care to be kept waiting and the smooth efficiency with which the bar staff worked and communicated kept everything moving in orderly fashion. Out of most of the odd-job bar gigs he’d worked across the years Otto had to admit the Circle was a nice change of pace. Not to mention the garden theme and twinkling light charms emanated a welcoming atmosphere that put most of their guests at ease; it was a rustic oasis of calming charm in a town that seemed hell bent on providing its residents with anything but. He was just in the process of pouring out a pint for Old Joe; a grizzled werewolf with a hefty tuft of a beard who always seemed to look half-asleep even when talking to you when the door to the establishment opened and a familiar figure walked in. Glancing over his smile brightened, “evening love, with you in just a second” he winked before quickly adding the pint to Old Joe’s tab. With no other patrons in need for the moment, he slid down and out from behind the bar to meet Cece half-way opening his arms for a hug. “Cece, looking stunning as ever. How the devil are you?”

Cece liked the magic circle. It didn’t take long after discovering it for the bar to become one of her favorites in town. This was of course in part to the exclusivity of it all. Though she tried to keep a downlow on her abilities, the bar was specifically known for being a pretty secretive place. The other part was the company. Since the place was so exclusive the people that frequented the place seemed to have a Cheers familial type presence to them. Plus, the bartender was easy on the eyes. “Otto! If it isn’t my favorite bartender and hype man.” She greeted him with a hug, doing a little twirl for show, “You’re right of course, but I never get tired of hearing you say it. You’re not looking so bad yourself.” He finger gunned at Old Joe. The two saw each other often but never exchanged much more than a head nod. “I’m fantastic as always. I’m ready for the tea” Cece turned her attention back to Otto, hopping onto a bar stool and resting her elbows on the bar, “And for whatever’s on special tonight. How are you holding up tonight?”

Some things warranted exclusivity and if that branch of secrecy protected those that came here then all the more for it. Otto knew that a lot of the patrons still preferred to maintain their airs and not disclose what they were, which was fine, so long as you didn’t cause any lasting trouble for other clients or the staff. Anything that was deemed too much would be taken care of swiftly and efficiently. “Always, always” he beamed, wrapping her up for a moment before letting her go so she could take a seat. “And I will never tire of saying it.” Slipping back behind the counter once more he set about immediately setting out a cocktail glass and turning to the bottles behind him. His hands moved with practised efficiency, spinning one to pour out just the right amount while throwing another bottle to his free hand, each movement finessed and accentuated by a soft purplish trail of shadow dotted with glittering silver sparks. Magical illusions, nothing too taxing or draining to perform but entertaining regardless. The finished drink - rose petal in colour with a white base was slid forward. “I like to call this one split decisions. Gin, Marie-Framboise, Forhave Apertif with a dash of lemon. Fresh and lively.” There was no point in rushing, they could get into the topic of what he’d wanted to chat about once she’d settled. “How’s life? Not been hassled too much by those mimes wandering the streets I hope?”

Cece watched with glee as Otto put some pizazz into his drink making, another perk of her favorite bartender. He certainly liked to put on a show. Cece was sure that his pockets full of tips at the end of the night lent a hand in him continuing to show off. The end result was a pretty drink, just flashy enough to make a statement without making Cece feel like she was drinking a pina colada. “You work magic, Otto.” She joked, sliding the drink over to take a long sip, “Mmm magnifique, as per usual.” She beamed dreamily, taking another sip to savor the flavor. “You know me, I like to stay busy.” Cece shrugged. Admittedly, she had been pretty bored since Morgan had moved out. Work kept her busy during the day, but she found herself either at the bars or curled up on her couch watching TV. Neither were particularly exciting by herself. She was ecstatic for the excuse to run by the bar tonight to meet Otto. “Not even the mime version of me would have the balls to try to kill me” Cece joked, wondering why she hadn’t seen one of her own. She had heard talk around talk. Another notch on an increasingly long list of supernatural things that White Crest citizens willfully ignored. Shocker. “How about you, you surviving out here?”

Otto knew well enough his job was just as much about showmanship as it was serving the drink, it was the nature of the sort of work he was drawn to - client first. Whether in pouring a drink or stealing a priceless relic, so long as they were happy and got what they wanted at the end of the day his bank would be full and happy. “Anything to keep you coming back,” he winked, his tone light-hearted and playful as ever another fact of the job. People came here to deal with their issues, not listen to the front of house complain about theirs and Otto was rather good at keeping his issues out of sight and out of mind. “Yes, you do. But has anything interesting happened? You can tell me your life’s been all work no play?” He threw the rag that he used to wipe down the counter to one side, folding his arms and leaning forwards, occasionally his eyes would drift to the rest of the bar but no one else needed his attention right now. “Oh don’t say that too loud, next thing you know she’ll be right up in here trying just that…” he made a face at the thought, the clean up would be horrific. “Well enough besides the weird black liquid pouring out of my taps… Not to mention a cute guy bringing me flowers. Life’s on the up and up all things considered.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I think you’re stuck with me for life now.” Cece tipped her glass towards Otto and took another long drink. “My life has been shockingly uneventful over the last month. My roommate moved out. My boss practically had a nervous breakdown, so now I get to work extra hours making sure her replacement doesn’t fuck up the morgue. She claims he’s competent at his job, but I’m not so sure.” Admittedly, Cece was almost positive that he was perfectly capable of performing his job well, but she didn’t like him. That was all she needed to be unimpressed with any little thing he did differently than Regan. “I need something to do. Anything, honestly.” She hadn’t spent this much time alone in months. “Can you imagine? Two of me in here? Poor Old Joe’s heart couldn’t take it.” She flirted, glancing over at him, knowing that he must have heard her. He didn’t give any indication that he had. Boo. “Black liquid was a rocky start, but please tell me more about this cute guy of yours! Give me a love life to live through Otto. I’m begging you.” She gave her classic puppy dog eyes, staring up at him pleading as she took a long sip from her straw, finishing the drink with a loud slurping noise.”

“There are worse things in life than having you around,” Otto laughed, shaking his head fondly before looking back to his friend. “Your boss? Regan right?” Nervous breakdown? The thought made him frown. “Sheesh… Sounds like hell in the WCPD.” Was that why so many cases in this town went unsolved? Granted, some of them were more than most people informed on the realities of their would could handle let alone the many mortals that bolstered the department’s ranks. But that wasn’t really their fault. “I don’t think any of us would. Nothing could withstand that level of beauty… But if you’re looking for things to do I’ve got a couple of things I could use a hand with…” he threaded his fingers together. “Well, the black liquid is one of the jobs I need a hand with, but how about details about the cute guy in return for help on these problems?” he offered with a tilt of his head. “Now steady on there love,” he laughed holding up a hand, “I’d say love life is a stretch by a mile. We met by chance at a club, hit it off and it’s a complete and utter disservice to how attractive he is to say he’s simply handsome, but…” Otto’s grin grew a little more coy “he’s hot as hell...” He pointed at the drink, “another?”

Sure, Cece loved to gossip. Probably more than was any good for her, and drinking only made it worse. But even Cece knew better than to overshare about Regan’s personal life. “Yeah, well… Lots of people dying in town. Plus, the captain is convinced that the supernatural doesn’t exist so that doesn’t help cases get solved.” She shrugged, “Or well, they get solved incorrectly.” Cece enjoyed most of her coworkers, and they did their best considering the resources provided to them. “You drive a hard bargain, but I think we can work out a deal.” Cece clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh I’m so sorry Hugh Hefner, didn’t know I was dealing with Playboy.” She had an image of this hot many in her head, hoping that the real thing did her picture any justice. “Ah, to meet a hot boy at a club and get flowers. Feels like a Taylor Swift song.” She pounded her hands on the counter playfully and chanted, “Another, another, another!” She was excited for her other drink, but even more to help out with whatever Otto needed.

While the staff didn’t necessarily deal in gossip that which did get said here didn’t tend to go any further. It was a respect thing between them and the patrons of this place, a safe haven to escape the world for a little bit. “Yeah, nothing can really help with that can it? But I guess you’re right, you have to work with what you get.” Cece’s excitement was easily infectious and Otto always found himself smiling a fair bit more around her. “Oh shut up,” he huffed good-naturedly, “it’s not my fault all good things typically happen when I’m buzzed.” He shook his head a little, “nah, his name’s Luke, really short hair, golden brown eyes, about my height and pretty athletic… And when he smiles he gets these really cute little dimples.” It was strange, having friends to talk to about things like this. The Tarot never really interested themselves all that much in the personal affairs of their members so long as they kept to the job. “Actually… I might have a photo,” fishing out his phone he started thumbing through until he found a photo and turned the phone around “cute right?” Once Cece had seen the photo, Otto was off down the bar once more pouring up another fix of the drink he’d given her earlier.

Cece shrugged, “My job is to test pee, not solve crime.” Sometimes she got swept up in the excitement of it all, but when it came to the unsolved mysteries it would drive Cece up the wall knowing something about a case that she wasn’t able to talk about because there was no way that Regan would believe her or the Captain would laugh her out of his office. Not that she had ever tried, because it wasn’t really her place. Sometimes she let the excitement get away from her, like with Felix and that murdered vampire. But despite her attitude, she really hadn’t moved here to be flashy. She just wanted to have some fun and live a life. “Luke, huh? Sounds cute.” Cece flirted, perking up when he offered to find a picture of him. She grabbed onto the phone to get a better look and whistled, “Damn dude! Okay, okay. I’ll give you that win.” She handed the phone back off to him, leaning back in her chair and watching as he worked his magic again on her drink. “Do you think he has an equally cute, interested in girls, brother?” She questioned Otto, “Next time you go out drinking you gotta take me with you apparently. Maybe I’ll have better luck.”

“Alright, fair enough. But you’ll help solve a mystery in a pinch and that’s what really counts for something,” Otto grinned as he leaned back on the counter folding his arms loosely across his chest. “He is, but it’s not really serious. He’s fun and makes things interesting,” Otto wasn’t really even sure what it was they had. A fling that had turned into an enjoyable morning and then Lucas had jumped to come over and make sure there wasn’t a gloop monster about to form in his kitchen. It was sweet… But Otto didn’t know what sweet really counted for these days. “Maybe? Honestly we… haven’t really discussed that kind of stuff,” in fact, Otto realised in that moment they hadn’t really spoken about much of anything. Then again, if it wasn’t serious was that stuff still warranted? “Sure, I’ll let you know when I’m going out. We’ll hit the town.” With that settled his mind moved on to other matters “but uh, the stuff I mentioned-- There’s something I wanted to ask you...” His playful expression grew a little more serious and he worried his lip for a moment before asking, “have you ever encountered… Any kind of magic that doesn’t… uh… conform to the normal branches? Like you know how stuff is subdivided usually? Elemental, divination, alchemy… You know the works. Ever seen anything that doesn’t… fit those?” Or not been mentioned at all?

Maybe Otto was serious that his fling with this Lucas character was nothing more than a night or two together, but Cece couldn’t hold back her giggling when she caught on that Otto did seem a bit flustered thinking about him. She knew there was something deeper to that effortless flirt persona. “Doesn't matter, I’ll figure out for myself when I run the background check,” Cece joked, winking at the bartender, “Gotta keep my boy safe. Can’t have him running around with any sketchy figures. All it takes is a pretty face for you to fall hard apparently. I didn’t know Otto was such a softie.” She would have to remember to let Regan know beforehand that she would be sick the next morning when her and Otto went out somewhere. Something told her that it would be a wild night. Eventually, Otto got into the real reason that he had asked her to swing by. A different kind of magic? Cece hadn’t thought much on what Otto had wanted to talk to her about, but that certainly hadn’t been one of her theories. “I’ve seen a bit of it all back in my day, or at least it feels that way.” The coven saw a lot of people pass in and out as they moved around, so she had minimal exposure to all sorts of fresh faces with unique specialties and ideas. “Depends on what you mean. Like necromancy? Blood magic? How morally acceptable are we talking?”

“Oh god,” Otto groaned pressing a hand to his face at the thought of her running a background check on a guy he barely knew. “Wait…” his hand dropped and he looked at his friend “did you run a background check on me?” He wasn’t sure what the results might be, but then again… Cece was still friends with him so maybe she didn’t really mind so much. Though there were things about his past he’d much prefer remained hidden. Those secrets didn’t need to see the light of day. But talk moved on and Otto folded his arms as he waited for Cece to give her input. “No nothing of the sort, it’s cliche and niche” he waved his hand in a mildly dismissive motion, his arms folded once more over his chest fingers curling a little into the material of his shirt “like… What if you found out you could… change the forces on something… Like… push a bullet off course or stop someone plummeting to their death…”

“Are you kidding? Duh?” Cece shrugged, taking a long drink from her glass and setting it back down, folding her hands together and leaning against the bar, “Any you have a lot of explaining to do mister.” She stared at him for a long moment before she smirked, smacking the table and leaning back in her chair, “Nah I’m just fucking with you. I’m a toxicologist, I can’t run background checks.” Still the most interesting part of the night had apparently just begun. Otto’s question was starting to sound a lot less hypothetical. It sounded like he was a bit more serious about the topic. “Well I definitely wouldn’t have lost that axe throwing contest in Dallas. I lost like $400 bucks on that bet.” She mentioned casually, suddenly thinking further on the subject, “Wow drunk Cece was really confident about that bet considering she’d never thrown an axe before”. She stared up at the ceiling again, remembering the night. Then she remembered the situation, and literally waved the memory off, focusing back on Otto, “That’s not important. Anyways, I’d say that sounds pretty dope. Some kind of telepathy? Do you have a specific example?”

There was an extended pause and a momentary debate of wondering whether she had actually found something before Otto rolled his eyes good-naturedly despite the momentary internal panic that hadn’t conveyed into his expression. “You’re a little shit Ce, I love you but damn girl you had me wondering what dirty laundry you were gonna pull out,” he clicked his tongue lightly but his demeanor remained light-hearted as ever. “I’m sure I could get you that money back at the next local fair or whatever they do in this neck of the woods for fun, probably in the weight of goldfish and stuffed animals but either way...” But a bet was rather besides the point of why and what he was asking. “Well, telepathy is the sharing of thoughts between minds, telekinesis is moving shit… It’s a bit like that but… I’m talking more… being able to reverse, redirect the gravity and forces acting on something.” One example came to mind, always the first thing that did when he dwelled on this but the sudden flashes of blood splattering the walls and a man crumpling to the ground weren’t an ideal example to give to a police officer regardless of how lax their… protocol might be. “Someone fell off a cliff the other day, I broke their fall from a plumet to… a glide. Caveat is… it only seems to work in stressful situations.” At least right now. His issue was trying to find that control in situations that weren’t life-threatening or stressful.

