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httpdabi · 3 years

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AmongUs

Summary: You decided to play AmongUs with your best friend and troll some randoms in there, what you didn’t really expect was to meet an extremely handsome stranger that has to offer you things your ex boyfriends never did.

Genre: smut, romance, No quirks looool

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: 18+ (minors fuck off kindly), creampie, multiple orgasms, fingering, forced orgasm, daddy kink, dom!Dabi, orgasm denial, praising!

I had lots of fun writing this! Hope you enjoy it <3

,, Girl, you promised that you’ll come over tonight’’ you whined loudly over the phone, as your best friend Nejire told you that she won’t be able to make it, breaking your plans into tiny little pieces. Damn her childhood friend and his whole family deciding to come exactly today over, ruining your perfect evening with your best friend.

,, Yeah, but we can drink and play, doesn’t matter if we ain’t together, I’m sure he’ll like to play with us ‘’ you could almost feel her smile on the other line, and with only that you couldn’t even think about being mad at her, knowing very well how much she loves that guy. Probably in a way that no friends love each other.

,, Yeah, yeah. But girl, if you dich me tonight and let me troll people on my own, I’ll never forgive you’’ you smiled, knowing very well that she won’t do that. The two of you spend too much time playing stupid games together, drinking till you are comfortable enough to argue with strangers online, and troll the shit out of them.

Since it was weekend, and you were spending time on your own, you decided to start drinking a bit earlier. Turning on a movie, you started sipping on your wine, exchanging some texts with your best friend every now and then.

Your first glass was done way too fast, and you were already sitting in front of your computer with your forth glass beside the keyboard, and a cigarette in your right hand, texting a code to Nejire as you puffed on your cigarette.

The moment you saw one familiar and one not so familiar usernames getting into the private lobby , you smiled widely once Nejire started laughing loudly.

,, HAHAHA BITCH WHAT KIND OF NAME IS THAT’’ she screamed, as her lover boy giggled quietly beside her, probably too shy to say anything.

,, What is wrong with Kentuckycriedfricken?’’ you asked, as you slowly tapped with your fingers over the table. Well, you weren’t so creative tonight, but you could only blame alcohol on that.

,, Why the fuck are you called TURKEY_SANDWICH’’ you added another question, not giving her a chance to answer to your first one.

,,BECAUSE I’M CARVING ONE’’Nejire screamed, and in that moment you knew very well that she drank as much as you did, if not even more. You giggled to yourself, as you watched the room getting full, some people talking, some texting in the chat and some simply waiting.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, once you saw all the people commenting START In the small chat box. There was something about it that was pissing you off, making you kick or ban anyone who writes it. This time, you were too busy laughing with your friend, and instead doing any of it, you simply started the game.

CREWMATE

You sighed in relief, taking a sip of your wine, as Nejire ran around you with her friend, singing loudly. Ignoring the two of them, you made your way to the Admin room, to swipe the card, not so surprised once you saw a crew of other players doing the same thing.

,,KENTUCKYCRIEDFRICKEN WHERE ARE YOU’’ you heard Nejire once she entered the room. Once she noticed the cyan color hiding in the crowd she hurried with her Pink character toward you.

,,Wanna watch me scan?’’ she asked, making you giggle as she just gave you the secret code, making sure you know that she’s the Impostor.

,,Nah, Imma pass’’ you said, getting out of the room. You were pretty sure she’ll win the game, since she had you and her friend on her damn side, but you did wish you could know who the other Impostor is. Ignoring her, you made your way toward the Weapons, to clear the damn Asteroids and just look for someone to play around with. These people were way too quiet for your taste.

,,Heyyyy what’s up man?’’ you almost screamed excitedly when you saw a dark blue character, hopefully a crewmate, standing there and clearing Asteroids, or you thought so. You forced your voice a pitch higher, giggling to yourself, knowing how stupid you sound.

,,Oh my god, how old are you?’’ the stranger asked. The moment you spoke, all the giggles were gone. That guys voice was so damn deep, you literally had to lit a cigarette before you decided to speak up again.

,,Old enough’’ you laughed, refusing to tell him your real age just now.

,,Older than 18?’’ he asked, as you were shooting those Asteroids, not that focused.

,, Of course’’ you gasped, rolling your eyes, like he might see you.

,, Thanks God.. Do you play Amongus often ?’’ he asked, not even knowing that his fucking voice was doing things to you.

,, Amongus is my favoire game’’ you said, finishing your task. The way he talked to you, you were almost sure that he was trying to troll you a bit there, probably thinking you are one of those uwu pick me girls.

,,Mhmm.. you’re up pretty late.. what’s your bed time?’’ he asked, and with that question you were more than sure that he was messing around.

,, Daddy beats me if I don’t go to bed at 9’’ you tried to hold your laugh, and you could almost hear the stranger doing the same thing you do.

,, Ohh, I could be your daddy and I would never do that to you ‘’ he said. In that moment, if it wasn’t for his voice, you would probably just laugh loudly and just go away. But damn, the way he said that.

,,HAHHAHA YOU CRAZY FUCK’’ You choked out, once you got out of your little dream, liking how he played along.

,, So that’s your real voice’’ he mumbled, small muffed laugh following the sentence, as you ran away from him. You didn’t hear a voice like that for a long time, and you really hoped that the dude will follow you around for the rest of the game.

Which at your surprise happened.

You were about to ask him some stupid question, but in that very moment someone found a fucking body.

,,Pink killed white and just jumped into the vent in front of me’’ some dude accused Nejire, and that’s when you knew that you have to jump in.

,, I saw Pink scan tho, so that makes you pretty sus dude’’ you lied without thinking twice. Yeah, you knew that it’s more fun if you play by the rules, and don’t team up.. but Nejire is rarely the Impostor and she’s always so damn excited when she wins.

,, Yeah, that’s Pretty sus… ‘’ your new friend said, probably believing you, since you two spent some short time together.

At the end of the short meeting, White was voted out.

You made your way to Reactor to do your task, and Nejire and her friend followed you, probably to look a bit clear to others. You hated the task you had to do, so you took your time, ignoring the loud laughs coming from your friend.

Shortly, the voice of Nejire was changed with the deep one.

,, So, what do you do usually?’’ he asked, as you tried to start the reactor. You had trouble with that task without being tipsy, so alcohol wasn’t really helping in your current situation.

,, I’m streets salesman of burgers’’ you joked, making him laugh a bit. Only to end up telling him that you are actually a student, having a mini job at the café near where you live. You weren’t even sure if his voice was making you speak up or the alcohol, but you almost found yourself telling him the story of your life.

,, Where are you going?’’ he asked you, as you made your way toward Electrical, stopping once the lights got off. You didn’t want to look sus to him, but you didn’t want to go there, since everyone knows that the first person that enters the room will end up dead.

,,Well, I wanted to go to electrical, to do my task, but not so sure about it anymore’’ you said honestly, running around him.

,, Come on, I’ll keep you safe’’ he laughed, and you followed him. The moment you were about to do your task, the game finished, showing how the Impostors won.

You heart almost skipped a beat when you saw In the chat box how your dark blue feiend was the second Impostor. You found it extremely cute that he had way too many chances to kill you and he never did. Instead of killing you, he was simply chatting with you.

CREWMATE

Usually you were the one to hate playing as impostor, always feeling the pressure and thinking that you’ll ruin the game for the other impostor, but tipsy like that, you wished you could be one now, and kill some crewmates around.

,, Doll, teaming ain’t nice’’ deep voice told you as you were downloading the data in the Cafeteria.

,, Awh, come on, she needs a bit of support’’ you said, focused on his voice more than on your task. ,,After all you just used me to clear yourself and look less sus’’ you added and he sighed loudly, acting shocked that you could even think of him like that.

You thought that the little play with the stranger will be just one time ‘’experience’’, but at your surprise he asked you for your instagram at the end. Usually you aren’t the one to share your personal information’s with others, and you also weren’t sure what you’re getting into, yet you found yourself giving him your username before you turned the computer off and drifted into a deep sleep.

Once you woke up, your phone was blown up with notifications, every single one from instagram. One text message and the rest of it were likes.

[Touyaf]:

,,Well, didn’t expect you to be this pretty.. super glad I met you there ’’

You smiled to yourself as you read the little message, with one of your post attached to it. Tapping on his username, your eyes almost widened in shock once you realized that not only his fucking voice was attractive. The dude was a motherfucking snack, and you had a pretty big luck that you found him in that silly lobby.

To Touyaf:

,, Heyy, you ain’t looking bad either lol same, let’s play together again ‘’

You replied, before you returned to his profile to like some photos he posted. Being honest, you didn’t know what to expect, but what you didn’t expect was a black haired guy, with piercings and tattoos covering his body. He definitely didn’t look like someone who spends his time on computer playing fucking Among us.

Hopping out of your bed, you made your way to get ready for the day. There were many things you planned to do, so you didn’t really want to waste your time. The faster you’re done, the more time you’ll have at the end.

After you packed all the post you had to send for your work, you headed to the bus station, hoping you’ll be able to catch the next bus. At your surprise Dabi was replying to your messages way too fast, making it one of the conversations where your eyes simply have to stay glued to your phone.

You found it almost funny how you ended up checking up your phone more often than usual, for someone you didn’t even meet yet. Sure, his profile looks legit, but the possibility that some attention thirsty freak is hiding behind that profile will be there till you meet him personally.

Once you finished everything up, you made your way toward the little Game shop, the one you were a well known costumer in. The now not so new Crash Bandicoot game that got out months ago was finally on the sale. You wanted to buy it the same day it got out, but $75 was too much, and it’s not like you’re shitting money.

The moment you bought the game, you wished you could fucking teleport yourself home, but sadly, you still had stuff to do and the game had to wait.

Your steps felt heavy, as you pushed yourself in the crowd, trying to keep your balance. Someone’s shoulder almost knocked you out, making your blood boil in just a damn second. Turning your head to the side, more than ready to fight, a smile crept on your face once you realized who you’re facing.

,, OH MY fucking god ‘’ you gasped, pointing every word out.

,, Woww, you’re alive’’ your cousin laughed, once she realized that you were ready to throw some hands. You really wanted to go home, but since ALL OF SUDDEN, both you and your cousin had some time, she forced you to go grab a coffee with her.

The two of you wanted to meet for a long time, but yet none of you could manage to get some free time and meet.

,, Yeah, Kai went to that Music program. The whole town was voting for him, didn’t you know that?’’ she said, talking about your childhood friend that always wanted to become famous.

,, Wow, strong community ‘’ you joked, acting surprised. Even tho he was your friend, you had to be honest. He couldn’t sing for shit.

The two of you ended up spending much more time than you planned to, and you ended up not minding it at all. You actually enjoyed talking about random shit form the last with her.

,, Wow, I didn’t think Bonnie is still alive. That dog could sense us from far away, so weird’’ your cousin said, sipping on her now cold coffee. ,, You think she would still smell or sense me if I would be on my way to your parents house ?’’ she added, eyes almost twinkling excitedly.

,, She can definitely smell your stinky ass’’ you joked, playing with the metal straw in your drink.

,, Oh eat shit, I’m sweating so much that I’m showering two times a day’’ she protested, slapping your arm playfully.

,,And even that ain’t helping’’ you laughed loudly once you saw her disgusted face.

The two of you finally parted ways, once you told her that you have some other important plans, deciding its better not to tell her that you’re dying to go home and play the game you bought.

You almost teared up once you were finally in your pajamas, laying comfortably on your couch and playing the game. You almost teared up, when you chose the retro function of the game, where you can get and loose life, thinking you’re the old school gamer. Oh, how fast you changed it once you realized how hard the game is.

After playing the game for two hours, you realized that you definitely won’t be able to finish it in one night. You were glad that the production was aiming for the old public, but you didn’t expect it to be that hard.

[Touyaf]:

,,The game is dope as fuckkkk, but too easy imo’’

You smiled when you saw that he replied to the picture you posted on the story.

To Touyaf:

,, Are you insane ? I’m on the same level thirty fucking minutes now :( ‘’

You replied, as you continued with the game, only to pause it after one minute of gameplay just to check your phone when you saw the instagram notification.

[Touyaf]:

,, Want me to help you?’’

To Toyuaf:

,, How ?’’

[Touyaf]:

,, Send me your address ‘’

Your eyes widened when you saw what he wrote, too scared to open the message he sent you. Of course you wanted to meet him, but so fast ? And at this time ?

Was that really smart ?

Well, it doesn’t matter if it’s smart or not, you ended up sending him your address, last name and running around in the middle of the night and cleaning your apartment anyway. You found yourself smiling the whole time while hysterically cleaning around. You didn’t know if he is living near or far, yet there was so much to do. It was very visible that you weren’t expecting any guests.

Luckily for you, it took him some time to arrive, giving you a chance to clear everything nicely and throw your clothes that were laying around into the closet.

The moment you heard the doorbell you got nervous like a little teenage girl that was about to go on her first date and the moment you opened the door, you were more than sure that you made the right decision when you sent him your address.

Was is possible that someone could be that handsome ? At one point you thought that he was just photogenic when you scrolled his Insta feed, you thought maybe he knew his angles. But damn, the dude standing in front of you was someone you would spread your legs for without thinking twice.

,,Hey, nice to finally meet you’’ he said, giving you a small hug which you definitely didn’t expect. ,, You look even prettier than on photos’’ he added, smiling at you.

,, You think? Thank you. You too’’ you said awkwardly. Usually you are much more confident, and you don’t have problem with communication, but the fact that this handsome dude you barely know, is in your apartment, made your legs shake.

,, I mean, you are really handsome’’ you added fast, trying to break that creepiness in your voice, giving yourself a mental facepalm once you realized that he was holding back his laugh. You almost looked like fucking Bella from Twilight. Was that necessary ?

,, What do you want to drink? Tea ? Coffee? Orange juice ? Wine ?’’ you asked, preparing the glass. He probably noticed how nervous you are and that made you even more nervous. Everything that could go wrong, is going wrong right now.

,, Well, I’m really up for some wine’’ Touya said as he sat comfortably on your couch.

THANKS GOD. You weren’t sure if you would be able to survive being in the same room with him while drinking a fucking chamomile tea.

,, You can’t beat this level? This one ?You can’t be for real’’ he laughed, as you placed two glasses and one bottle of wine on the table.

,, Are you dissing my gaming skills ?’’ you laughed, pouring the wine in the glass while he was playing the game like it was nothing.

,, Ah please, how many times did you paly it ?’’ you whined loudly, as he played almost perfectly.

,, Oh thanks God, you are a smoker, I was already stressing myself out if I’ll have to go out for every cigarette’’ Touya said once he saw you lit a cigarette.

After your second glass of wine, all the nervousness was gone. The two of you were having pretty much a fun time playing the game and drinking together.

,, What are you doing ???’’ he asked, almost screaming once you died in the game, without getting to the checkpoint.

,, MY BEST, I’M DOING MY BEST’’ You screamed back, throwing the controller to his direction, one again feeling defeated.

After that night, Touya started visiting you more often, and every night he would visit you, the two of you would drown a bottle of wine. You didn’t expect him to be such a cool person actually. In your opinion he did look like someone who’s full of himself.

Also, when you told Nejire that you met the dude from Among us, she immediately started lecturing you about how he could have killed you, totally ignoring the fact that you were standing in front of her alive and more healthy than you ever were.

,, Anyway, they have one appointment free today ‘’ Nejire said, as the two of you walked down the street, going to your usual café.

,, What are you talking about ?’’ you asked confused.

,, About escape room you stupid bitch’’ she said, hitting your arm lightly like she was talking about it clearly before.

,, Nejire, if the two of us go, one hour won’t be enough for us to get out of it’’ you pointed, knowing very well that neither of you is capable of figuring anything out on your own, especially not some scary ass escape room.

,, Ye, but I can ask Mirio to come, and you can ask the Dabi dude’’ she said, rising her eyebrows at you. Well that wasn’t a really bad idea actually.

Both Mirio and Dabi agreed, and while sipping on your coffee the two of you reserved the room. It was pretty much unplanned, and you had around 2 hours until your appointment, but you were really glad it worked out.

,, Girl, you should see my little sister today, girlie is only 3 years old, and she already flirts better than you and me together’’ Nejire giggled, as you gave her one questioning look.

,, She met some boy at playground today. You should see the looks they were giving each other. They even started talking in their baby language, discussing something’’ she said, making you laugh as you imagined her baby sister hitting on some other kid. You were never a person that could deal with kids, but her sister was really special.

Once the Mirio arrived, Nejire got all quiet, which almost made you laugh out loud, since she’s nothing like that usually. She did tell you before, that the two of them hooked up after one of the birthday parties you attended, but you almost forget about that.

,, What can I get you?’’ the waiter asked Mirio, as you and Nejire talked excitedly about escaperoom.

,, One Matte Lacchiato’’ Mirio said, trying to follow what you were talking about, while the waiter was looking at him confused, not sure if he’s joking or not.

,, You mean Latte macchiato ??’’ Nejire asked, trying to hold her laugh. The moment the waiter left, none of you had to hold it back anymore.

,, Dude, Matte Lacchiato ? Really?’’ you laughed loudly.

,, Fuck off, I’m not a coffee person’’ Mirio snapped, his face all red from embarrassment.

,, One Paccuccino please’’ you joked, making Mirio roll his eyes.

,, One Sepresso please’’ Nejire laughed loudly , while Mirio was mumbling something under his breath, hating the both of you in the moment.

,,By the way, I don’t like this thing, tastes like nothing’’ he said, as giving it to Nejire to try it out.

,, Out of 1 to 10, how many points would you give to this Matte Lacchiato?’’ Nejire asked, giggling, giving him a sign that she’ll never forget the silly mistake he said.

,,2 points. One for having balls to sell it, and another one because I’m such a good hearted person’’ he said, pushing the drink to the side.

The moment you saw Touya enter the café, you started waving around with your hands, helping him find you.

,, What took you so long ?’’ you asked, as he took a seat next to you. He looked good as usual, wearing oversized purple shirt, and black pants with nike airforce.

,, I was in the middle of a jog when you texted me’’ he said putting his both hands in the air, feeling attakced.

,, Oh that sounds fun’’ you joked, as you rolled your cigarette.

,, Yeah? I’ll call you next time to come with’’ he said, also rolling a cigarette, while giving you a side look.

,, Not that fun’’ you laughed.

,, dude, the last time we jogged together, she had to call a taxi to bring her back home’’ Mirio said, making Touya laugh.

,, Trueeee, I had to pour water all over her face when we were jogging together’’ Nejire added, remembering the accident that happened back in the days.

,,Oh shut up, I had to put your fucking legs up hoping you wont collapse’’ you laughed. Sure, both Mirio and Touya were in better shape than you, but Nejire ? Girl was on the same level.

,, And stop it, stop dissing me! I’m a victim of a hate crime right now” you whined loudly, as all of them laughed.

When the time came, all of you made your way to the escaperoom. After you checked in and paid, you and Touya went out to smoke one more cigarette since you had some time before the game starts.

,, So, what will you do after this ?’’ Touya asked, placing his arm around you as you puffed on your cigarette.

,, I don’t have any plans yet, why ? Wanna come over ?’’ you asked, mentally holding your shit together once he said that he’ll gladly come.

He was too close, wayyyy too close. You could even smell his fucking perfume.

Once the game started all of you were more than lost, having hard time finding the clues. You were in some basement looking room with tons of books. Touya and you found the first clue, some numbers written on the small closet as a code for opening the box that Mirio found.

Mirio found the second code, that led you to the box with the key that was opening the door.

,, Oh my god guys, there are number on the closet’’ Nejire screamed loudly, making all of you laugh.

,, Sweetie we passed that part long time ago.’’ Mirio said pinching her cheek. You were pretty sure that she was a bit lost, because Mirio was giving her way too much attention.

The next room was even darker than the first one, full of some weird family photos, crosses and blood. All of you were trying to work together, you agreed to use the Woky toky only when needed, yet the person who held it didn’t really give a shit about your agreement.

,, We need help’’ Mirio said, while the rest of you whined loudly since it was probably the third time he’s using it by now.

,, Dude, do you like the worker here ?’’ you asked him, as you took the photo of the wall.

,, No, why?’’ he asked you back, almost confused.

,, Because you are constantly talking to him. I swear you didn’t even talk to your ex that much ‘’ you said, making Touya laugh a bit.

The game continued with all of you in a rush to figure things out. One clue led to another one, and you opened some small room, where someone had to go inside to pull some weird looking rope.

Luckily for all of you, Mirio volunteered. The moment he pulled the rope down, some weird as cockroaches fall down on him, making him get out of the small room faster then he got in there.

,, Fucking shit, I didn’t sign for this’’ he whined, sighing in relief once he realized that those cockroaches are plastic one.

,, I swear, if that shit fell onto me, I would smash the red button without thinking twice’’ Nejire said in disgust.

,, This game is hard as fuck’’ you sighed, as you held some weird box with some knifes in your hand.

,, Wanna know what else is hard ?’’ Touya said quietly, making your eyes widen in shock.

,, Excuse me?’’ you couldn’t believe what he was asking you, here in front of your friends.

,, This cross. Oh my god, didn’t expect you to be that dirty minded doll’’ Touya laughed loudly, making you blush. In your Defense, he sounded like he was talking about his dick. He definitely didSl.

At the end, the 4 of you made it out of the room few minutes before the game ended. The moment you opened the door, you found the worker that explained the game and led you to the room standing in front of the very same door. Probably ready to get you all out.

,, This was so embarrassing ‘’ Nejire laughed as all of you got out of the building.

,, Yeah, imagine if we didn’t figure it out, what would he tell us ? Sorry but yall have to die now’’ Mirio said.

,, Well, maybe if you used the time we had for figuring everything out, instead of talking with the dude over the Wokytoky, MAYBE we would do better’’ you laughed, as Mirio told you to fuck off.

After Mirio and Nejire left, you and Touya made your way to your apartment, still talking and laughing about the whole game.

The two of you played among us, teaming up against some randoms on a whole new level. He was sitting way too close to you, like there was no place on the couch at all. Of course, you didn’t mind that, but you would lie if you said that you could focus on the game fully.

,, You are so cute’’ Touya pointed when you killed someone in front of him, not even hiding the fact that you are teaming.

He was complimenting you and being touchy with you more then usual.

,, So, are you really into daddy kink?’’ you asked, as you remembered the first time you played together.

,,Maybe ‘’ Touya smirked, focused on the game.

,, Naughty naughtyyy’’ you laughed, killing some other crewmate.

Once you had enough of the game, the two of you ended up just chit chatting about some stupid things, still in the same position as you were in before. The only difference was that Touya was slowly caressing your skin.

,, You wanna sleep over ?’’ you asked, once you realized that it was getting really late.

,, Well, definitely not if I have to crash on this couch’’ he said, making you giggle quietly.

,, Ah, you know I wouldn’t let you sleep here.’’ You mumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact with him.

,, Awhh, is my little doll implying that I can share her bed with her ?’’ Dabi teased. His arm was wrapped around you, rubbing small circles on your right hip gently.

,, Maybe ?’’ you said, trying to focus on anything else than his hand playing around.

,, Anyway, doll, I want to ask you something’’ he muttered, stopping his movements suddenly. You changing your position to have a better look of him, was your answer to go on.

,, Do play a lot with other people online?’’ he asked. You blinked slowly, not sure if that’s really a question he wanted to spit out. It seemed like it would be something more important.

,, Uh, I’m usually playing with Nejire. Why ?’’ you replied, confusion written all over your face. At your surprise, Dabi wrapped his arms around you, forcing you onto his lap like you were a small and weightless playtoy.

,, You know, I don’t like sharing what’s mine. ‘’ he expressed, placing his both hands on your tights, moving them up and down slowly.

,, Yours ?’’ you weren’t sure what was going on, and you definitely didn’t expect that silly question to go this way.

,, Doll, you’ve been mine the moment you sent me your address. What I meant was, you’ve met me so easily, I sure hope you ain’t like that with everyone on the internet.’’ His voice was somehow even more deeper than usual, and maybe it’s weird, but the position you were in was lowkey turning you on.

Maybe the fact that his behavior changed so fast, maybe the fact that he wanted you all for himself .

,, Honesty, I never share my personal information online, since you never know who’s hiding on the other side, but there was something about you. I just wanted to stay in contact with you’’ you responded, playing with your fingers like a lost child.

Instead of replying, he placed his hands on your cheek, pulling you slowly into a kiss, which you accepted gladly. It was the first time you felt such huge attraction for someone, and you were more than happy to give him anything he wants.

Maybe it’s weird to feel such a thing for someone you didn’t know that well, but everyone starts somewhere, right ?

His hands were going up and down your waist, lips never leaving your own. The moment you put your arms up, helping him remove the shirt you were wearing, you felt him smirk into the kiss. Once your shirt was off, he leaned back into the couch, having a better view of you, half naked sitting in his lap.

His right hand was playing with the strap of your bra, and the other one was holding you on his lap firmly. To him, you were the most beautiful little thing that he placed his eyes on, and he was more than grateful that you didn’t freak out because of his small confession.

You couldn’t wait anymore. Bending over, you connected your lips with his own again. His hands moved to your ass, giving it one good squeeze, before he got a firmer grip of you, pushing you up with himself and making his way to your bedroom.

Once he placed you on your bed, he took his shirt of, throwing it somewhere on the floor, as he climbed on top of you. All you could do was close your eyes and moan quietly once you felt his lips on your neck, sucking and biting it gently.

His lips were moving down, from your neck to your chest. From your chest to your stomach, leaving wet love bites on his way down.

Once he got so low, that he was almost between your legs, he unbuttoned your pants slowly, pulling your panties just a little bit down to leave kisses down there.

After few kisses, he gave you a sign to push your hips up a bit, and you did so. The moment you did it, Touya pulled your pants, together with your underwear down, leaving you in nothing else than your bra.

,, Take of your bra’’ he commanded, as he got lost between your legs. You wanted to do it, you really did, but once you felt his tongue on your pussy, you weren’t capable to even think straight, yet to remove your bra.

He was sucking and biting your clit, like no one ever before, making you throw your head back into your pillow as you enjoyed what he was giving you. You cradled your hands into his hair, as you felt thousand things at the same time. You’ve never desired someone so much, and the fact that the person you desired like no one else in your whole life was between your legs eating you out, was driving you crazy on a whole new level.

Dabi felt the same, it was the very first time he felt pleasure while he ate someone out, he was craving you like a mad man.

His tongue was doing wonders to you, and the moment you felt his finger slowly enter you, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get control over yourself.

,, Gotta loosen up my doll a little bit’’ he mumbled, savoring your pussy. The way he ate you out was getting sloppier and sloppier. Once he added another finger, your grip on is hair got stronger, giving him a sign that it hurts a bit.