Cece had a devilish smile plastered to her face, “I know I am.” But she couldn’t help herself, if the opportunity presented itself, she had to make some sort of joke about it. What was she supposed to do? Be boring? No thanks. “Wow, fighting to restore my honor? I might be the one buying you flowers next.” She finished off her second drink, and realized from Otto’s explanation that these drinks were clearly strong because she couldn’t keep her ESP skills straight, “Hm. Potato, potahto. Some kind of gravity magic, huh? Haven’t heard of that one before.” It sounded interesting enough, though. Stopping someone from plummeting to their death? That was impressive. And it sounded fun. “Sounds like you need a training buddy.” If Otto could only use the abilities under life-threatening circumstances, that just meant he needed to be put under more stressful scenarios so he got a chance to practice more. Maybe after enough of those, he could start to get a handle on the ability under normal circumstances as well. “I feel like if we put our brain power together we can figure something out, yeah? What do you say? Partners?”

“Don’t flatter me like that or else you might be the one coming home with me tonight,” Otto winked playfully, a mirthful laugh leaving him as he turned to pour himself a glass of water from the tap. Sipping this he gave a nod to her summary, “seems so… Only issue is, I don’t have a coven and well… It’s not like there’s anyone around that can do this too. I’m flying blindfolded in fog on this one...” He could tell it was related to stress, but that didn’t make it any easier to recognise how best to actually harness control over it. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” he admitted when she made her suggestion his smile faint but hopeful that perhaps with help he’d get the knack of figuring this out. So Otto nodded, offering his hand out across the bar. “Partners.”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” Cece winked back at him. Two could play at that game. Sure, Old Joe was a bit of a buzzkill but Cece had never minded an audience much. “Coven’s are overrated anyways” Sure, those words may have been inspired by Cece’s not exactly stellar experience with a coven in the past. It hadn’t left a particularly good taste in her mouth and she just figured she was done with it all when she got to Maine. Obviously White Crest had something else in mind for her. Maybe someday she could see herself joining one again. Were there any hippy ones around town? A little less murdery than her former coven? “You’re the only one that we know of. There are some other witches in town. Maybe we can see if they know anything about this shit. On the DL of course.” Cece thought of other options, perhaps finding some telekinetic person could help? Different magic apparently but they had cross functions. Could help with the basics. Though Cece didn’t know anyone with telekinesis. “So excited to officially be in business with you! Let’s start with a timeframe. How long ago was it that you figured out you had these abilities?”

“Who says it has to be a dream?” It was easy familiarity and perhaps a dash of confidence that left him posing the subtle challenge. He gave her a slightly strange look upon hearing the statement about covens, “I dunno… My one back in NYC was pretty cool… I was definitely more powerful when I was connected and siphoning energy from the leys there.” In all honesty, Otto missed the social aspect of the coven as well. Every one worked differently, but ultimately there was power in numbers that couldn’t be denied. “Maybe, I just don’t want to draw too much attention, you know?” But there had to be some answers, maybe in the archive. Though that would come with time. “Uh…” there was an awkward look that crossed his expression “right before I arrived in town… Kind of the reason I had to leave the city… But...” He made a slightly funny face again, seeming to wrestle with himself as to whether it was worth sharing. “I think… I think I’ve always had the capacity… There might’ve been… an incident when I was a kid...” That is if you could call sending your parents car headlong into oncoming traffic because of a temper tantrum an incident.

“Ooh la la. Otto, you’ll make me blush.” Cece reached out and pushed at his shoulder playfully. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, though it seemed a bit tasteless given Otto’s recent suitor. Cece and Otto had obviously spoken of each other’s abilities, but they hadn’t talked much about coven’s before. Cece wasn’t opposed to speaking of her coven, but she wasn’t about to go in great detail. Her distaste for the memory was enough. “You’ll have to tell me about them some night. My coven ended up sucking ass. Maybe you can sweeten up the bitter taste I have for covens.” She chuckled, mostly joking. “Fair enough. I definitely get wanting to stay lowkey.” Even if the supernatural in this town seemed a bit excessive, she wasn’t exactly ready to start mixing cauldrons and performing seances at the local Dairy Queen or anything. “Ooh, the plot thickens. So let’s assume this is some kind of genetic magic instead, not just something that anyone could practice. Early childhood experience with it would suggest that. Especially without any prior knowledge. That’s certainly interesting. Color me intrigued.”

“I think it’ll take more than that to get you blushing love,” it was nice banter and Otto wasn’t entirely joking in the suggestion he put forward. Whether it led to anything, well, that was another matter entirely. “Maybe I will, but on a night I’m not working… That sort of uh… thing isn’t for public environments.” For the time being covens weren’t his biggest concern, it was mostly trying to figure out this damned ability before it landed him in actual hot water. It had already ruined his life in New York, he didn’t need a repeat of that here. The memory of the bank caused his expression to drop minutely but Cece always could pick up what he meant. She seemed to tether on rather easily and his smile returned not much later. “Yeah… Issue is I don’t have anyone to ask about this stuff. I thought my old mentor at the Tarot - our coven might have some answers, but I’m not sure contacting them is a good idea right now… I left under not the most… ideal circumstances.” Perhaps it was better to talk now than later about this, he checked his watch. “You know what? Thierry will be here soon to take over my shift… I’ll be free after that, we can go back to mine and talk more there... ”

Interesting. Cece had thought Otto had a positive experience with covens, but is now hearing that he didn’t leave under the best circumstances? That was peculiar. She would have to dig deeper into that someday. But now didn’t seem like the time. “Right. Keep to the shadows and everything. I can keep things on the DL” Cece finger-gunned at Otto and winked. It would be cool to see some new magic she had never seen before. “Wish I could help out there. Way I see it is you need to hunt down someone that knows about it too, or we try to figure it out ourselves.” The latter wouldn’t be easy, but it could be pretty fun. “Finally, a proposition for a girl like me. I’m in, but you better not be lying about knowing how to show a girl a good time.”

As with most things in White Crest, it was complicated. Otto would tell her in time, but some things had to be earned and she’d peaked into enough of his secret trove today. If she could help him with this then it was a start, foundations that could be built upon but it would take time on both their parts. “Unfortunately, as far as I can tell it’s just my family that do… I’ve had our grimoires for years but they don’t really explain the steps necessary for controlling this… power. So I think the latter might be what we’re working with.” He laughed, “wonderful, who knew it’d be so easy to get you back to mine… Can we stop for takeaway on route? I work better when there’s food involved.” As promised Thierry arrived not much later, a taller man, well-built with dirty-blond hair buzzed short on the sides, bright green eyes and a folded pair of iridescent emerald wings folded at his back.

“Evenin’ boss,” he greeted warmly and gave a nod to Cece as well in greeting “Ce. Beautiful as ever.”

“G’evening T, all’s well i hope? Not too busy tonight…” he said with a quick look around the tables. “I’m stealing this lovely away before she gets lost in those pretty eyes of yours” he winked pushing off the bar and circling around the hatch. “Come on m’love.”

Cece cracked her fingers, accepting the challenge. “You know what? I can work with the latter. Wouldn’t be the first time.” It would actually, when it came to gravity. But Cece had worked with plenty of magics that she hadn’t personally practiced or known. She may not be able to use the stuff personally, but she figured she could help him tap into it, right? It couldn’t be that hard. Rather, it sounded pretty fun. “You’re reading my mind, dude. Tacos?”

Thierry arrived not much later, another familiar- and pretty- face to work behind the bar. “You’re not looking too bad yourself, T.” Cece winked. She definitely didn't mind the view here. “Until next time pretty boy. Don’t go forgetting about me.” Cece waved to Thierry as she gathered her things to live with Otto, following him out of the bar. “For the record, this is a way better reason to leave a bar and head back to some dude’s place. Sex has nothing on defying gravity. Idina Menzel is quaking.”

“No? Tell me more,” Otto was admittedly intrigued, if Cece had dealt with something like this before he was curious to hear all the ins and outs of that situation. “How’d it work out in the end?” Either way he hoped it was a sign that maybe this would work out, maybe together they could figure out how to actually master this. “I thought maybe having someone to practise with would help as well? I just… Don’t know where to start.” He’d had a lot of things to use back at the Tarot, and without them he felt rather adrift. Like a limb had been severed and he was having to figure out how to use it again.

“It’d be to my shame to ever forget you,” T waved giving Otto a finger-gun salute as they departed.

“Ring me if you need anything,” Otto said as they exited through the back looping his arm through Cece’s as they walked. “Yes, Tacos,” he pulled out his phone with his other hand and opened an app putting in an order while asking what Cece wanted off the menu - that way it’d be there when they got back to his. “Well, lets go ahead and give her a run for her money huh?”

#wickedswriting #c: otto #chatzy: otto #unraveled #chatzy

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miyomiikonran · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 1

Extra rules: Each short story will be between 500-1000 words and will include at least one of my or @ironic-artist's OCs.

Today's theme: Let's hang out sometime

Choosen prompt: Shackled

Universe: Criminal/mafia au

Character: Takashi

Trigger warnings: -

Word count: ~800

For more notes please look at the end!

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Routine always means something else for everyone. For some, it's what they hate the most- repeatable tasks mindlessly done everyday, often bringing only boredom and fatigue. Wake up, take shower, eat breakfast in hurry and then spend most of your day in work or school, only to do the same thing all over again tommorow. For others, it's the sign of stability they yearn for. Everyday's the same, no trouble can suprise you and stress you out, if you know exactly what's gonna happen next.

Takashi was neither of those. Routine of any kind had almost no place in his current life. Almost, excluding one particular event that kept repeating... Banging on the door, which was always waking him up at early morning. He knew what's gonna happen the moment he heard that, so he just followed up, opened the door. Same faces, same kind of deal. Dress up, take his wallet and put on some shoes while the guys wait for him. Once again he gets fancy bracelets on his wrists and a free ride to friendly neighbourhood police station.

Man knew the drill just as good as officers knew him. He was ending up in arrest once a month on avarage, but not even once they managed to keep him for longer. Always a suspect, never proved guilty, never enough evidence for that. Even unusual, albino-like appearance didn't make it easier. Fingerprints? Never matched. Video surveilance? Either none of cameras would reach crime scene or it wasn't functional at the time. Nothing suspicious was ever found at his flat or by his side if they catched him outside. Only witnesses would sometimes provide description that would match, but it wasn't enough when they rarely were able to see face in details. Not even the most determined, or maybe pissed off officers had much hope left at this point... Everyone knew he was suspicious and who knows if not involved in some of these cases, but nothing could be done without evidence to back it up.

What was the worst though, was his attitude. He always refused to answer any questions without counsellor and it was always the same guy coming to help him out, maybe some buddy or something, it seemed like it. Carefree bastard most of the time was taking a nap in his cell before he came! Just like now! Like nothing was happening! Or more like, he was sure nothing will happen.

Albino in cell chuckled quietly hearing how irritated one of officers sounded like while complaining to his coworker, thinking he's already asleep. It was so satisfying to hear. He almost could get used to overall inconvenience if only he could hear more of that each time he ends up arrested. They can look as much as they want. He knew it's all in vain. Boss already took care of anything that could've been left at the scene. Poor, naive dudes had no idea how far his connections could reach… Such a pity. But now it's time for a nap, cus they obviously had to wake him up at 6 o'clock, never even a minute late.

Few hours later, counsellor finally came, with same, indifferent but slightly tired face and so questioning began. Same shit everytime. Name, surname, adress, date of birth. Witness saw you in close area to where the murder occured. What were you doing then and there. Is there anyone who can confirm. Do you know what it is. Nooooope, no idea officer, never seen a broken window in my entire life! Nope, no idea who's that guy. No I never met him. No I didn't broke all of his windows, don't I look like a angel? I was peacefully coming home from club, never been to a party, officer? Could these eyes lie? It was hard to keep straight face seeing him get irritated again. His swinging on chair seemed to work wonders in that matter. Counsellor rolled his eyes and sighed while writing something in his notepad. He always was doing his own notes just in case, no matter how many times it happens. Such perfectionist in his job.

Finally, the happy hour came next day. After court's hearing, he was obviously let go. Just to spite officers a bit more, he waved them on his way out, before he went on his way home. He was right outside his block of flats when his phone called. Boss.

- What's up, did you get worried about me~?

- Very funny. I want you in my office around 8 PM, I have work for you.

- Already? I just got out…- Takashi burked a bit grumpily, his good mood immidiately gone.

- Well, happens. Get some rest, I'll give you more details once you're here.

- Cooool… - he just hung up after it and hid his phone. It's gonna be a long day...

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Oh well, first one was pretty easy as it's Takashi, one of my favs, I talked about him a lot so you can look up his tag if you want. This scene came up in my head as soon as I read prompts, mostly because I had it planned for a long time already, so it was pretty easy to write. About universe itself, it's pretty much what people usually have in mind when they create all sorts of mafia/criminal AUs. I really wanted to show off Takashi's cockiness and trust in his "Boss". For now it was just a brief mention, but it's Ironic's character Hidemichi, Takashi's long-time friend, which is why he's acting pretty casual towards him. You can check him out at Ironic's page. For now, I can promise they're gonna appear again pretty soon~ c:

Also, just to be clear, I'm no writer and this is purely for fun. I'm aware it's not really good quality material.

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #shackled #oc #fic #original character #criminal au #mafia au #Takashi

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thespearandthecrown · 5 years

Text

A Whiskey for Her

AN- Hey fam! So this July/August was insane. Now that September is on its way, I will have a bit of free time to work more on some writing. I am about another 5 or 4 more chapters left for The Sheriff and The Soldier, which, I'm super happy to see nearly completed. Dakota and the gang have been at the back of my mind for the past two months demanding that I finish their story. I've also released the first two chapters of my original story about my gay werewolf dweebs on fiction press. If you wanna check that out, as well as my ko-fi page, take a look at my ‘WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME’ tab on this Tumblr. Without any further adieu, have something that has been a warm-up piece I've been working on for the past three years now. I've rewritten this thing like 800 times. Thanks for your support, I hope this fic finds all of you well <3

Vi hated the 'underground' Piltovian technopunk scene. The venues are usually filled with too drunk mid-forty housewives, whose cheating husbands let them loose for a 'girls night out'. It wasn't like the legendary raves of Zaun, where laws or claims of power meant nothing. Where people could get lost in the flashing lights and pounding beats.

That was where the real fun laid.

The number of people she would bring home after a night of dancing most likely broke some kind of record.

But here?

Void's above the only thing she could pick up is some blubbering wife who wants to get back at her husband.

Too much vengeance and drama for one night.

This, however, wasn't the reason why Vi was in such a despicable joint. The 'boys' from the cop shop wanted to get together and tear up the town. They invited Vi, promising good drinks and plenty of women. Rather than declining, she thought that after the last few busts she deserved a night out.

Sadly, this blew ass.

Her coworkers were long gone, either too drunk to stand or too busy dealing with housewives.

Giving up, she took a great sigh and left the establishment feeling fairly bummed out and in the need of some kind of greasy substance.

She didn't walk far before she came up to her favourite pub, the Brass Gauntlet. Humming to herself, she agreed, instantly craving a Bilgewatian sea bass butty, a specialty that this pub was quite famous for.

The reason why she enjoyed this place came in three parts.

One, the food and drink were good, cheap and usually what she needed. Two, it was a wooden establishment with polished down seats and a lovely smiling old bartender that easily held the feeling of welcome warmth. Three, it was quiet and close to work. Sure the room could be filled with patrons, but it could never get any louder then whispered conversations. Usually, after a long day of hearing the sheriff bitch and complain about Vi's work methods, she would come here to destress and breathe.