,, Baby, how will you take my dick if you ain’t capable of taking ony two fingers ?’’ he looked up, smirking at you. Once you gave him a weak nod, he started moving his fingers in and out of you, slowly, giving you time to adjust.

Once he heard you moan, he started moving his fingers a little faster, as he started to rub your clit with his other hand.

,,Oh god’’ you moaned loudly, as pleasure took all over your body. Your orgasm hit you pretty unexpectedly, making you hide your face with your hands in embarrassment. You never came so quickly.

He definitely knows what’s he doing. None of your ex boyfriends made you cum so fast. All they did was simply missionary sex, with no talk at all. Few humps and done.

,, Open your mouth’’ Touya commanded, not giving you a chance to understand what was going on and why he wanted you to open your mouth for him. You felt two wet and sticky fingers rub your lips. You couldn’t even open your mouth fully, as he already shoved his two fingers in it.

,, Suck’’ grabbing your hands with his own and pushing them down, he had to see you, even tho he knew very well how embarrassed you felt in that moment.

Of course you did as he told you, as he held your chin, forcing you to look right at him as you cleaned his fingers that just pleasured you.

,, Such a good girl’’ Touya said, caressing your cheek gently, before he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, trying to free his throbbing dick out of the pants.

,, Didn’t I tell you to take your bra off ?’’ he asked, smirk forming on his lips. ,, Oh, so you don’t like to follow daddys orders ?’’ he added, climbing on top of you.

,, I ..’’ you didn’t even know what you wanted to say, you honestly forgot that you even had your bra on. Instead of saying anything, Touya only laughed, flipping you on your stomach, as he unclipped your bra in one movement.

,, I really wanted to be gentle with you, but if you are not capable in following small orders what will happen later with the big ones?’’ he asked, kissing the back of your neck slowly. You weren’t sure what to say, for you, that wasn’t a big deal, and honestly you didn’t know much about daddy kink.

,, Sorry daddy’’ you said, closing your eyes. It felt weird to call him daddy, but now that you knew that he likes it, you did it anyway.

,, Sorry doesn’t help doll. Daddy has to fuck you into obedience’’ he said, pulling the lower part of your body up. He took a good look of you, before he started rubbing the tip of his dick around your core. The view of you, with your ass up made his dick twitch, and he couldn’t wait anymore.

He shoved his dick into you with one move, forcing your body to move away from him out of the reflex. But Touya wasn’t buying that, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back.

,, You good?’’ He asked. You could hear concern in his voice, and you found it really cute how he suddenly changed.

,, Yes, that was hot ‘’ you said embarrassed, glad he was not facing you.

,, Good, because I ain’t stopping’’ with that, he started rocking his hips into you, as he pulled your head back, hand still holding your hair keeping you in the place he wanted you to be in.

So much about the concern.

,, So fucking tight’’ he groaned, as he fucked fast and hard into you, making your bed crack with every move. You found yourself moaning louder then before, it felt like he was forcing every moan out of you with every snap of his hips against your own.

The moment you felt his fingers on your clit, your walls squeezed around him. Once again embarrassed that you are so close, so fast.

,, Oh nah, you ain’t gonna cum yet’’ he whispered in your ear, leaving your clit and grabbing your hips with his both hands.

,, Ehhh pleaseeee, please daddy’’ you moaned, pushing the embarrassment away.

,, Baby, If you cum now, I’ll make sure you cum at least two more times before I finish you want it or not’’ he said, stopping his movements. Usually, when you had sex you were lucky if you could orgasm even once, since the guys only thought about themselves. You weren’t really sure if you could do it for him. You weren’t sure if you were capable to do it at all.

,, I’ll take that as yes’’ Touya laughed, moving his hips suddenly, his hand back on your clit and rubbing it so fast that he literally forced the orgasm he stopped few moments ago.

You moaned loudly, losing the power in your body. If Touya wasn’t holding you, you would definitely just fall down. He moved his hips slowly, making sure your orgasm lasts long enough for you to see the stars.

Once he was sure you are done, he flipped you over onto your back, spreading your legs with his hands, as he gave you one passionate kiss. You were too focused on the kiss, not realizing that he entered you again, only to realized it once he started moving again.

He was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, not breaking the kiss at all. You could feel his dick hitting your cervix with every move. You found yourself wrapping your arms around him, trying to find some comfort while he fucked the light out of you.

,, Come on baby, cum for your daddy’’ he groaned, enjoying how tightly your walls were squeezing him in that moment.

,, I can’t, oh my god, I really can’t ‘’ you whined, digging your nails into his skin, as he once again started playing with your clit. You felt both pain and pleasure while played with it, forcing the third orgasm out of you.

,, Of course you can, look at you, such a good girl’’ This time he didn’t slow down, letting you enjoy it, instead he was fucking you even harder and faster then before, making the orgasm that hit you almost painful, but yet still good and pleasurable.

With every move he did, you dag your nails deeper into the flesh of his back, moaning loudly not giving a single fuck if your neighbors could hear you or not.

,, One more baby’’ Touya groaned, hitting your g spot all over again. ,, Only one more baby, you can do it ‘’ he added as he rocked his hips against yours. You were so fucking sensitive, that you literally felt every vein of his dick rubbing against your walls. Maybe you were imagining, but it felt like you could literally feel the shape of his whole dick inside you, every inch of it.

He was fucking you in a reckless pace, once again rubbing your clit, while telling you how you’re such a good girl for him and how you’re gonna milk his cock so nicely. Once Touya felt that he was close, once he realized that he won’t last much longer, he started rubbing your clit with more pressure, forcing himself even more into you then before.

,, Come on baby, cum all over my cock’’ he groaned, as you moaned loudly. The moment he forced your last orgasm out of you, he groaned loudly as he was chasing his own high, painting your walls white with his seed.

The moment he came, he slowed down, still not stopping his movements completely. Fucking his seed deep into you. Because of the fact that you came fucking four times, and that he shoot loads and loads of his own seed into you, you were almost sure that you were already leaking on your bed.

,, Are you okay?’’ Touya asked, placing soft kissed on your neck, while his dick was still inside of you. ,, Did I go too far ?’’ he added, once he realized that you aren’t answering.

,, Oh god no, this was amazing’’ you whispered, tilting your head to the side. Touya kissed you, not being able to hold his smile at all. After the kiss, he wore his boxers and made his way to your bedroom, only to come back moments later with a warm towel.

After he cleaned you up, he helped you wear your panties, giving you his shirt instead of your own, before the two of you fall asleep in each others arms.

In that moment, you felt grateful for existence of that silly game where you met this handsome stranger. Who would have thought that Amongus can be a better match maker than Tinder.

You sure didn’t.

#smut #dabi fanfic #dabi headcanons #dabi smut #dabi todoroki #dabi x oc #romance #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #touya smut #dabi x reader #yandere dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #bnha dabi #touya x y/n #touya fanfic #dabi imagine

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

“I Could Fall in Love”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I hope you enjoy this little drabble as much as I enjoyed writing it. Cutting it close to midnight on Valentine’s Day but hey, it still counts. xx Moni

BUCKY BARNES X READER DRABBLE

Warnings: none, simply fluff!

Word Count: 3000+

Song Fanfic: Listen and enjoy!

It wasn’t that you hated Valentine’s Day, you just didn’t see it as purely romantic. In your opinion, it was supposed to represent so much more than just romantic love. Friendships, beginnings and endings, the actual historical event, elementary school card giving, baked goods, and a nice dinner for either yourself or in the presence of others. So, no - you didn’t hate it. In fact, you actually quite enjoyed the giddy feeling of seeing other couples go all out for a single day, the sweets that were always available, and the awesome discounts.

“Come with us!” Natasha whined, filling up her glass with some oat milk and passing Steve some utensils at the same time. She wasn’t whining excessively, as that wasn’t in her nature, but she did raise her voice as her tone shifted from playful to annoyance. You rolled your eyes and chewed on your bagel, shaking your head dramatically. You plastered on your best grin, but it was overpowered by the massive chunk of bagel in your mouth. So you sat there, stupid bagel-filled grin covering your face, and tiny giggles threatening to escape as Natasha’s face also dropped into a silly one.

The rest of the crew was planning on attending a private Valentine’s Day party hosted by a close business partner of Tony’s. It sounded like a lot of fun and a perfect excuse to dress-up, but you had a tiny mission to go on before it. It was not a ‘mission-mission’ so to say- more like a ‘get in, get out, this will literally take two seconds and I could do this any other day’ type of mission. Natasha had given you such a disapproving look when you told her what your actual plans were for tonight, but she expected nothing less. You always had something else up your sleeve.

And that you did.

Since your mission was a quickie, you would be able to return to the compound before everyone else and bake your special pink cupcakes they all knew and loved. A sweet mixture of vanilla and strawberry, no flavor overpowering the other. You had recently perfected the recipe, only having Natasha and Bucky taste the final product, and because of their genuine surprise and praise, you were ready to bake dozens for everyone proudly.

She finished her glass and went to wash it. “Still, I think you’re missing out! I hear the food is gonna be great!”

You shrugged, “Eh, we have food here.”

You heard Natasha release a tiny scoff, “Please tell me your actual reason before I laugh too loudly and wake everyone up.”

“I swear, I’ve been putting off this mission for so long that tonight just seemed like the perfect time. Everyone’s occupied- I don’t know. I mean, criminals gotta get laid too, right?”

Natasha snorted, “That’s very true.” She eyed you suspiciously while drying her glass.

“You know, you and Barnes are the only one’s not attending. Obviously, his excuse is that he’s literally on a mission right now but you see my point.”

“No, I don’t see your point.”

Natasha smiled, as if secretly knowing your other very valid reason for not attending the party. “We all have dates. You know that if he were here you would be going with him, even as friends. But since you would literally be the only one of us without a date, it seems reasonable you wouldn’t want to attend.”

Okay, she hit that spot-on.

You groaned and lay your arms across the counter dramatically, “Stop, it’s scary how right you are all the time.”

Natasha laughed and rounded the counter, going over to pat your shoulders. “I’m not making you go. Don’t worry. Just give yourself some self-care and I’ll see you tonight to let you know I got home safe.”

You nodded and waved goodbye to her, ready to finish the everything bagel you had abandoned.

Bucky wasn’t one to dress-up for a night out anymore. He just didn’t have the motivation to do anything unless it involved stake-outs, knitting, painting, and binge-watching some stupid series you were watching. It always happened the same way, too. You would be casually chilling in the main common room of the compound, barely starting the first episode of a new series with stacks of junk food ready for your eager taste buds, when Bucky would randomly come in and ask what you were watching. And the next thing Bucky knew, you two were discussing the hidden elements of The Crown and debating whether a scene actually happened the way it was portrayed. By God, how much Bucky absolutely detested Prince Charles.

And you were so determined to knit that sweater for Natasha by her birthday that you came to Bucky’s room five times a day now rather than your usual three. But Bucky was extremely patient, helping you hook the remaining yarn that kept falling off your needles. Each time you pouted over the ‘horrible knot you made’ or when the yarn would tangle, Bucky would grin and tease you about, his stomach twisting pleasurably.

And each time he would reach over to help you fix it, your heart fluttered ever so slightly.

Bucky had actually planned on taking you to that Valentine’s Day party but his mission carried on longer than it was supposed to. Rather than returning a day before the party, he would now be returning towards the middle of it. He wondered if you were still going to go, but he highly doubted it. Not because you had told him explicitly, but because you had joked that if he wasn’t able to go, then ‘why would you bother?’.

To see you in that red dress you had jokingly placed over your already clothed body and modeled for him - Yeah, he absolutely hated he was missing this party tonight.

His mission had just ended and he was currently on the flight home, resting in his tactical gear but with the headphones you let him borrow in each ear. He chuckled lowly, realizing that most things he had in his possession, whether that be the headphones, hair bands, lotion, and Spotify account, all belonged to you. It brought him some comfort as he fixed himself in his seat, settling on your ‘Love me please?’ playlist to match the special holiday.

Lovebug by the Jonas Brothers. Tonight by FM Static. Oh, dozens by Taylor Swift. You’ll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins. And a whole lot of Selena songs.

There was one song that caught his attention, as if the title spoke to him. It just made sense. He clicked it, surprised by the upbeat beginning and rhythm of the drums, finally closing his eyes as he heard the melody from the acoustic guitar.

He lost count of how many times he replayed that one song as his plane touched land. He quickly woke himself up and gathered his things, ready to jump into a warm shower and watch an episode of The Crown behind your back. The drive to the compound was short and he entered the living quarters somewhat alert. There were no sounds his super soldier ears could hear besides the clicks of keyboards by overtime workers and computers humming. Kind of sad and joyful at once, Bucky realized he was alone for the first time in a long time. Maybe he would try that face mask you had urged him to buy tonight. And those very comfortable pajamas.

Ever the procrastinator, you never did go on that mission.

You were humming along to your Valentine’s playlist as you cracked the eggs into your bowl. You stirred quickly, bowl in your arms and a strike of flour along your unknowing cheek. You had your earphones in, enjoying the solace of such a peaceful night. The mix was coming together nicely and as you waited for the oven to preheat, you took out all of your cupcake supplies to set on the kitchen counter.

You could have sworn you heard some noises a few doors down so you took one earphone out to listen closely. At first you heard nothing, but you could have sworn you heard the likes of a toothbrush tapping against a bathroom counter. But as you stood there comically, bowl in your arms and whisk held up like a weapon, you settled on no disturbance.

You set the bowl down quietly and ran over to the door, looking down the hallway. Once you saw it was completely empty, you couldn’t contain the grin that spread across your face. You raced back to the kitchen and called for Friday.

“Friday? Could you please connect my phone to the living room speakers, please?”

“Done.”

You scrolled through your playlist and settled on a song that would for sure damage your vocal cords but delight you nonetheless.

“I could lose my heart tonight

If you don’t turn and walk away

You swayed around the kitchen as you traveled to grab each new ingredient, singing at the appropriate level the song called for.

Because the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

Bucky had just finished brushing his teeth and putting a warm pair of socks on when he heard Friday play the exact song he had been listening to for the past two hours. At first he wondered if Friday had mistakenly connected his phone to the speakers but realized his phone didn’t even have the Spotify app open. He quickly walked down the cold floors of the hallway, his warm socks somewhat doing their job. He stopped at the living room entrance and leaned his shoulder on the doorway, beaming with a huge grin.

Because I could, take you in my arms

And never let go

You twirled around and used the whisk as a microphone, and to both your and Bucky’s surprise, hit every note perfectly. Bucky knew you were a great singer and although he would never admit it, he had heard you singing in the shower quite a few times. It was impossible not to at the level of volume you sang, but each time he would come into your room to grab something random or to ask you a question, he would sit outside the shower door and listen to your angelic voice as it sailed through the steamy air and into Bucky’s ears. But here you were, belting out the exact song Bucky had just learned all the lyrics for on his way home.

I could fall, in love, with you

It was in that moment that Bucky realized he was in his ‘comfortable pajamas’, which consisted of a loose long sleeve and bottoms set, with a nice dark blue color and white stitching along the pockets and buttons. But the sleeves, incredibly so, were far too long for his arms so he would crunch them up in his palms. And his socks had stripes on them. But he remained still on the door frame, watching you sway to the music and enjoying the scent of your first batch of cupcakes already in the oven.

I could only wonder how touching you

Would make me feel

You halted immediately when you saw his tall form resting on the door frame, a giant grin plastered on his newly shaven face. You yelped in surprise, putting down the whisk and patting your hands on your little green apron.

“Bucky, oh my god! Say something if you’re going to enter a room!”

Bucky just shrugged, walking over to the kitchen counter, eyes never leaving yours. He leaned over and placed his chin in both his palms, smiling as the music continued playing in the background. “I like this song.”

You squinted at him, “You know this song?”

Bucky nodded, holding his hand out now for you to take. “Like I said, I like this song.”

But if I take that chance right now

Tomorrow will you want me still?

You reached over hesitantly and let Bucky lead you over to the carpet. He wrapped one arm around your waist and rested the other higher up on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing for his large frame to sway you both to the rhythm of the song.

“Nice pajamas.”

“Shut up.”

The room was dimly lit, cupcake aroma circling you two, and his snuggly pajamas seemed to also provide you the warmth you were previously getting from the oven. You smiled up at him, low giggles emitting from your lips. He did the same, enjoying the feel of your body pressed up against his.

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

“When did you get back?” you asked, reaching up to touch his shaven cheek. You were undoubtedly curious about the feeling.

Bucky let you roam your hand all over, “About an hour ago. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

You chuckled, “I am! I told you I wasn’t going to bother going to that party if my plus one wasn’t coming!”

Bucky lifted his arm and twirled you slowly, happy that you followed his lead. “So, I’m your plus one now?”

You rolled your eyes, “Always.”

I could fall, in love, with you

“How did you even hear about this song?” you asked, hands now resting comfortably on Bucky’s chest. He had his arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his chest as you two swayed.

“We share a Spotify account, doll.”

“Yeah, but it’s a love playlist. Were you just in the mood for some ballads and stumbled across this one?”

“Exactly. It’s quite the tearjerker.”

And I know it’s not right

And I guess I should try

To do what I should do

He looked so relaxed at this moment, fresh and calm, enjoying the dance he pulled you into. He was resting his chin on the top of your head so you felt his little puffs of air escape his nostrils. And as he breathed in, you could feel his chest rise and lower below your palms. You were tempted to reach up and grab his face, pull him into yourself and share a sweet kiss, but you decided against it. For some reason you knew that this was different. You had snuggled before during naps or binge watching, but they never had a romantic undertone. And if you acted upon your desires, you were frightened it just might ruin your friendship. It took you two years to build up such a rapport with this man, and dare you say you were extremely proud to harbor some of his deepest secrets, and him yours. But his breathing calmed you immensely, as if the gentle rhythm was enough to put you to sleep, and you wondered if he was thinking about the same thing.

But I fall in love, with you

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

Bucky seemed to hug you tighter as the lyrics encircled the room. Over the last few weeks he had felt a shift in your relationship, where sharing food was no longer as innocent as it seemed, barging into each other’s room was not seen as drastic, and partaking in each other’s hobbies was never a bore. Steve had commented on it before, asking Bucky if there was something between you two. And Bucky confided in both Steve and Sam, hands pulling at his hair as he paced in a safe room and his friends sitting patiently on the lone couch. They let him act out his worries in peace, and once Bucky tired himself out they both explained how he should ask you out or how to bring up the topic with you. Bucky listened intently and pushed down the tiny voice in his head that joked about Steve being the one to give him romantic advice. But if he ended up with you on his arm after this little pep talk, it would all be worth it.

But now the song was coming closer to its end, and he knew that if he didn’t act now then he probably wouldn’t have the courage to bring it up ever again. He leaned down to your left ear, and whispered the lyrics to you. In Spanish.

Siempre estoy soñando en ti

Besando mis labios, acariciando mi piel

Abrazándome con ansias locas

Imaginando que me amas

Como yo podía amar a ti

[I am always dreaming of you

Kissing my lips and touching my skin

Anxiously hugging me

Imagining that you love me

Like how I love you]

You knew Bucky knew several languages. You knew. But it made you incredibly excited and hot that he specifically knew Spanish. He spoke in such a gentle manner, breath hitting your skin and voice practically drowning your mind. It was all foggy for a moment, but you quickly refocused your attention on his face.

“Oh, wow.”

Bucky smiled, “What?”

You scoffed and swatted his chest lightly, “Don’t ‘what’ me! You just confessed you like me!”

Bucky pushed you away for another twirl under his arm, but kept you at arms length once you turned around. “No, I confessed I love you.”

You stumbled slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. You thought about how absurd that confession was, but as quickly as that thought entered your mind, it left - because let’s face it, you did know each other for over two years and were best friends. This was right. This felt right.

“You love me?”

Bucky breathed in deeply but your reaction didn’t change his mind. It was now or never. “Yeah, I do. Seemed like the moment to tell you.”

You grinned, pushing your body forward to be engulfed by his strong arms once more. “And to think you could have just told me at this damn party when I was looking all hot without freaking flour on my face.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh that originated from the pit of his stomach and reached his hands up to your face. He pulled you in and kissed you sweetly, the taste of your lip gloss driving him wild. He tasted like toothpaste and chapstick, a perfect combination for your superhero.

“I love you, too.” Bucky let his eyes close in complete bliss.

You could have stayed like that forever, but as you left his lips and looked up at him, you suddenly remembered you never set a timer.

You pushed Bucky away, your sudden strength sending him backwards onto the couch. “My cupcakes!”

And as you rushed to pull the burnt tops from the oven, you could hear Bucky slide off the couch and hit the floor, his laugh louder than the speakers.

I could fall, in love

With you.”

Happy Valentine’s Day. All the love. xxMoni

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

For a Smile

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert Word count: 5400

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, OC x reader (brief)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Reader, OFC, OC

Summary: You see him run past every morning. So you smile, because he looks like a nice person. How could he not be when he smiles back and the world stops for a while to pay respect to such beauty?

And sometimes… sometimes this incredibly handsome man smiles first.

Warnings: mentions and hints of (psychically) abusive relaionship, suggestive themes, swearing, all the fluff in the world

A/N: I used to pass this guy near a café playing music every morning when I went to school and at some point, our eyes kinda met and we smiled at each other; then we did that every day. I kid you not, he’s got the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. It’s not a Hollywood-star smile, no – it’s a guy-next-door smile, heart-warming, with his eyes simply shining. He’s like a kid on Christmas Day… I could ramble on. Anyway, just so you knew what brought this on.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○

A smile costs less than electricity, and gives more light. (Scottish proverb)

Warm honey, sandstone and apricot orange melting into indigo, cerulean blue and stone-grey sky. Merigold playing with salmon and rose pink, teasing each other and making space to the warmer shades of orange.

You watched the beautiful colours of sunrise as you shifted your legs for a bit, causing the simple plank hanging on two tattered ropes sway, a smile tugging on your lips.

It was a little childish really, or it may appear so to anyone who would be passing by; but given what an early riser you were, just so you could watch this breath-taking game of colours, the little miracle of nature, no person could question you as you were dangling your feet off the old swing.

On your way to work, if the time allowed it, you would always make a stop on your favourite spot; a no-name park in upstate New York you were walking through every day, rather calm and drunks-free at the early hour.

Once upon a time, someone had placed a simple swing on one of the trees farther from the path. You sent a silent thank you every time you parked your behind there. You weren’t a monster; if a kid wanted to sit here, you would have gladly (...reluctantly) made space for them, but they seemed to always be more mesmerized by the playground with the actual swings, the chutes, the monkey bars and the sandpit. You couldn’t say you complained though, having the old-fashioned swing for yourself.

It was childish, perhaps; though your mother had once chosen that you should be going into accounting and so you had. Numbers and bills were things even adults hated, but that was what being old enough meant. You didn’t mind it too often, plunging into them for living, but… you needed to compensate, so you felt entitled.

Plus, the motion of the swing was soothing, as if magically transporting you back to your childhood indeed, with less worries, more ease and pure mind.

Yeah, sitting on the swing was your favouri-

Rapid staccato of feet hitting the ground in the distance, no doubt scaring off the birds chiming their morning songs, reached your ears and you had to admit you wouldn’t be completely honest with yourself if you said this was the favourite moment of your day only because of the aforementioned reasons.

There was one more.

It had strong long sweatpants-clad legs, broad shoulders in a sports t-shirt with seams crying for help, blond hair and-

Your heart melted along with your brain as your lips curled up in a genuine smile you sent in return.

-and the most beautiful smile in the whole universe.

You never spoke. Didn’t say hello. You never even nodded in mutual acknowledgement.

You just… smiled at each other.

And that was your favourite moment of the day crafted to perfection. A breath-taking sunrise, almost eclipsed by a mesmerizing display of the row of perfect white teeth framed by plush coral red lips and the twinkle in beautiful inviting eyes of a stranger.

You knew his name despite never exchanging a single word. Everyone knew his name. But Captain Rogers – Steven Grant Rogers – was a name that held no meaning. He didn’t know yours and probably never would; so strangers was who you were. A couple of strangers exchanging a smile every morning and lightening up (hopefully) each other’s day.

It always felt nice when you glanced at someone on the street, then just… somehow smiled and they smiled back, didn’t it? So what if you were an adult woman dealing with numbers for Stark Industries sitting on a swing and he was a deservedly treasured national icon?

It made no difference.

Just two people sharing a tiny piece of their day for a smile.

○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○ ♥ ○◦○◦○◦○◦○◦○

“You’re insane,” your colleague stated dryly as she walked into the office at seven thirty, already finding you with an empty coffee cup, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Huh?” you raised your eyes from the screen on autopilot, not really paying attention.

You still noticed Harry rolling her eyes; it was just that distinctive.

“I said that you’re insane, you crazy-ass lark. My brain isn’t even awake yet. To be fair, I’m ninety percent sure I met Captain Handsome in the hall along with our boss, so it’s hard to tell if I’m dreaming or not, having a vision like that.”

“Captain Handsome?” you frowned, your mind racing, desperately trying to remember who was Harriet’s newest crush. ‘Captain Handsome’ could be literally anyone.

“Our resident Star-Spangled Man, you dummy. You’re low on caffeine. Or sleep. That’s what you get, getting up in such an ungodly hour…” she hummed, crossing her arms on her chest as she looked at you sceptically, a drop of disappointment in her eyes.

Oh. Oh! That made sense; if the man was with Tony Stark, the range of options narrowed significantly, especially since your friend had called him a captain. Except it didn’t make any sense at all.

“What was he doing here? I mean… since when is he wandering in our department? It’s all across the compound here from the training area.”

“Well, look who’s actually awake and bright-minded…” It was your turn to roll your eyes at your friend. “My point exactly. No clue, but lemme tell you – seeing that ass? Definitely made my day,” she threw over her shoulder as she stalked to the coffee machine and you couldn’t but chuckle at her bluntness.

Your stranger had an amazing smile, that was true. But your gaze did slide elsewhere on occasion too; which was why you would never try to disprove Harry’s claim.

“We might have the Ironman for a boss, but, girl… I’d like to know what Rogers’ ass is made of then,” she added and you burst into another fit of giggles, your face feeling hot all of sudden when your mind unhelpfully supplied with ‘vibranium’.

What would it feel like?

Yeah, you definitely needed to go back to your numbers before your impure thoughts got the best of you.

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The first time you two met outside the park, you were in a bar.

You hadn’t seen him for almost a month, assuming he went on a long-drawn mission; one that had ended well, clearly, since he was out drinking. Just eyeing his companions and instantly noting his body language, you could tell he was suffering. Like, not literally suffering, but it was very much obvious he was not feeling comfortable.