Tonight, the basement pub had a small handful of patrons. A group clustered together at the far end chatted quietly amongst themselves, sipping their drinks as they nodded along with whoever was telling a story.

At the other end was a sole individual, huddled in their own booth.

Vi practically fainted as she recognized the individual. Not a day in her life did she ever think Sheriff Caitlyn Deramore would ever step foot in a pub of her own free volition.

With curiosity and a few pints fueling her forward, she made her way to the sheriff's table.

The sheriff had her back to the entrance. Her long raven black hair was tied up into a messy bun, revealing her pale swan-like neck. Her purple petticoat had been removed leaving her in her white blouse that seemed a bit to loose around the neck.

"What is a girl like you, doin' in a place like this?" Vi grinned as she stood at the head of the table to face the sheriff head-on.

Caitlyn quirked an eyebrow at the pinkette. Her brilliant ice blue eyes were accentuated by heavy shadows and wire-rimmed reading glasses. As to what Vi expected, her white blouse had two buttons undone, revealing a bit more of her neck and her collarbone. Vi returned the expression with her own raised eyebrow as she witnessed the rolled-up sleeves revealing the tense forearms of the Sheriff. Her right hand twirled the tumbler of whiskey; the single ice cube gently tapping the glass in the movement.

"Doing your paperwork," Caitlyn replied coldly.

Vi's eyes lowered to the small stack of yellowed sheets. In Caitlyn's left hand was a decorative ink pen.

"Ah, shit, sorry Sheriff. What did I do wrong? I honestly thought I got it right this time. I even got Albert to help me out on this one." Vi admitted sheepishly.

The Sheriff gave a great sigh before she took a swig of her whiskey. "It's alright deputy."

"Why here though? Why not at your office?" Vi asked perplexed.

"Because the bullpen is insanely full with that shimmer bust and the captives will not cease their incessant caterwauling of proclaimed innocence." She muttered lowly, taking another long swig of the amber liquid. "It is very quiet here and the whiskey selection is not terrible."

"Mind if I sit wit' ya? Maybe show me where I went wrong?" Vi asked, both hoping the sheriff will say no and yes.

Caitlyn mulled the thought over, watching the liquid in her glass swirl. With a sigh, she nodded toward the bar. "Get me another round then, deputy."

Vi chuckled. "Not a problem. What's your poison, boss?"

"The dragon's breath whiskey from Freljord. One rock, please." Caitlyn replied as she continued the work set before her.

"Coming right up." Vi turned on her heels With mixed emotions curdling her gut.

She wasn't afraid of Caitlyn, nor hated her. She was just so…uptight. Too serious and work-focused. Usually, the day shift crew would go together to the leather boot, a Piltovian warden stomping ground, with expensive prices to accommodate the large salaries of the trained officers. The shift would all go together, have a pint and unwind before going home.

Every time, Caitlyn would decline.

Out of the six months that Vi had been working with her, she didn't see her cut loose once.

And within a weeks time, she should be working more frequently with Caitlyn once she graduated the progressive and special program they implemented to make sure she was ready for the job.

Frankly, Vi was both dreading and too excited to work with this intense woman.

Maybe this could be the kick starter to get to know each other better.

For Vi to properly understand the sheriff and her insane work ethic.

With a quick nod of thanks and an exchange of coins between her and the bartender, Vi walked back with a pint and a whiskey tumbler.

"You have tomorrow off, right?" Vi asked as she passed the glass to Caitlyn's slim dexterous hands.

"Thank you," Caitlyn nodded. "Yes, I have every Sunday off."

Vi seated herself on the bench opposite of Caitlyn. The pinkette observed the tight-lipped exchange as she flipped to the back of a page and scratched on another. Her jawline became tight with annoyance.

"You seem a bit ticked that you have it off." Vi deduced, taking a mouthful of beer.

Caitlyn snorted. "I am indeed 'ticked'. Albert handles the scheduling and insists that I have that day off, rather than allowing me to work on cases."

"Albert is a good guy. Not to pry or anything but do you ever feel like you could amount to him since you're his replacement?"

The sheriff sighed heavily. "Albert was a great Sheriff. The community loved him, the politicians couldn't get enough of him. However, as much as I hate to say it, I do the job better. He has been a great mentor and has really taught me some valuable lessons with the social aspects of being sheriff. He has trained and trusted me to do better than him, and I'm glad I can fulfill his wishes. I just wish the man would properly retire."

"Well obviously his paperwork reviewing could do better." Vi joked gently.

"In all honesty, you didn't do anything wrong. Your handwriting is just despicable and I need to give the mayor this report so he can show our hard work to the council."

"How rude, Sheriff. It's not like I learned how to properly write like six months ago." Vi grinned teasingly. Then a thought crossed her mind, making her eyebrows furrow in concentration. "Why does the council need to see my report?"

"They are putting a lot of resources to use for you. They want proof that you are actually capable of being my partner, let alone a legal protector of the city." Caitlyn explained.

"So you're helping me look good?"

"In those terms, yes. As much as you seem like you are capable of turning in criminals, they want to see you be an officer, a deputy. Not some loose canon vigilante with no respect for the rules. Sure you may be completing that program, but they want to see your training applied to the real world."

Vi snorted loudly, causing the table on the other side of the bar to take a quick peek behind them. "But that's what I am, Sheriff. I'm not here to slap the wrist of some city hooligans. I'm here to stop the real bad guys. The ones who'd take kids, sell the harmful chemical shit, try to bring terror to good innocent people."

Caitlyn observed as Vi balled her fist.

"I'm glad you have faith in me. I'm glad that you are willing to go the extra mile to help me out. But let them see me for what I want to be." She took a long sip of her brew, then placed it down onto the heavy oak table. She tightened her jaw as she focused on her scarred hands holding the pint glass.

In this, Caitlyn observed the brawler before her. She was in her cracked leather jacket, brooding in the raised lapels. She had freshly shaved the side of her head, showing the dark pink roots. The scent of citrus and mint hit her nose as Vi straightened herself to sit upright. Her violet eyes bore into Caitlyn. They blazed with a determination that the sheriff had started to become quite accustomed to.

She had witnessed this determination a multitude of times in the past six months of Vi working with the precinct. It was normally accompanied by loud snarled curses and frustrated yells. It was smashing through a wall with a broken collarbone, whilst dodging bullets and protecting the hostage in her grasp. It was spitting in the face of political terrorists who threatened to blow the city to smithereens. It was her staying up all night to help prove the innocence of a street orphan who was facing charges of murder. It was her facing these almost impossible tasks with a crooked grin and a crack of her knuckles.

Caitlyn respected this determination, but she only wished the pinkette would give her on-the-fly plans a bit more thought.

"Why do you do this?" The brawler asked. Her voice was stern and serious. "Why put all of this effort when, no matter what, they're going to throw me out."

The sheriff takes a moment to mull over her statement. The tumbler clinks as she lets the ice and whiskey mingle more and more with each twist of her wrist. "Frankly, I am not quite sure, myself." She admits. "Maybe it’s because I know they can sense the potential in you. I understand your skepticism though; the old guard of the city council can be quite misogynistic. It took them a while to have full faith in me."

Their eyes meet for a moment. Caitlyn can see the gears slowly turn in Vi's head and it made the raven-haired woman curious.

Vi regards the sheriff in a new way. It isn't the usual brush off 'we'll deal with the situation as we go' kind of look that the brawler usually gives her.

Caitlyn can't help the small smile that tugs at her lips. "Be careful, Vi. If I didn't know any better it looks like I just earned some respect from you."

That troublesome smirk that drives the sheriff nearly up the wall, spreads through the pinkette's lips easily. "You should slow down on those Dragon Breaths, Sheriff. I think they're causing you to hallucinate."

They share a small chuckle between themselves.

"I think I like this side of you, Sheriff." Vi drawls as she finishes her drink. She signals to the bartender for another round, and the old smiling man nods.

Caitlyn raises an eyebrow, trying her best to not smile. "Don't get too used to it."

#piltover's finest #vi #caitlyn #cait #vixcaitlyn #vi and caitlyn #league of legends #Nightly Writes #fanfic #fanfiction #whoop #warm up writing

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gold-gguk · 5 years

Text

《 Kiss Me Over Coffee 》

summary ↠ Your coworkers are ruthless, and the worst part? After years of teasing you for never having a New Year’s kiss, they still think it’s a joke. Stuck, yet again working your least favorite shift on your least favorite day, it’s all you can do not snap some necks when your least favorite person can’t miss her chance to take a dig at your singleness. At least they scheduled the new barista with those dimples to work with you...

genre ↠ a cupcake of angst with fluff frosting | barista!tae member ↠ kim taehyung warnings ↠ rude thot word count ↠ 4.0k

moodboard by @jiminspjm || Happy New Year to all of my homies. Here’s this random blurb inspired by Tae’s recent attempts to wreck my bias and the infamous kiss that all the lone peeps at the party stand awkwardly for. Let’s go.

It isn’t the crowd that has your shoulders in knots.

It’s not the roar of the multiple mounted flat screens hung around the room, one of which insists on emitting the most subtly annoying fuzz that you can’t seem to tune out from the undercurrent of the excitedly conversing space. It’s not the spillage of overzealous and over-caffeinated strangers that hasn’t failed to catch the corner of your eye every minute or so, each drop of rich, caramel-colored liquid that sloshes haphazardly over the edge of the cup agony to witness drop out of sight towards the wood varnished floor. You know you’ll be the one scrubbing up the stains a few hours from now.

No, it’s not even the fact that this idiotic rush of inconsiderate customers has left you with the abhorrent mountain of dishes in which you’re currently buried up to the elbows, complete with ravines of suds and pools of murky water, your lower back already starting to feel the dull ache that lingers after a shift bent over the awkwardly low sink hidden behind the coffee bar. However, despite your compromising posture and ever-growing frustration with how hot it seems to be amidst all of this unwanted body heat swimming in the air, what truly has your muscles pulled taught and throbbing with the weight of an annoyance purer and more cutting than diamonds is that caterwaul of high pitched squalling that someone had the audacity to label laughter careening into the air again.

You would gladly bar your tongue from ever complaining about the rest of your problems for the rest of forever if it meant you could go five minutes without being subjected to that tortuous sound. As if on cue, the guffawing screech tumbles out and slices right through the rest of the chaos abounding around you, cutting straight to your ears that are starting to heat red as you feel your fraying edges begin to snap.

The milk steaming pitcher that you had been vigorously scrubbing is suddenly being slammed to the metal of the sink counter by tense hands, every nerve ending you own hauling all-hands-on-deck to reel your frustration back in, uncaring to the geyser of lukewarm water that bubbles over the edge of the sink and onto your worn converse. “I swear, I will rip those fucking vocal chords right out of her throat.”

“Whoaaa, getting a teensy bit aggressive for such a happy occasion, aren’t we?” a familiarly teasing voice suddenly sounds from over your shoulder, breaking you momentarily from your ravenous reverie.

Taehyung. One of the newer baristas hired on a few months before the holiday’s had started, though not the newest, so none of you had much cause to pick on him anymore--not that that’s stopped you. Overbearingly confident and annoyingly sarcastic, he’s the perfect mixture of everything that makes someone just insufferable enough to find endearing, though you would never let on to that notion, rolling your eyes to his face while finding it hard not to smile to yourself the moment he’s sauntered away. You still swear it’s the dimples that got him hired, customers can’t resist a good set of dimples.

Tonight, however, you’re not so easily swayed from your rut of barely contained rage, the milk pitcher slipping back into the water as you huff the floating strays of your hair from your face, shoulders aching as you force them to roll back. “‘Happy occasion’ according to the young and drunk,” you scoff, your eyes flitting sideways to see Taehyung setting down the stacked boxes of various decafs, flavors, and blends that had been running low along the coffee wall.

“You’re young,” Taehyung offers, revealing that half-smile of his as he straightens up, dark locks pushed off his forehead.

“I’d rather be drunk,” you mutter, teeth gritting with the re-tensing of your shoulders as that laugh soars into the air once more, so potent and pure, you’re convinced she’s targeting you.

Taehyung’s low and breathy chuckle pulls you away from the noise and commotion on the other side of the coffee bar again, your gaze traveling back to where he’s now leaning his long frame against the counter beside you, his arms crossed casually over his chest. “Hmm, I don’t know. You seem like you’d be a dangerous drunk.” He attempts to appear thoughtful, scrunching his eyebrows in joking concern, a tantalizing tease still twinkling in the irises that flit towards the source of your frustrations.

“Lethal,” you assure, meeting his deep, chocolate, doe eyes with your daggers for only a moment before that half-smile is reappearing so slowly you find yourself mirroring it, allowing the stretch of your lips to refresh you momentarily before you catch yourself. “Stop that, I’m annoyed.”

“Stop what?” Taehyung questions even though his growing, boyish grin reveals that he knows exactly what.

You roll your eyes, a different kind of frustration bubbling in your stomach. “Just go finish the coffee wall, you idiot,” you reply instead, jabbing a finger back towards the boxes of beans he’d deposited. “If we’re late getting out of here, I’m blaming you for distracting me.”

Instead of replying right away, you feel Taehyung move a step in your direction, drawing your gaze for the third time as your wide eyes catch his hand raising towards you. Choking on your words, you watch his face as the back of his jointed knuckle brushes across the apple of your cheek, his lips slightly parted as his eyes train on the spot. It’s over, and he’s pulling away as quickly as he approached, smiling softly to himself in thought. “Soap on your face,” he clarifies simply before turning and ambling off back to his closing duties.

You blink back your confusion as you watch him go, having to shake away the last of the small exchange before returning to your own task, memory already being filed away along with the plethora of other strange interactions between you and Taehyung since he started here. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s left you dazed and speechless, and you’re sure it’s probably not the last.

With some sheer stroke of dumb luck, you’re able to get through the rest of the dishes without any more interruptions, your hands almost pruning with how much water they’ve sifted through and lower back screaming for the relief you lavish upon it when you’re done, bending and stretching and cracking until you’ve restored some semblance of normalcy. Sighing into the first peaceful moment of the night, it feels, you begin glancing around the coffee bar, looking for the next job to speed up the closing process when you see a sight that makes your insides curl in the most vile way.

Approaching the register at the other end of the bar is none other than the keeper of The Laugh™, the sight of her emerging from the masses and into your line of sight forcing your hands in clenched balls at your sides. Suddenly, the past 20 minutes of freedom from that siren seem all the more precious, and you wish you could slink back into them until this hellish evening finally comes to a close. You grit your teeth, eyes frantically looking to Taehyung only to find him intermingled in the crowd along the far wall, somewhat struggling to refill the numerous jars of beans in the shelves with a stray hip or elbow bumping into him every other minute.

With no one else on shift at the moment to save you from your doom, you close your eyes, taking in a ragged and shallow breath that’s pretending to be under control and begin to make your way to the register where Ms. Giggles is emanating a lesser version of her product towards the boy she’s hooked around. He seems almost oblivious to the sound--bless his heart--whispering something down to her with a sly grin that sends her reeling just before you make it to the register, biting the inside of your cheek in an attempt to not let your face give away any reaction.

“Y/N!” the girl greets animatedly the moment her attention is shifting at the sound of you clearing your throat.

“Hi, Rose,” you respond with a half-hearted sigh. “Need something?”

“Just a chocolate donut and double shot English Toffee latte, thanks!”

You quickly key in the order, adding the employee discount, and wait a moment while she looks to her arm candy with expectant eyes, beaming when he begins fishing his wallet from his pocket. “Having fun on your night off?” you carefully question as you take the cash being handed over.

“Oh, it’s been the best,” Rose grins, completely unaware to your sour mood. “I was soooooo relieved when Tiff let me off for New Year’s again. Oh my god, it’s such a disaster.” She laughs like a gossiping housewife from the south, unnecessary use of hand gestures included, before continuing. “I mean, I remember a few years ago when I did have this shift, and I barely had time to break at midnight for the New Year’s kiss!”

“No,” you gasp, raising your eyebrows in mock surprise to which she remains completely dense.

“It was so stressful,” she sighs, shaking her head. “If you aren’t starting your year off with someone you care about, then what’s the point?” She’s back to giggling in that high pitched manner, grinning in what you’re sure is supposed to be an endearing way, but for the life you, you just can’t seem to smile along.

Handing the change back to the man, you hold your breath, waiting for them to walk away in hopes your exchange will just end here, but as if Rose takes blithe delight in so innocently adding insult to injury, the next question that comes sends your taught shoulders slumping. “What about you, Y/N? Did you bring anyone this year to celebrate with?”

It’s the same glorious inquiry you get every year without fail, always from whatever coworker and company shows up that year, and always succeeding in solidifying the shitty-feeling half of your emotional spectrum with a reminder that never gets easier to be reminded of. “No, Rose, I didn’t.”

She ceases the almost laughable way she’s scanning around the faces in the room, trying to seem optimistic as always that you’ll prove her wrong while really just waiting to hear the confirmation straight from your own lips.

“Hmm,” she hums sadly, gazing at you in a sympathetic way that only makes you want to lunge across the counter. “Maybe next year, then! I’m sure of it.”

You don’t even manage your usually well-rehearsed fake smile before she’s hopping away, boy in tow, to await the calling of the drinks you now have half a mind to spit in.

“I...ah...I didn’t know you were a donut assassin.”

Your head whips around to find Taehyung nestled into the small space between the pastry counter and yourself, one elbow resting on the level surface while his free hand points down causing you to scrunch your brows at him. Your eyes trail along with his finger to find that your own are holding Rose’s chocolate donut in a vice grip, what was once circular goodness now just brown mush in your hand.

Huffing in annoyance, you turn and throw the remains of the pastry into the garbage, shuffling over to the sink to rinse the sticky chocolate from your fingers and trying to ignore the way Taehyung’s presence seems insistent on following you. You scrub at your hands so hard that your skin is beginning to feel raw, but you can’t find it within yourself to stop, throwing all of your focus into the task already completed as your jaw tenses and un-tenses in tightly wound rhythm.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s voice creeps in ever so gently from beside you, the soft question, meant to soothe, only rubbing at your raw edges.

“Would you just go do your job?” you snap, untamed eyes silently pleading behind the cold glare you’re shooting at him. He seems slightly taken aback by your outburst, usually cocked smile and confident gaze now almost lost looking, lips parted in a stuttered response that he decides is better left unsaid as he turns and silently leaves you to your brooding.

The rest of the night becomes no easier.

You do what you normally do and shove all of the strangled emotions and bubbling thoughts to the backyard of your brain, throwing on a fake smile that just can’t seem to fit itself comfortably to your lips and bulldozing through the closing list like its completion is your ticket from hell. It’s not too far off.

Taehyung makes himself scarce the remainder of the shift, for which you’re not sure if you’re actually grateful for or not--a thought you kick out the backdoor with the rest of your troubles. The list is almost complete before the end of the night with you and Taehyung working around each other silently, but you begin to question what a good idea it was to throw yourself into your work so heavily by the time the hour of the main event arrives.

People had stopped ordering drinks a while ago, all raptured for the last 30 minutes around the TV’s all playing the New Year’s Eve countdown, awaiting the moment the ball finally drops. This, however, paired with your caught up list, means that you have nothing to distract you from having to watch it yourself.

Your eyes feel heavy in their sockets as you slowly witness the ball begin to descend, your feet rooted at the back of the bar, lacking any form of energy as almost every person in the coffee shop grips onto the body next to them. Smiles and laughter and cheering raise in a chorus that reaches deaf ears, and pair after pair of lips meet in sweet and loving connections. You feel your fingers flex gently against your leg, a chill creeping into your hands as you fold them together in front of you, feeling your smothered emotions tapping at the backdoor as if they’ve gotten cold too. You even spot Rose, of all people, grinning against her date as he dips her down in a kiss that sends your blood curdling. You look away.

To anyone else, the moment would’ve seemed over just as quickly as it had begun, people still chattering happily as they gather their things and begin to move out of the cafe, back into the chilled night air, and on to their homes or possibly a bar with a different type of beverage service for a continued celebration. To you, however, the moment feels lodged in your mind like it is every year, that deep-seeded frustration pinching at your nerves more and more, anxious for the last of the customers to go so you can finally put this holiday behind you.

“Maybe next year. I’m sure of it.” Rose’s broken-record voice has been squeezing at your patience since she gave her spiel, more-so than in years past for some reason, and even as the final customer bids a goodnight and you’re shutting the door behind him, you can’t shake the reminder that you’ve spent yet another year alone.

The thought eats at you, slowly and maddeningly as you find yourself filling in your time card for the night, locking up the cash drawer, and shrugging your coat out of the closet in preparation to finally leave this now quiet hell-hole. Knowing Taehyung will lock up when he leaves soon after finishing taking the rags to washer, you push your way outside, welcoming the cold air that fans over your face in a brief respite before the thoughts start gnawing away at you once again. You turn and begin to forge your way up the dim sidewalk of downtown, the heavy music and loud conversations spilling out of some bar a block over doing little to distract you from the annoyingly incessant voice in your head. By the time you’ve crossed the street at the stoplight near where you’re parked, your eyes are practically burning with restrained frustration at how poorly this night has gone. Your irises are blurred with water as you sift around in your bag for your keys, fingers fumbling to grip them as they clang metallically to the pavement.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you begin to bend down to retrieve them when a set of long and graceful fingers that don’t belong to you are wrapping around the object instead, its brother resting on your lower back as you stand upright, chilled hands wiping at your bleary eyes before you turn to face Taehyung. He’s standing cautiously close to you, his hand having moved from your back to your forearm as you turned, gentle fingers half-aware of their position on your person. He’s looking down at you with that same concerned expression from before, eyebrows folded in thought, eyes soft and solicitous, and lips pink and parted as you take him in.

“Y/N,” he breathes slowly, his voice jarring you out of your stun as you shake your head, gingerly pulling your arm from his hand as you step back.

“What?”

He sighs, his hand dropping back to his side after it hovers for a small moment, his eyes still searching your face in a way that makes your own gaze trail the ground, your converse kicking at a stray stone. “Are you okay?” He repeats his question from earlier, but this time with a deeper tone, more sincere.

“Fine,” you reply, still not looking at him.

There’s a long pause before you hear him exhale again. “Was it something she said to you?”

You’re staring at him now with wide and questioning eyes.

“I may have overheard,” he shrugs softly, shoving his hands in the front pocket of his pants.

You blink back your surprise for the second time. He seems to have a knack for catching you off guard. “N-no...it’s nothing,” you try to cover, but you know the tone of your voice gives you away with every word more that you speak.

“Y/N,” Taehyung calls again, tugging your gaze with the way he says your name, so simply. “You can talk to me about it. I won’t tell anyone. Just you and me.”

You gaze over him a moment longer, the way he’s half-smiling again, but in a different manner--not so confident, but more genuine--and the way his dark eyes seem to shine against the colorful glow of the large tree covered in Christmas lights from brach to root standing nearby, and the way he’s here, wanting to listen...it all sends you over the edge.

“I hate New Year’s,” you state, your shoulders pulling back as you breathe deeper, letting your backyard back in.

Taehyung chuckles endearingly, his eyes squinting somewhat against his boxy grin. “I could’ve guessed that part.”

“I hate New Year’s,” you repeat. “But I don’t hate it because everyone downtown is drunk out of their minds, or because classes start back in a week, or even because it means Christmas is a whole ‘nother year away.” Your words become more brazen, more heated, bubbling up and refreshing themselves with all of the crappy moments of the evening playing like a movie in your head. “I hate it because every year, every stupid, insufferable year, there’s this one night where I’m never reminded more blatantly and belligerently of just how alone I am.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows flinch in reaction almost imperceptibly, scrunching as if he wasn’t exactly expecting that direct of a confession.

“I’m 22 years old, and I’m aware I can spare you the sob story, because I know plenty of other people have it much worse, but I’ve never been kissed. I’ve never even been on a date. But that stuff doesn’t matter! It shouldn’t matter, at least, not as much as it does, and it wouldn’t matter if---no, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t...God, I don’t even know why I care so much!”

You’re practically speaking in hysterics now, your voice raised three pitches in tone and volume, and you would be conscious of how crazy you looked if there was anyone else on the street corner besides you and Taehyung.

“No, don’t do that,” Taehyung speaks for the first time since you started emoting, drawing the snap of your eyes to where he’s still standing calm and attentive, his eyes steady as he shakes his head. “Don’t cut yourself off. It wouldn’t matter if what?”

“If all of them didn’t shove it in my face every year!” you finish, your voice cracking as your hands fly up. Taehyung gives you a gently curious look that let’s you know he desires an explanation.

“Them?”

“The other coworkers,” you reveal, feeling the pain in the back of your throat intensify as you struggle to keep your jaw still. “Every year it’s the same shit. One of them shows up with their date and gets their jolly’s from parading the fact that they’re in a happily committed relationship while I’m still riding solo. It’s like they don’t realize their tradition actually fucking sucks. Who likes being reminded that they’re undesired?!”

“Y/N...” Taehyung breathes, unbelief and sympathy whispering under his utterance.

“Honestly...” you continue on, huffing ironically with laughter that heaves from desperate lungs after you’ve regained a facet of your composure. “It really doesn’t matter to me. Really. New Year’s is overrated...It’s lousy. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up just like I do 364 others, and get over myself...” You breathe heavy as you fight the subtle ache in your body telling you to bring the emotional upheaval down a notch. “...but goddamn it, for once it would be nice to just get a lousy, overrated New Year’s ki--”

And so you do.

Taehyung’s lips are warm and tender and unexpected against yours. The hands the were shoved in his pockets are suddenly cupping your cheeks, soft thumbs dancing over your blushed skin, red from the nip of the air and the singing tingles warming up and down your spine. Your eyelids flutter closed in moments, just after you register the blurred close of Taehyung’s eyes only centimeters from you. There’s something needy about the kiss, as if a collection of passing moments and secret thoughts are attempting to be conveyed in this one connection.

You have no idea what you’re doing, to say the least, but Taehyung more than makes up for your lack of experience with the way he’s leading your lips so effortlessly, molded securely against one another. His hands aid in tilting your head in subtle variations of the same angle, somehow deepening the innocent kiss into something rawer. Your hands blindly find the hem of shirt, fingers fisting the material on either side of his waist as he steps closer to you, his height forcing him to curl over your stature as he continues to sponge syrupy kisses against your mouth.

And suddenly you know what everyone’s been talking about. The buttery sparks igniting in bursts of rapturous flavor all over your body are enough to cultivate a desire to stay here like this forever, forgetting any and all other responsibilities and people until it’s just Taehyung and his kisses and his stupid sarcasm and floppy hair and little dimples that sell coffee like nobody’s business.

All too soon, though, he’s pulling away, leaving you to chase after his lips in a moment of sedated fog, still lost in the spontaneity and warmth of it all. It’s his low chuckle that has your eyes fluttering open again until they are as wide as you can manage, sputtering for words between the hold he still maintains around your jaw, still thumbing over your skin.

“...What was--??”

“I may have had...a little crush on you since I started here,” he admits shyly, his eyes darting away before resettling on your face. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to do that.”

You try to respond, but nothing of coherency seems to be forming tonight.

“It’s not midnight anymore...” he starts again, his swollen pink lips, devilishly enticing as they pucker around his words. “But can it still count?”

Your own parted, frozen lips are suddenly spreading into an uncontainable grin, teeth and all, as your hands brave the journey around his narrow waist, latching together behind him. “I’ll let it slide.”

He’s grinning back at you now, eyes twinkling with that boyish life and excitement as he slowly leans forward to leave a sweet peck against your forehead. “I’ll be on time next year. Promise.”

hahahahahahahaha i’m not ok

214 notes · View notes

aqlemonade · 5 years

Text

SLUTBOX - Biadore

Summary: Smut based on the recent Biadore interaction.

Danny ❤️ Check Instagram Danny ❤️ They’re for you 😘

Roy smirked at his phone. He looked around the conference room to make sure no one was paying attention to him. Of course they weren’t. Roy never understood why it was required of him to attend every meeting about tours when all he did was sign off on them at the end.

He exited out of his messages and scrolled through countless apps until getting to the Instagram badge. The first thing on his feed was Danny’s picture showing off his pretty ass and gorgeous body. Roy instinctively liked it before even realizing what he was doing. Out of caution he never interacted with the nude photos Danny would post. As tempting as it was, especially when having to witness your coworkers thirst after your boyfriend in the comments of said pictures, Roy managed to control himself. Until now.

Liking it then unliking it was too suspicious, and he had already liked the photo. So Roy shrugged. He figured a comment wouldn’t do any more harm.

thebiancadelrio: MINE

Okay, maybe that would do some harm. Roy backspaced and retyped:

thebiancadelrio: SLUTBOX 🤭

——

thebiancadelrio liked your photo

thebiancadelrio commented on your photo

Danny’s heart dropped. He felt butterflies in his stomach like a middle schooler getting a follow back on twitter from their crush.

adoredelano: Only for you Willow 💕

Danny sighed. He wished he could, but he couldn’t comment that back. Not without outing their relationship. Danny backspaced and retyped:

adoredelano: Always 🌸💕

He switched apps to text Roy privately.

Danny ❤️ Oh I get a like AND a comment on my ass pictures now?

Danny ❤️ You never like my nudes

Husband 🌸💛💍💕 Well you did say they were for me

Danny ❤️ They always are

Roy could feel himself getting flustered. He wanted to be home so he could hug, kiss, and rip the underwear off of Danny. Not at this stupid meeting with people who couldn’t be bothered to include him in conversation about his own tour.

Husband 🌸💛💍💕 I’m gonna bury my face in your ass when I get home

Husband 🌸💛💍💕 Be ready

Danny’s dick twitched in his pants. Roy rarely sexted back when Danny tried, so Roy initiating it excited him. He quickly kicked off his house pants and ran to their bedroom (only because Roy yelled at him for putting his bare balls on their leather couch whenever he took nudes on it).