His eyes were drifting all over the place, as Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes laughed loudly, patting his shoulders while a hint or red dusted his cheeks, and then they fell on you.

His face was screaming ‘save me!’; yet, his smile was still as warm and kind as ever, an impossible spark within his irises, visible even from the distance. That twinkle was always the biggest mystery to you, because logically, no person could have eyes so bright, but here he was, proving your claim wrong.

Your lips spread in a smile automatically and encouraged by your second drink, you considered adding a small silly wave.

Before you could execute the decision, the result of your two last braincells arguing whether it would be more silly or sweet, an arm sneaked around your shoulders and your smile widened on instinct at the sensation. You turned your head to Cade and met his lips halfway to yours.

You had been dating for almost a month now and this inconspicuous guy from logistic of a giant company that was surprisingly not Stark Industries was a dream coming true. He was showering you with so much attention you weren’t sure he was real. Late-night conversations via phonecalls or texts, good morning, good night, kisses that lasted long enough for you to forget that you in fact needed oxygen, touches that set you on fire. He was easy to fall in love with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout that got you smilin’ so wide, babe?” he whispered to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.

Gosh, you wanted him. The first sex hadn’t been so great, Cade chasing his own release, but hey, first times were always hard in a new relationship. The more were you excited about your second time and you were confident the second time would happen tonight.

“Nah, just smiling at strangers. You know that feeling, so nice, when you just toss a smile and they smile back?” your eyes found his, only to see him frown.

“I like it better when you smile for me, babe. What did some stranger do for you to deserve that?” he hummed discontentedly, pouting adorably as his hand slid lower to squeeze your hip possessively. It sent a spark through your body, a lightning striking right into your core.

“Just teasing you, Cade. I was thinking about how I lucked out,” you batted your eyelashes and a slow delicious smirk played with the corner of his mouth all of sudden, intensifying the heat inside of you.

“Wanna get out of here, pretty thing? Lemme show you how lucky you are?” he whispered, the pad of his thumb grazing your lower lip, pulling it down a fraction. “Or maybe… show me how much you think you lucked out, huh? How much you appreciate being mine?”

God, yes.

Judging by the glint in his eyes and the hungry kiss that lasted too short – but too long for such a public place – he didn’t need a verbal confirmation. He swung by the bar to pay for your drink and practically dragged you out of the rather crowded space. Your head was spinning a bit and you couldn’t tell whether it was excitement or alcohol. Either way, you really, really liked it.

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“You know that Cade was a dick right?” Harry noted nonchalantly while she handed you a cup of coffee and assessed (correctly) that you were sulking again, thinking back to that one particular night when you had noticed the first sign – or you would have if you hadn’t been such a goddamn idiotic goose of a woman, drunk on top of that.

You sighed and sipped your punishingly bitter dose of caffeine.

You were positively brooding and you didn’t care if it affected anyone else. The world apparently hated you and you couldn’t quite blame it.

Not even your precious strangers-exchanging-smile moments felt the same anymore. First, your stranger had started smiling less brightly after your encounter at the bar and then, even if it had changed, you wouldn’t be able to tell, because you were too wrapped in your own misery. Even the curve of his lips looked sad, which was a stupid thing to say, because he had no way of knowing about either Cade turning out to be an abuser-in-making or about you breaking things off with him and cracking your fragile heart in the process, while yelling at yourself mentally every morning and still longing for Cade’s arms around you since it always felt oh, oh so good to be held…

You recognized the signs early, but not soon enough. You let it escalate into him trying to control when you went out and with whom, him lashing out when you wouldn’t respond to his text in longer than five-minutes time, letting him yell at you when you missed his call… he loved you, after all, he just missed you and was afraid you were with someone else, and oh babe, come here, you can make it up to me…

Your sister had gone through something similar, for god’s sake. You should have noticed sooner. You should have known better. But no, you had allowed your body, your twat to be precise, to rule your brain and that had been stupid.

Cade had tried to get in touch several times after your break-up, even waiting in front of your apartment until you would go out once; you might have threatened him with a restraining order after that particular day and he had stopped quickly after that, only two of three attempts with a new e-mail address and number to get pass you blocking his previous ones.

Still. It made you miserable. And perhaps a bit self-hateful.

You deserved every bitter drop of Harry’s horrible coffee and more.

“I was being blind and stupid,” you opposed and returned to your figures, deciding your exchange was over. Figures were clear enough; they were easy to read and didn’t make your brain drunk on endorphins and other very specific hormones allowing you to act like a teenage girl, excited at her first boyfriend groping her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

A huff sounded above your head and suddenly your swivel chair was being yanked back and turned around, a pair of strict chocolate eyes boring into your soul with startling clarity. Harry’s fingers were wrapped around the armrests as she was leaning into your space.

You backed into your chair instinctively. She looked menacing.

“He was a charming bastard from what I heard and his type always knows how to manipulate people, letting them see what he wants them to see. It’s not your fault. You’re one badass of a woman, smart as hell for noticing before it escalated. You’re my hero. Mine and every other person’s who has ever been in or even heard of an abusive relationship. You can do better than him. It’s a funny coincidence they spelled his name wrong anyway.”

You blinked away your sudden tears, immensely grateful for her words that somehow wormed their way inside your very core (you blamed the intense stare that reminded of your mother’s when she was giving you the kind of talk that was too serious for you to handle) and yet you tilted your head in confusion, not understanding the meaning of her last statement.

“Huh? His… his name?” you stuttered, baffled.

Harry positioned your chair back to its place with a grin and went back to her own business.

“Clearly, they added an ‘E’ at the end. What a stupid typo…” she threw over her shoulder cheekily and when you caught up, understanding her point, you released the first honest laughter in what felt like a year.

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Your life had been set off to better course after that short conversation. You felt like you were healing every day, finding yourself lighter. Happier. Freer of the baggage Cade had tried to left you with. The sensation was indescribable and it radiated from you; some days more noticeably than others.

You found yourself indulging the blond stranger’s smiles once more, finally seeing the spark in his eyes again, the genuine curve of his lips warming your heart and starting off your day in the best way imaginable.

Naturally, life had a reliable means of showing you it could suck.

Right when you thought that you were fine, it delivered another blow; your favourite place in the world… ceased to exist.

Someone put the swing in the park down.

They just… erased it from existence.

Maybe they considered it dangerous. Maybe they were being dicks. Maybe they thought it was old and ugly. It didn’t quite matter.

You could weep, mourning your intimate inanimate friend.

You didn’t cry. But it was a damn close call as you shuffled towards the playground and eyed it sceptically. You knew it wouldn’t be the same and not just because the swings were in a plain sight, but they also looked too fancy, to actually child-like and— they weren’t your swing. Your sanctuary. Your private space. Your secret place you never told anyone about, not Cade or your previous boyfriends, not your family, not Harry or other friends, not to anyone.

You watched the sun rise on the horizon, ridiculously heavy feeling in your chest, ignorant to the rest of the world.

God, you hated Mondays. You already knew this week was about to be a disaster.

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“There’s a swing outside in the green area.”

“Huh?” you hummed distractedly, too deep into figures to register more than the sound of your friend’s voice. What was her name again? What was yours? What day was today? What was the time? Had you already had lunch? Had the lunch-time already passed…?

A chuckle followed by a to-be offended tone responded to your intelligent way of communicating.

“I’m starting to think ‘Huh’ is my name with how often you call me that,” Harry (aha!) remarked with a hint of sass, but repeated herself, because she knew she shouldn’t take it personal that you didn’t quite payed her any attention. You were a person who would get sucked into their own world, too focused on one task to acknowledge anything else. “A swing. In our compound park. It’s kinda cute, hidden from a plain sight though, a simple wooden thing.”

You slowly raised your eyes to hers, your pupils widening with surprise. Your pulse was roaring in your ears, your heartbeat no doubt shaking your whole frame.

Harry was telling you that there was… a swing. In the compound area. Hidden from everyone’s prying eyes, at least partly.

Why?

How?

You could only come up with one ridiculous theory which involved you, but that idea alone was laughable. Why would anyone do that for you? More importantly, how did anyone know-

“You think it’s an invitation for children? Like, is ‘bring your kids to work’ day happening any time soon? ‘cause, not to be rude and greedy, but one swing doesn’t seem like— hey!” Harry called after you, but you could barely hear her as you jumped to your feet, your heels be damned, and strode through the halls with zero regards to anyone in your way.

Not that there was a soul; people actually worked around here, too busy to wander the halls.

The thing was, that one theory about the swing didn’t just involve you. It involved one more person, but that person was a stranger to you and had no reason to even… acknowledge you. Besides the obvious part of your day that no longer existed – not in the way it used to. But the thought was simply laughable.

A different part of your brain raised a figurative sceptical eyebrow, argumenting that you had no better explanation for the phenomenon.

Because… you loved Harry. She knew about your traditional early morning watching the sunrise, but not about the swing. The swing was always a secret, no one knew, except… except one particular guy who always passed you on his morning run and exchanged a smile with you and just happened to work at the very same compound you did and technically had the power to pull the strings to make this happen.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you gasped for fresh air when you finally made it out of the building, your eyes searching for a calm spot, a tree in whose shades you could possibly find a prove of Harry not pulling your leg.

Your heart positively stopped when your eyes fell on the simple plank hanging on two ropes, indeed offering a safe space for anyone who decided to sit there in search for serenity.

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, your feet moving of their own will despite semi-high heels digging into the ground an inch with each step, bringing you closer to that little, yet breath-taking miracle. A chuckle escaped your lips when your trembling fingers brushed the grey ropes, more of your senses acknowledging that this was in fact happening.

Your hand followed the line of the rope, sliding to the plank, only to notice a rough sensation on your fingertips in the corner. A carving, you realized.

Tears of surprise actually welled up when you recognized they were initials. Your initials.

How-- how was that possible?

‘Sit down, you dummy!’ your consciousness cried out exasperatedly. ‘It’s clearly for you!’

“But why?” you asked it under your breath incredulously, thousands of questions ruminating, no answers on the horizon.

Regardless, you reluctantly lowered yourself, shocked when your feet dangled above the ground in precisely the same way they used to-- they used to in the park. It was even installed in the same height.

Reverently, you gave the swing a test-drive, just tiny motions of your feet to try it out.

It was perfect.

Your gaze fell on a sign on the tree trunk, small, subtle and harmonizing with the place without a fault.

Sanctuary of the kind ones. Do not disturb, it read.

You giggled breathlessly, lightheaded and with no care in the world.

That naturally changed when you spotted your very much expectant colleague in the distance, her arms crossed on her chest, figuratively tapping her foot and screaming questions without saying a single word.

The thing is, you thought, I have no idea how to answer.

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Perhaps it was naïve, a child-like trust and excitement, but the next day, you went to your new spot expecting to enjoy the sunrise there and not to be disturbed indeed.

You weren’t.

What you couldn’t quite prepare yourself for was the single daisy lying on the wood, starling you to no end. Hesitating all of sudden, you searched your surroundings, wondering if you interrupted someone else’s plan. Perhaps someone had the same initials as you and whoever made this happen had a different person in mind, doing it for them and the swing was just a funny coincidence.

But then in the middle of your mussing – on the swing, because, screw it, you might as well enjoy this since no one had kicked you out yet – a familiar figure ran past, gracing you with a beautiful smile, once again without a word and with a shy gaze falling to the ground after you met their eyes. With that, it… actually started to settle.

He had done this for you. For some incredible inexplicable reason… your smiling ‘stranger’ offered you a kindness of unseen measures.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you would find a different flower on the wood every day for the whole week. They weren’t even fancy flowers, which made it absolutely magical. Daisy. Tulip. Lilly. No red roses, only cute blossoms, matching the simplicity of the swing.

Harry was nearing the verge of insanity due to your goofy smiles and flowers in your hands; but you remained tight-lipped like an international spy during an interrogation, too afraid that if you said it out loud, sharing that ridiculous impression you were getting these days with anyone, your bubble would burst.

And surely enough, as if you jinxed it mentally, the next Wednesday, no flower waited for you.

It was ridiculous how your mood died instantly. It could have had hundreds of explanations including the one that he went for a mission, because he was Captain Freaking America, in case your stupid heart forgot, but nope, you would still feel the corners of your lips turn down.

You watched the shades of orange bleeding into blue and grey, lost in thought and with unsettling longing in your heart.

You suspected his steps sounded purposely loud when they came from behind you, where you wouldn’t expect them. You didn’t need to see the familiar Nikes on his feet to know it was him; you doubted anyone else would approach you, let alone at such early hour.

Yet you would lie saying your heart didn’t skip a beat when he stopped in his slow tracks by your side, steady feet next to your dangling ones, and you had his identity confirmed.

Your throat went dry and stiff, your voice dying before it could form.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered reverently, not disturbing the peace of the indeed lovely scenery in front of you.

You didn’t dare to look away from the sunrise as your voice came out unfairly scratchy, a stark contrast to his deep and smooth one that felt like a caress on your skin.

“It is.”

Silence fell on your pair again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The birds sung their morning songs, waking up the world and you didn’t think words were needed. Except you owed him something, and you wanted to say it.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from the painting by the most amazing artist, the nature itself, you casted a glance at him.

You didn’t realize you had never seen him still; duh, you did know that, but what didn’t quite click in your brain was that you would be able to see him in all his glory, soft smile and an absent gaze framed by long eyelashes, shadows casted all over his face and body, playing games which gave him a surprisingly ethereal aura for a man of his built.

Your stomach tied itself into a knot at the sight and the ‘thank you’ got once again stuck in your throat when his eyes turned to you as well, you breath stolen from your lungs, your lips parting uselessly and curling into a smile on instinct when his did.

Despite seeing the too startling sparkle up close, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the deep blue with a hint of green of his irises. It was just too captivating, locking you in a sweet cage you didn’t feel trapped in, but free and suddenly able to breathe in again.

“Thank you,” slipped from your lips unwittingly, shocking to your own ears.

The very same hint of scarlet you remembered from the infamous bar encounter dusted his cheeks, his smile softening as he turned a bashful gaze away, now fixated on the ground.

“Just wanted to see you smile again. Best part of my day,” he admitted, peeking at you from the insanely long and thick eyelashes and you could melt on spot, dizzying vertigo overcoming you at the sweet words. Good thing you were sitting.

You had no idea how to respond, your heartbeat thumping in your temples, your face feeling too hot and chest pleasantly warm at such admission. Your teeth went to chew on your lip and you abruptly stopped yourself. Bad, bad habit.

“Was… was that the only thing? Because the swing would be more than enough, let alone with my initials, and the flowers-“

“Maybe-“ he softly interrupted your lame attempt at flirting which had turned into a babble, but with same nerves coursing his voice unless your senses were playing tricks on you. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization that he might be as nervous as you were-- the strangest thing in the world, wouldn’t it be? “Maybe I could tell you… over a coffee?”

A daffodil entered your field of vision, happy, bright and yet somehow shy in his big hand and you didn’t think twice before accepting it, your fingers brushing his skin in the process only half-accidentally. Passing you the flower, he offered you a hand so he could assist you in standing up.

Ah, as if he knew your knees felt wobbly and uncooperating with the overwhelming turn of events.

You didn’t hesitate to accept that either. You had a hunch that the manners of a forties’ man would be offended if you didn’t anyway.

“Thank you. Again.”

The twinkle in his eyes shone brighter at your words, his smile widening.

“My pleasure.”

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“If I trip over something, I’ll bully you into carrying me everywhere for the next month,” you threatened in a joking manner as your boyfriend of one year led you through his apartment with his huge palm sprawled over your eyes, while his other gently rested on your lower back, making sure you maintained some balance.

“I wouldn’t complain about that. Are you serious? Because I just might let you trip then…” he teased back and you could hear the grin in his voice, mesmerized by the happy note in it. You would roll your eyes at him fondly, but he wouldn’t see it, so there was no point.

“Don’t you dare…”

“Okay, let’s stop now,” he whispered in your ear, his hand shifting to your hip to squeeze lightly, causing you to shiver. You and Steve had taken your time when it came to physical aspect of your relationship (past certain bases anyway), so a touch like that still sent a delicious electrifying feeling through your whole body.

As if you weren’t excited enough ever since the moment he had told you he had had a surprise for you.

Chewing on your lower lip, you followed his gentle instruction and stopped in your tracks.

“Should I be afraid?” you asked for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Terrified,” he confirmed in a joking manner. “You ready?”

Not waiting for your answer, he uncovered your eyes and with a deep inhale, you snapped them open.

Only for your breath to hitch at the sight in front of you.

“Oh my god... it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, a surprised chuckle escaping past your lips.

In the corner of the living room, soft marigold pillows laid in a circular hammock chair coloured in the indigo of an early sunrise, practically begging for you to jump in and nestle there with a book and relax.

Instantly reminded of how you met Steve in the first place, you couldn’t but spun on your heels and threw your arms around him, strong arms eagerly welcoming you as his chest shook with hushed chuckle.

“Glad you like it,” he murmured, hiding his face in your hair, raising you from the floor effortlessly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Happy anniversary, Steve. This truly is amazing. I love it!”

“But not more than me?”

It was your turn to chuckle as you retreated, placing a kiss on his nose and earning a pout that simply had to be kissed away.

“No, Steve, not even this amazing hammock compares to you. I’ll show you exactly how much I love you in a sec, I just have to test it out,” you promised.

He released you with no protest and watched with a fond smile as you climbed in with a child-like excitement, the corners of his eyes twinkling. He slowly made his way to you as the hammock swung gently with your weight and you sent him a delighted grin as he sat on his heels in front of you, his hands landing on the edges so he had the control over the movements.

“What’s the verdict?” he pried softly and you opened your mouth to respond with enough enthusiasm to power the state of New York for a year; but he continued. ”Is it comfy enough for you to… make you consider- that maybe-- you could… stay here more often?”

Your breath hitched, your throat swelling when you got a pretty good idea of what he was asking from his serious gaze. Yet, you needed to make sure, butterflies in your stomach flipping their wings wildly as you leaned forward, invisible magnets pulling you towards him.

“And by ‘more often’ you mean-“

“All the time,” he whispered, his eyes roaming your face nervously, trying to spy a reaction, read the answer in your expression alone.

You chuckled incredulously, ecstatic at such proposition, and placed your palms to both sides of Steve’s face, grateful for his grip on the hammock and trusting him not to let you faceplant on him with how hazardous the kiss you gave him was.

Your eyelids fluttered close, but you felt his smile as his lips engaged in a tender dance with yours, one of his hands sneaking to the side of your neck to pull you closer, tilting your head as his tongue teased your lips to part.

How could you deny him anything even when you felt like you were about to fall face-down any second? He would be under you when you landed anyway. What more could you wish for-

“I love you,” he breathed to your mouth as he broke the kiss for one damned second that felt like eternity; one second in which you forgot to suck more air in even when given the opportunity. Who needed oxygen anyway? You could breathe Steve in and live blissfully, it was what you were trying to do for the past minute and it was glorious- “That’s a yes, right?”

A chuckle escaped you as you dodged another kiss, his lips landing in your hair instead, the hammock swaying hazardously. Mm, seemed like your supersoldier was too distracted to watch your balance.

“Yes. The hammock totally convinced me,” you teased him lightly, an idea striking you when you said those words. Climbing down as he was still sitting in front of you on his heels, you lowered yourself on him, nestling in his lap and leaning to his ear and sharing your not necessarily filthy thought in a breathless whisper. “But I think I still like sitting right here much better.”

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S.R. masterlist

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart

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Thank you for reading :-*

P.S. - Keep smiling; at the people you love whenever you can, at strangers and at the person you see in the mirror :))

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #reader insert #fluff #one-shot #steve rogers oneshot #captain america oneshot #avengers #captain america #for a smile #anika ann

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delectablycoolscientist · 4 years

Text

False Vyper’s amazing texting storyline, the pool part

The False Vyper has this incredible LadyNoir texting comic on her IG and the most recent one was so adorable and emotional, I had to write the scene in my head out.

The Pool

“Girl, are you ok?”

Marinette was brought out of her reverie by Alya unceremoniously dropping onto the bench beside to her.

“I- I’m fine! I’m great! Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Uh, because Adrien frickin’ Agreste asked you to hand him a towel while dressed in nothing but the swim trunks from the latest Gabriel line and you just handed it to him without even looking up?”

She did?

Marinette glanced around, spotting the man in question climbing up on the diving board, and yeah, she could see Alya’s point. Adrien was hot to the point of spontaneous combustion, and Marinette hadn’t even noticed.

She turned back to her best friend.

“I’ve just… had a lot on my mind.”

Alya softened.

“I know, babe. I’ve seen it in your face for weeks. I wish you would talk to me about whatever’s going on with you.”

Marinette fought back the tears that threatened to form in her eyes.

“Hey! Hey girl, none of that! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

Alya wrapped her arms around her, and Marinette took a deep steadying breath, feeling secure in her best friend’s embrace.

“Thanks, Alya,” she whispered. “I promise, if there were something you could do, I would tell you about it, but…”

“Ok, sweetie. I trust you. But you tell me if I can help. You know I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” she said again, sitting back up and wiping her eyes. “I really appreciate it.”

“You gonna be ok?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’m just… I’m gonna… I don’t know. But thanks.”

“Want me to stay?”

“No, go have fun with Nino. I’ll get myself together and come in a few minutes.”

“Don’t be too long or I’m coming back for you.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be there soon.”

As Alya took off for the pool, Marinette sighed. Here she was on this long-awaited day out with her friends, and all she could do was moon about in the corner. Wrestling with her feelings versus her responsibilities was getting seriously old.

“Alya just wants me to be happy. I just want to be happy. Why can’t I just be happy?”

“Oh Marinette,” Tikki’s sweet voice piped up from her backpack on the table. “You can be happy, if you choose it.”

“But what about all the dangers?! None of that has gone away!”

“And they won’t. But you really can’t keep running yourself around like this, Marinette. It’s not fair to yourself, or to Chat.”

“I just… I want to be happy!”

Marinette sat up, squaring her shoulders. She took several calming breaths, trying to shut out the people around her.

She reached past Tikki for her phone, turned her back on the friends that were still at the water, and pulled up the messaging app with trembling fingers.

“Ok. Here goes nothing.”

- LB: Okay, I have an answer

She pushed send before she could change her mind again, and dropped her phone to her lap, willing her heart to calm down. He probably wouldn’t see the text right away anyway; it was a beautiful day, he was almost certain to be busy.

She jumped a mile and fumbled her phone when it buzzed in her hands.

- Silly Kitty: Ok wow, okay, we’re doing this now

- Silly Kitty: Okokok I can do this

Oh God he was freaking out. I mean, she was freaking out too, but she hadn’t meant to cause a spiral in HIM.

Before she could reply, he’d texted again.

- Silly Kitty: Is this like, going to be a really bad answer and that’s why you’re texting me instead of waiting for the next time we see each other?

She wrote back quickly, trying to put him at ease. But she supposed he did deserve an explanation as to why she was doing this over text.

- LB: I’m texting you because I can’t stop thinking about it

(And it’s affecting my every-day life, she didn’t say)

- Silly Kitty: Oh… What we talked about yesterday or… the kiss?

Marinette’s face flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.