Danny ❤️ Attachment: 1 video I already am

Roy opened his messages to see a thumbnail of Danny’s dick. Goosebumps rose on his skin as his cheeks got warm. Of course that little tease would send him a video touching himself while Roy was stuck in a meeting. He played it anyway, making sure the volume was low as he didn’t have headphones with him.

It started with a shot of Danny spreading his legs. His cock mostly soft as he took himself into his hand and began stroking. He jerked himself off until he was completely hard. Roy crossed his legs, his blood thumped at the thought of all the beautiful sounds Danny was making that he couldn’t hear. His boyfriend then massaged the head of his cock until making himself drip precum. Roy almost moaned at the sight of his body contorting as he brought himself to the edge. Danny didn’t finish himself off though. He turned the camera to his face: Bright red cheeks and a heaving chest. He smiled, Roy could tell Danny was laughing too. His little tongue stuck out like it always did. He blew a kiss to the camera to end the video with.

Roy went from flustered to putting a binder on his lap to hide his boner.

Husband 🌸💛💍💕 You made me hard in the middle of a meeting

Husband 🌸💛💍💕 You’re gonna pay for that

Danny ❤️ Gladly 😇

—— “Dan?” Roy called out when he finally got home.

“In the kitchen! Come, I want you to see something.”

Roy was half expecting the kitchen to be burnt down and half expecting Danny to be naked on the table. Neither were true as the kitchen was immaculate, and his boyfriend was leaning over a laptop fully clothed. Roy wrapped his arms around Danny from behind. Danny leaned into Roy’s body as Roy nuzzled and kissed his cheek.

“I think I wanna look at one more house before we decide. This one’s pretty cool,” Danny clicked through photos as Roy looked at them over his shoulder. Since moving back to L.A. Danny rarely stayed at his own place. He was either with Roy or on the road working. So he decided when his lease was up he wouldn’t renew it. Roy’s place was big enough for both of them, but the both of them wanted a home. They wanted something that felt like it was theirs, not one person’s apartment that the other had moved into.

“I thought you were set on the one with the pink bedroom?”

“I was, but this one has concrete floors.”

Roy wasn’t sure why that outweighed Danny’s dream of a hot pink bedroom. He didn’t have time to ask before Danny turned around in his arms to face him. “We don’t have to talk about the house right now,” Danny reached behind himself to close his laptop. “I have something else I wanna show you. Why don’t I go get it while you wait for me in the bedroom?” Danny kissed Roy’s lips. “Naked,” He added, popping a few buttons on Roy’s shirt.

——

Danny got himself done up in the guest bedroom. He reapplied his makeup and styled his hair. Stripping down to nothing Danny slid the white thong up his legs. A mirror behind him gave Danny the perfect opportunity to admire himself. “Roy’s gonna love this,” he said excitedly while shaking his ass in the mirror.

There was a sheer white robe that came with a different lingerie set, but Danny thought it looked better with the underwear he was wearing. He slipped it on, tying it at the waist before sauntering to their bedroom.

Roy’s mouth dropped when Danny walked in. He had been waiting on the bed for him, naked. Just as Danny asked.

Danny brought his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping eye contact with Roy as he began to crawl up the bed towards him. A a seductive smile graced his lips when he was able to mount Roy. Roy’s hands immediately found their way to his lover’s body, sliding up the backs of Danny’s thighs to rest on his ass.

The younger felt adored in the way Roy stared up at him with such reverence. “You‘re so beautiful, babygirl,” Roy said in awe of his boyfriend. Danny chuckled. He leaned in to graze his lips over Roy’s, not allowing him a kiss just yet. “Play with me,” Danny huffed in his ear, making him shiver. “Play with me,” he repeated. Those stunning doe eyes were flashed Roy’s way, and he could never resist them.

Roy grabbed the back of Danny’s neck, pulling him into a firm kiss. Danny melted into him. He could feel himself giving up control as Roy kissed him thoroughly. A sultry moan escaped Danny’s lips as he opened them for Roy’s tongue. Meshing together and gliding over the other, Roy and Danny couldn’t keep themselves quiet. Their hands desperately roamed each other’s bodies, though Roy was finding it difficult with Danny still wearing his robe.

Roy broke away from the kiss. He untied the garment, letting it fall open first. Roy leaned forward to press his lips against Danny’s stomach. “My god,” Danny breathed as his head fell back and hand ran through Roy’s hair. He took his time planting each kiss down Danny’s happy trail. Roy caressed his lower stomach, his muscles jumping under Roy’s lips and fingertips. Methodically, his mouth moved down to Danny’s navel, suckling on the skin around it.

Danny was beginning to grow hard. His dick rose to attention in his underwear and his nipples stiffened. Roy wiggled a bit further down so he could suck on Danny’s clothed balls. A guttural moan escaped the bottom of Danny’s lungs. Roy had kissed and touched him through his underwear before, but nothing quite as intense. Something about the fabric being between his balls and Roy’s wet mouth made it extremely erotic. “Fuck,” Danny’s thighs trembled as he rocked back and forth.

Roy smacked his ass. The white thong had a wet spot where Roy sucked at, and another at the top from Danny’s cock leaking in it. “Please take them off,” Danny enticed him. The underwear had become restricting, he was aching to get them off.

“Not yet,” Roy said with a pleased tone, pecking Danny’s cheek as he positioned himself behind him. Roy let the robe fall from Danny’s shoulders. He smiled as his boyfriend’s body was revealed to him. His hands caressed down Danny’s arms. Roy thought Danny was so perfect. Not that he had no flaws, but that Roy didn’t see them as flaws. He’d complain about this or that, but everything he complained about Roy thought was stunning.

He pressed his lips to Danny’s shoulder. Goosebumps flared up on his pale back as Roy kissed and touched him. His hands were having a field day with Danny’s body: Smoothing over his stomach and chest, toying with his nipples, teasing his inner thighs until they wobbled and Danny had to lean most of his weight against him. His lips moved to Danny’s neck, the younger gracious enough to bend his neck to allow better access. “Love you,” he mumbled against the skin. The cockiness in Roy’s voice set Danny’s heart on fire.

“Love you too,” He attempted to move his ass against Roy’s cock, but Roy stilled his hips.

“Not yet,” He repeated and Danny groaned. Roy peeled himself away from Danny. His lips trailed down his spine until reaching the curve of his ass. Roy smiled deviously, going in to nip at the tattoo on the side of Danny’s cheek. His hand ran up his back. Before Danny knew it he was gasping at how quickly Roy bent him over. The older man pushed his semi against Danny’s ass. To tease him. To let him know what was going to be his.

Danny whined, ready for Roy to take him right away. He began rubbing his ass against Roy’s crotch. Instead of saying not yet, this time Roy gripped his hips firmly. He pressed his cock in the rut of Danny’s ass and started to grind with him. It took a few seconds to get in sync with each other, but when they did they felt heaven.

“Fuck, Danny,” Roy said through gritted teeth. His fingertips dug harder into Danny’s skin the better it felt. Danny bucked up into him, feeling every inch of Roy gliding against his asshole.

“Feels so good,” Danny huffed as his face fell into their mattress. Roy pressed harder, creating more friction and making both of them moan loudly. They were both in such a desperate need for each other that their grinding had become wild. Roy grew completely hard from it.

Roy hovered over Danny. “You’re amazing,” He breathed as he kissed all over Danny’s back. The younger moaned in response, increasing the pace and pressure that he was rubbing against Roy with. He turned his head around for a kiss that Roy gladly gave up. He swirled his tongue around Danny’s as his lover let out gorgeous sounds into his mouth.

Roy couldn’t get over Danny. He would always be captivated by him. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to such an ethereal person being all his; To having him like this. It still shocked him that Danny even found him attractive, let alone attractive enough to have the amount of lust that he did for him. Neither were very good at keeping their hands off of the other.

With a firm final kiss Roy pulled away, disappearing behind Danny. Danny couldn’t help but to whimper knowing what was coming next. Roy played with the small string of the thong. He pulled it gently, enough to tease Danny’s hole by running against it. He got a good laugh out of the frustration that was so apparent in the noises Danny made.

“Take them off of me, Roy.”

“Not yet.”

A finger was the next to tease Danny through the barely there fabric. He caressed his hole with a featherlight touch. The first few times Danny clenched. Roy waited for his body to become relaxed before moving on. Not one to break a promise, Roy buried his face in Danny’s ass. He pointed his tongue to poke at Danny’s entrance, the thin piece of cotton still created a barrier between Roy’s mouth and Danny’s body.

Danny mewled as Roy continued to lap at his hole through the underwear. It was conflicting; He wanted to feel Roy’s lips pursed around his asshole while he glided in and out of him, but the restriction was creating a different level of pleasure. It wasn’t enough that Danny couldn’t feel every bit of what Roy was doing, but it was just enough to leave Danny writhing for more. Desperate for touch. He knew that desperation building up was ecstasy when finally released.

Danny choked on his thoughts, then choked again when Roy became more aggressive. He couldn’t take it anymore; Teasing your partner was fun until you were the one getting frustrated. Roy ripped Danny’s thong in half. The man didn’t have time to get mad about his brand new underwear being in pieces as Roy’s mouth enveloped his asshole. Sloppy kisses were pressed repeatedly against Danny’s hole until Roy flattened his tongue over him. He switched back and forth between the two: Firmly lapping at his asshole and using his plump lips to suction around it.

A throaty groan croaked through Danny’s lips. His ass worked on it’s own accord pushing further against Roy’s face. Roy didn’t mind; Having Danny’s ass in his face was one of the things he enjoyed most. Roy wrapped an arm around Danny’s lower back to hold him still. With a flat tongue he licked circles against Danny’s asshole, slowly transitioning in to using the tip of his tongue to trace the muscles before diving into him. He glided in and out just like Danny was wanting for. He let his tongue explore inside of Danny’s hole, taking his time to get acquainted with his body as if he didn’t know it better than his own. Roy introduced suction again. While his tongue played inside of Danny his lips added an extra pressure.

“Oh my god,” Danny cried out. His teeth had been biting into the pillow to stave himself off from going completely buck wild. “Roy,” his voice was strained as he looked back at his lover. Nothing was visible but the top of Roy’s head. Danny’s eyes rolled into his skull as he flopped back over. Some clever trick Roy pulled with his tongue had Danny seeing stars. “Fuck! Roy, I’m ready,” he whined.

Roy took a nice bite of Danny’s ass cheek. “Yeah?” He asked as he sat up. “You don’t need me to...,” his finger dipped between Danny’s cheeks, making the younger whimper as they made contact.

“No. I just need you.”

“Okay,” Roy grabbed their novelty sized lube bottle off of the nightstand. He thought Danny was crazy when he brought it home, but they had gone through about half of it already. He slicked himself up, wiping the extra on his hand onto Danny. Roy rubbed the tip of his cock against Danny’s entrance. “Ready?”

“Wait!” Danny turned from doggy style onto his back, reaching his arms out for Roy.

Roy smiled with a chuckle, “You’re such a mush.” He lowered himself down to Danny’s level, positioning his lover’s legs to wrap around him. Danny flung his arms around Roy’s neck himself, a happy smile on his face. “So adorable,” Roy said as he leaned in to kiss Danny sweetly. His tan hand was on Danny’s cheek. “You want it slow? Soft?”

Danny nodded his head, “Yes.” Roy reached between them to grip his own cock. Lining himself up with Danny, he gently started pushing in. He went in slowly, watching Danny’s mouth drop wider the more he filled him up.

Roy pressed his forehead to Danny’s as he started rocking his hips against his. Just as Danny wanted Roy kept his thrusts slow and soft. He pulled nearly completely out, leaving the tip just barely in before gliding back inside of him fully and hitting his prostate. What Danny loved about fucking like this, other than getting to feel closer to Roy, was getting to feel everything Roy had to offer. When you weren’t so caught up in the movements being as fast or as rough as they could be, or positions being as unimaginable as possible you got to really experience your partner. Danny found himself feeling things his mind would be too wrapped up in other encounters to notice: Every way that Roy stretched him out, every second of his lover slowly gliding back inside of him then out again, Roy’s quiet grunts that Danny almost never got to hear over himself.

Danny let out a moan as Roy hit his prostate with more force than before. He buried his face in the crook of Roy’s shoulder as his arms tightened around his neck. Roy cradled Danny’s head, pressing kisses to his temple as his thrusts became more consistent. Danny’s back arched off of the bed, pushing his torso impossibly closer against Roy’s. Their slick chests molded together perfectly as if they were made for each other.

“I love you,” Danny panted. “I love you, I love you,” he repeated in time with Roy’s thrusts. Roy moved away from Danny, just enough that his head wasn’t on his shoulder anymore. Pieces of Danny’s hair stuck to his neck and forehead. Some covered his eyes and got in his mouth. Roy pushed it all away.

“I love you,” Roy returned when he could see Danny’s face. He caught Danny’s lips in a deep kiss. His hips stuck to the leisurely pace, though they grew more forceful in movement when he saw how well Danny reacted to it. Danny let out whimper that was muffled by Roy’s lips. His hand tightened around Roy’s neck as they kissed. Soon his hands were sliding down Roy’s sweaty back. Then up his sides and to his arms. They returned to Roy’s shoulders only to repeat the process and end up on Roy’s ass.

Danny squeezed and kneaded his cheeks. Roy never thought his ass was anything special, but Danny fucking loved grabbing at it. With his hands Danny guided Roy to thrust a little harder. When he did Danny’s head fell back, “Just like that.” He continued with the pace Danny set, the younger man still firmly grasping Roy’s ass as it flexed beneath his hands. Danny could feel his stomach muscles tightening up as Roy kissed across his jaw. “Can I ride you?” His voice was almost pleading. “I wanna ride you.”

“Of course,” Roy growled with a kiss to Danny’s cheek. He pulled out and switched positions with Danny as he laid on down the bed. His heart raced as Danny crawled over him. Sitting up on his knees, Danny got into a reverse cowgirl position. “Help?” Danny looked back biting his lip, trying to look as innocent as possible as he held Roy’s cock. Of course Danny didn’t really need help finding his own asshole, but he thought it was hot when Roy did it himself. Roy smirked, taking hold of his dick and rubbing it between Danny’s cheeks. He guided himself inside, letting Danny lower himself the rest of the way. Both men groaned as he did so. Roy’s head fell back against their pillows while he grasped Danny’s hips.

Danny began moving on top of Roy. His dick disappeared inside of Danny’s ass, reappearing when he pulled off again. The sight of Danny riding him along with the feeling created the perfect whirlwind. Roy began meeting him halfway, thrusting up as Danny slammed down on his dick; Pulling him down harder at times. The man on top let out a yelp. Danny knew he was close when he asked to switch positions. He wanted to finish off with riding Roy to his orgasm.

As his body started to tense up, Danny leaned on Roy’s legs for leverage. His round ass bouncing on Roy’s V-line was sensational. It was one of Roy’s favorite things when they slept together. He touched Danny’s back. The freckles created a pattern that lead his hand into Danny’s hair. His fingers fanning out sent tingles up Danny’s spine, and the rough yank made Danny choke. He held his hair like that. With his head yanked back Roy could see the side of his face: Sweat dripping down his temple and his mouth wide open in a pant. His eyes looked to be closed from what Roy could see.