- LB: …both

- Silly Kitty: Oh

She put her phone down and took another deep breath. Ok, she could do this.

~~~

Adrien watched Alya walk away from Marinette with some concern. If Alya hadn’t been able to get Marinette to join them, something must be really wrong. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to him about it if she wasn’t talking to Alya, but he could still be supportive. He hauled himself out of the pool and made his way towards their group’s table, intent on just giving her a friendly greeting, to make sure she felt included, but as he approached, he heard his phone buzz in his bag.

Sighing, he pulled his gaze from the swoop of Marinette’s ponytail. Hoping desperately that it wasn’t Natalie about to tell him his father had scheduled a last-minute shoot that would ruin his day, he dried his hands with his towel and pulled out the device.

His whole demeanor immediately brightened seeing the app in his notifications, but then sunk as anxiety pooled in his gut, recalling the precarious state of their relationship. He sat down before opening it.

- My Lady: Okay, I have an answer

Oh God. It was happening. His life as he knew it was about to end right here at the pool. He tried to answer, but couldn’t stop himself from rambling into his keyboard.

Bless her, she tried to calm him down. But…

- My Lady: I can’t stop thinking about it

- My Lady: … both

Oh. That was the only thing he could come up with. Oh. Really eloquent, Adrien. But what did this MEAN? He stared at his phone desperately, willing it to chime again. After a moment, her three little dots popped up on the bottom of the screen.

- My Lady: I actually… I’ve realized that I’ve been thinking about us a lot recently… even before I kissed you

The dots came back. Adrien sucked in a breath through his teeth.

- My Lady: And I’ve already told you why this is such a bad idea and all the risks we’re taking if we do this but…

His heart went on a rollercoaster ride down to his stomach as he read the first part of the sentence, then swooped back up and lodged in his throat on that little ‘but…’ at the end. He gripped his phone so hard that it hurt.

- My Lady: I really like you, Chat. I want to see if us being in a relationship will actually work

Adrien choked as the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding forced its way past the obstruction in his throat. He tried to swallow it back, with limited success, as his emotions bubbled up from his stomach.

There it was. The words he’d waiting years to hear. Read. Whatever. It somehow didn’t seem possible.

- CN: Wait really?? Are you being serious right now? Are you sure?

- CN: This isn’t a joke is it? I’ll actually cry

- My Lady: Lol no, this isn’t a joke

Of course it wasn’t. Ladybug wasn’t cruel like that. She was kindness and softness and LOVE and she wanted to be with HIM. He blinked rapidly as tears pricked the corners of his eyes, chuffing a watery laugh.

- CN: Ok never mind, I’m still crying

- My Lady: Pffft you’re such a dork

Of course, she thought he was joking about crying. She didn’t seem to realize how much this meant to him. He would have to show her. Yes, he was a dork, but he didn’t give a damn how stupid he looked because LADYBUG wanted to give a RELATIONSHIP with HIM a chance! Adrien clapped a hand to his mouth to keep from actually crying out loud as he continued to stare at the beautiful words on his screen.

“I really like you, Chat. I want to see if us being in a relationship will actually work.”

The tears were coming back.

“Dude, are you OKAY?”

Adrien looked up to see Nino giving him a bemused, vaguely concerned look. He hastily turned his phone over.

“Yeah! Yeah I’m fine!”

“Are you CRYING?”

Adrien gave him a watery smile.

“I just got some REALLY good news, and I’m a little emotional about it.”

“Aww, bro! That’s awesome! What is it?”

Nino dropped onto the bench and put his arm around Adrien’s shoulder in a side hug. Adrien bumped his shoulder affectionately.

“I can’t say yet. I promise, as soon as I can, you’ll be the first to know.” Adrien wiped the moisture from his eyes.

“I’d better be. If it’s got you going like that, it must be really special.”

Adrien smiled, letting his gaze go distant over the pool, wondering where his Lady was right now, and if she was as happy as he was.

“It is,” he whispered.

She is, he thought.

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nobody-knose--archive · 3 years

Text

well, today i figured i didn’t have anything better to do & liveblogged the pingry ep. it’s probably a better stepping stone further into the tally void than incomplete demos, coming right off of complete demos, at least.

-from what i know this one basically includes all the mmmm songs that weren't on complete demos (andrew singing ones wahoo) & the expected demos that didn't end up anywhere else + just a friend. i also believe this one was recorded similarly to complete demos so i really have no clue what to expect for taken for a ride's vocals. anyway here i go

-the bidding sounds impressively professional to start things off, but i suppose humming isn't a terribly complex technique anyway. the intro feels a little longer th

-whoah there if that aint a marked difference in audio quality here we go

-guitars also sound different & i don't remember if this album has steve or ross on it i now realize

-goodness the mixing is wonky for rob's segment. the backing vocals do not need to bounce between channels

-why do they have kinda weird voices for the chorus. sounds like they're trying an accent or something. i can barely recognize who's singing

-the keyboard backing in zubin's segment sounds the same as usual, as in, it sounds so stupidly similar to the questions answered backing music that i'm offended i couldn't pick up they're the same for so long

-less echo on disappear actually. at least they still had the brass section

-still a weird sound on the chorus but maybe i can chalk that up to different mixing & more red

-outro sounds not super different. still very good drumming on display which will give me the push i need to decide it's ross drumming

-however i don't hear him shouting out the auctioneer stuff, and given that it was presented as a video during the mmmm recording, i might assume it was done specially for the mmmm releases, so maybe he didn't drum for this album after all

-it does have a greater similarity to the live performances even if the keyboarding is using a different synth

-well now. that's a real piano

-and as any piano will be when played that low, it's out of tune. very

-and everyone's singing? i can't hear andy in the slightest. this is interesting

-i mean i can certainly hear him doing plenty on the piano. but. it's interesting

-i suppose given the ep's hallmanac description, as a compilation of acoustic/one-take recordings i shouldn't be surprised taken for a ride is this different. but boy is it jarring. sounds incredibly different without the heavy synthesizing and complementary instruments

-barebones certainly. not much more of a way to describe it. that's what i expected just not in this way. i like the sound of this bridge though

-do very much wish i could hear andrew's actual voice. even at acoustic live performances he would sing at the very least. then again, that was years later i suppose.

-and it's only now at the final chorus that i realize, somehow, this is a piano-only song. no guitar, no drums even. that's really interesting. even the album version had some drums & bass

-red's singing isn't as impressive here. not as many high notes. understandable. bitch

-different rhythm on the quick part! bet steve feels lucky he didn't have to drum this part although i am hearing some sort of. pants-slapping? now that would be a sight to behold irl

-and that's the end

-goodness. be born. considering how this song was always & every time performed acoustic live i really expect to hear nothing here i haven't from concert recordings

-we're missing whatever the hell that skittery little shaker is called. alas i am not a percussionist & do not know the name of every auxilliary instrument ever

-rippin it up on the melodica bay be. a suitable replacement for whistling considering that never was all that good live. nobody can compare to bora karaca at whistling

-there's extra bass harmonies on display here. swell

-also no percussion i'm realizing

-da-da-da!

-but yeah normally ross uses brushes on a box/seat drum (also don't know what that's called!) for some good gentle percussion & it's not here. really hoping this won't be a trend because i'm fond of drumming even if it's from stebev himself

-bah (chorus) bah

-wait a minute that's not a bah! that's a doo! big difference! what are you doing rob

-i can tell it's one-take because rob has to take a breath in the middle of that final long bah there

-ooh dropping off the guitar there real quick are you? and not even doing the full outro too. good way to spice things up at the end.

-honestly maybe the reason i & so many other th fans dislike be born so much isn't even the country sound and weird subject matter, it's the fact that this song lacks a whole lot of the variability that might separate it from other music. in the album versions there are violins/fiddles, and the live versions... don't have that. maybe some halfway decent whistling at best. it just is what it is. especially compared to the rest of mmmm- g&e could often be more faithfully recreated on stage, but mmmm got to mix things up most of the time, except for be born. food for thought

-anyway. of all the songs i would expect to be absolutely completely identical (other than be born) the whole world and you definitely takes the cake. a delightful song. i should listen to it more.

-but yeah it was a toy orchestra piece long before a tally hall piece, and toy orchestra was & is nothing but silly little live performances. how on earth could they make this one completely different

-other than. the "punk rehearsal" i've heard of from incomplete demos. that's just. a thing i think

-oh hold on i didn't even listen to the end of be born there was a tiny outro with chat at the end oh that's adorable

-hey i can hear andrew's voice! nice!

-starting off with a full ensemble vocals, all sorts of harmonies in action, and a normal piano instead of a toy piano, so already i'm being proven decently wrong on this song's inability to be greatly altered

-other than that. i kinda like how it sounds as if they're stumbling over their words at points

-boy has andrew's voice changed hasn't it. i know i haven't listened to the solo albums so i'm not exactly one to speak but he really developed his singing a lot over time

-clapping live & not in a studio sure sounds a lot worse, especially when it's like 4 people max doing it and not a whole crowd

-zubin (i'm pretty sure) flexing on us all at the end there. good for him

-ayyyyyyy

-it's the song that's sure to invoke an emotional response out of me >:}

-it's also the song i was convinced had andrew vocals in the background (the badadum's between verses) for a good while. still not 100% certain it's rob instead but it's not like i can ask them themselves

-yeah i'll admit it right here this is the song i listen to when i'm going through emotional turmoil. not this version of the song, and no, i don't mean i listen to i'm gonna win or even the tally hall rock version of this one. i mean i listen to the cover of it from we think we're playing in a band. and that's enough on this subject!

-however given the above information yeah i am pretty familiar with this song already. not a new experience right here

-i greatly appreciate the heavy piano work. it's one of my favorite parts about the song

-oh and i should stop talking about that subject right there as well. actually i think i should just say nothing about this song in general. you'll see why in about uhh pauses video

-this friday or so? damn that's sooner than i thought lucky me

-everything will be fine! i'll be making it through!

-oh hello there. "ALBUM" is not a word beamed directly into my brain with great volume thank you very much

-so. it's the outro to good day done with weird haste. looping. no actual chord pro-

-this is. is this some sort of radio performance? what the hell is going on

-steven!!! hello there thanks for the confirmation & god is it surreal to hear his name truly uttered in the context of red rob zubin andrew. wow

-pingry school spring fling. how the hell have i never heard about whatever the hell this track is before

-wait- is it over? song listed as good day but it's in fact the outro to good day done on. a radio program maybe. and now it's a really strange sounding performance of yearbook

-i genuinely can't tell if there's a filter on rob's voice or if the micro- shit that's loud

-what in the hell is going on is this another radio performance or something? like ok yearbook at least was on songs about girls by listedblack but i really want this to be made clear soon

-all i really think i need to know about yearbook is that it's another rob "heterophobic homophonic" cantor angsty boy band song and. listening to it for the first time her. that impression sure isn't going away

-at least i get to hear andrew twinkling those ivories in the back. got a good sound. even if the mixing here is all sorts of wack. a song this complex should not be performed live with only like one microphone

-alright rob i get it you were in love with a girl- and it's over? ok

-live performance of just a friend holy shit hell yes hell yes hell yes for some reason i thought this would be the studio version but no

-i cannot imagine what this song will sound like with steve on the drums hell yes oh will there be banter will rob forget his lines will red say some random 4-syllable phrase will zubin be the best singer in the whole damn band give me an answer now

-already hearing some banter :}

-they're moving weirdly fast and andrew's already got the piano playing even in the beatboxing part. wowie

-ooh kick it andy do those riffs hell yeah

-"that sounded fishy... zubin sedghi!" i'm in love

-KICK IT ANDY

-AND ZUBIN

-and there's the drums! go stevie. go stevie

-good ness andrew just will not let up on the sick as hell keyboarding will he fukc yeah bro kill it

-rob sounds unbelievably tired for this i'm half expecting him to trip up the lyrics at any moment

-"i don't buy it" "don't gimmie that!" you say it boys. oh classic zubin line right there preserved on an official tally hall recording for all eternity, what a treasure this is

-hm isn't this a bit early to go into the pseudo-breakdown chorus? no it works. andrew still rippin it up of course

-and there's the tambourine bay be!

-buildup to the "oh snap" isn't as intense as it could get in later performances which i will gladly blame in its entirety on steve <3

-boy oh boy does rob's voice just sound generally different here. so young so so young

-shooby-doo-wah. well i had low expectations which were not quite fulfilled but it's technically more than what we got on the studio recording so. i won't complain

-THERE IT IS

-BARBEQUE SAUCE BAY BE

-what a fool i was to pause the moment he said it. silly old me <3

-no, no, thank you for coming! but hold on one second. is there not... one more track? technically not a song, technically something i think i've heard before, but if i take a step over to the tally archive...

-cell phone call.

-circus you say? if i had to guess it's the whole world & you given the 08 version of the song but that's a vague guess. can't think of anything better but my current answer isn't that good on its own

-ah! it's joey jo joseph. this wouldn't happen to be that phone call spoken of that, like, invited joe into the band in the first place, would it? i remember that story from an old bio or something, but it doesn't seem like the type of thing that'd be recorded & put on an album. hard to say

-pj? like a certain rob cator frat dude voice JP!?

-well well well now. i'm not sure what to say. i don't recognize that song they're playing as the outro. it could either be some vague listedblack or miscellaneous early tally hall song lost to the void or a demo. i wouldn't exactly know. anyway that ends the pingry ep. shorter than i thought it be, lucky old me. hope you enjoyed!

#tis i #well now i want to listen to the wall party 06 performance of taken for a ride #joe is mentioned by name only at the very end & otherwise it's only indirect references #loolin liveblogs #i wonder why the comprehension amalgamation upload doesn't include cell phone call in there. hm #and yes i'm aware there's some other cell phone track in admittedly incomplete demos no need to tell me. if you will also #not tell me something it's any other spoilers considering aid i look forward to going into that song blind actually #to the world and back again

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lnc2 · 5 years

Text

The Second Shift

Summary: Adrien Agreste is a d-egg-beat dad and Marinette is having none of it.

A ko-fi commission for @jarl-deathwolf who requested adrinette co-parenting for a class assignment.

AO3

In all her dizziest daydreams, wildest whimsies, and fantastic fantasies, Marinette never pictured it going like this.

The this and it and going being a single working mother to a baby girl with an absentee, philandering flake of a father.

Father being a generous term for what her so-called partner was doing.

Marinette scowled, (gently) tossing her backpack onto the lunchroom table.

“I’m gonna have to rethink Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”

Alya grimaced. “Agreste bail on you again?”

“I get it. Really, I do,” She said, not getting it at all. “But if it’s not photoshoots or fencing practice or movie rehearsals –”

Here, she rolled her eyes.

“– Then it’s meeting with the Tsurugis or disappearing to take a shower whatever that means.”

“I’m sorry, girl.“

Marinette sighed. “We were supposed to be partners on this Al and I’m doing all the work.”

She opened her bag and pulled out a makeshift basket with a single egg cushioned inside. Adrien, the absolute dork, had drawn a little sleeping face on the damned thing, complete with a tiny green bow drawn on the top of its head.

“Only the best for baby Eggma,” He’d said, grinning in a way that made her heart flip. In a way that did not indicate a future of egregious absence from their child’s care.

“Maybe you should talk to Ms. Bustier,” Alya said, pulling out her own egg. An egg Rose dyed pink for the endeavor. An egg Rose stuck around for. “It’s not fair he keeps bailing on you at the last minute.”

At the worst minute, more like.

Because, as disappointing as it would have been, Marinette could forgive Adrien a lot of things. Doing the heavy lifting on a group project was just a drop in the bucket.

But he kept foisting Eggma on her during akuma attacks.

And secret identities be damned, she could not keep stashing Eggma around the city. Air conditioning units, secluded chimneys, and even the damn beehives on the top of Notre Dame – Ladybug was running out of hiding places.

Or rather, she was running out of safe hiding places.

Memories of the latest attack where Chat cataclysmed the goddamn building she’d stashed her make-shift daughter haunted her every waking moment. Sentimentality aside, Marinette could not afford to fail this project.

Thank kwami for Tikki and Miraculous Ladybug.

She’d nearly scalped Chat for that mistake, not that she could really explain her fury to her partner. Ridiculous school projects aside the last thing she needed was that cat offering to fill Adrien’s shoes. Not when she knew how deep that feeling truly ran.

Ugh.

“Do you think it’s, like, a family thing?” Alya asked, ripping into her sandwich. “Agreste Sr. isn’t the best role model if you know what I mean.”

“No. I think it’s an Adrien thing.”

Marinette was grateful when her friend nodded, no explanation needed. For all of his great qualities, Adrien was almost painfully oblivious to the undercurrents around him.

And, to his credit, he started off great. Damn near giddy at the prospect of a family, any family, even the fake kind. He’d taken to the project with an earnestness that was almost painful.

“This is Eggma Eggreste,” He’d said, proudly, looping his arm around her waist and presenting their egg to the rest of the class. They were so young then, naive in their optimism.

Marinette knew better now.

The Eggreste family portrait used to make her giggle every time she saw it. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him the silly drawing at all.

“You should probably talk to him,” Alya said, unreasonably. Like Marinette wasn’t a walking keyboard smash every time the boy so much as looked in her direction.

Still, she owed him an explanation if she was planning on breaking Eggma over his head after this whole project was through.

Their timing, as always, was horrible.

She met him on the school’s front steps, Eggma in hand and we need to talk on her lips, when the akuma attacked.

It was almost comical, really, how she knew exactly what Adrien was going to say.

“Ah,” He said, wincing as another explosion went off in the distance. His hand, which had been reaching to take the carton, retracted. “I’m so sorry Marinette. But there’s something I have to–”

“No.”

He blinked, confused. “I’m sorry?”

Marinette shoved Eggma into his chest, scowling. “I said no. You’re not the only one with responsibilities, Agreste. It’s time you start taking care of this one.”

She stomped away, searching for a place to transform. Adrien scrambled after her.

“Marinette, wait!” He said, keeping stride. “I know I’ve been the worst partner lately, but I really need to go and I can’t bring Eggma with–”

“Pull your damn weight,” She snapped, whirling around to poke his chest. His eyes were wide, panicked, and a little exasperated.

Well.

“I’m sick of the disappearing act, Adrien.” She said. “It’s your turn. And so help me if the next words out of your mouth are I have something to do I will scream. Because believe it or not I have something I need to do. So take your daughter and figure it out.”

Marinette didn’t give him a chance to argue any further and took off running.

Today, at least, she was getting her break.

Sure, It was to fight a super villain, but who said parenting was easy?

Ladybug took to the rooftops, following the wreckage left in the akuma’s wake. She tried not to look too carefully at the crumbled buildings or what might lay inside. The best thing she could do for Paris was to catch Hawkmoth’s latest victim and purify them as quickly as possible.

Miraculous Ladybug would take care of the rest.

Still, she winced as another explosion sounded off, closer this time. She hated the destructive ones.

It was a good thing she managed to pass off Eggma to Adrien. He would be sensible and stay out of harm’s way. Two less people to worry about.

“Sorry I’m late my lady!”

Her partner landed beside her, annoyed and without his usual theatrics. “I couldn’t get away.”

“No worries, minou.” She said, scanning the horizon for their target. “I only just got here.”

“Let’s hope this one goes down easy,” Chat said, grimacing. “I’ve got a lot riding on not becoming fire fodder today.”

Ladybug smirked, just today? on the tip of her tongue when her eyes caught on Chat’s newest costume addition.

“What is that?”

Chat patted at the small, white, shape peeking out of his new, leather satchel. She felt the ridiculous urge to slap his claws away from the delicate shell.

“School project.” He said, irritated, irritating her. “My partner wouldn’t take her this time.”

“Her?” Ladybug said, voice sounding distant to her own ears.

She could see two little green arrows pointing towards each other on the crest of the shape, a clumsy, familiar approximation of a bow.

No.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

Ladybug felt like she was floating. A sense of dread and anticipation and knowing hovering just beyond her body. A place where 2 + 2 = 5 and the next words out of her partner’s mouth were –

“Eggma,” He said, sounding almost too pleased with himself. “Her name is Eggma.”

Of course it was.

She could have screamed.

Really, she should have.

But all Ladybug felt was relief. Relief and irritation and the sensation of the universe tumbling itself upside down until it was right side up again.

The sky was blue. Her suit was red.

And Adrien Agreste wasn’t a terrible father.

“This… this explains a lot.” She said, reaching forward to take the satchel from his side.

Chat blinked at her, confused and only a little hesitant.

“My lady?”

“Eggma Eggreste,” She laughed, slightly hysterical. “What a problem child you’ve been.”

“How did you…” He stopped, eyes narrowing. She waited for it to click.

It didn’t take long.

“… Marinette?” Chat said, voice cracking.

“I guess that’s why you’ve been so flaky.”

“Oh my god.”

“We’ll need to work on that for the future,” She said, absently, searching the roof for a place to hide Eggma.

“Oh my god. ”

She found a small opening near an air vent, a place as good as any at this point, and tucked her in. A temporary solution at best.

“Oh my god! ”

“Adrien,” Ladybug snapped, nerves frayed. Chat squeaked, shutting up. “Can you pull it together for the next hour?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good.” She said, running a shaky hand through her hair. Now was not the time for freaking out. Now was the time for superheroing, rescuing, and parenting. Partnering.

Was there even a difference at this point?

“I’m done carrying double duty. We can scream about this when we’ve purified the akuma.”

“Mhmm.”

Chat’s eyes were wide and a little glassy.

Ladybug bit her lip… and broke. “Please, please say anything else.”

I can’t do this without you.

He heard her.

Clenching and unclenching his hands like he was working off an electric shock, Chat took a shuddering breath and reached out his fist.

“Okay, LB?”

She laughed, teary, and bumped it with her own. “Okay. But Chat?”

His smile was shaky at best. “Yeah?”

“We’re gonna need a hell of a babysitter.”

#miraculous ladybug #lnc2 writes #commission #jarl-deathwolf #adrinette #adrienette #coparenting egg assignment

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kumkaniudaku · 4 years

Text

Savage

A/N: Happy Two Year Anniversary to this blog. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: CoCo’s trying to get back to herself with a special photoshoot and help from an unlikely source.

Standing in the bathroom mirror dressed in nothing but the skin God blessed her with, Tasha proudly turned her hips from side to side to examine her body. A small smile crept across her golden features as her eyes raked over her hips before landing on her backside. She used the tips of her fingers to grasp at the cuff of her ass and lift the area.

"Hey there, girl. Been a long time since we've seen each other. Lookin' good." Tasha's hands took the scenic route to her breast, stopping at her stomach and rubbing her palm over the section that had plagued her for years. When she reached her chest, she playfully pushed her breasts together and smiled. "And look at you guys. Sittin' all pretty after all these years."

With her hair loose and untamed and Beyonce's self-titled album playing in the background, CoCo felt a surge of energy that began a swirling motion in her hips. She watched the natural curves and jiggle of her body as she moved and smiled, finally feeling comfortable with the "new" her. A year and half postpartum was filled with the ups and downs of understanding the changes within her and accepting them. Tasha's silly dance moves were a moment of celebration that her husband, who quietly stood in the doorway to enjoy the morning entertainment, understood and appreciated.

In the middle of twirl to the rap portion of Yonce, Tasha was startled by her husband. She quickly rushed to her phone to pause the song and end her private dance party.

"No, don't stop," Chadwick laughed as he stepped into the bathroom. "I'm lovin' the show."

"I feel like you're laughing at me."

"Of course not, baby. I'm laughing with you." His last words became a sultry mumble as he made space for his lips on Tasha's. Goosebumps pebbled on her cold skin wherever Chadwick's warm palms landed, finally finding a home just above her ass. They stood in one position, holding each other and making silly conversations that kept the energy light. In the middle of a debate on which child would be the first to wake and terrorize the house, Tasha decided to share a bit of news.

"I got an email this morning from Rihanna," she casually introduced, keeping her eyes away from Chadwick's as she pretended to take an interest in the chain around his neck.

"Is this for another one of those wild girl's nights that ends up on Instagram?"

"Wow, I accidentally showed a little nipple once on IG Live once, and now it's a whole thing!" Chadwick cocked his head back with his eyebrows raised and a soft smile resting on his face.

Instead of bringing up the instantaneous internet reaction that lasted for days after the unintentional peep show, he laughed at the memory and shook his head.

"Anyway," she emphasized with an eye roll. "It was an invitation to do a little modeling very soon."

"Modeling for Rihanna, huh? Is this the Fenty makeup stuff you look so good in?"

"No, but I'll make sure to bring your compliment up the next time I speak to her," Tasha laughed before going silent.

Her sudden reluctance to continue didn't escape Chadwick as he playfully pinched her backside to get a response.

"Don't leave me hanging, girl, what is it?"

"Ow! Okay! Rihanna wants to see me in some of her new...lingerie."

"I'm sorry what was that," Chadwick asked after noticing his wife's intentional rush past the last word.

"I said Rihanna wants me to model some of her new lingerie."

"Lingerie. Like half-naked, ass out in see-through lace lingerie?"

"Possibly. She says, and I quote, that I have a nice ass that deserves to be seen all over the world. She gave me the entire rundown of the campaign and the process. Baby, I really wanna do this. I'm finally feeling back to being myself after having Noah, and I want to celebrate! I'm not going to have this body forever. I should show it off while I still have time, right?"

Chadwick could hear and see the excitement radiating from Tasha at the thought of working on the campaign, but he worried about her. From the beginning of their relationship, he'd vowed to protect her from the often cruel opinions of the public. While he trusted CoCo's ability to take the comments in stride, he wasn't sure if he would be able to refrain from unleashing his wrath upon some unsuspecting teenager behind a keyboard.

Dropping his head, Chadwick placed a chaste kiss on Tasha's nose. "If you think you can handle it, I'm all for you showing off your little cupcakes within reason."

"Oh, yeah, right. You love these little cupcakes."

"Mm, I do. 'Specially when you have 'em all oiled up for me. Ooh, or in that backless satin dress you wear on special occasions."

Tasha rolled her eyes and smiled as he ran through all of the ways he liked to see her derriere present for his viewing pleasure.

"Do you wanna hear about the overall concept of the shoot or not, lover boy," she laughed while Chadwick nipped at her neck and pressed her body closer to his.

"Go ahead; I'm listening. I can listen and rub at the same time."

"Well, what if I wanted to be rubbed separately?"

CoCo could barely hear her husband's response over her squeals as Chadwick lifted her from her feet to place her on the counter. They quickly abandoned playful tickling for more sensual forms of touching until they were too wrapped up in each other to notice other sounds in their home.

Their escalating round of flirting came to a sudden halt when the repeated clicking of the bedroom's doorknob caught their attention.

"It's time for breakfast," Micah yelled from the hallway. "You guys said playtime was at night! I'm hungry."

"What are we eating this morning, baby girl?"

"I dunno! I'm not a grown-up yet. Can Mommy wake up and make us pancakes? MOMMY WAKE UP!"

Tears pricked CoCo's eyes as she fought to stifle laughter and catch her breath. "I'm awake, Chicken Little. Pancakes coming right up. Go check on your brother."

Micah answered with an unenthusiastic grumble before dragging her feet down the hallway in the direction of Noah's bedroom. One look at each other sent Chad and CoCo into a fit of laughter at the sheer comedy of the moment.

"That's our girl," Tasha laughed.

"She's a little diva. I wonder who she gets that from."

"Oop! Is that sarcasm I hear, husband?"

"Oh, never!" Sneaking a final kiss, Chadwick stepped back to make his way toward the threshold of the bathroom. A mischievous smirk graced his face as he turned to address his wife. "She absolutely gets it from you."

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

"Hit a switch on a fake nigga, like a station. Sex with me so amazing…"