Danny whined louder as his orgasm approached. He was losing the steady pace he had set, his muscles had started tightening, and that familiar pressure started to build up. Yet Roy’s was the one who’s legs started trembling. “Danny, I’m gonna cum.” His warning was barely heard through the fog in Danny’s mind. When Danny was reaching his releasing he got tunnel vision for it. “Can you cum with me?” Danny nodded his head, unable to form a coherent response. “Turn around, baby. I wanna see your pretty face when you finish,” Roy gritted out.

Danny turned around on Roy’s cock. “Fuck, shit,” Roy groaned at the sensation as his body spasmed. He pulled Danny down as he thrust into him. They wrapped their arms around each other, crashing their lips together for a passionately messy kiss. Roy bit Danny’s bottom lip, tugging it with him before releasing it and attacking his lips again. Roy stroked Danny’s cock desperately as his own climax neared. “Dan,” Roy’s voice was strangled as he shot warm liquid inside of Danny. His body stiffened while he burrowed his dick as far inside of Danny as possible. His toes curled and fingers pressed into Danny’s hot flesh as he finished. The small shutters that took over his body were always Danny’s favorite part of his boyfriend’s orgasm. Through the pulsing of Roy’s cock inside of him and the relentless pressing against his prostate Danny shot his load on Roy’s stomach while Roy was cumming inside of him. He whimpered and pawed at Roy, burying his face into his chest as his body shook on top of him. Danny’s hole clenched around Roy’s cock, sending one hell of an aftershock through his body.

As they came down their bodies relaxed. That didn’t mean they moved. Danny just sprawled out on top of Roy while Roy grew soft inside of him. Eventually Danny ended up next to Roy’s side, Roy’s arm stretched out around him. They laid there cuddled up for a while. Danny’s head on Roy’s chest, his arm flung over his abdomen, and their legs all tangled up. It was peaceful.

“So,” Roy turned his head towards Danny. “What’d you do today?” Danny cackled. Roy was often the one to break silence. Danny could fall right to sleep after making love, but Roy usually wanted to talk. “No, I’m serious,” Roy said as he cuddled Danny closer and kissed his forehead. “I wanna hear about your day.”

Danny moved around a bit before settling in basically the same position. “Well other than you,” they both chuckled, “Not much. I looked at a few more houses, worked out, cleaned up a bit,” Danny trailed off for a moment. “I wrote some new songs. Like, five, and they’re all finished. Well, not finished, finished, but you know what I mean. I have all the lyrics together. I’ll probably write new ones though. Oh, and I found some really cool music on YouTube that goes well with one song, so I might buy it then rework it a bit.”

Roy smiled as Danny rambled about his music. He knew as soon as you got Danny going he didn’t stop. Roy loved that. He was sure he thought this a million times since knowing Danny, but he could listen to him ramble about his passions for hours. “Five? In one day? You’ve been writing a lot lately,” Roy kissed the top of his head.

“You inspire me, Willow,” Danny grinned softly at him. His fingers tracing patterns into his chest.

“Do you wanna show them to me?”

Danny’s grin widened, “Yeah!” He scrambled to sit up, leaping off of the bed to get his notebook from the living room. When he came back he had a blue spiral notebook in one hand and a wet hand towel in the other. He wiped Roy down, bending over and letting Roy do the same for him. Roy tossed the towel into their hamper, getting a fresh pair of sweats for himself and the man’s favorite tiger print house leggings for Danny.

Danny laid his head on Roy’s shoulder as he showed him the songs he had been writing. This was just as intimate as sex for Danny. He didn’t just toss a finished version of a song in Roy’s lap and let him listen to it before anyone else. He dissected the songs for him; Explaining the meaning and emotion behind every lyric, what Roy did to inspire them. Even if he thought Roy wouldn’t like hearing something, he told him anyway. Roy never made it about himself, never showed Danny anything but utter support and interest. He just listened, sometimes he made a mental note to do something differently, or never again depending on how it made Danny feel. He laid his head on top of Danny’s as he continued.

Danny tossed the notebook under their bed when they were finished. Roy shot him a confused look. “What? I’ll lose it if I don’t put it under there at night.”

Danny hated feeling sentimental, but he was so thankful for Roy. Moments like the one they just shared reminded Danny how much Roy loved him. How much he accepted him, and how comfortable Danny was with him. Roy was right, he was a big mush. Danny scurried over to Roy’s side of the bed to engulf him in a hug. Roy happily squeezed back. “I love you,” Danny said as he pecked Roy’s lips.

“I love you, too.” Danny nuzzled his face into Roy’s neck.

“Hey, babe? Do we have any pizza leftover from last night?”

Roy chuckled as he rubbed Danny’s back. Of course this kid was thinking about food while they were having a moment. “Yeah. One piece of veggie and half a plain.”

“Okay,” Danny pulled away. Roy could tell by the mischievous inflection in his tone that he was up to something. “First person in the kitchen gets dibs on the veggie!” Danny sprung out of bed to race to their kitchen.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Roy began to move from the bed. “You’re a thousand years younger than me!”

#biadore #fluff #smut #one shots #my writing

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years

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Chapter 18: Klavier and Phoenix both know weird people, and Apollo is always suffering for it. also, there is the inescapable passage of time.

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

In four successive days, Apollo spots crows following him on six different occasions.

The first is sitting at the kitchen window the morning after his conversation with Klavier. It watches him with a critical eye, and remembering that he has the magatama sitting on his dresser needing to be returned to Phoenix today, he goes to get it. Just out of curiosity, really; but the crow is gone when he gets back.

He counts as part of that same occasion the crows digging around in the dumpsters around back of the office when he arrives. After Klavier mentioned a witch and a crow hanging around bothering him, he doesn’t think he won’t be able to notice crows, but the trash seems like normal crow behavior. He knows they’re smart, but there was something very uncomfortable about the staring of the one earlier. He doesn’t bother with the magatama in his pocket.

Even though Phoenix did imply that he did want Apollo to go chase down Klavier, he doesn’t know whether that was supposed to be in the middle of a Thursday, without preamble, and not asking to take the magatama on the way out. Biking over, he prepared excuses. Phoenix enters the office around 10 am and Apollo, offering the magatama, cannot even get through “Sorry—” before Phoenix cuts him off.

“No worries. How’s Klavier doing?” Phoenix flips the magatama over in his hand the way Trucy sometimes spins playing cards.

“Not good,” Apollo says, because he simply wasn’t, “but I don’t think going for ‘spiraling off a cliff’, either.”

“That’s good to hear.” Phoenix is still fiddling with the magatama. “If you can, keep an eye on him still, would you?”

“Uh,” Apollo says. “Yeah, okay?”

Trucy shows up in the afternoon, her arrival heralded by her outside yelling, “Stop eating trash! You’re better than this!” and Apollo counts that as Crow Encounter 1.5.

The second is in the building lobby when he and Clay head out grocery shopping over the weekend. All three of them freeze and stare at each other. “You see it, right?” Apollo asks. Clay nods.

Apollo holds the door open for it on the way out and it squawks at him.

The third is at the kitchen window again that evening, every time he looks. He doesn’t have a magatama this time, can’t do anything but glare back at it. It flies away, croaking loudly, when he brandishes a barbecue wing (Clay ordered them and invited Mr Starbuck over to watch hockey) at it. He doesn’t answer the two of them when they ask what he’s laughing at when he returns to the living room, not really wanting to talk about witches right then.

By the fourth, he’s figured out how to distinguish one of them. If there are several together, if he looks closely, one of them looks almost blue – a dark, glossy navy blue, but still blue – compared to any other. There’s no apparent pattern in the next crow sightings whether the bluish one is there or not. After the sixth, when it is there on a bench in People Park and doesn’t fly away when he and Trucy and Vera approach to eat, but instead just hops around his feet, he offers it an egg and gives up both on counting and on pattern-searching. That one is probably the familiar, he thinks, harassing Apollo whenever it can be spared from its work – though what use a bird is to a prosecutor, he has no idea.

The crows, he doesn’t mention to Klavier. He’s not sure if he should say something like “you should go say hi to your witch coworker so that I stop being stalked by birds as your one apparent human contact” when, since having seen each other in person, since that last thanks, their texts have not strayed from light, stupid remarks. Klavier complains about Vongole’s shenanigans (having apparently not yet hellhound-proofed his fridge) or passes along the weirdest out-of-context statements he hears in the halls (if that implies that he has rejoined office social life, Apollo doesn’t know); Apollo relays Trucy’s best and worst jokes or sends a snapshot of Vera’s latest painting. Phoenix catches him texting and asks, every time, if it’s Klavier. He does this every two days, then every three; then every week, like he’s willing to lengthen the leash with the consistency of the knowledge that – Klavier is alive? It’s a bleak thought, that Phoenix might be expecting otherwise.

October slips into November. The office gets colder; more blankets manifest on top of bookshelves and on desks and chairs and are thrown at Apollo’s head. He’s almost grown used to Phoenix’s constant presence, is used to, to the point of sometimes forgetting, Vera’s. Trucy starts a Youtube channel and makes getting work done in the afternoons difficult recording videos of little sleight-of-hand magic tricks, drags the wifi to a crawl uploading them. She records a cover of My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness, and then another one where she changes all the pronouns, and Apollo sends both to Klavier. She doesn’t talk much about fae magic anymore, tries to get Apollo into professional wrestling, and sometimes he pretends he didn’t see her sitting at Phoenix’s desk with the mitamah cradled in her hands. Vera tries to paint her nails in the office once and Phoenix gags on the smell. He asks Apollo what he’s been talking to Klavier about lately.

Toward the end of November, Apollo is alone at the office, reorganizing some paperwork for the little cases he’s managed to pick up, when he hears the front office door loudly creak open and someone yell, “‘Sup, Mia! Eyyo, Niii-iick!”

Apollo pokes his head out, not sure what or who he will find, and certainly not expecting a man wearing red skinny jeans and a blazer jacket so orange that Apollo feels compelled to tell him that Halloween was last month. The beret doesn’t really help the costume effect. “Hello?” Apollo calls. “Do you need something?”

(He’s learned from Iris’ warning.)

“You must be Apollo! Nick’s told me about you, like, once, but he’s pretty shit about keeping everyone up-to-date, so I figure that’s good. Is he around or am I gonna have to camp out here until he finds his way back?” The man wanders in past the couches to examine Vera’s smaller paintings propped up on the piano. “Ooh, nice.”

“Um, who are you?” Apollo asks.

“He hasn’t told you about me?” Apollo shakes his head. “‘Course he hasn’t. Nick’s useless. The name’s Laurice Deauxnim, call me Larry. Everyone does, except everyone who doesn’t.” He extends a hand and Apollo stares stupidly at him for a few seconds before he realizes that he should shake it. “Nick didn’t tell you I’d be coming around?” Apollo shakes his head again. “Seriously, Nick, c’mon.” Larry turns his eyes to the ceiling and spreads his hands wide. “Useless, am I right?” he entreats the ceiling, or maybe Mia, considering that he had mentioned her name on arrival. He must know Phoenix well, to know her. “Anyway, I’m an author-artist, I was off on a book tour-new inspiration tour-vacation kinda thing when he talked to me about your changeling friend, but now I am back, baby.”

A pillow hits Larry in the face, and not softly lobbed the way blankets hit Apollo or Trucy, but like it came straight from an air cannon.

“Uh,” Apollo says.

Larry tosses it back at the couch. “Good talk, Mia.”

“I have no idea when either Mr Wright or Vera are going to get here,” Apollo says. If he thinks back, he can remember Phoenix saying that there was someone he had to introduce Vera to – but he can’t imagine this man, orange and red to Vera’s blues and purples, in any way having any way to relate to her. He can imagine Vera retreating back somewhere into the kitchen and not coming back out. He also can imagine purgatory, which is what waiting around for Phoenix in the same office space as this man will be. Iris may have been cryptic and terrifying, but she was quiet.

It’s about ten minutes of some chatter that Apollo tunes out, Larry examining Vera’s paintings and brushes and talking probably mostly to himself, occasionally looking to Apollo like he expects a response he doesn’t get. They both turn expectantly to the door as it opens, and Trucy wanders in with some boxes of Eldoon’s stacked high. “Uncle Larry!” she yelps. “You’re here!”

Uncle, huh. The last one of those was Valant, and this Larry seems to be at least at that level of eccentric, but on Phoenix’s side, not Zak’s.

“Sure am, kiddo! Where’s your dad? He still sleeping, or he finally quit that stupid club?”

“Yeah, he just didn’t go back after the murder trial,” Trucy says. Her smile takes on a bit of a plastic quality as she says the last three words. Who else knows about her father’s murder, who outside of that courtroom; who has she or Phoenix told? “He’s really bad at keeping people up-to-date, huh?”

Larry looks at Apollo and says, “It took him four months to tell me he had a daughter, y’know? And we live in the same city!” Trucy giggles.

Apollo wonders if Larry was ever told that Trucy was adopted. Somehow, he wouldn’t put it past Phoenix.

“Trucy, what exactly is your school schedule?” Apollo asks. He gets the same answer every time, but he still feels obligated to ask, if her father won’t seem to.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says.

“Oof, don’t let Edgy hear that.” Larry rescues Trucy from beneath the noodles and puts them on the coffee table. “Y’know you’re in for another five-hour lecture about ‘the importance of education’” – he throws his voice to some weird accent that sounds nothing like anything and makes Trucy laugh harder – “and how ‘you don’t want to end up like some certain particular orange man who’—”

“You’re not a good example for the perils of flunking high school,” Trucy says brightly. Apollo has a sudden parental urge to ask her what her report card looks like. “You’ve turned out fine, Uncle Larry!”

“It’s all sheer dumb luck and he knows it.” And there’s Phoenix, strolling in with his hands in his hoodie pockets like he knew exactly the timing of when to best appear to make the best joke. “Hey, how’s it going, you sorry bastard?”

Larry gasps in a comically dramatic way, clapping his hands over Trucy’s ears. “I’m fifteen, Uncle Larry,” Trucy says tiredly. “I know what swear words are.”

“Oh.” Larry removes his hands. “Right.” He stares at Phoenix with a glare that keeps turning halfway into a grin before he can fix it. “Well, dumbass, you wouldn’t have to ask how I’m doing if you’d pick up the phone once in a while! Edgy’s better about chatting with me! Edgy is!”

“Sure he is,” Phoenix says with a lazy wave of his hand. “He’s not the one who the fae have banned from getting a new phone that texts faster than a brick.”

“So you two are old friends?” Apollo asks.

Larry gives him a thumbs-up. “Right in one,” Phoenix says.

“Yeah,” Apollo says, “that’s kinda how I greet my best friend, so.”

The three of them chatter over each other, chaotic snippets of conversation burying themselves beneath each other and beneath the weight of obvious years that Apollo is not privy to. Trucy is scolding Larry for forgetting how old she is, and Larry is saying that he just doesn’t have the brains to keep track of the ages of all his friends’ daughters’ cousins’ in-laws, and Phoenix is telling him that he unlike some people doesn’t even have that expected of him and still can’t manage friends’ daughters, and then Trucy has her laptop from somewhere and is pulling up her Youtube channel, and her hat is hovering in midair obviously balanced on her wisp, and Larry elbows Phoenix into a bookshelf.

It’s weird – it’s far more than weird – to see Phoenix on that level of familiarity with someone. With Iris, the history between them, obviously deep, was obviously a gulf that they weren’t trying to, or couldn’t, bridge. But today, Apollo thinks he almost sees a hint of the man Phoenix was before, and not just before the disbarment.

He can’t exactly get away from them; the filing cabinet is in the back room where they settle, Larry lounging in Phoenix’s desk chair with his feet up on the desk, Phoenix sitting on the desk, and Trucy bouncing about all over. He listens to some gossip about mutual friends of theirs – which includes Prosecutor Edgeworth, somehow – and Larry’s career, learning that he’s a picture book writer and artist. A quick search of his name, on Apollo’s fourth stab at how to spell that surname, turns up that he is probably about as successful and well-off as a picture book writer can get. On his wikipedia page – personal life section incredibly short – there’s a note about a woman named Elise with the same surname, another author-illustrator, many less books under her belt, all more than seven years ago, and even less about who she was behind the books.

If Larry wasn’t a friend of Phoenix’s, Apollo wouldn’t think that anything about that was really a mystery. Some people prefer their private lives.

As it is, Apollo tries to dredge up anything from his memory of that month-old aside. It was the same day as his conversation with Klavier, which pushed just about everything else out of his head and didn’t let it back in. “Are you the friend whose mentor was one of the fae?” Apollo asks at the closest thing to a lull in the conversation; Trucy is laughing while Phoenix and Larry glare at each other in mock anger about a joke Apollo didn’t catch, off a discussion about shapeshifters. (Apollo desperately doesn’t and wants to know more about what they know about shapeshifters. It’s the way he feels about most new magic concept. He hasn’t braved asking Trucy more about kitsunes.)

“That’s me,” Larry says. “Unless you’ve made other unfortunate artist friends while I’m not looking, and that’s unlikely, since the only friend you’ve made in the last seven years was a mortal enemy.”

“Look at you,” Phoenix says dryly. “You’ve learned how to use logic, even though I have made friends, thanks.”

“You haven’t told me about any new friends, either,” Trucy says, pouting.

Larry pantomimes stabbing Phoenix in the leg with a pencil. “Anyway yeah,” he says, still gesturing with the pencil but now like he’s a professor lecturing with an imaginary blackboard, pointing to concepts visible only in his mind. “That’s me. Her name was Elise, or at least that’s the name she went by at the end.” He is quiet for a few seconds. “I found her art at a low point in my life, which I guess that low point was ‘most of my twenties’, there Nick I said it before you could, and was so inspired that I reached out to her and I worked with her up until she died.”

“You forgot that the ‘worked with her’ part involved swearing your apparent ‘undying fealty’ to her teachings and ‘everything she could provide you’,” Phoenix says, making a few quotes with his fingers, again with that deep dryness to his voice, not quite sarcastic but plainly amused. “Which – Apollo, tell me the problem of using that phrasing to one of the fae?”

“Everything?”

“Yes,” Phoenix says.

“Shush, Nick,” Larry says.

“I haven’t heard this one,” Trucy says. She perches herself on Apollo’s desk and puts her chin in her hands.

Larry groans. Phoenix’s expression is positively gleeful. “So he’s talking to her about learning painting and publishing from her, in his overdramatic exaggerated way that he says everything,” he says, more animated in his manner of speech than he has ever been before, “and she’s hearing from that ‘oh, he wants to gain magic from me’ and that’s one way how you can accidentally become a witch.”

Does Phoenix know anyone whose life isn’t a fae nightmare? “They don’t make you draw up a meticulous contract beforehand?” Apollo asks.

“They hold the cards in that setup – if you, human, the one at risk, don’t ask, I can’t imagine many would suggest it.” Phoenix snatches the pencil out of Larry’s hand. “Again, sheer dumb luck for it to turn out all right. Be careful swearing oaths to people – you might end up bound and magic for it.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement,” Apollo says, and Phoenix nods like he has imparted some sort of sage wisdom instead of saying something that should, by every right, be obvious.

He isn’t around for wherever and whenever Phoenix introduces Vera to Larry. Their conversation about her assuages some of Apollo’s fears about Larry’s exuberance; Phoenix becomes a human thesaurus but only for the words “sheltered”, “quiet”, and “shy”. “Sorta like Pearls was when we first met her,” Phoenix says, another glimpse of their depth of history, and Apollo wonders about who this girl is before Phoenix adds, “Except Vera grew up here, and Pearls on the other side of the veil.”

Ah. One of the fae. Go figure. How many of them does Phoenix know, anyway, and how is he not dead from it all yet?

Over the next week, Vera’s art supplies begin a slow migration out of the office. She leaves some pencils and sketchbooks around, shows up whenever Larry is meeting with his agent – apparently he hasn’t been home in a while, has a lot to catch up on, drags Phoenix along to anything dealing with a contract while they argue about something pro-bono a decade ago that Phoenix is trying to collect on. Apollo and Trucy leave the office that Friday evening, leaving Vera the only one there, her head in her sketchbook, not even looking up to tell them that she has found the zone and she doesn’t need them to wait around to walk her home.

“I’m so proud of her,” Trucy says, skipping down the sidewalk beneath the spotted streetlights. “She’s come so far since we met her!”

“She’s older than you,” Apollo reminds her.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be proud of her,” Trucy says. “I’m proud of you when you win a case. I’m proud of Daddy that he’s getting his life back together. And I’m proud of Vera for how she’s doing with everything she found out about herself and her family.”

“And how are you doing with everything about you and yours?” He hasn’t asked her, because she has never drawn close to it, seems to have chosen pretending nothing is wrong as her coping mechanism, which Apollo understands. He’s tried forceful repression and almost succeeded at it. He can’t blame her for not wanting to face all that is behind her. But it seems like a better time than any, the distance of nearly a month and a half, and in the dark Trucy doesn’t have to look at him, doesn’t have to work to hide her facial expressions from him.

After a short delay, her face turned from him under the lights, Trucy says quietly, “Mia had some old grimoires. Daddy’s up late reading all of them, looking for stuff about mitamahs. He wants to help, he always wants to help, but he’s so busy, he’s got court stuff and Court stuff and he was talking about taking the Bar again and now this and I wish sometimes for his sake that we hadn’t ever gone and found any of it at all.” Even in the dark, he sees her shadowy figure slump. “And I wanted to be magic like my grandfather and now I don’t know what to be, but I do know I’m a Wright, and Wrights don’t run from the truth even when it hurts or just kinda sucks.”

In spite of himself, Apollo laughs, and Trucy does too. “Your dad has a real way with words,” he tells her, and she laughs again. “But I mean – if you want to learn about magic, you can learn about magic. It doesn’t have to be like anyone else. You can be magic like you.”

(Like Apollo is a defense attorney not like Dhurke, but like Apollo, and he wants to tell her he understands but like every time before, he doesn’t allow himself to form the words.)

“I guess,” she says. “I guess I can.”

His Saturday plans to sleep in and stay in bed for longer end with his phone’s incessant buzzing. 8:36 in the morning, and he is being called by the number that is saved in his phone as the Wright Anything Agency, the ancient desk phone that Apollo doesn’t know exactly how to make an outgoing call from. He’s not sure he’s ever taken a call on it, either; clients just seem to walk in or be handed to him, and he goes from there.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Trucy,” Apollo says, “this isn’t really funny.”

He hangs up and plants his face back into his pillow.

Buzz buzz buzz.

Wright Anything Agency.

“Trucy—”

At the loud burst of static, Apollo tries to jerk away from the phone in his hand, rolling halfway out of bed in the process. “What the hell,” he says, at some distance to the phone with no idea of whether he can be heard. “Can we not do something weird for one weekend?”

Again, he hangs up, but this time he does not move. His phone barely has time to return to its lock screen before there is a third incoming call from the same source.

He puts it to his ear and waits. The static is back, soft enough to listen to. Its hiss isn’t constant but has peaks and valleys like a hum, like a whisper, like if he just listens hard enough he would swear that it has the same pulse and rhythm as speech. Blinking at the wall behind his bed, he cautiously asks, “Mia?”

The crackle in response is loud, but not painfully. If he had to classify it as anything, it seems like an affirmation, not the scolding of the static of the second call. “Okay,” he says. “You win.”

He hangs up, waiting for a fourth call to chase him down, and it doesn’t.

“Dude.” Clay slumps into the kitchen, yawning, to take in Apollo dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and shoving a granola bar into his mouth. “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting crank-called by my office’s ghost and I’m presuming it’s for something important,” Apollo replies, through a mouthful of granola, and the words come out such a mess that he has to repeat them after he swallows. At Clay’s dead-eyed expression, he adds, “She’s a benevolent ghost, mostly, I think. Mr Wright said.”

“Yeah, call me if you want me to start looking into exorcisms,” Clay says. “Otherwise” – he throws a thumb over his shoulder – “I’m goin’ back to bed.”

In the gray morning, the streets are sparsely-populated and about as quiet as it gets, restless night over and day not quite begun. The office, when Apollo reaches it, pops the door open before he can even try the handle to see if, like every morning, it is unlocked for him. “Hello?” he calls. The room is empty. No one responds. “Who am I even looking for?” he mutters, and in response, the last of Vera’s paint cans rattle. “Vera?” The lights blink and a book falls, almost in slow-motion, from the shelf next to the far door. “Okay.”

How did he not notice Mia’s presence before Phoenix pointed it out? Had she left him alone to flounder before then? Had everything weird just faded into the background weirdness of his life? He opens the door. The lamp on his desk flickers on, a spotlight twisted to point at the bathroom door. In the quiet, the sound of soft sobbing reaches through the door. “Vera?” Apollo repeats.

Abruptly, the sobbing stops. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice raised as much as it possibly can be, soft as it is through the door. “You can go home.”

“You’re crying,” Apollo says. “I’m not going anywhere.” He slumps against the wall and slowly folds down to the floor. “I didn’t have any plans for today, anyway.”

“Please go home.” Vera’s voice emerges closer, from the crack along the wall. She might have moved, too. “You don’t need to see me.”

See her? There’s something he can work with. “What happened, Vera?”

A second passes, an audible sniff, and then several more seconds. “I don’t know how to go back,” she says, fainter again. The lock clicks open. Apollo scrambles to his feet as the door opens. His breath catches.

Something broke, and it isn’t just the cracks in the center of the mirror.

Vera doesn’t look like she was the one who opened the door. She sits on the floor, hugging her knees, and her fingers digging into her jeans are too long, ending in what looks like sharp bony claws. The skin on her hands and face is variegated, patchy, blue a few shades light than her hair and pale lilac mixed across each other like they were sprayed and splattered down onto a canvas. Her ears end in points and curve near their tips but are surprisingly short, ending at least an inch before the top of her head and instead hooking outward. It reminds Apollo a little of a bat. Her red eyes are a little too big for her face, blinking furiously, and she quickly reaches up to rub away the tear tracks down her cheeks. Apollo almost jumps forward, terrified by those claws going so close to her eyes, but he holds himself back and then realizes, with the iron ring on his hand, he would just make things worse. He shoves it down into the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh,” Apollo says.

Why did Mia call him and not Trucy? He’s no good at this.

“Mr Laurice told me all about his mentor.” Vera’s voice, now that she isn’t raising it through the door, drops to a raspy whisper. “And how he didn’t know what she looked like. He showed me a picture of her how she looked as human, but... “ She sniffs again. “I wondered what I look like. So last night I tried and…” Another, louder sniff, and then a sob that she doesn’t choke down. “I can’t go back. I’ve tried and tried and I... And I can’t go out like this.” She chews on the end of one of her thumb-claws and he can see several of her teeth end in long points like her ears and fingers. “People can’t see me like…”

“You’ve been here all night?” Vera nods. “Did you – did you have dinner?” She shakes her head. Apollo fails to conjure a memory of whether she had anything substantial for lunch or was absorbed in her work that early, too. “Okay, um, here’s what we’ll do.” He extends a hand to Vera. She stares at it for several seconds – maybe she can See some lingering effect of the ring – but accepts it and he helps her up off the floor. “I’m gonna call Trucy because she knows a little more about magic, and I’ll run out and get you something to eat, and we can all figure this out together, okay?” She nods. “Okay.”

He tries his best not to sound frantic when he explains the situation to Trucy. Can a glamour just go away, forever? Vera can’t go back to living like a shut-in, not like this, not when she’s been learning not to shy so far away from the world, not when she’s been introduced to a mentor who can do more for her than just let her hang out in a cramped Anything Agency. “I will be there in five minutes,” Trucy says, hanging up immediately after, not letting Apollo ask how she intends for that impossible timetable, since she said she was at home, to work.

Five minutes later, a void-portal opens near the bookshelf – Vera screams – and Trucy stumbles out with a makeup compact mirror in her hand, and Apollo wonders how he forgot about that Gramarye trick. “Got it the first time this time!” she announces proudly, holding the mirror aloft and then letting it fall from her fingers, slumping over as though exhausted. Her hair is tangled, obviously unbrushed, and she doesn’t even have her hat, probably having thrown on the clothes closest at hand, jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt and her white boots. She flings herself over the back of the couch and stays as she lands.

“You didn’t need to exhaust yourself to get here immediately,” Apollo says. Vera puts her face in her hands; maybe it would have been better for her to take longer to arrive, give Vera more time to accept that someone else was going to see her now too.

“I did.” Trucy rights herself and leans forward. “Vera!” She grins. “You’re so pretty!”

Vera moves her hands apart to look up at Trucy with one big red eye. “Those are such good colors for you! You look just like a pretty painting!”

That’s Trucy, good at this, and Apollo, only a comfort to someone who is a thousand times more willing to talk than Vera is. “I’ll go get you something to eat,” he says.

“Not Eldoon’s,” Trucy scolds, turning a frown and furrowed brow up at Apollo.

“I know, and I wouldn’t anyway. No one should have Eldoon’s at nine in the morning!”

Trucy’s expression tells him that she has definitely had Eldoon’s this early in the morning at least once before.

He makes a run to the source of their other dietary staple, Kitaki Bakery, instead. Mr Kitaki knows by now what the Anything Agency tend to get and doesn’t bat an eye when Apollo asks for whatever they have that is minimal salt. Halfway back through People Park, his thoughts bouncing between that first case and Vera’s situation now, he realizes that he and Trucy aren’t the only ones who could help with Vera’s situation.

Hey so, weird question about glamours Is it possible to like get it stuck and not be able to use it again

That doesn’t make any sense when he retreads after pressing send, so he tries again, stops walking to concentrate on whatever the hell he’s trying to convey. Context. Context would probably help.

Vera’s at the agency and she looks not human and she wants to change back and can’t and she’s freaked out Is it possible that she’s just stuck forever or is there some way to go back And how Trucy and I know nothing

He doesn’t know what rock star prosecutors do with their Saturday mornings – it probably depends on what they do with their Friday nights, and Apollo has no clue about that either – but the message is out there, if Klavier is awake to help.

Maybe that’s why Mia called Apollo.