Tasha silently mouthed the words to Rihanna's ANTI album while her house buzzed with staff members assisting with the early morning shoot. Though her exterior was calm and collected on the outside, she was suffering through an awful surge of anxiety.

When she initially accepted Rihanna's invitation, CoCo didn't even consider the specifics. She'd been a part of plenty of photoshoots, but all of them had he styled in clothing that didn't show off very intimate curves and lumps. Never had she been tasked with fighting to cover her nooks and crannies with her olive-colored Savage x Fenty robe.

"You think I can fit this?"

Snapping from her onslaught of negative thoughts, Tasha shifted her eyes to get a glimpse of her sister through her vanity mirror.

"Yeah...in about four months."

"I don't have four months. I wanna have sex tonight. I'm hormonal, and I want it immediately."

"Then, by all means, cram those big lactating titties in that bra."

Tiana laughed from the pit of her growing belly for several seconds until she paused. "I think I just peed a little."

This time Tasha joined in, motioning for the makeup artist to pass her a few tissues to catch the tears welling in the corner of her eyes.

"Sit your ass down, TiTi. The only person allowed to pee on the carpet by accident is still learning how to stand on his own two feet."

"I just love my little chunk muffin," she gushed, referring to her nickname for Noah. "When are they coming back?"

"Hopefully, long after all of this is over. I don't know if I'm ready for Micah to see me dressed so...so scandalous."

Taking a seat on the chaise across the room, Tiana shook her head in disapproval. "Oh girl, hush. You're a woman with a beautiful body, and Micah could stand to learn an early lesson about the power of living in your skin unapologetically. A healthy body image at a young age is important."

"When did you become a damn poet," Tasha asked in faux annoyance. She knew her younger sister was right in her advice and needed a moment to process the statement.

"I became a poet when you invited me over here for moral support. It's my new thing after reading all these rich lady parenting books."

"Who knew my little sister had morals?" The pair locked eyes through the mirror and smiled at each other when Tiana flashed her middle finger and waved Tasha off. "Really, though, thanks, Ti. I appreciate the advice."

"Yeah, yeah. Show your appreciation by directing me to the best snacks in your pantry."

The hairstylist took a break from situating CoCo's pin curls to finally release his laughter, making the Greene sister duo join in.

"You two need a YouTube channel. I would subscribe," he complimented as his laughter subsided. "Feel free to grab some food from the catering station on the deck. Or we can get someone to bring it to you. What's the order?"

"Oooh, fancy! Don't worry about that, sweetheart. I need to get some exercise done anyway. Gotta keep my girlish figure for my Savage shoot one day."

Tiana gave the room a show as she playfully ran her hands up her legs and twisted her hips in a sultry dance. Once she exited the room in search of lunch, silence filled the room once again.

Megan Thee Stallion became the soundtrack of Tasha's thoughts as she pondered Tiana's advice. Maybe it wasn't Micah that needed the body positivity message. Though she didn't necessarily hate her body, she was used to living in her shell in public, and only embracing her natural self in private. It was time for a change.

"Knock, knock." A set of knuckles rapped against the hardwood door of CoCo's vanity area inside of her closet, making her pause to catch her breath. Such a melodic blend of West Indian charm and homegirl inflections could only belong to one person.

"Rihanna?!? In my house?!? Am I dead?"

The Bajan Beauty chuckled as she moved further into the room to check on the progress of Tasha's glam prep. "If you're dead, then I'm gonna need all this shit back."

"Wow, so you wouldn't let me represent the Fenty brand for Jesus?"

"Who said you were going to see Jesus?" Everyone in the room fell into a fit of laughter as Rihanna wrapped her arms around CoCo in a warm embrace. "You look so good right now! Like...damn!"

"Do I? Because I feel like an old lady trying to be young again."

"Oh, please! Stand up." Tasha immediately began to protest, but her words fell on ears that would not take 'no' for an answer. Before she could make a mad dash for the bathroom, Rihanna rushed to pull Tasha in front of the full-length mirror to get a good look at herself.

They stood in silence for a moment, allowing CoCo to quietly regard her body while Rihanna adjusted the straps of her racy bodysuit. The custom Savage by Fenty silk robe hanging off of her shoulders hid most Tasha's body, but what she could see brought a small smile to her face.

"Cross Fit is full of a bunch a dudebro white boys, but I have to say, it works," she laughed as she turned her body to get a better look.

"I told you! I know a bunch of old bitches that need to take a seat and hang it up. You are not one of them." Finally done with her adjustments, Robyn stood on her tip-toes to rest her chin on Tasha's shoulder and smile. "Now that we're on the same page, you ready?"

Taking a deep breath, Tasha nodded and smiled, "I'm ready."

"Good. Now, get this bitch some wine and turn up the music. She needs to get loose!"

As ordered, CoCo took a break for red wine before settling in the mood of the shoot. Rihanna explained her vision for the afternoon as a beautiful look into the sexiness of motherhood and being a wife.

"It's like Desperate Housewives meets XNXX," she described as Tasha downed the last of her Merlot. "Ho, but make it, mommy."

Though the visual was funny, CoCo understood the intention and used it to fuel her movements from scene to scene. Exaggerated arches while pretending to vacuum or make up the bed felt silly initially until the praise of the photographer began to boost her confidence. In her second outfit, a floral lace teddy, she felt covered enough to be comfortable and exposed enough to feel like the most beautiful woman within 100 miles.

"Look at me like I'm your husband walking into the kitchen after a great night, and you're making breakfast to thank him. Give me those bedroom eyes."

Everyone in the kitchen could sense an energy shift as Tasha bit her lip and gave the camera a coy look over her shoulder. Flashbacks of a scenario matching the request made her stomach flutter with the emotion of seeing her man waltz down the stairs after their first night together.

"Oh, she's feeling it," Tiana smiled as she leaned over to speak to Rihanna. "I recognize that look, T!"

"You fantasizing over there, girl?"

"Let the master work in peace, please. Thank you!"

CoCo's thoughts of Chadwick became a reality when her exhausted husband walked through the front door with both kids in tow. The sight of a full crew roaming his home added an extra layer of anxiety to an already turbulent afternoon. But, taking a step into the kitchen and laying eyes on his wife gave him a second wind.

He watched her charm the room and the camera like a pro.

He wasn't the only person speechless for her display.

Micah's eyes sparkled as she watched her mother dazzle, and she couldn't help her tiny squeal. The sound drew everyone's attention while she rushed into the room.

"Mommy, you look like a movie lady," she exclaimed.

Tasha turned just in time to intercept Micah's hug before pulling her off the ground. When she looked up to find Chadwick, he gave her an apologetic look.

"I know I said we'd be gone, but Noah was fussy and I -"

"Baby, it's okay." Tasha's laughter caught Chadwick off-guard.

"You...you sure? I can take them to the park or something."

"It's fine! Right, Robyn? It's cool if they stay?"

"Girl, this is your house! It would be very Karen of me to tell you who you can and can't have in here," Rihanna laughed. "Plus, I wanna hold the baby. Gimme!"

Chadwick took Rihanna's request as an opportunity to get closer to CoCo, who welcomed him with open arms and a kiss to the cheek. Leaning in to return the gesture, he made it a point to brush his lips across her ear.

"Keep this outfit for another time. You look amazing."

"Yeah? Maybe you can help me into the next one." The thought of another racy number had Chadwick on high alert and more handsy than he would generally be in front of a crowd. "Hey, now! Get on out of here. You're holding up the crew."

"Bold of you to assume we didn't get all of that. I want some more," Rihanna added as she tickled Noah. "Miss Micah, you wanna take some pictures?"

"Yes! Please please please, Mommy! Pleaseeeee!"

CoCo looked to Chadwick for confirmation that he granted her with a nod and a smile.

"Of course, baby. Let's go find you an outfit."

With some help from the team on set, Micah found in a dress that matched the styling direction of Tasha's bodysuit. The bright sun provided perfect light for the outdoor setting, making the backyard's greenery and the blue water in the pool. Micah was a star from the first click of the camera. For a child that had only been in the world for a little over 6 years, she had knowledge of her angles and how to interact with another person in the shot. Her facial expressions mimicked Tasha's as they posed together under Rihanna's direction. Her apparent excitement to be part of her mom's moment put CoCo at ease.

Soon, Noah joined the shoot for the final 20 frames. His baby giggles infused the perfect amount of energy to finish the day.

Long after the shoot had ended and the house cleared of visitors, Tasha still found herself buzzing. Standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, she smiled at her reflection.

"You think I could model full time. Like for AARP?"

Her comment made Chadwick choke with laughter before he could respond. "Yes to modeling, no to AARP."

"That's the right answer. Good job, babe." Once she'd had enough of looking at herself, Tasha flopped across the bed and closed her eyes. "Today felt so...good. I've never felt this free before. And seeing Micah look at me like a superhero made me feel important. She is six years old and giving me more validation than anyone in the world. It's wild."

"She thinks the world of you, trust me. We all do."

Popping her eyes open, she got a glimpse of Chadwick smiling down at her, making her feel warm all over. This was the high she's been chasing as she made the journey back to herself. In all of the photos taken and posted for likes and commentary from the public, nothing could compare to the way she felt when her kids told her 'I love you' or when her husband winked at her from across the room. His comments were confirmation of the lesson she'd finally learned. She didn't need to look a certain way for people she didn't know or care about.

All the love and adoration she desired was already around her.

#Chadwick Boseman #chadwick boseman fan fiction #chadwick boseman imagine

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chibistarlyte · 4 years

Text

Later that evening, even though Todoroki was in probably the safest and most comfortable place he could have been given the circumstances, sleep still eluded him. He'd spent the past hour or so just staring at the ceiling, silently begging for his eyes to just close already so he could get some rest before school tomorrow. At this point, though, it seemed less and less likely that he would.

His fingers idly scratched at his chest, feeling the bandages through the t-shirt that Yaoyorozu was kind enough to create for him. She also provided him with some medical supplies to tend to his injuries. He'd been right about the bruising--mottled skin took up the majority of his torso, with scattered burns that welted his skin. All in all, though, it wasn't too bad. Just a bit of medicine and some time to heal and he'd be right as rain.

Touya slept soundly, curled up at his side with his head on Todoroki's hipbone. Todoroki was glad at least his Vulpix was able to get some sleep; it'd been a tough day for him, too.

His phone buzzed against the surface of the bedside table, the screen glowing brightly in the relative darkness of the room. Todoroki blindly reached for the device, squinting as he lowered the brightness of the screen to a tolerable level. A little notification bubble sat on his messaging app, signaling one new text. He clicked on the little envelope button, and when he saw who the message was from his heart started beating wildly in his chest.

Midoriya had sent him a link to a youtube video: funny Meowth and Skitty compilation. The link took him to a three and a half minute long video of the two types of cat Pokemon getting up to silly shenanigans.

After watching the entire video, even letting out a small snort of laughter when a Skitty knocked over a potted plant and out popped an Oddish from the rubble, Todoroki texted Midoriya back.

good video

He wasn’t a person of many words, but none of his friends seemed to mind.

i thought you might like it!

yaoyorozu-san mentioned you needed some cheering up so i wanted to send you something funny

If Todoroki could see his own face, he was certain it’d be as red as a tomato right now. Damn it, Yaoyorozu.

she did, did she?

yeah, and i know it’s really none of my business but do you want to talk about it? i’m here for you if you need to!

Todoroki considered his options. Midoriya, like Yaoyorozu, was aware that his relationship with Endeavor was rocky at best. And even though he’d known Midoriya for years at this point, having befriended him through the UA training camps they had both gone to every single year up until taking the entrance exam, he wasn’t sure of how much information he wanted to dump on the innocent boy.

He would feel guilty on a whole other level if he shared his burden with one of the purest, kindest souls he’d ever met in his entire life...and probably ever would meet.

Slowly, he typed back a reply.

just some shit in my personal life, don’t wanna bore you with the details

There. It was honest enough that Todoroki didn’t feel like he was outright lying to Midoriya by saying he was fine. But it was also vague enough that no actual information was relayed.

you could never bore me todoroki-kun!!

but i understand if you don’t want to talk about it

Todoroki was so lost in thought, trying to figure out what to say, that he hadn’t noticed Touya awaken until the Vulpix was nudging his hand with his nose. Smiling, Todoroki switched to hold his phone with one hand and pet Touya with the other.

i really don’t want to, no

but i feel like i should

It was interesting how becoming close to people was making Todoroki want to open up more. It fought against everything he had ever known, every self-isolating habit that had been drilled into him by Endeavor that told him to never show weakness, to bottle everything up, to force any emotions down lest he be caught off guard.

He didn’t want to be the person his father was trying to raise him to be. He wanted to be a hero, and heroes weren’t cold and detached.

sometimes it’s good to let things off your chest

i know there are a lot of times when i should have done that instead of keeping everything inside

bottling up your emotions isn’t healthy

Touya wormed his way under Todoroki’s arm and cuddled up on his trainer’s chest, mindful of the bandaged wounds there. Todoroki nuzzled his head against that of his dozing Pokemon.

i’ve just...done it for so long that i’m afraid once the dam opens, i won’t be able to make it stop

It was also interesting to Todoroki how much more honest he could be behind the screen of his phone. When he wasn’t being watched, judged, studied for every action or non-action he made.

KJHdjfhg587@SFJA Gkajsfnds!!*jkgfnkdgjsSDLKGJDF……..AF,ADS;SD///S.AFDU

OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY TODOROKI-KUN SMALL MIGHT STOLE MY PHONE AND TRIED SENDING YOU A MESSAGE

Out of everything that could have drawn a joyful sound out of Todoroki, that was it. That took the cake. For the first time in what felt like literal years, he was laughing.

Even Touya looked up at him curiously, not used to hearing such a sound from his trainer.

When his mirth died down, Todoroki held his phone in front of Touya’s face with the keyboard at the ready. “You wanna type a message to Midoriya?” he asked.

Touya considered the phone for a moment, then reached out his paw and placed it flat on the screen. His toe beans hit some random characters. Then he nudged the phone with his nose and ended up with a few more before he decided the message was good enough. He looked up to Todoroki for confirmation.

With a grin on his face, Todoroki hit send.

zkdxuifg ASUFBVxoa

that’s from touya

Midoriya ducked his head into the collar of his All Might hoodie, hiding the big stupid grin on his face from no one in particular. The only other presence in the room with him was his Buneary, Small Might, and Midoriya had no reason to hide from his Pokemon.

As panicked as he was about two minutes ago when his mischievous Pokemon had stolen his phone and typed out god knew what to Todoroki, the other boy’s latest response left Midoriya feeling indescribably happy and incredibly warm on the inside.

When Yaoyorozu first messaged him earlier that evening, Midoriya was worried. He usually didn’t have consistent communication outside of class with anyone who wasn’t Todoroki, Kirishima, Uraraka, or Iida. Then, when Yaoyorozu asked him to check up on Todoroki, his worry grew exponentially.

So he set to finding the funniest Pokemon videos he could, seeking out the perfect one to send to his friend for maximum cheering up. He wanted to know what happened, of course, but he also didn’t want to be too invasive into Todoroki’s life. Midoriya hated when people stuck their noses into his business, and he assumed Todoroki would feel the same. So he didn’t pry.

But at least he got Todoroki talking a little. Anything to help ease his troubles, Midoriya was glad to do.

He was about to type out a new message when suddenly Small Might reached for the phone again. Midoriya yanked his hand away just in time and held the phone above his head, out of the rabbit’s reach. “No! You’ve caused enough trouble for one night!” he admonished his Pokemon, but the smile was still plastered on his face. Small Might just stared at her trainer, nose twitching slightly as she sniffed.

When Midoriya was sure Small Might wouldn’t try stealing his phone again, he brought it back down and typed out a message.

tell touya hi from me! and small might

When the response came in the form of a selfie, Todoroki sitting cross-legged in bed with his Vulpix in his lap and said Pokemon’s paw raised in what could have been interpreted as a wave, Midoriya could have died right then and there.

tell small might we say hi too

for WIP Wednesday, i wanted to share a small excerpt from one of the later chapters of the BNHA/Pokemon fic i’m working on with kat @sunshineijirou

i’m not positive this will make it into the final fic, but it’s one of my favorite moments that i’ve written and i wanted to share the cute tododeku with y’all <3

#tododeku #tododeku fic #bnha #bnha fic #pokedemia #my writing #long post

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lurkingg-around · 5 years

Note

Hey! If you are still taking the prompts, can you write something about jealous Michelle? Where they are in a relationship but mj has insecurities but then peter ends up assuring her, just some cute fluff (or smut, whatever you want)! I absolutely LOVE your writing! It's so great and the way you potray these two characters in amazing! ❤❤

It took me so long! But I finally wrote it! I hope it’s nice. (I made a little reference to this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8KTVToH6ZQk which is Peter’s little film while in Germany.)

1448 words of fluff!

bad ol’ jealousy

MJ and Ned were watching videos from Peter’s laptop, since according to Ned, now that she was part of team Spidey, she needed to know everything, and that meant watching a lot of silly videos that bothof the boys had recorded.

Honestly, she was having a good time and a lot of laughs. Plus, getting to see Peter’s first reaction to his Stark Suit was beyond adorable and priceless. Also, it was nice to get confirmation about many of her suspicions, like what really happened in Germany a few years ago.

MJ was ready to play another video, but a suddenly nervous Ned stopped her, holding her hand before she could press anything on the keyboard.

“What?”

She confusedly asked.

“That one isn’t really that cool, we should just watch another one.”

“Ned, not one of these videos were cool, they were all extremely dorky. I mean, did you hear Peter’s narration voice?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ned tried to shrug it off, but he came off as even more nervous. “That one is too lame, we shouldn’t even bother, let’s just skip-”

“Oh… I see!” MJ interrupted with a smirk on her face. “You are afraid!

Just what did you guys do?”

“Nothing, nothing, I swear-”

She didn’t let him finish, being too excited. “Just what kind of lame humiliating shit did you two do? I bet is blackmail material.”

“Wait, wait-” Ned tried for one last time, but it was too late as MJ clicked on the video, and the boy face-palmed himself.

The video started with Peter crashing a party in Germany while wearing his Spidey suit, a little shit, she thought, but nothing outside the usual was happening, since he does often gets himself in weird situations. Until, oh… oh.

They finished watching the video, and Ned looked at her with caution. “I, uh, I wasn’t really trying to hide anything… It wasn’t even nothing much, but, uh, just in case you might have a problem with it, I thought…”

She scoffed. “A problem? Why would I have a problem with it? This is ridiculous, we weren’t even a thing back then.”

Ned smiled, hopeful and relieved. “Really?”

MJ rolled her eyes and scoffed again. “Yeah! I totally don’t have a problem with that.”

But, MJ had a problem with that. She had a problem as she watched Peter hanging out with other girls and acting a bit flirty while wearing his Spider-Man suit, getting them to go on a swing with him, and even getting a kiss on the cheek from one of them.

Her problem was bad ol’ jealousy. Which MJ hid, as she quickly judged it immature. That was years ago, and that was just Peter being over-excited about his new incredible suit. And like she told Ned, they weren’t together back then. It didn’t make sense to get mad over that, but the irrational part of her mind, or was it her heart? Wasn’t aware of that.

Trying to analyze herself, MJ figured she was just being insecure, and that caught her off guard a little. She could be awkward, but that didn’t mean she also couldn't be pretty confident and sure of herself. MJ assumed that as the world is always trying to bring girls down, not even her could escape being a bit insecure every now and then.

MJ carried on pretty well, until a Spider-Man photo came out everywhere on the internet, and she was pretty much fuming. Not that she showed it, but inside her head she was asking herself, why couldn’t this damn red-headed girl ask if Spider-Man was taken before grabbing his face like that? Making it look like some poster from a lame romantic film.

At school, sitting on their regular lunch table, Peter and Ned were laughing at the silly headlines regarding the subject. And even though MJ was pretending not to pay attention to the nerd’s conversation, her sarcastic nature betrayed her.

“I guess red really is your favorite color, huh.”

Peter’s eyes widened comically, and Ned looked at him as if he wanted to say you’re screwed.

MJ took a bite of her apple, and the noise of her munching was the only sound around their table for a few seconds. “I’m just kidding, relax.”

Peter then released a big sigh out of relief, but nothing that stopped him from rambling. “Just, uh, she was scared cause of the mugging, y’know, uh, and then, I, I just went to see if she was okay, and, well, then, uh, she held on me, like, you know, for balance or something, cause she was scared, and the picture just looked weird, there was nothing-”

“I know, loser.” Before, she didn’t know the whole context, but she still did know that whatever had happened was something totally explainable. “That’s why I said relax. It was a joke.”

With the lack of overly emotional expressions, and an aloof voice, MJ had believed that she successfully made a good save. Except later at night, Peter made a stop at her apartment. At first, she assumed he was just coming to hang out with her after patrolling, but when Peter took off his mask, she saw a somewhat concerned look on his face.

He fidgeted with his mask on hands before softly asking, “Hey… is there something you wanna tell me? Uh, like… something upsetting you?” And with an even smaller voice, he finished, “Did I… did I do something wrong?”

She sighed, trying to form the words in her head to explain what she’s been feeling that she couldn’t even really appreciate the softness of his voice. “I think I need space.”

Peter’s world fell, and he felt a weird thing tugging at his heart. “Are you breaking up with me?” He asked, while his eyebrows made a really sad frown, and as he had an even sadder voice.

MJ couldn’t help but laugh. “No! Why would I-” She paused. “Oh wait. I see what I did there.” She still laughed, but apologetically, if that was possible. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I’m sorry, I’m not breaking up with you.”

Peter groaned as he threw himself on her bed, burying his face on her pillow. It smelled like her shampoo so it was still kinda nice.

“Oh my God, MJ. You’re killing me here.” He whined, but then he also couldn’t help himself from laughing at their little misunderstanding.

MJ went to lay down by his side, and he turned to sheepishly look at her, his face red due to the embarrassment for quickly jumping to conclusions that made him clearly desperate in a second.

Knowing his reaction to the possibility of losing her, made her feel a little less insecure, even if testing and trapping him with ambiguous words weren’t her intentions. It also did make her feel like a jerk, since he was acting so genuinely heartbroken.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated. Facing him and his vulnerability that he so clearly showed to her just a minute ago, made MJ feel like being vulnerable too. At least a little bit, it was a beginning. “I just… I’ve been jealous.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but putting her finger on his lips, she stopped and shushed him. With her finger still on his lips, he nodded, letting her speak.

“I’m jealous because I’ve been a little insecure. And I figured it was something I had to deal with on my own since I know you were never doing anything wrong.” She rolled her eyes, entirely at herself. “But I guess I let some of it escape.”

Peter softly took her finger from his lips. “You’re so cool.”

She laughed. “What?”

“I mean, I’m totally a disaster when I’m jealous!” He exclaimed. “Like, I literally almost blew up a bus ‘cause I thought Brad was gonna ruin my chances with you.”

“Yeah, that was crazy.”

Peter laughed with her, and after they both calmed down, he started to gently touch her hair. She hugged him, bringing their bodies closer, and from that, Peter went to spread little kisses that traveled from her face to her neck.

“I know you said you wanted to deal with this jealousy thing on your own… but, can I tell you- can I show you how I think you’re really hot and I only have eyes for you?” Peter whispered to her, his breathing on her skin making her whole body shiver out of anticipation.

“Oh, so you want to help me?” She egged him on, flirty.

“Yeah, would that help?” He asked, eager to please.

“Let’s see.” MJ simply replied, pulling him for a deep kiss.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to send me more prompts, and I’ll try to fill everything as I can.

Visit my AO3 account, there’s more than 50 spideychelle works on there. The link is in my profile.

#spideychelle #spideychelle fic #petermj #peter x mj #mj x peter #michelle jones

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eisforeidolon · 4 years

Text

Episode: Atomic Monsters

I watched this at least a week ago, but just didn't get around to rewriting my notes into a post 'til now. I did actually find this the best episode so far, but lets be real, that's such a low bar to clear at this point it says basically nothing.

The opening sequence is really fun! I found the whole thing genuinely enjoyable, both the action itself and that it included exactly the kind of return cameo I can actually get behind. No retcons or resurrections that make death somehow even cheaper or ruin the original finish to the character's story! Not even to mention that, instead of existing just for the sheer fanservice of it? A sequence like this is actively improved by giving us a familiar face we have investment in to keep it from being all just random unfamiliar cannon fodder getting offed.

Unfortunately, this isn't the rousing endorsement it could be when we know that both expanding to a big action sequence and bringing Benny back for it were actually Jensen's ideas. Not even to mention that the thing which really works best in the episode? It's the dream sequence that's not actually connected to anything else and doesn't have to worry about continuity to work. This is my surprised face.

I enjoyed the exchange between Sam and Dean in the kitchen. The meat man conversation over the bacon was rather silly, but in a fun way. I've seen some people reading things into it (it's insulting Dean doesn't know the slang, Sam is randomly vegetarian now) that I didn't really see there. I did appreciate how Sam was weirdly jumpy and had trouble meeting Dean's eyes after the creepy alternate world dream. I thought it worked really well for both slice-of-life and Sam’s reaction.

In terms of the Winchester's case, well, for the most part it could have been worse. I don't honestly believe even if I hadn't been spoiled that I wouldn't have immediately suspected the parents from their introductory exchange about how Billy playing in the big game was more important than a cheerleader's death. I think it was supposed to be a retroactive subtle clue, but it was more of a clue-by-four. So the “mystery” of tracking down the monster was pretty lost on me. I did like that the one girl having braces was a clue! But I also thought the scene with her rehearsing her speech on a live mic in an empty auditorium was weird and contrived. I straight out cannot forgive that a girl was literally abducted from the school campus and NOBODY checked the security footage near her car fucking IMMEDIATELY well before Sam & Dean. C'mon. Then, of course, a couple random middle-aged suburbanite humans get the drop on Sam and Dean, because Dabbernatural really just loves to make them incompetent so plots happen.

Then the big reveal and blah blah blah, kid accidentally ate his girlfriend. WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO??? Um, maybe try not being scumbags? Idiotic scumbags at that, abducting a second girl from their son's own school instead of somebody that wouldn't be missed or even, hey, maybe encouraging him to try harder not to eat people. Don't try to sell me on this pseudo hallmark 'but they just love him so much' bullshit. At least the kid has more self-awareness and conscience than his fuckwad parents.

Then we get to the infuriating character assassination part of the programme. Having Sam and Dean say that they'd do the same thing as the dad for Jack their “son”? Fuck you very much, show. I could maybe, maybe, see Sam or Dean kidnapping and draining the life out of an innocent to save the other at their most desperate worst. Though I think the only time they even really get close to that kind of an actively, knowingly evil choice is with Doc Benton. Not only do I not buy for a second that they would do that for the totally-really-their-actual-child-for-reasons albatross Dabbernatural has shoehorned into their lives? Struggling to do the right thing even when it hurts used to actually mean something – it was always a very important qualifier that while Sam or Dean might make that choice, the other would not let them. So having them both agree this kind of straight up villainy would be a-okay for oh-so-totally-loveable-no-really-woobie-blob Jack ...

Like carelessly assassinating every human in the BMoL headquarters, it fundamentally fails to understand what it is that keeps Sam and Dean from being the monsters. Hint: it's not just that the show centers around them. “We do the ugly thing so that people can live happy” - these moronic hacks seem to be actually trying to parallel Sam and Dean saving innocent victims and the world to human monsters that were going to selfishly help their son eat his way through the entire goddamn cheerleading squad. Am I getting this wrong somehow? Is there some other, less appalling, reading here that I'm missing? This whole scene honestly made me nauseous.

They talkity-talk on for a while longer, but it's really not much better. Sam declaring that God was totally done with them was the writers putting those words in his mouth based on nothing. At it’s very best, it was Sam’s bad habit of convincing himself conclusions he’s come to are true because he wants them to be. So them both just deciding to believe it's true after Chuck has admitted to orchestrating their entire lives … I'm not sure if we should conclude the Winchesters have brain damage or if that's just the writers. Especially when the underlying reason for it is nothing more compelling than , “Watch the Winchesters see-saw on the angst fulcrum completely at random! Yay!” If this was actually well written, there would be some precipitating reason for Sam to suddenly be the one being all fatalistic while Dean is accepting. Instead, the writers just slap some coin-flipped angst angst angst on the page and meander on in a supposedly forward direction.

So then there's the other half of the episode, the Becky storyline. Am I the only one a little disturbed that Becky's first reaction to seeing Chuck was to look scared and try to run away? Like, they're exes and all, sure, but she doesn't know any of the god stuff yet – I think the only thing she even says about their breakup is that Chuck dumped her. Is that reaction supposed to be yet another bit of “new canon” showing how Chuck was just that terrible all along? But then she does let him in, so maybe we're just supposed to take it as Becky still having a tendency towards dramatics? I honestly don't know, but it was weird to me.

I do genuinely love that they had Becky go to therapy and realize just how absolutely fucked up what she'd done was and ultimately sort herself out to become someone who seems to be a well-balanced adult. A well balanced adult that didn't have to give up being a fan for that! Seriously, kudos to the writers for this, because 7.08 is such a loathsome episode that otherwise ruins Becky as a character. Though I do have to nitpick a bit – while I get that they wanted to put SPN merch in Becky's home as a callout to her still being a superfan? In the show's universe, Chuck's books were never that popular, so I'm having some suspension of disbelief issues that there would be Funkos for them. We could pretend they were customs, but she's got at least one Impala, so even that doesn't quite work. I'm not entirely sure who “people only want them sitting around doing laundry anyway” is a dig at, but I'm giving it the side eye.

I also am not entirely sure what to make of Chuck's whole no one needs me I kinda hate me I'm all lost and don't know what to doooooo shtick. Is this a game he's playing? Is he really that wishy-washy? Did some of Dabb's sad internal monologue as showrunner somehow end up in a script by accident?

He goes on like that and laments he's lost the Winchester's trust and had words with them or whatever, and then he zaps Becky and her family away at the end. Like, if he cared enough about Becky to care about her opinion, why does he turn on her, too, just like that? I guess we're supposed to see it as him having found his mojo in her space and vanishing her because taking over her space that's working for him currently is his latest whim. I suppose they're intending to show Chuck as just being that capricious and flighty, but I don't know that it works for me. The way they've been writing him he's acting so randomly and impulsively that it's kind of unbelievable he can even sit still at a keyboard long enough to write another Sam and Dean installment. Again, I definitely find it unbelievable that the Chuck they're giving us now would be capable of playing the long game that he would have had to for him to be actively behind everything. Until he suddenly got impatient and lazy and popped up in the cemetery at the end of the last finale ... for reasons … and is now just … like that … because.

Not to mention that his powers are, big shock, just as arbitrary as everyone else's in the current show. He can't actually see what is happening to Sam and Dean because of the bullet sapping his power or whatever, but we're supposed to be worried about the ominous ending he's writing for them because … he's got those god powers to make it happen, I guess? Uh...

I will grant that the ominous bobbing of Sam and Dean Funkos' heads to Chuck's furious typing was a wonderfully foreboding shot to end on.

#negativity for ts #long post #anti dabb #anti jack kline #writer incompetence #spn season 15 #spn 15x04

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 5 years

Text

Hjem(løs) - Ivar x OC - Modern AU - Part 12

Hjem(løs) = Home(less)

Synopsis: It’s Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.

Word count: 11,5k

MASTERLIST

Part 11 <<< >>> Part 13

The day Ivar flew off to Ireland, Silje was quiet. She was pretty proud of herself for not even crying when she damn well wanted to, especially when he kissed her one final time before hurrying off to board his plane. Quite the deed for someone who usually started sobbing within the first thirty seconds of a cute dog video montage or airport reunion videos.

She half expected the tears to well up during her train ride back home after parting ways with Ivar at the airport. They did not. Her eyes stayed totally dry and she walled herself up in silence the rest of the day. It was still early, barely past noon, and she had yet to eat lunch. Cooking seemed like an insurmountable task.

It was so still and quiet in here all of a sudden. There was no one to talk to. What did she do all alone in her apartment before Ivar moved in? Did she talk to herself? Read? Hum along to a tune? What the hell was she supposed to do all by herself? Chat up her upside-down reflection in her spoon?

She dropped it back into her mug and the clatter sounded louder than usual. Silje glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and groaned, letting her head fall back. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling, and she wondered if she ever took the time to look at it. It was white with light wooden beams. Who even cared about her ceiling? At least she would be back on the benches in a couple weeks, and univeristy would keep her busy enough to stop wondering what to do with her free time.

Ivar had been away for two hours and she was having a quiet breakdown on her couch, slouched in the most unlady-like fashion. Going out was out of the question because she had removed her makeup as soon as she came home and she wouldn't wish her sullen company to anyone.

The loud music of Nicolaj's ringtone nearly gave her a heart attack. She fumbled around to try and find the damn thing. It took her another chorus of Raining Men to find it.

“Yeehaw motherfucker,” her friend yelled into the phone. Was he high? Drunk? No it was too early, even for him.

“Chill out, cowboy,” Silje replied, not entirely sure what to answer to his singular greeting.

“Sorry, I panicked,” he said with an awkward laugh. “Thought you'd be a sniffling mess by now. How's dear Ivar? Catch his flight on time?”

“Exactly. So why are you interrupting my pity party?” she fired back without much conviction.

“We're not interrupting!” Laura's voice came through the phone too.

“We're crashing it baby, and you can't stop us,” Nicolaj kindly informed her.

“Absolutely not, I want to be alone with my dark cloud,” she immediately told them. “Leave me be.”

“Oh I'm sorry,” Ava's voice now spoke. “Did it sound like we were asking permission? Because that's not what's happening.”

Silje held the phone away from her ear and covered it with her hand while she let out the longest sigh she could muster. Then she put it back.

“Alright. But I'll be complaining the whole time. Don't say I haven't warned you!”

It was a miracle none of her friends crashed at her place while Ivar was still there. She should consider herself lucky that they only decided to impose now that he was gone. Maybe it would do her some good to not be alone. At the very least she would be able to speak without feeling like she was slowly spiralling into madness. Seriously, what did she do when she lived alone?

She might have to pick up crochetting just to keep insanity at bay.

“We expect as much,” Laura answered, followed by other people laughing.

The gods knew how many of them would soon crowd her living room. They would have do deal with the empty mugs sitting in strange places and the general mess – she wasn't in the right state of mind to clean up, and Ivar and her had made quite the mess while they packed.

“Oh, we're already here by the way. This was merely a heads up phone call, just in case you were sleeping it off or something,” Nicolaj said. “Open up, bitc-!”

Silje hang up before he could finish his sentence. What an endearing dumbass. She conjured all of her energy to get up and buzz them in, hearing the sound of their footsteps in the stairway.

The entire band was here – Laura, Ava, Nicolaj, Matthias and Asmus. Now she did wish she was still wearing makeup.

“You don't look fresh,” Nicolaj immediately commented, and Silje flipped him off because she wasn't in the mood. “Oh man, sorry. Someone's grumpy.”

“Of course she is.” Asmus pushed his brother aside to hug Silje. Silje stuck her tongue out at Nicolaj while she hugged Asmus, just to spite him. “You're still crying over your ex everytime you hear a Rhianna song playing. She's allow to be bummed about her boyfriend leaving for a year abroad.”

“Excuse me?!” Nicolaj screeched in offense while Ava doubled over in laughter, and Laura and Matthias went off about this being the most shade anyone's ever thrown Nicolaj. “Forgive me for finding Diamonds emotional.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Matthias said. He slapped Nicolaj's back as he walked past him and into the apartment. “Just own up to it, man.”

“Mus, as my brother, you should side with me and not use sensible information against me!”

“What fantasy world do you live in? Of course I'm using my status to dig up dirt about you and use it against you!” Asmus laughed with Silje. “I usually do it just for fun, but today it's to get a smile out of this one.”

“Thank you, Mus. It does lift my spirits to hear about Nicolaj's misery,” Silje admits before letting them all in and closing the door. “It's a mess. That's what you get for coming here unannounced.”

“Ehm, we did announce our coming, technically,” Ava argued. She threw her arms around her best friend's shoulder and held her tight for a moment, until Laura got tired of waiting for her turn and simple joined in.

“I'm feeling left out here,” she said as an explanation. “Do you feel the love yet, Silje? Should we hug longer?”

What a group of nerds.

Silje couldn't sleep. Her bloodshot eyes glared at her alarm clock, staring at the angry red numbers, watching them change. 1:12am.

She blinked slowly. 1:13am. Her alarm was set for 6pm, she had to get some sleep otherwise she would start dozing off in the middle of her presentation for her 8am class. Was it stress that kept sleep at bay? Or the fact that her bed was empty and cold?

All she wanted was a minute in Ivar's arms, to feel warm and safe. A minute was all she needed to finally fall asleep. But her hand stretched up to the edge of the bed and still, there was nothing but her sheets and no Ivar. How much could one miss another person? She felt she would find out soon, because every day she clammed up a little more, what with the eerie silence and stillness of everything in her apartment.

It hasn't been this quiet and lifeless in a long time. Every day when she came home from university only to find the place plunged in the dark and utterly silent, she wanted nothing more than turn back on her heels and leave it. Ivar was missing from the scenery, and from her life.

But even then, life didn't stay on hold because Ivar wasn't there anymore, and she had to deal with her problems alone. Grumbling to herself, Silje threw the duvet away and stood up, quickly wrapping herself in her fuzzy robe to fend off the cold. It was only early October, but Denmark had said goodbye to Summer a few weeks ago already.

In an attempt to think about something else than her dearly missed boyfriend or her upcoming presentation, Silje decided to change her bedsheets. Maybe clean linens would help her rest tonight, and if not then she wouldn't have to change them in two days like she had planned. It took her a while, as per usual, because changing a duvet cover on a queen size bed on your own can be quite the ordeal, especially if you do it in the middle of the night in a zombie state like Silje.

Eventually it was done, and then Silje thought it was useless to go back in the fresh sheets if she wasn't clean herself, and went to take a quick shower, hoping that the smell of her shampoo would soothe her enough to make up for Ivar's absence. He always used the same shampoo as her, she even smuggled one into his suitcase without telling him, so he would have something from home while he was away.

She had never been one to depend on someone else. She never missed not sleeping alone before, she actually liked having a large bed all to herself, but now it just felt a little wrong. Did Ivar have the same issues? Did he lie awake at night and wish he could hold her instead of his pillow?

Mushy romantic thoughts aside, Silje did wish he missed her a little. And perhaps she also wished he couldn't sleep tonight, no matter how selfish the thought. After wrapping her hair in a towel turban, she returned to bed and slipped under her soft, clean smelling sheets, feeling a new person.

But still, she didn't fall asleep, and in a last attempt to get any shut eye tonight, she grabbed her phone and opened her messages. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard a moment, not knowing what to type or if she should type anything at all, but she eventually did and hit sent.

To Ivar: Are you asleep?

A silly question, she knew it. However, even just reaching out to him felt good and made her smile. He probably wouldn't see the message, he must be sleeping. Hopefully waking up to this in the morning would make him smile, even just a little.

Her phone lit up.

From Ivar: No. Watching a movie... [Download file]

Silje's eyebrows shot up, and that's when she realized that she really didn't expect him to answer. She just wanted to reach out. Her thumb slid on the file he sent. It was a picture of his computer sitting on his lap, with Gladiator playing.

From Ivar: Bad choice. Made me cry twice already.

A big smile crept on her face now, and she typed a quick response.

To Ivar: Want me to watch it with you? How far into the movie are you?

From Ivar: You have a presentation in the morning, you should sleep.

To Ivar: You have work in the morning.

From Ivar: Time zones tho.

A second message popped on her screen.

From Ivar: Okay fine, WE should be sleeping.

To Ivar: Why don't you?

The bubble signalling her he was writing appeared, then disappeared. Silje waited a moment. It did it again, and this time she huffed when the bubble went away. The third time she saw it, she began to type too.

Her phone buzzed at the exact moment she hit sent.

To/From Ivar: I miss you.

Her face grew hot even though there was no one to witness her embarrassment, and she couldn't do anything but stare at the identical messages. So, he did share her sleeping issues. She knew it shouldn't make her glad, but it did a little and she couldn't hold back a small, satisfied grin – he wasn't there to see it after all.

Knowing they both suffered from the distance between them was comforting in a way, and she was sure he felt the same.

From Ivar: The place they gave me is very nice, but it's not home.

Upon receiving this message, Silje's mood changed altogether. From smiling to herself she went to fighting back tears. Reading those words tore a hole in her chest and made her feel his absence in her bones. She missed him so much! What follies she would do to be able to see him again right now.

Home. He considered her place like his home, and this thought alone was overwhelming enough, but Silje had to add to it the agony of missing him like a lost limb.

To Ivar: It doesn't feel much like a home without you here.

From Ivar: Are you okay? Do you want me to call you?

If she concentrated a bit, Silje could hear Ivar say these words, she could hear the concern in his voice and see it in his eyes.

To Ivar: No, don't call. I'm fine, just sleep deprived and emotional. I might cry if I hear your voice.

This time his answer didn't come as quick, and she guessed he was trying to find something adequate to say. Maybe he too needed a moment to find the right words and not give in to the urge to get all sappy and romantic at this late hour where their brain functions were at their lowest. After two minutes or so the bubble came back.

From Ivar: I'm 20 min into the movie.

To Ivar: But you said you already cried twice??

From Ivar: I know, don't mention it.

Smiling, Silje grabbed her laptop off the floor and put it on the bed, quickly finding the movie and starting it at twenty minutes.

To Ivar: I'm all set.

Silje buried herself further under her duvet and snuggled her pillow, feeling a bit warmer and fuzzier than before now that she had some company in her loneliness – even if it wasn't what she craved at the moment, it was as much as she would get and she knew it. Knowing that Ivar was holding onto his phone and texting her in the middle of the night on a weekday, even if he was in another country, was comforting.

Her phone lit up again a minute later.

From Ivar: Have I told you I miss you a lot?

Silje stared at her macro-economics assignment with a deep frown on her face, and she was pretty sure that it glared back at her.

Life was going slow these days, as though she just hopped on a carriage after having driven a sports car for months. It was boring. Or maybe she was just done with university? True, she had thought that her classes would keep her busy enough to stop whining about Ivar's absence and how much she missed him – her friends were endlessly grateful for that – but it became harder and harder as time went by.

The truth was that Silje wasn't enjoying herself at all, and it worried her. She was a practical person, who put rational thinking ahead of her other impulses, then why did she feel more and more like she had wasted the last five years of her life doing something she didn't even like?

Anyone would say that no one really enjoys their job, they just have to have one if they want to afford the life they want. She could get behind that, but did it mean that she had to spend her entire life doing the same, boring activities every single day? It got her thinking. But what was more: Ivar told her something shortly before he left, and it had been on her mind ever since.

She had been rambling about Ava's new crush and how the girl always acted like the was the main character of a chick flick whenever she had a boy on her mind ; Ivar was sitting on the kitchen stool, watching her, listening quietly with a smile on his face, until she became self-conscious and asked him what he was looking at so intently.

“You,” he had said. “You're fascinating.”

It had made her heart jump in her chest and the pink rise to her cheeks.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she had denied, looking away now that she was hot in the face.

“But I think you do. You like telling stories. You're good with words, do you know that?” he had continued, grabbing a piece of red bell pepper and eating it.

“So what of it? Want me to become a bard and go from city to city to serenade pretty ladies in big hats?” she had teased him, slapping his hand away from the bowl of red pepper before he could grab another one. “Hands off, these are for dinner.”

“You should be doing something artistic,” he had suddenly blurted out. “I mean, I know you're good at what you do, but sometimes it looks like it's sucking the life out of you. You're always stressed out. I can imagine you studying literature, art, fashion, be at a cooking school, I don't know.”

She had bitten the inside of her cheek and pouted, pondering what Ivar said. He wasn't in the wrong, but she had her reasons for not going off to live the dream and move to Paris, to the left bank of the river Seine.

“These things don't pay, they are fantasy jobs,” she had argued, and Ivar grinned as if he had been expecting her to say that.

“Listen, I know it might sound rich, especially coming from me, but money isn't everything.” Silje had been about to reply but Ivar had kept talking before she got a chance to. “You need to do something that makes you happy and creating makes you happy, I know it. It's an outlet for the emotions you can't voice. You're just good at those things, you make things with love and it shows.”

To this, she didn't have a counter argument, and she still didn't.

Well done, Ivar. He had planted these words in her head and now they grew. There were little sprouts of “what if I dropped out and starting doing art?” growing in her mind. She had half a mind to fly all the way to Ireland only to grab Ivar by the shoulders and shake him like a tree for the way he had messed with her head.

Before he had said that, her life was perfectly clear: she had boring, practical skills that would land her a job at the end of her master's degree, and pay her bills. What else was there to ask? Who even thought about silly concepts such as professional fulfillment? Ivar, apparently.

“Damn you, Ivar!” she cursed him, throwing her pencil away, out of rage.

The fool was right, of course. And she needed to figure out what to do now.

The black cloud hovering over her head dissipated when a friendly hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Hej!” she welcomed Ava.

Her friend smiled gently and sat down next to her in the library.

“What'd that pencil do to you?” she asked. Silje blinked when Ava placed said pencil on the table in front of her before taking out her laptop.

She had been sitting in the library for hours now, the sun was starting to set and the last rays hit Silje in her face through the blinds.

“Nothing,” she sighed and slumped back. “Just thinking 'bout Ivar.” She distractedly twirled the pencil around, not looking at Ava – she didn't need to, she knew her friend was rolling her eyes.

Bless Ava, she was the most patient friend in times of need. Though, everyone's tolerance to other people's whining had its limits, right? Ava reached hers six weeks and five days after Ivar's departure. Which was two days ago, when Silje called her on the phone while sniffling in front of a kids' movie, crying about how much she wished Ivar was here.

Even Silje knew she was pathetic; she needed to get a grip because soon, Ava would stop being nice, and start smacking heads.

“Colour me surprised,” she chuckled. “So tell me, what did dear Ivar do to get you so frustrated?”

“He told me to do what makes me happy.”

“Oh, I see. Very problematic. Can't imagine where that comes from,” Ava answered.

“Stop being sarcastic, I'm serious!” Silje groaned and shot her a look. “I hate this, I'm overthinking everything he told me because he's gone. Maybe I'm starting to lose it, that would explain it all.”

Ava's laptop made a soft powering up whirring noise while both girls sighed in unison. They had gone over this topic what felt like a hundred times.

“You're not crazy, you're in withdrawal. I don't know exactly how much time you spent with Ivar when you weren't with us, but you clearly don't know what to do with yourself now that he's away,” she stated.

Silje was a bit shocked by how accurate a description Ava made of the situation, and it brought to the forth something else that had been on her mind...

“About that,” she started, fiddling with the pencil now. Ava's eyes darted to the thing until Silje stopped and spoke again. “I think it's time I tell you how Ivar and I met.”

Quite frankly, it had been a bumpy conversation that lasted well past the library's closing hours and prevented any work from getting done that afternoon. It ended at the coffee shop round the corner, and Ava was practically buzzing both because of the amount of coffee she ingested and the shocking revelations Silje dropped on her.

Getting past the part where she had found Ivar, who was homeless, sleeping on a bench, and invited him, a homeless stranger, into her home for dinner and a night's sleep, was hard. Ava kept interrupting her and pointing out all the moments where Silje could have been killed if Ivar had been a psychopath.

Silje hadn't been drinking coffee, she was downing green tea by the liter to calm her nerves and stay open and understanding of her friend's reactions. Only when Silje mentioned Ivar's injury and his getting a job as soon as he was able to eased Ava's worries.

“You are insane. I take back what I said earlier, you've lost it, completely.” She finished her coffee. “I don't even know what to tell you now. I guess we're well past the part where I give you the “be careful” speech because he's just a stranger you picked up on the street. You guys are in a relationship, hell, you've been living together without me knowing! I am kinda mad about that, not gonna lie.”

“I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't approve!” Silje said to defend herself but realized too late that it was a bad point. “Well, I mean... I didn't really know what I was doing in the beginning, I hadn't planned on taking him as a roommate before he got beat up, and then he was there and I was stuck with a hot stranger on my couch, what did you want me to do? Throw away this chance to turn my life into a romance novel? That's how they all start!”

“You're always so down-to-earth, what happened?” Ava cried out in a hushed tone. “For Odin's sake, you sound like me, and it's not a compliment.”

“I get it, I do. But can we rather focus on the now? Everything worked out in the end, don't forget that,” Silje said, pointing her finger toward Ava who fought back the urge to jump over the table and strangle her friend. Silje saw that. “Please, don't be angry with me. I liked him, and once I had introduced him to you all, it became his secret to share.”

“What changed? Why are you telling me now?”

“Because... he's moved on from that now. It's in the past and no longer holding him back, at least I think so. He has a job, a place to live, he'll continue his master's soon. His life is on tracks now, and he can look back and laugh about the past, knowing he pulled through.”

Ava seemed to think about it. Her lashes fluttered a bit and she pursed her lips – a clear sign that she was conflicted. Silje kept quiet because she had been talking for the last three hours, her throat was on fire and she was sweating through her shirt. Was it the air in the coffee shop that was stifling or did Ava's approval matter more than she thought it did.

“You know-” she started slowly, probably for suspens. “I like Ivar. He's a good person, and he's so in love with you that it makes us sick,” she stated as if it was nothing. Silje's puzzlement was evident. “I suppose that I wouldn't have been so inclined to welcome him in our group, had I known his past, so I can't really blame you for hiding it from me. I can also understand that it wasn't your secret to share, I can respect that you wanted to let him come clean when the time was right. But he didn't.”

“Because it doesn't matter anymore.” Silje had jumped in to defend Ivar without thinking. “It's not who he is. It shouldn't define the way people look at him, and that's why neither of us said anything in the end – before now. And this should go without saying, but I'm trusting you to keep this to yourself.”

Now Ava looked very displeased.

“You can't drop this bomb on me to relieve yourself of the weight of your secret and then demand that I keep it for you!” She sounded positively scandalized and ready to storm off.

“You're my best friend, who the hell can I tell this if not you?” Silje replied, equally offended. “I knew you wouldn't be thrilled to hear about this, but I thought you'd understand.”

“I understand that you have lost your mind because of some pretty boy!”

Silje swallowed her comeback and started blankly at her friend. A poor friend, as it turned out. If her closed off expression said anything, Ava must have understood it. The conversation had come to an end and it was time to leave before either of them said words they would regret later.

It was deadly silent and the air had become cool between them when Silje grabbed her bag and stormed off.

She power walked back to her apartment and threw herself face-first on the sofa, screaming into a couch cushion until she felt better. Then she kicked off her shoes, stripped and went directly to bed because it was late already, and she did not want to get lost in her seething thoughts under the shower.

It was a restless night of tossing and turning and angrily crossing her arms over her chest while cursing Ava. Then she thought back to what Ivar told her and cursed him too, for being away and not holding her in his arms after she fought with her best friend, for not being there to talk about her doubts concerning university.

Fuck, now she was crying. She wiped away the tears with such force that her skin burnt under her eyes and she bit hard on her lower lip to calm herself. She had become such a mess in the last few weeks, she didn't recognize herself anymore. Where was the headstrong, independent woman she had grown into? Her parents would be ashamed of her behaviour. And Odin be damned, Ava was right, she had acted recklessly by letting a stranger into her home, she should have sent a safe message to all of her friends the second she invited Ivar into her apartment on julaften.

When she woke up the next day, her face was stiff because of the dried tears and she felt as awful as she looked. Today was Saturday, she had no business being up before noon, especially since she had come to the conclusion that her life was in complete disarray anyway – what was the point of being an early bird for the sake of it? To cease the day? Bullshit.

But a loud banging on her front door made her lift her head from her pillow. What was that now? Couldn't a girl have a breakdown without being interrupted?

“Go away!” she shouted, though whoever was outside her apartment couldn't possibly hear her weak protest through the closed door of her bedroom.

The banging didn't stop, and so Silje grumbled and crawled out of bed, wrapping herself in a robe and combing back her hair with her fingers. She nearly lost a hand amidst all the knots.

“What do you want?!” she asked as she swung the door open.

It was Ava, who looked tired and sorry.

“Hej. You look like death,” she said as a way of breaking the ice after their fight.

“Right back at you.”

“I thought I should rip off the bandaid sooner than later, so I came here to apologize,” she explained with her usual down-to-business voice that she used when she didn't want to get too emotional over something – like when she tried to explain the plot of Star Wars to someone who had never seen them without sounding like an absolute nerd.

“Apologies go well with freshly baked goods,” Silje pointed out, feeling merciless this morning – and hungry: she hadn't had breakfast yet.

Ava knew her well, and she quickly opened a bag to show she didn't come empty-handed. Silje nodded solemnly, granting her access to her home.

“You may enter.” She pushed the door wide open though she refused to smile until she extorted proper excuses from her friend. One should have a minimum of dignity.

“Please, Sil, don't be like that,” she whined.

It seemed that she understood just how badly she had hurt Silje with her hurtful words and obtuse thinking last night. Silje's arms were still crossed on her chest, to give herself countenance even though she wanted to hold Ava in her arms very badly and forget it all.

“I'm really sorry. I was so taken aback, I almost forgot to look at the bigger picture because I was worried about you. It doesn't justify anything, so I brought you this, to make amends...”

She pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket and held it between her fingers until Silje deigned taking it to look at it.

When she did, her eyes widened.

“Go see your boyfriend, Silje. And by all that is holy on this earth, stop with the pity-party. I just want you to be happy, and he clearly does a damn good job of it, so... that's all I, or anyone else for that matter, needs to know about him.”

Silje threw her arms around Ava's shoulders, taking great care of not wrinkling the printed plane ticket in her hand.

If this wasn't the right building, she was truly lost. Her heels clacked on the pavement and the steady rumble of her suitcase' wheels followed her steps. She pushed the heavy oak double doors and walked in. It wasn't dark yet, so hopefully someone would still be there. This wouldn't have happened if her plane hadn't been delayed!