The TV blares the opening theme of the Steel Samurai on Apollo’s return to the agency. Vera, still blue and purple and fae, at least no longer hides her face, and Trucy flings herself into the couch next to Vera. “We’ve got a game plan,” Trucy announces. Apollo hands her the pastry boxes. “Chill out, eat food, relax, and maybe it works better when not stressed.” She pats Vera’s hand, apparently unfazed by her claws. “We’ll just have a chill day in today!”

“I’m sorry,” Vera whispers. “I know you both had better things to do.”

Trucy looks at Apollo. Apollo looks to the ceiling. “Nope,” Trucy says.

“Not really,” Apollo agrees. “You should’ve called, Vera – called last night, especially, really.”

She ducks her head. Her ears more a little, flaring out and moving down. “I didn’t want to be a bother,” she says. “Since I said I would be okay… And then you were all home again, and I would call you back…”

“You’re not a bother, Vera! You’re family!” Trucy grins at her and squeezes her hand. Then the smile falls off her face. “Wait, Polly, Vera didn’t call at all? How did you know…?”

Vera blinks at him, her big eyes making her resemble some sort of owl, if owls had demonic red eyes. “I got a series of calls from the office phone,” Apollo says. “No voice on the other end. I think it was Mia.”

“Oh,” Trucy says, sinking back into the couch. “I bet it was, too.” They watch the Evil Magistrate make a long villainous speech before he flees, and then Trucy adds, “I always wish I could’ve known her while she was alive. ‘Cause I always think I do know her, and then I think – do I, really? How do you get to know someone from her ghost? And why wasn’t I allowed to know her? Why’d some stupid bastard who thought he was hot shit take that away from us?”

The office is silent until the next episode starts and Trucy launches into a story about how Phoenix defended the original Steel Samurai actor. It seems like a diversion, a distraction, from the way the air hangs heavy after Trucy’s outburst, the way the audio from the TV sounds thinner and hollow. He doesn’t mind it. Vera listens to her unblinking, hypnotized, though it is impossible to tell where exactly her eyes are focused, on Trucy or on the television; there is barely a change in the hue of her eyes where the light hits them, no apparent pupils in her ping-pong ball eyes.

They make it through that episode and half of the next, Apollo still puzzling over the apparent circles of people that Phoenix knows, and all jolt at the sound of knocking on the door. Phoenix doesn’t knock, and it’s still barely 9:30 on a Saturday morning. Is the agency properly open on weekends? What are its hours? Apollo has never had a clear idea. The three of them sit frozen for several more seconds, time enough for the knocking to start again. Trucy vaults the back of the couch. “Coming!” she calls, smoothing down some flyaway hairs and yanking the door open. “Oh! Prosecutor Gavin! Hi!”

If Apollo is surprised – and he is, frozen in place and staring in confusion at the back of Trucy’s head as she continues to frantically comb flat her hair – then Trucy, who has no idea that Apollo contacted him, must be shocked as all hell. He checks his phone to see if he hadn’t missed a text in response, some advance warning, finding nothing. He just showed up.

Something thumps to the floor. Apollo finally turns his head. Vera flees over the back of the other couch, landing heavily and slamming the door to the other room hard enough to shake the coffee table. “Vera! Wait—!”

“I see I’m already not helping the situation,” Klavier says dryly. Apollo expects to see the tired-eyed man he last saw over a month ago – has it been that long? – and the plastic smile that paired with that bitter tone. But Apollo doesn’t have the magatama on him, and Klavier is Klavier, insufferably glamorous (in every sense of the word), and he’s grinning at them both with his spotlight smile, like even just in a t-shirt and jeans with his hair pulled back low, he should only be at home on the stage.

Apollo hates him again, though he can appreciate that he isn’t wearing that stupid necklace.

“You could have just… texted back.” Apollo scrambles to his feet as Klavier enters the office, as out-of-place as he was the first time he dropped by. “Or – or just called if it was too much to write—”

“Oh,” Trucy says. “You texted him? That explains – anyway, ignore him, Prosecutor Gavin.” She pats Klavier’s arm. “I’m glad to see you.”

“I could hardly ignore a distressed damsel, ja?” Klavier asks. “And besides, I haven’t seen my favorite Fraülein Magician in a hot second.”

“Vera tried to hide from me too when I showed up,” Trucy says, trailing behind Klavier as they pick their way through the usual office mess. “It’s not just you. And she—”

Klavier yelps and jerks his hand away from the doorknob. Still at some distance to it, Apollo can feel the cold radiating from the metal, an unequivocal warning. If it’s Mia not letting them in, she must have reason; there must be something—

“Your rings,” Apollo says.

“Huh?” Trucy asks.

“Prosecutor Gavin – those are iron, right? And Vera—”

Klavier’s eyes widen. “Ah,” he says, immediately plucking them off of his fingers. “Of course.”

“What happens?” Trucy asks. Klavier, reaching for the door again, a little more hesitant than before, freezes. “Like is it like magnets that it just repels, or…?”

“Like most magic, it depends.” Klavier’s eyes have a vacant, absent look, one that glamour can’t hide. “The scar on Kris’ hand, though – that was iron. I don’t suppose he ever forgave me for it.”

He obviously braces himself before touching the doorknob again, shoulders slumping with relief when nothing happens. “Vera!” Trucy calls, ducking in under Klavier’s arm. “It’s okay! None of us are mad at you, Vera!”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you in court,” Klavier says. “That was unbecoming of me, and you undeserving.”

The bathroom door is open, the kitchen door is nonexistent, and Vera’s voice rises up from somewhere in the room. “I did deserve it,” she says. Trucy makes a beeline for Phoenix’s desk. “You can be mad at me. It’s okay. I screwed everything up, and I’m just like your brother--”

“Nein, Fraülein, let me stop you there.” Klavier walks to the desk and leans against it, his back to Trucy attempting to drag Vera out from underneath. “The only thing you have in common with my brother is that you are both changelings, and I can hardly hold a grudge for that, ja? I do not fault Herr Forehead for being human when many heinous criminals I have prosecuted are also human.”

Apollo decides not to acknowledge that.

Her work done, Trucy hops up onto the desk. Vera stands there, her head ducked, her ears flattened out to the sides and drooping further. Klavier glances back over his shoulder and grins at her; unlike Apollo or even Trucy, he doesn’t have to hesitate a moment. He would have Seen her before, wouldn’t he? “There we go,” he says. “No need for pretty little Fraüleins to hide their pretty faces like that, ja?”

Vera lowers her head further, her eyes almost frantically avoiding Klavier’s, her clawed fingers tugging her hair down around her ears. It doesn’t help. “I would still rather look like me,” she says softly. “I want to be me again.”

Klavier sighs heavily. “Well, that’s the first part of your problem, Fraülein: this is you, much as anything else is.”

A soft sob escapes Vera’s throat. Apollo glares at Klavier. “Like I am Prosecutor Gavin and Klavier the rock star; I am not me if you cut away either. Everyone has different faces for the world at different times, ja? Yours and mine, Fraülein, are just a bit more literal than most.”

Vera sinks down into the desk chair, her hands spread out in front of her, the white hooked claws splayed apart. “I’m afraid I have no answer that will be like—” Klavier snaps his fingers. “I’m not very good at teaching magic, I’ve been told.” His knuckles pale on the hand that he doesn’t have in the air, tightly gripping the edge of the desk. “But I can promise you only more hurt in trying to bury half of yourself.”

“Turn your thinking around!” Trucy says brightly. Klavier looks relieved, probably that they aren’t going to dwell on what he said, read into it everything that is definitely there beneath the surface. “You’re not trying to – to change yourself or anything, just be a different self for the situation. Like how I’m not allowed to wear my top hat to school, or Polly – well, I guess Polly’s only got one face and it’s loud.”

“Hey!”

“There you go proving her point,” Klavier says with a smirk.

“Daddy says that magic is all about being sure,” Trucy continues, content to ignore that which she has sparked. “That if you don’t think you can, you won’t. So you can! I know you can!” She beams at Vera. She’s a good cheerleader; it’s part of what makes her such a good counsel in court. (The other part is that she’s smart as hell, but sometimes Apollo needs someone to believe in him when he doesn’t believe in him.)

Vera stares at her claws, visibly uncomfortable with the attention all on her. “Why didn’t my father tell me?” she asks. “I could have figured this out a long time ago.”

Apollo, thinking about someone else who wasn’t told, who also found out in a bad situation, fails to not look at Klavier, who glances away. Trucy turns to look at him as well. “There’s hardly a guide for how to raise a changeling, ja?” Klavier drums his fingers on the desk. “Perhaps he hoped to stop you from being torn in two like this. Perhaps he worried that once you knew, you would try some sort of dangerous magic. Perhaps he was afraid to face it, too. Who knows? I have wondered often myself, much as I know it is far too late to ask.”

Apollo thinks, if not quite that question, he and Trucy just as well have questions for their parents, far too late to ask them. And Trucy’s face falls, her eyes cast down toward her boots, undoubtedly thinking the same. There’s one other question Apollo has, one he could ask, one that isn’t too late, and doesn’t: why Klavier didn’t tell anyone what Vera was. Was he afraid to face it, for fear of facing that echo of his brother?

For several minutes, the only sound in the office is the faint rumble of the TV from the next room over. Trucy is the first to move; she doesn’t speak but instead gasps and smacks Apollo’s arm. “Vera!” she says, fortunately excited, not horrified or afraid. “Your hands, look!”

And she grabs one of Vera’s hands – still mottled like paint splashes, but purple and blue the whole way up her fingers, ending with silver nails and stubby human fingertips. “Good work, Fraülein!” Klavier says, leaning halfway over the desk to look. He grins at her, another one of his flashbulb smiles, and Apollo would swear that the skin on Vera’s cheeks, even the blue part, takes on a purpler tone. Is that how she blushes with this face?

“I thought glamour was just illusions,” Trucy says, still holding Vera’s hand and studying it like it is a piece of evidence. Vera for her part at least doesn’t seem to mind. “But like…” She taps the end of one of Vera’s fingers. “There’s obviously not an invisible claw here. So it’s like a kind of shapeshifting?”

“It’s magic, Fraülein,” Klavier says. “It is a glamour. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’m an artist,” Vera says softly. “Whatever face I have… I’m an artist. And I’m not trained to hold a brush with claws, so…” She shrugs. Trucy finally drops her hand. “They went away.”

Magic is about being sure, and if she’s sure of anything, it’s that.

Klavier offers her a high-five, which she accepts. “You’ve got it, Fraülein.”

“Just not…” She frowns. “The rest.”

“Ach, don’t doubt yourself now. I’ve no doubt before long you’ll be able to show off either of your lovely faces whenever you choose. And all without my poor advice.”

Vera starts to giggle and then hastily presses her hand over her mouth. “It helped,” she says.

They can’t hear the front door open, but it is apparent when the murmur from the TV is added to. Phoenix’s voice drifts in, half a conversation, starts and stops, and like no one else is with him. They all look to the door and Phoenix enters, phone in one hand, two heavy-looking leather-bound books balanced in his other arm. His eyes pass over the four of them, flashing blue and black, but his part of his conversation doesn’t falter. “Okay, but there’s absolutely no need to have a midlife crisis at seventeen,” he says. He drops the two tomes on Apollo’s desk.

“I did that,” Klavier says quietly. “Wouldn’t recommend it, either.”

Phoenix stands with his hand still on the books, shaking his head at whatever is being said on the other end of the line. He rolls his eyes. “Well first I’d take a breath, and then – no, they’re not going to discriminate based on your birthday, I know a kid – not really a kid anymore, she’d kick my ass if she heard that – who got her badge at thirteen so you are – take a breath, please.” He drags a hand down his face. “Yeah, words of wisdom still aren’t really my forte, so I’d hang up the phone and go study some more – yeah.” He laughs. “And I do kinda have to cut you off, sorry. Got some kids here in local time I gotta check up with.” His eyes flicker between colors at them again. “Of course there’ll still be room for you here. Just maybe not as much space as I thought a year ago. Talk to you later, kiddo. Right,” he says, shoving the phone into his pocket and spinning on his feet a little to properly face them all. “Someone wanna give me the opening statement?”

“Glamour’s stuck,” Trucy says.

“I panicked,” Vera says, sinking down a little further in the desk chair.

Phoenix nods. “It happens. Even some friends of mine, they’ve known their magic their entire lives – still, they get hurt or tired or hungry or upset, and they’ll end up stuck for a bit, too. Which – checklist.” He holds up two fingers and taps one for each question. “Have you eaten recently?” Vera nods. “Sleep okay last night?” She shakes her head. “That’s not gonna help, for sure.”

“I feel a little better now,” Vera says, staring down at her hands again. They are still clawless. “Trucy and Apollo helped. And Prosecutor Gavin too, a lot.”

“Good to hear.” Phoenix takes a few steps toward his desk and stops, raising his voice without turning his head. “Speaking of, Prosecutor Gavin could at least stand to say goodbye before he sneaks out.”

And Apollo turns his head and Klavier simply isn’t there any more. He made the joke – probably not a joke – about being seventeen and now Apollo scans the room and he is simply gone. Gone, and knowing the sensation to expect, Apollo can’t make his eyes focus on a space next to the door.

“You don’t have a magatama on you,” Klavier says. He doesn’t really reappear, like he was invisible and now isn’t. “How did you…?”

“I’m a father,” Phoenix says, “of a daughter with a will o’ the wisp that, when she was littler, she liked to use to distract me while she stole cookies out of the pantry.” Trucy’s face turns pink; Phoenix grins unrepentantly. “I know when you kids are trying to make me look somewhere else.”

“Ah,” Klavier says.

Phoenix waves over his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger,” he says. “Door’s usually unlocked.”

Klavier nods once, wide-eyed, numbly, and he slips through the door.

“Still didn’t say goodbye,” Phoenix mutters.

“I don’t think he likes you very much,” Vera says quietly, staring intently down at her nails.

“No,” Phoenix says. “Not really. We’ll work on that, but you first, kiddo.” He claps a hand on Vera’s shoulder. “One worry at a time.”

“Daddy,” Trucy says sharply. She has gone to Apollo’s desk, paging through the thick volumes that Phoenix deposited there. “You said you were running errands when you left.”

“That was my plan,” he says, dragging his hand down his face, but nothing about his movements appears like a lie to Apollo. “Then I was handed possible new leads and got waylaid.”

Trucy’s frown deepens. “Daddy…”

It must be about the mitamah again, like Trucy said last night. “I’m not overworking myself, sweetheart, I promise,” Phoenix says.

And that isn’t a lie, either, not to Apollo’s eyes, but the dark shadows under Phoenix’s eyes still contest that truth. He can’t actually be managing just one worry at a time.

I’m pretty sure Mr Wright doesn’t hate you You didn’t have to run out like that

-Ah, you had all your agency people there -I didn’t want to impose

You’re like the least imposing visitor to ever show up here tbh Not like the fae woman who just showed up and then told me to watch my phrasing on how I ask clients if they need help

-the what

Yeah

-You’ll have to tell me about that sometime

#now i have to spend the rest of the day on schoolwork and i am not looking forward to it wooooo #fic: the seelie of kurain #roddy fanfics

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