Now wasn't the time to complain though, he would soon be there. Her eyes searched for a sign and fell on a small golden plate on the wall to her left. “Secretary's office” it said. She followed it, happy to see there were arrows painted on the floor to help clueless people like her find their way.

One narrow door stood ajar and soft light came out of there. Gently, she knocked on the door.

“Come in!” A woman's voice called.

Silje pushed the door wide open and stepped in, feeling like she was in high school and being called in the principal's office all over again – it had been Nicolaj's fault, he dared her to sneak into the boys' locker room. Would there ever come a day she wouldn't feel shy and guilty when talking to a figure of authority?

“Hi! I'm sorry for bothering you. I'm a bit lost I think,” she said as way of introduction.

“You're not bothering me at all, dear, come on in,” she gestured her to sit down. “Where are you headed? You're not from around here, you have quite the accent,” she observed with a warm smile.

She seemed to be in her fifties, her hair was already getting gray in some areas and she wore thin glasses.

“I'm from Denmark,” Silje told her to satisfy her curiosity. “I'm actually here to surprise my boyfriend. He works here as a teacher assistant?” she explained, trying to get a reaction out of the woman that would indicate she was in the right place. “His name is Ivar Lothbrok, could you point me in the direction of his room?”

“Oh dear! I'm not allowed to let a stranger wander around school property sadly. You come a bit late.” She looked embarrassed and sorry for Silje. “It's the rules, I'm afraid.”

Silje's face fell. So much for the surprise then. She had pushed off calling Ivar directly because she wanted to surprise him, but nevermind.

“I understand.”

“Wait. What did you say his name is?” the woman asked, obviously feeling sympathetic for Silje who had flown all this way to see her beau. The young woman's face lit up again.

“Ivar Lothbrok. He works here part time as a history teacher assist. You must have noticed him if he's been around here: quite tall, brown hair, blue eyes,” she described. “He should be living on school grounds.”

“Oh I think it rings a bell, let me check in the system.”

The woman pushed her glasses further up her nose and typed on her old keyboard. She was swift and seemed to know exactly where to look. A little smile soon appeared on her face.

“Oh yes, I see,” she hummed to herself. “He does work here, so you're in the right place. However, I see here that he does indeed live on school property, which is why I still cannot let you go on your own. It is technically still a school day, and family and friends are only allowed on school grounds during the holidays, that is, starting tomorrow.”

Silje tried to follow her fast speaking rhythm – she wasn't used to speaking english that much, especially not the irish accent.

“The best I can do is try to call him,” she offered, ever so kindly. “It's the end of the day, he should be back in his quarters if we're in luck.”

“Thank you so much! That would be wonderful! Don't tell him that I'm here though,” Silje exclaimed gratefully.

She sent Silje a conniving smile and dialed the number. He seemed to pick up, which was a relief – she wasn't sure she could hang around here much longer – and the woman made quick work of it, asking him to come over because she needed him to sign a paper. Then she hung up, and Silje took a sharp intake of breath.

“There you go, sweetheart. It's the end of the day for me, so I'll be leaving too. You can wait on the bench outside the office.”

That was a dismissal if she ever saw one. But she nodded and gave her thanks again. This woman had stayed a little longer at her office to accommodate a total stranger who wanted to surprise her boyfriend. She was allowed to shoo Silje out now that her good deed was done.

A grand total of five minutes after the woman locked the office, Silje heard footsteps coming this way and stood up from the bench, her race racing uncharacteristically. It must be Ivar! Her palms became a little sticky and she was more flustered than she cared to admit seeing her boyfriend again. It had only been two months since they parted ways, but on the other hand, it had been two whole, long months that she spent thinking about seeing him again.

She barely had the time to rub her hands against her dress and give herself some countenance before the double doors swung open, and in strutted a nonchalant Ivar, both hands in his pockets, whistling to himself like he didn't have a care in the world. The hallway had been in the dark since Silje sat down because she hadn't moved at all, but as soon as Ivar arrived the automatic light turned on and revealed the presence to his left.

He stopped in his tracks, Silje saw surprise and a bit of disbelief in the way he looked at her and shook his head as if he thought he was having a hallucination, but then he smiled. She smiled back, and her heart leaped at the sight of him.

“Silje?" he asked, his voice fairly cautious but ecstatic still as he already took a first step towards her, a disbelieving smile plastered on his face.

Without saying anything Silje lunged forward and they met halfway, throwing their arms around each other and holding on. The rush of warmth and comfort that erupted inside her when she felt Ivar's arms engulf her in a hug was indescribable. With her head on his chest, Silje heard his chest rumble as he laughed – at least he seemed happy to see her, even if she popped out of nowhere without giving any warning.

“I can't believe you're here!” he sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple but not letting go yet, not even enough to give her a proper kiss.

For now, he just needed to hold her a bit – gods he had craved holding her again for weeks now! At any moment someone might walk in on them, but he couldn't care less, even if it was a student.

“You better start believing it,” she giggled, letting her hands fall down his back and onto his sides. She pulled back reluctantly; she wanted to see his eyes – and maybe his lips too. He smiled so wide and bright she was moved to tears. He really was happy to see her, and here she was worried she might arrive at a wrong time or mess up his holiday’s plans. “Kiss me like you missed me,” she told him.

Silje didn't need to say it twice, Ivar grabbed her face and crashed his lips against hers in a split second, all too happy to accommodate her. They both smiled like total fools in love in the kiss, but they couldn't care less about this somewhat awkward kiss. Silje's hand slid up to his neck and grabbed a fistful of his hair to hold onto and she pulled him down even more, pressing him harder against her lips, urging him to kiss her deeper.

Instead he broke their embrace and placed a quick, feather-like peck to the tip of her nose, startling her.

“I did miss you,” Ivar admitted, smiling fondly at Silje and her rosy cheeks. “Let's go to my place, shall we? We can't be caught making out at my workplace,” he reminded her.

A little laugh fell from Silje's lips when she realized she got carried away so quickly after seeing him again.

“Well at least you won't be able to say I wasn't glad to see you again,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly and turning around to go grab her luggage.

Ivar laughed, shaking his head – he had missed her antics and little innuendos – and he followed her, carried the duffel bag while Silje dragged the small suitcase behind her, and together they made their way to his apartment.

“I wanted to come knock on your door directly but the woman behind the desk said I couldn't go there because it was on school property,” Silje said when they approached a big Victorian-looking building with an impressive number of windows and giant wooden double doors through which an elephant could no doubt fit.

“Yeah they actually gave me the building’s superintendent’s’ apartment, he retired last year so I'm getting his place – and his job too, I have to make sure the doors are locked after a certain hour and signal it to the administration if students sneak out,” he explained, holding the left door open to let Silje through.

“Which happens often?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed. “You'd be surprised how creative these little shits can get when a night at the pub is at stake.” He rolled his eyes and lead her to a door at the back of the hallway, almost hidden behind the main stairway. “Here we are. Me casa es tu casa, you know the drill,” he told her.

Ivar unlocked the door but let Silje step in first, closing behind her and turning on the lights. He sucked in a breath and held it without really thinking about it while Silje silently took in her surroundings, looking around her.

The place was bigger than her tiny student apartment in Copenhagen, and much less stuffed with various unnecessary things such as the unreasonable number of blankets she owns, or the piles of books covering every single square inch of horizontal surface. It felt a little more... empty, but it was nice, clean, and it was Ivar's.

For a week in her life, Silje would be living at Ivar's place, and that was strange in an upside-down kind of way, but also thrilling. She wasn't sure how she should behave because so far, she had been the one 'at home', and for the first time she realized how odd it must have been for Ivar to spend all this time living under a roof that wasn't his, sleeping on a couch, and basically squatting someone else's place.

Now she understood with full force why he needed to leave Denmark, why he needed independence so badly. A tinge of guilt tugged at her heart when she remembered the way she first reacted to his news about leaving.

“I haven't really taken the time to make it mine yet,” Ivar said behind her when the tension became too much for him to handle. This silence was too thick. “I meant to decorate a bit, but I just never got around to it.”

The bare walls and nearly empty shelves did scream 'a man lives here' to Silje, which made her smile. The whole place looked rather old – not in a crumbling way, just as in a historic way. This was an old building and the inside reflected the outside. The walls were a dull shade of forest green, and every piece of furniture apart from the kitchen corner was in dark wood.

“What do you think?”

“I think you miss the Scandinavian minimalistic aesthetic,” Silje teased him, nudging him after they dropped her luggage. “You know, as long as there's a little room for me in your life, I don't really care what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah, I dare hope so, because it was a proper mess when we met,” he reminded her.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and lead her to the back, towards two closed doors. The house tour didn't last long. Ivar opened the doors to show her where the bathroom was, then the bedroom, and that's when Silje decided the tour was over.

She pushed him inside and told him she needed to take a closer look at the bed, because she couldn't possibly form an opinion without trying it out.

Ivar's phone lit up next to them for the third time in a row, making them both sigh. Silje sat upright and climbed off Ivar to go grab it and have a look at who was continuously interrupting their activities. He saw her frown at his phone, which had him on his feet faster that the speed of light.

“What does 'hey man, how's she cuttin'? Don't forget we going out on the lash and mottin' with the lads tonight' mean?” she asked slowly, as if she were reading an obscure foreign language, her brows still knitted together in complete and utter confusion.

Ivar's groan, followed by a chuckle made her turn around, cocking a brow at him while waiting for a translation.

“I completely forgot I agreed to go pub crawling with my friends tonight,” he told her, rubbing his face.

Silje had been here for four days now, and to be frank, Ivar and her and done nothing but walk around town hand in hand, get lost in each other's gaze to the point where they didn't hear the voice of the waiter at the restaurant they were at, and then went back to his place to undress each other with more than their eyes.

He had tried to show her around, had taken her to museums, bookshops and fun attractions, but nothing in the world appealed more to Silje than her dear, handsome boyfriend, and so they clung to one another like their life depended on it, not caring what other people thought of their public displays of affection.

Today, Ivar had insisted on taking her outside of the city and into the gree nature of Ireland. She knew him well and expect as much, which is why she came with adequate shoes for climbing around muddy hills and sharp rocks. They were tired and sore, but not too tired and sore to end the day with a bang. However, the thought of having to go out again really didn't sound appealing anymore, especially now that Silje was here, half naked, and Ivar had a semi-hard on from their heated make out session on his bed.

“I still don't understand anything that's in this message,” she told him, handing him his phone so he could answer.

“It's dumbass for 'hey, what's up? Don't forget we're going drinking tonight',” he explained. “And mottin' means women chasing. Cillian is feeling lonely these days,” he laughed when Silje sent him a nasty glare at the mention of their planned activity. “I'll tell them I can't come.”

Ivar was already typing when Silje snatched the phone from his hand.

“You can go,” she said. “You don't need to babysit me, I'll just read a book or watch a movie while you're out.”

She had taken up so much of his free time already, she wouldn't deny him a night out with his guy friends – the Norns know boys need their boyfriends.

“Nonsense!" he retrieved his phone. “Either I cancel, or you join us,” Ivar said, his tone final.

“But I don't know them, and you had plans. I don't want to intrude on your boys' night or whatever these are called,” she insisted. “Also, it's rude to cancel plans last minute.”

Ivar couldn't hold back his smile when she gave him that motherly glare that meant he had to stick to his engagements.

“Alright, then you're coming.”

“Ivar...” Silje started with a deep sigh.

“No, no, no you need to come. They need to see you're a real person and that I haven't made you up,” Ivar argued, holding onto Silje's hand to pull her towards him. Silje's eyebrow rose at that, an expression of confusion and amusement painted on her face.

“Your friends think you have an imaginary girlfriend?” Silje laughed when Ivar nodded. She pondered the thought for a short moment, leaving Ivar in waiting. “Well, then I guess I have to come.”

Needless to say, they didn't make a quiet entrance. The moment Ivar stepped through the front door of their pub of choice, tailed by Silje who looked around in fascination, taking in her surroundings, a round a disbelieving cheers greeted them. Three boys around their age stood up and raised their glasses, so Silje assumed these were Ivar's friends. By the gods, what have I agreed to?

Ivar did head towards the merry group, and he greeted each one of them while she stayed back, waiting for her turn. She was fascinated by everything around her. It struck her that the place was already filled to the brim with jul decorations, while also having a few pumpkins, glow-in-the-dark skulls and spider webs here and there for Samhain next week.

“Ivar, man! Ya boyo, why have'na told us ya were comin' with such a fine thing?” one of them said, and although the sentence was dotted with words Silje didn't quite catch, she did understand he thought her pretty.

“Shame on ya, Ivar! Don't ya have a mot back home?” another one said, shaking his head in disappointed. Ivar was just about to protest and introduce her when the last one spoke up.

“Shrupp, ya dickbrains, can't ya see the lady's awaitin'?” The third one told them off and stood up to greet Silje.

All three spoke with heavy accents, rolling their r's and using slang Silje had never heard before. Ivar caught her glancing at him for help, looking thoroughly lost. She ended up opting for attack as the best defence, before Ivar had a chance to step in and translate for her.

“Hi, I'm Silje. I'm gonna assume Ivar told you about me?” her Danish accent was a bit heavier than Ivar's.

One of the boys at the table clutched his chest and exclaimed, “I'm in love!”

“Told us? It's hard to make him shut up!” the other one declared dramatically, raising his pint to Ivar who glared at him.

“I'm Dean,” the one who had stood up introduced himself, and Silje shook his hand. “The love sick fool ove' there is Cillian, and that's Caleb.” Each of them waved their hand at her when Dean mentioned their name and Silje returned the gesture with a little smile.

“So you didn'a makeup that story, eh?” Cillian teased Ivar, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Havin' ya girl fly all the way heyar just to prove us wrong is a bit much, innit?” Caleb added.

“Well, you didn't give me much of a choice, now did you?” Ivar snapped back good naturedly shoving his friend in the shoulder.

Dean gestured Silje to sit on the bench next to her boyfriend before he sat down himself.

“Ivar told me I was quite the cryptid around here, so I jumped on the first flight to make a surprise appearance at the pub and freak out the locals,” Silje said, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. Now that she was here she had to make the best of it, and not shrink back on herself while the boys chatted the night away.

“'tis a good thing ya came, ya fella wouldn'a take that puss off his face because he missed ya so,” Dean told her, nudging her gently.

She stared at him with big eyes, then turned to Ivar who wore an amused expression. But he was once again interrupted before he could even start speaking.

“He's telling ya your man missed the heck outta ya, girl!” Caleb said. “Ivar wouldn'a stop sulking and rambling about his amazing girlfriend,” he added with a grin that showed he was quite satisfied with himself for having both supplied Silje with a translation and having made Ivar blush.

“Alright, it was nice seeing you guys, we'll go now,” Ivar declared but Dean sat steady and didn't let him and Silje get up.

“Don't get ye knickers in a twist, man! We're just teasin'. Ya brought us a pretty lash, we're intimidated,” Dean tried to calm him down.

Their exchange made Silje smile, and she rid herself of her coat to get more comfortable.

“De fortæller mig ikke noget, jeg ved ikke allerede1,” Silje told Ivar, placing a hand on his arm. Her words seemed to have an effect on him, though his friends had no idea what she said, Ivar ended up nodding and shrugging off his jacket too.

“It's like she's speaking magic words,” Cillian told the others upon seeing Ivar's annoyance melt like snow in the sun.

“Kan du se hvad du har rodet os ind i ? Fortryder du det ikke?2” he asked her back, if only to bother his friends who didn't understand a single word of Danish – thank the gods for that by the way.

“Nej det gør jeg ikke,3” Silje answer with a triumphant smile. “Should we get drinks?”

Her question woke the others from their fascinated gawking at the couple speaking foreign words to each other and made them snap back to reality. Ever so reactive, Dean raised a hand to call for a waitress from their corner table. The place was packed with people – they chose a Friday night of all days to go out.

Soon as the waitress was there Cillian raised a hand.

“Five pints of brown beer, lovely,” he told her, making the girl smile.

“Oh wait!” Silje called her before she could scurry off to get their drinks. “Make it three pints and two glasses of white wine.”

The girl took note of the change of order and ran off.

“Christ, Ivar! Your mot been heyra for a couple hours and she's leading ya by the nose already! Ordering fancy drinks, eh?” Caleb teased before downing the remaining of his beer to make way for the next one.

Silje blinked in slight confusion. She was leaning on the table with both elbows when she looked at Ivar, waiting for an explanation. He merely shrugged, but he was mistaken if he thought she was going to drop it and make it easy for him. He wanted her to tag along, he would have to own up to it.

“Why Ivar, haven't you told your friends you don't like beer?”

Her question was followed by a round of choked up screeches and a variety of downright offended protests. Meanwhile Ivar closed his eyes and groaned, causing Silje's devious grin to widen even more.

“We're in Ireland Sil, I wouldn't have made any friends if I didn't drink beer,” he grunted unhappily.

Silje nodded. It made sense of course, but she couldn't pass up such an opportunity to tease him in front of his friends. It was usually the other way around since they spent a lot of time with her own friends.

She gave him a gentle smile and pushed a strand of his hair out of his face, effectively making the three boys at the table stop rambling about the beer thing, and start poking at Ivar for being such a sap when his girlfriend was here. He didn't pay attention to them, and instead chose to enjoy the moment. For weeks now, he hadn't had a moment like this, he could only dream of it. To have Silje sitting next to him for a drink, and not halfway across the world, should be something to appreciate to the full, regardless of the presence of his merry group of idiotic friends.

“Jeg kan ikke vente til jeg har dig for mig selv resten af ugen,4” he whispered in her ear, making all three of his friends lean towards them in hopes to catch something even though it was all Chinese to them.

Throughout the evening, whenever Ivar said something only meant for Silje he switched back to Danish both because she wasn't as comfortable speaking English as he was – especially the local slang that was difficult to grasp -, and because it was more private. His friends looked confused as all hell at first but after hearing the tone of their voice and seeing them smile at each other, Cillian came up with a theory.

“Ah, I see! You're speaking that silly language of yours to talk dirty in public! I get it.”

Silje and Ivar both frowned and shared a glance.

“Man, that's not at all what's happening,” Ivar told him.

“Yeah, right,” his friend replied, giving them both a conniving wink as though he was now in on a secret.

“Don't mind him. Han er lidt dum5,” Ivar told Silje, making her chuckle in her glass.

The pub crawl was adjourned due to Silje's presence – not cancelled, never cancelled – and they decided to spend the night here instead. The place became even more crowded if that was possible, to the point where it was impossible to call for the waitress. All the staff was behind the bar, pouring drink after drink.

Silje volunteered to go get their next round of drinks and went to the bar. She hopped on a stool when one became available while she waiting her turn, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the sticky counter top. The waitress from earlier spotted her and yelled over the noise to ask her if she wanted the same. Silje nodded and smiled at the girl.

There weren't many girls here tonight from what she could see. But there sure were a lot of inebriated men, as proven by the one trouble maker who elbowed his way towards her until he was leaning against the counter right next to her. Silje leaned in the other direction ever so slightly.

“What's a ride like ya doin' alone?" he slurred, giving her a once over in an obvious manner, which suggested he meant it as some sort of compliment.

She scrunched up her nose and pretended she didn't hear him over the noise, hoping he would take the hint and go away – though she was positive he wouldn't take a hint smaller than her fist in his face. Maybe she should just do that from now on – hit first and talk later. A thought to ponder.

Silje wasn't one to complain about slow service in any kind of place, be it a pub or a fancy restaurant, but these drinks sure took their sweet time to get to her. All the while the drunk guy attempted to flirt with her with as much subtleness as an elephant in a china shop. How much longer now?

From the other side of the room, Ivar stretched his neck to see where Silje was with their drinks – Caleb grew nasty when he didn't have a cold one in his hand – and what he saw made his jaw clench. Seeing that beefy dude drool over his girlfriend made him glare holes in the back of his head and he stopped listening to the story Dean was telling him altogether.

She said something then, but the gods have mercy it only seemed to entice the guy even more, though she wore her disgust like a pearl necklace and shot him annoyed glances.

He felt his hand tighten its grip on his empty glass. He wished he could read lips because there was no hearing what they were saying over the ambient chatter, and he didn't want to cause a scene for nothing even if he really wanted to get up and teach this asshole some manners. Ivar was left breathless by the force of his urge to mark his territory. Silje would flick his forehead if he ever voiced his instincts.

“Hey man, your mot in trouble?” Dean asked, finally taking notice of Ivar's change of mood and following his gaze. “That chump acting the maggot. Go get her.”

Silje exchanged a few more words with the stranger, no smile in sight as she pulled away slightly when he scooted closer. Then she turned towards the table and pointed right at Ivar. Good. This fucker needed to know she was taken. Happily taken. Now he better back off or the gods have mercy on him because Ivar won't.

He was ready to storm across the room at the slightest hint of distress on Silje's face. But when Silje saw the look of rage on her boyfriend's face her expression softened a bit and she raised her palm discreetly. He blinked, then looked back at his friends and dropped the frown on his face, forcing his rage down.

“Nah. S'all good. She can handle herself,” he told his friends to their utter bewilderment.

A second ago he looked like he was ready to stab the guy in the throat and now he acted like it didn't even bother him to see his girlfriend being hit on. He stared a little harder than he normally would at his empty glass and couldn't help glancing towards the bar every other ten seconds, but he calmed down.

This was her sign. The little hand gesture. He knew it meant she had things under control. He didn't need to come to her rescue - even if he damn well felt entitled to and it itched him greatly to sucker punch this idiot. He trusted her, Silje wasn't overconfident in her skills or reckless at all. If she sensed actual danger coming from this guy, she would call him. After another while of tense silence between the guys where everyone was staring at the exchange except Ivar who glared at his glass like it was guilty of something, his suffering came to an end.

His back muscles relaxed as soon as he felt her familiar gentle hand on his shoulder. She laughed when she felt him literally melt under her touch. She expertly set down the plate of drinks she held with one hand, and joined Ivar on the seat bench, pressing into his side and snuggling him a bit despite the very public space to reassure him.

“Good thing you got rid of that wanker,” one of Ivar's friends chuckled in his glass. “Ivar was about to pop a vein.”

“I would have popped his head like a champagne bottle,” Ivar countered, scowling and leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I know you would have, but I like to try solving situations my way before letting you maim anyone who dares look at me.”

“This is about that guy at the park this summer,” Ivar groaned and rubbed his face. “I thought we wouldn't bring it up again.”

This triggered his friends to ask a lot of questions what exactly went down last summer at the park, and Silje happily obliged them and told the whole story, much to Ivar's despair. It wasn't even his fault; the other guy had started it.

The gang and them were out for the day, enjoying the sun. And some dude at the park kept losing his ball while playing volleyball with his friends and it somehow always ended up at Silje's feet. Ivar's patience ran out after the fifth time and he threw the ball back full force. It hit the guy in the face so hard it sent him stumbling backwards and falling on his butt. Their friends laughed but Silje didn't.

She finished her story with a fond smile on her lips, looking at Ivar with such whole-hearted tenderness that it melted the frown right off his face. She leaned back into him.

“Next time a guy hits on me I'll punch him in the face, promise,” she whispered to in his ear. Then she grabbed her glass and the boys carried on their conversation like nothing happened. “Oh look, they have-” Silje stopped and visibly searched for a word, snapping her fingers as if to summon it. “Ivar, hvad hedder dartspil på engelsk?" she finally gave in, turning to her boyfriend.

“A dart game,” he provided, and Silje snapped her fingers again, this time in victory.

“Yes! A dart game. Let's play darts,” she said, waiting to see if the boys would agree to her challenge.

“I can't accept, it would break me heart to crush ya at a game,” sighed Cillian as if it was a sacrifice on his part in the name of chivalry.

“Can't hand their asses to pretty girls like ye,” Dean agreed with his friend, drinking the last of his beer and chuckling to himself while Ivar's grin grew wider and wider. Silje saw it and smirked a little.

“If you're scared of losing it's alright, I understand you don't want to lose to a girl in public,” Silje said nonchalantly, knowing that they wouldn't be able to let slide this blow to their ego. Boys were so terribly easy to manipulate, it was a wonder the human race survived so long.

As expected from a bunch of young men slightly drunk off beer, they all immediately puffed out their chest and stood up, accepting her open challenge while claiming they wouldn't be held responsible for her crushing defeat. Only Caleb seemed to sense there it wasn't a good idea and remained by Ivar's side.

Ivar leaned back and kept smiling to himself like an all-knowing Cheshire Cat. He followed Silje but declined the invitation to participate – he knew better.

“No mercy, Sil,” he told her with a wink. “I'm going to sit this one out and enjoy the show.”

The two of them watched Silje slowly but surely crush Dean and Cillian's self-confidence with each dart she threw exactly where she intended. The two boys lost their mind – along with a fair amount of people who watched the game, one beer in hand, placing bets – and quickly understood their mistake. That's what they get for underestimating girls.

Silje never lost her grin and she scored more and more points.

“Ivar, ya jammy client6,” Caleb mumbled in his beer, nudging Ivar in the ribs to get his attention.

He had been entranced by Silje's gleeful smile and lethal aim. Yeah, he sure was the luckiest man alive.

It was already time to say goodbye and they both hated it though they knew it was coming. The wind was blowing strong, the sun wasn't even up yet, it was dark and cold and yet neither of them wore gloves because they needed that skin-to-skin contact just a while longer.

Soon, they would be able to wear gloves again as they wouldn't see each other until jul. At least this time, it wasn't a vague goodbye with no idea when they would meet again. Ava's part in their little reunion was much, much appreciated and Ivar would need to thank her, but they had arranged their next meeting ahead of time this time.

No surprise visit, no wandering about on school property to find the right building; Ivar would go two hours early to the airport and wait for Silje with a cheesy note written on a poster that he'd hold very high for her to spot from a distance once she had collected her luggage. She was going to hate it, he thought, amused.

“The bus is coming,” she said, spotting the headlights coming round the corner of the street.

She squeezed Ivar's hand and turned to him, her eyes glowing under the streetlight and looking a bit too glossy for Ivar's liking. If she so much as shed a tear, he wasn't going to let her leave. He didn't care about the consequences, he would pull a proper kidnapping and keep her all to himself, screw Denmark.

“I wish I could come with you,” he said, cradling her face and kissing her softly. Their lips were still swollen from all the kisses they exchanged these last few hours. One would think they were never going to see each other again instead of parting for roughly two months.

Ivar couldn't escort Silje to the airport because he was working today, bright and early; he could only walk her to the nearest bus station and wave her goodbye until she was out of sight.

The bus stopped and the doors opened: it was time.

“Jeg vil savne dig7,” Silje whispered before leaving.

“Jeg elsker dig8,” he answered.

Right before the doors closed on her, he stole one last kiss and felt her smile against his lips.

TRANSLATIONS

1They aren't telling me anything I don't already know.

2See what you got us into? Any regrets yet?

3No, I don't.

4I can't wait to have you all to myself for the rest of the week.

5He's a little dumb.

6Lucky bastard

7 I'll miss you.

8 I love you.

@teenagephilosophersandwich

@marco-hvittyvik

@kenzieam

@captstefanbrandt

@kimskew

@aduncanzombie

@admerxin13

@meikolia

@vikingsmania

@dina-m16

@thinemineours

@didiintheblog

@mblaqgi

@thedorkcitycentral

@hallowed-heathen

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fordarkisthesuede · 5 years

Text

The Tolls of Justice - Chapter 1

Thank you for all your kind words so far!!! （*’∀’人）♥ I'm slowly reading that nice pile of new TT works you all made! ♥♥♥

(And I’m sorry for the delay,

Important Spoiler Tags: more talk of dead bodies, blood mention, mental illness

{Prologue} {Next Chapter}

Read on AO3 or continue below:

[Chapter 1: A Different Ceiling]

John Doe stared wide-eyed up at the whitewashed ceiling, feeling his breath catch in his chest and release too fast. He could practically hear his heart thudding in his ears like the world’s worst wake-up call.

Where am I? He asked himself.

He turned his head as he tried to breathe slowly. Dull light streamed in through the thin chicken-wire over the window - a standard of mornings in Gotham. There was flat blue paint on the walls, a familiar photograph sitting on a nightstand, a clock (oh, it was 7:20, that was helpful) and a phone there that he wasn’t technically supposed to have.

He snatched the phone off the surface and swiped up, barely paying attention to the illuminated rollercoaster that was his lock-screen. A selfie of himself and Bruce Wayne greeted him, only partially obscured by a couple of icons. He’d taken the picture three days ago, during their last visit; he could see the phone’s little timestamp in the corner, underneath the clock. He took a deep breath and focused on Bruce’s face.

Bruce had worn that really good cologne that day. He could smell it lingering on his own shirt for hours afterward, bringing to mind memories of his short stay at Bruce’s house.

He felt his panic start ebbing away. He wasn’t in Arkham Asylum anymore. He wasn’t in the Old Five Points, either, or the abandoned Funhouse, or Ace Chemicals. He wasn’t dreaming or being delusional or…

John pinched himself and winced slightly at the sharp sting it made in his wrist. Nope, he wasn’t under any kind of drug-based hallucination, either. Just like the day before that, and the week before that, and the fortnight before that.

But his subconscious apparently hadn’t caught up with reality just yet. He kept dreaming of everything else. Everything that could have gone wrong, or everything that did go wrong, but amplified by twenty.

Things should be different now. They were different now. Bruce was fine. John was….well, here.

The halfway house he was in was one of the better ones in the city. It wasn’t the best, of course, considering John’s past...difficulties, but it was better than where he’d ended up last time. There weren’t any bars on his window, his room actually had some color in it that wasn’t just a stain, and the only rat he’d seen so far was outside of the building.

His thumb hovered over the messenger icon on the screen, and he looked at the little digital clock in the corner. Was it too early? Bruce had been on patrol, and he’d already bugged him after one nightmare.

But it was a different one. He’d only dived over the railing towards that bubbling vat of chemical waste before. He’d had that dream before, always feeling like he’d fallen onto his back on the mattress afterward; he was almost used to that one.

This time he’d been covered in blood. He could only see the Funhouse floor, the countless bodies there, forming a grotesque ring around him, staring at him with unblinking dull expressions...

John rubbed his forehead. He really didn’t want to think about it anymore. He wanted a distraction and comfort and Bruce’s soothing voice in his ear.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and the first line from Bruce’s text dropped down from the top of the screen.

John hit it like lightning and let his brain simulate Bruce’s voice.

I’m close by. Can I come see you before work?

Bruce was heaven-sent, surely. A gift from a god of some sort. An absolute treasure John didn’t deserve to even look at.

He hovered over the keyboard. Should he wait a minute? Should he just say yes with all the exclamation points he felt in his heart?

No, no - Bruce might want to see him to get comfort of his own. Which meant he needed to loosen up a little.

Ha ha, I knew you couldn’t resist me ;)

John waited a moment, his brain buzzing that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to joke with a man that might have stayed up all night again… Maybe he should amend it with a ‘j/k’?

What can I say, your raw animal magnetism has a tendency draws in bats.

John laughed to himself.

Ha ha ha! I bet I can amp up the magnetic power to get you here *faster*!

No need. I’ll be there in 5 mins.

…you’re that close already?

How’d you know I’d say yes?

I had a feeling you would.

Plus this is important.

Important. So, a nine-out-of-ten chance it was about Bruce’s stakeout last night. John pushed aside the budding worry that something had gone horribly wrong - Bruce was talking to him. If he wasn’t fine (or at least Bruce’s definition of it, which was ‘alive and secretly hurting somehow’), he wouldn’t be speaking to him.

Unless someone had found out about his secret identity, knocked him out (or worse), stole his phone, discovered where John was staying, and was coming to kill him and taunting him about it by masquerading as Bruce...

...but that was a preeetty low chance.

Ok. Drive carefully, there’s a bunch of lunatics out there.

And I would know! Ha ha ha!!

I’m always careful.

I’ll see you soon.

Ten minutes, five minutes - hell, John could be ready to see Bruce in one minute. He threw on the closest things from the drawer, smoothed his hair back, and paced over the tiles a little, darting his eyes out the window towards the mediocre parking lot. It was funny how different it looked compared to Arkham. He still sometimes felt like he’d wound up in a different wing of it rather than a whole new place...

He blinked, remembering that St. Dymphna New Life Home had a somewhat different set of rules and that he could leave his room. And unlike Arkham, he didn’t have to ask or do someone a favor or play innocent. (Most of the time, anyway…)

He was already out in the hall, feeling like he should rush even though he knew he didn’t have to, passing other rooms, other snoozing patrons, turning a corner, and smacking right into Mickey.

Mickey Williamson had a serious case of ‘resting bitch face’. Well, that coupled with paranoia and aggressive issues.

“You trying to start somethin’, clown?” Mickey grunted, staring down at John.

From anyone else, it would’ve been a threat, but John had helped Batman take down Bane; this guy was a limp noodle in comparison. Still, picking a fight - even a verbal one - wasn’t a good idea. Neither was shrugging it off. “Only part one of my plan to brighten your day,” he joked. “I know you don’t like loud noises. How else am I going to get your attention?”

Mickey gave a short hmph, clearly satisfied. “...what’s the plan?”

He definitely wouldn’t buy that it was a secret. “A joke! Why are lawyers buried ten feet underground?”

Mickey looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. It was hard to tell if he was rolling his eyes or thinking about it. “Okay, why?”

“Because deep down, they’re not that bad!”

Mickey gave a short, boisterous laugh that was definitely genuine-sounding, despite the smile slipping off his face shortly after. “Okay, that was much better than the one about the rotisserie chicken you told Chuck yesterday.”

“Yeah, I guess when there’s more than one meat that cooks like that it kinda takes away the punch…”

He crossed his arms. “So what’s part two of ‘plan’ of yours?”

“What, and ruin the mild surprise? Mickey, how long have we known each other?”

“Four weeks.”

“Exactly! And have I ever done you wrong in all that time?”

His jaw shifted slightly. “That green sauce you told me to use the other day made everything too spicy.”

“Okay, honest mistake on my part, I didn’t think you’d use that much… But that aside?”

“...no,” he admitted with a slight shrug.

“Mm-hm! So trust me - it’ll put a smile on your face!” John emphasized with a click of his fingers towards his bulky neighbor and a grin of his own as he slunk away. “Probably,” he muttered to himself, completely unsure of what he would do next. Mickey might not have been as scary as Bane, but John was constantly trying to be on his best behavior, so getting on Mickey’s good side - along with everyone else’s - was for the best.

John glanced briefly the camera in the corner of the open stairwell, seeing it still pointed down the hall. He knew from the angle and shape of the lens that the corner of the stairs was a safe place to talk if Bruce didn’t want his lips recorded.

The thought made him giggle a little to himself. It took two flights of stairs to get down to the welcome area, where’d he’d no doubt have to wait as Bruce signed more pointless pieces of paper and -

And there he was. Bruce Wayne, standing there, signing away another visitor’s form and chatting up the easily-charmed nurse for the sake of his public image.

He was radiant, even under the fluorescent lights. A gorgeous demigod - no, a hero, a warrior of the highest class, out to mingle amongst the common criminals without his armor. John felt like the atmosphere had shifted and grown warm, and there was something about the way Bruce’s flirtatious smile wasn’t reaching his eyes that made John’s stomach feel all light.

The real smiles were all his. His, his, his.

He knew he had to wait until Bruce passed through the little security check, but for what felt like for the hundredth time he just wanted to walk over it and ignore everything that stood in the way of them. His fingers itched to touch Bruce, grab his hand, his wrist, anything, and he couldn’t. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, waiting, waiting, and smiling wider as Bruce caught his eye.

It didn’t matter how small the little smile back on Bruce’s face was, it was genuine. It made John chuckle: that silly girl at the front desk thought she had half a chance with Bruce? Ha!

John barely heard the guard talking about how they should go to the visiting room a-s-a-p. He knew the rules - visits were a maximum of sixty minutes, they had to be conducted in the visiting room unless a doctor signed off otherwise, and if a therapy session, work, or a meeting with the social worker was scheduled John would have to go to that no matter what.

Blah, blah, blah. There was no rule on how long they could take to walk to the visiting room. And John was willing to bend and break rules into tiny pieces for Bruce any day.

“Hey, John.”

“Hey, Bruce,” he echoed back in the same tone, grinning just a little wider. “You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“I drive fast,” Bruce shrugged with a small smirk. They left the guard to pretend he wasn’t listening or watching them leave in his peripheral vision. “You doing okay?”

“Is our new mayor crooked?”

“...possibly?” Bruce answered tentatively.

“Exactly!” John joked.

Bruce wasn’t keeping his eyes focused on the stairs. Cautious concern worked its way onto his face, which John felt simultaneously annoyed and relieved at it. It was amazing having him for support - every doctor he’d ever had stressed how important a good support system was - but sometimes it made John feel like he was being babied. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

“Take it any way you want! Doesn’t change the fact that I always feel better when you’re here.”

Bruce frowned slightly. “Is something wrong?”

John rolled his eyes. Bruce was toeing the line of babying. Why could he not take a good dark joke? “No, Bruce. I’m not being mistreated, I can take care of myself, and I’ve taken my meddies like a good boy.”

Bruce’s frown deepened, and he got that stern look that made John’s brain give a little burst of adrenaline. His more dominant side always made John want to challenge him...and swoon, usually at the same time. Bruce took hold of his arm, his grip firm but not entirely threatening, and pulled him discreetly underneath the camera so they wouldn’t be seen; both stood side-by-side with their backs against the wall, Bruce’s grip on his arm loosening. “You’ve texted me in the middle of the night several times this week. I know you’re not sleeping well.” His too-blue eyes searched him. “I won’t say anything if you’re not okay, John. I just want to know what’s wrong.”

John thought briefly about retorting with ‘you’, but that was so incredibly untrue that John couldn’t even try to lie with that sorry excuse. He couldn’t say he was ‘fine’, either, despite the habitual urge to. He wasn’t, Bruce knew it, and they did make that promise to be honest with each other...

“It’s just...you know, my brain, being...rude to me.” He knew that wasn’t a good enough explanation, but Bruce was giving his ‘I’m taking you seriously’ face. John always liked that expression. He didn’t see it enough on people. “I just keep having, you know,” John fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck to try and dispel some of the awkwardness, “bad dreams. I mean straight-up barbaric ones, Bruce,” he felt his lip curl in a sneer at himself, “My brain compacts all my garbage memories and twists it into something worse.”

Bruce took hold of John’s hand so smoothly it actually took him by surprise. John stared at him, wondering if he’d said something wrong. He should explain, shouldn’t he?

“I think… I’m still adjusting. Like, I know you’re here, and I’m here, but...it’s like my brain secretly doesn’t like the change and is punishing me for it,” John continued, giving a short, nervous giggle, “Which is ridiculous, because this is more than I could’ve hoped for in a lifetime!”

“Have you mentioned this to Dr. Song?”

“Umm…sort of?” John gestured with his free hand. “Sans graphic details, but, uh, yeah.”

“Is it why you’ve been texting me so late? You wake up from them?”

He didn’t quiiite want to put it like that. He didn’t want to keep thinking of those stupid dreams. “That, and I miss you,” John answered with a sly smile. Their fingers were entwined - he stroked the Bruce’s thumb with his own, feeling the old tiny scar there, slightly smoother than the rest of his warm hand.

The reaction was more of what he wanted to see right then - Bruce had that sweet longing look in his eye.

“I’m literally counting down the days, Bruce,” John purred, feeling much more confident as Bruce’s face flushed a delicate shade of pink. “I’d do anything just to kiss you right now.”

“We shouldn’t,” Bruce replied, looking like he was trying to talk himself out of doing just that.

“That’s not what you said last time,” John teased quietly with a grin, turning to lean his shoulder against the wall. The delicious aromas of expensive cologne and hair conditioner clung to Bruce’s collar, bringing to mind the more sordid details of that last visit. “In fact, I remember you pinning me to the wall and kissing me until you couldn’t breathe.” He’d give anything (any mild luxury, a whole week of visits, all the good night’s sleeps he had left) just have a room alone with him for a while. “I’ve had a hard time thinking about anything else since then.”

He could almost see the struggle between reason and desire in Bruce’s mind. He tried to hide his little shudder as John leaned in a little more; oh yes, John had him right where he wanted him. Bruce might as well have licked his lips.

“Or do you want me to do the pinning this time?”

John considered just pulling him forward and kissing him anyway, but that would ruin their little game. He liked seeing how far he could push Bruce. He watched Bruce’s baby-blues flicker slightly between John’s eyes.

The admonishment in his voice was gentle, like the squeeze he gave John's hand. “We really shouldn’t.”

“Alll-riiight,” John said with a playful pout, “If you say so, Bruce.” He pulled away and crossed his arms, wanting something else to do with his freshly-warmed hands. “You got spooked when that door opened last time, huh?”

“It’s more like ‘I don’t want people to think you got out because of my influence’,” he retorted quietly with a slight smile.

“Well, they’re not wrong, Bruce. I wouldn’t be in here without you,” John pointed out with a shrug in the general direction of their surroundings. “But I get it. So, if you’re not here for a good ol’ round of canoodling, it must be work-related, huh?”

He looked slightly embarrassed. “I actually just wanted to see you.”

John felt his heart skip that middle beat. “Oh! I mean, when you said ‘important’, I thought… Oh, geez,” he blustered, tapping his thighs with his fingers, “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He brought his hands together, looking up at Bruce with his best puppy-eyed expression. “But you’ll tell me how last night went anyway, right?”

Bruce had that cute little smile perking on the corner of his mouth. “Of course.” The smile slipped away just as soon as it appeared. “Not well. The shipment coming in was sabotaged before it came into port; I found all the crew dead.”

“Uugh,” John grunted, putting his hands in his pockets. “Did you at least get B.M.’s guys?”

“No. Their van combusted not long after I boarded the ship. G.C.P.D. found three dead, the last one’s presumed missing. We think it’s a rival gang - C.S.I. was still examining the wreckage when I left.”

“Sounds like a rough night.”

“It was. I barely got a power nap in before-”

“John?”

He glanced down the stairs, towards the voice - Devi, one of the few women staying there. She’d been there for three months already, coming out of her second stay at the county clinic.

“What’re you doin’? We got work in five minutes.”

“...we do?”

“Yeah, it’s Tuesday, man. You comin’ or what?”

He didn’t want to, but he should. “If I don’t make it down there, hijack the bus to wait for me,” he joked.

Her face lit up. “Hey, an upside: I can finally get one of Peralta’s Boston cremes in you.”

John grinned and gave a dramatic gasp. “Devi, you scoundrel, that’s dirty!”

“You’re the one makin’ it dirty, man!” Devi laughed, “I better see you down here in five, or I’m tellin’ the warden,” she teased as she turned the corner, her ponytail of tiny braids shifting as she walked.

Bruce had that calculating look. “I’m sorry, John, I didn’t know you had work today, either.”

“That’s okay, Bruce, I forgot entirely!”

Bruce looked far away, like he was thinking through something.

“Um, you okay?”

“...she didn’t question us standing here.” Bruce turned his gaze to him again. “Do you think she knows something?”

“Devi? Nahhh, she’s on the level.” Weeell… “Our level, I mean. Even if she ‘knows something’, she’s no rat.” Bruce still looked concerned, the big worry-wart. “Look, it’s fine - I’ll go get on the bus with the other crazies, go sit in a back-room sewing den where no one sees me for half the day, and text you if she tries to blackmail me so your other half can pay her a visit.”

Bruce’s little smile returned, making John want to just reach out and caress him like the treasure he was. “You don’t need an excuse to text me, John. You can do that whenever you want.” The sincerity made John’s stomach twist a little. “Just be careful. And have a good day at work.”

John wondered if everyone else in a relationship felt a little burst of joy at the simple well-wishing phrase. “Right back at ya, Brucie,” he said, nudging Bruce’s shoulder with his fist. He leaned in a little, lowering his voice just so Bruce could hear. “You know what I’ll do if anyone hurts you.”

Just as soon as Bruce got that complex look of desire-in-denial and mild alarm that John had wanted to see, John tossed him a wink and whirled around, leaving him to puzzle it out as he descended the stairs.

He grinned to himself, feeling much more relaxed and in-control than before. “Don’t stay too long, Bruce, or you’ll start thinking you live here!”

*~*~*~*~*

The Eastern harbor was one of the more seedy places in Gotham. Batman often fenced the place as part of his patrol, and John could name every mob that made a hit on the infamous 13th Street.

So naturally, it was one of the few sections of the city that would think of employing former Arkham inmates. It was a twenty-minute bus ride every morning to get to their respective jobs. Most of the residents in St. Dymphna were leased out to the laundromat or the incorrectly-named Lucky Hotel down the street. Occasionally one would go to the weird fish market to work in the back, gutting and descaling whatever was brought in. John was so far the only one to be placed in the Stitched Up Alterations joint next to the laundromat.

The bus was discreet, looking more like a white van with the city logo than a repurposed short school bus. It made John long for the flair of Lil’ Puddin’; it might have just been a stolen car he’d had repainted, but at least you knew who was coming.

He gave a little wave to Devi as he passed her heading towards the laundromat, leisurely making his way to the back alley around the place. He passed the always-smelly dumpster and the brick wall covered with graffiti - grinning slightly at the ‘fuck the agency’ tag someone had made with a decent imitation of his clown-smiley-face - and entered through the back door.

It was a small space, crowded with giant spools of various fabrics in all kinds of colors and patterns. There was a little group of headless dress forms in a few different sizes that he had recently cleaned the dust off of, one of which had what might be a burnt-orange off-shoulder dress pinned to it, likely for prom. Or was it homecoming? John never really knew which was which, but summer was only a couple of weeks away, which meant it was likely for whatever the last dance of the year was, and it was definitely new.

Though the color really wasn’t in season. It put him in mind of the fall, of the range of makeup he’d been eying in his few hours of freedom in Gotham half a year ago... He touched it, feeling the synthetic satin under his fingertips. It hadn’t been there yesterday, but it was real.

He passed the shelf of jars filled with colorful buttons, and the rolls upon rolls of fabric, taking a moment to run his hand over the beautiful purple broadcloth he’d half-hidden in a stack, and checked his lonely workstation. A pile of pieces to work on, all folded and tagged, sat at the table by the sewing machine.

He flicked through the pile. Boring, mildly interesting tack job, ooh nice pattern, boring, and

S.Townsend. Beautiful calligraphy, almost like it was from someone with years of practicing their signature. (John would know – he had roughly eight years of practice and he knew his wasn’t anywhere near that pretty.)

“Why does that name sound familiar…?”

A quick search turned up a few results, but nothing recent stood out… There were too many famous S.’s with Townend, apparently – a musician, some newscaster miles away, a convicted murderer ten years ago, some yacht owner…

“Ah-haaa.” One of Gotham’s one-percenters. Sonja Townsend, the chairwoman of Wayne Enterprises. “Why would a member of Bruce’s round-table go here?”

The ticket was recent, made yesterday at closing and wanted in half an hour. An easy enough job - just adding a ticket pocket to a very new purchase. The tag for the jacket was still attached to the sleeve - on sale for fifty bucks, marked down from two-hundred.

“A big-wig who doesn’t always buy big, huh?”

That was...definitely strange. Suspicious, even, considering Wayne Enterprise executives made so much it was a surprise they didn’t try to declare themselves kings.

He unbuttoned it and checked the lining - there was a ticket pocket already there. It was certainly a man’s jacket, just...very small. And they didn’t want it taken in or shrunk?

Hmm.

He took the seam-ripper and tore through the thin stitches holding the pocket closed, wondering if there was something inside.

Nothing.

“You’re being paranoid, John. Dr. Leland warned you about looking too far into things,” he muttered to himself, “Even if it isreally weird… There could be a decent explanation! But… Ugh, what would Bruce do?” his arms and staring at the annoying tag.

Bruce would question it, look at it from every angle… And research it.

John snapped a photo of the tag where The-Mysterious-Person-S had scribbled their signature and sent it to Bruce.

Hey buddy, does this handwriting look familiar?

I can’t check right now. In a meeting.

Fair enough. Looking at it from other angles it was.

John pat the sleeves, the collar, turned the inner-pocket inside out, thinking about the tiny packets of drugs he’d seen exchange hands at Arkham when he found something in the outside pocket.

An ordinary USA Express. No signature on the back, and the black stripe was very worn, but the card wouldn’t expire until next month; the unlucky name on the front was Michael Hodgson.

Huh. Well…no, it wasn’t finder’s-keepers, and John had already been told off for petty theft during his trial, but…it could be useful. Door locks could be picked with a card. As long as he didn’t buy anything with it, it was fine, right?

Right.

John stuck it in his back pocket.

Just as soon as he did, the door to the front opened, and John sat and moved the shirt like he was doing ordinary work as usual, pulling out the boring fabric that someone wanted to turn into a very boring pillow.

The manager came through, hauling a grocery bag of more fabric.

“Oh, John – can you…take a walk for a bit?” The smaller man asked, his mild Thai accent slightly more prevalent than normal. It only seemed to happen when he was nervous. “I have a special order I need to do back here. It will take up the bench.”

“Uh, sure, if you want. How long will you take?”

“A while. Just make sure you’re back in half an hour; the social worker’s dropping by then,” he said with a wave of his hand, moving in John’s way to force him back up.

Mr. Prinya definitely wasn’t supposed to tell him that. Those were meant to be surprise visits, to see how John was coping. “This isn’t some kind of test, is it?” John asked with a nervous little laugh, “Like you’re seeing if I’ll take the opportunity to skip out and report me?”

“You ask a lot for a man who wants this job.” Mr. Prinya put the bag by the stack of orders. “You leave, be back in thirty, both of us live to work another day.”

Ah. He was moving something. His accent came in a little thicker with the light threat, and his little show of bravado made John think it was probably against his will. Probably. But John knew the score – he had more than his share of experience keeping secrets in Arkham. And time away was beneficial for both of them.

“Hey, no worries,” John answered with his best understanding smile and a raise of his hands, “I get ya. I’ll just leave this one on the outgoing rack, ‘k?” He emphasized, picking up Townsend’s jacket.

Mr. Prinya gave a stiff nod, taking a seat in John’s chair and fiddling with his phone as John put the jacket on the wire hanger and threw it on the ‘outgoing’ rack by the door. He clearly didn’t want John to know what was in the bags. Probably for the best.

John left through the backdoor and stepped back into the alley.

He wasn’t far from the harbor. He could easily go have a look at the crime scene from last night by warehouse twenty-two… It was best not to get too close to it, though, so strolling by the actual docks wasn’t the best choice. He could go the roof of one of the buildings close to it instead. John had managed to get a close-zoom lens for his phone’s camera a little while back; it was a tiny thing attached to the back of his phone’s case, plugged into the audio jack for safe-keeping - all he had to do was clip it in place and he’d be able to have almost-binocular vision.

He took a quick look at the back of the laundromat. There was a camera by the door, but if he went juuust wide enough, he wouldn’t be seen by it’s all-seeing-eye.

The wire fence was a little difficult to climb in his shoes (he missed those ankle boots Bruce had bought him last year, the slight heel dug into crevices nicely) and he was never a fan of the feel of metal digging into his hands, but he managed to climb over the fence with a swing over the top and a hop to the ground without any injury.

John straightened his shirt, feeling a little accomplished, and set off for the sets of buildings closest to the docks, passing by graffiti in the twisting litter-coated alleyway - there was a poor imitation of the bat signal that someone had scribbled over and written ‘fuck batman’ next to, standard gang tags, non-standard gang tags, an anarchy symbol, a giant cartoonish bat chasing people…

Actually, that was one for the album! He had to stop and take a picture; one of the people looked like the Mayor. He didn’t even care it had a few of the tags in it - it was part of the charm, really.

He passed by one of the partially-repainted dumpsters, wrinkling his nose and walking faster when he smelled rotting fish parts, and spotted the ladder for the fire escape next to it dangling down partway into the alley. John was tall enough to tug at the ladder, but it wouldn’t budge.

The windows were mostly blacked out by something or other. If anyone lived there, he doubted they were home. It would be a damn good view, and close enough that the journey back wouldn’t make him late.

“Hm, to use the smelly abyss as leverage, or risk a minor injury?” He muttered aloud.

The dumpster was ancient and rusting. Not worth it.

John bent and jumped up, grabbing hold of the bars on the ladder and swinging his legs out to keep balanced as he climbed the first few bars. He checked the window by the landing and wiped his hands on his pants for good measure. The room there wasn’t as empty as he thought - the window had been darkened by thin film, like the kind they used for quick-fix window tinting, and the inside had some bare battered furniture. He could see a duffel bag half-hidden by a table leg.

Probably another runner. It was no use pondering about what they were running from. In Gotham, there were far too many choices.

The next two windows had curtains (or in one case, sheets that had been clumsily tacked on the panes that let John see someone watching bad on-demand porn) and the last one showed nothing but an empty room with an open doorway. “Man, how hard is it to get a little bit of human interaction around here?” He grumbled to himself. He’d at least like to see someone else properly for more than a minute. Or get an idea of them at least.

He looked out into the street below - three passers-by in matching grey-and-black hoodies, seeming to laugh it up as they passed. A street gang, maybe... They weren’t very observant, if they were; there was a perfectly good motorcycle just sitting at the end of the alleyway there. It couldn’t be too difficult to hot-wire. At least compared to a car.

There was one more ladder going to the rooftop - and upon poking his head over the top, John was unsure on how to feel.

Tiffany Fox stood near the edge of the roof, doing exactly what he was planning on doing - only she had a pair of real binoculars. And that tablet she used for her drones.

She looked different from the last time he saw her, too; she was dressed fairly professionally, making her look a little more mature despite the dark blue streaks littering the thick curls on the one side of her head.

He wished he had her number so he could just text her he was there. Sneaking up probably wasn’t the best thing to do, despite the little urge to spook her; she was being trained by Batman, after all.

Weird situations like this surely called for some playful banter. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asked with his best film-noir-detective voice.

It certainly got her attention. She whirled around looking like a frightened cat, reaching for her hip like there was something useful there. A taser, judging by the shape in the pocket. (John always wondered why women’s slacks had those terrible form-fitting pockets.)

The wary look on her face didn’t quite diminish when she noticed it was just him. Despite the better terms they ended on in the ambulance back in October, he didn’t completely blame her for distrusting him - they had matching scars, after all.

“John,” she said simply, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Ha, now you’re sounding like Bats, at least!” He chuckled, moving towards her to close some of the gap. He knew better than to get too close, though. He’d be the same way, if things were reversed; you never really knew what someone had hidden on them. “I would’ve thought you’d have developed that sixth-sense of his by now, after all you’re training, Tiff’.” (He made sure to keep of the ‘y’ he wanted to add. He remembered she’d said not to call her that; ‘Tiffy’ was reserved for brain-talk only.)

Tiffany’s expression shifted. She wasn’t just wary anymore, she had that little frown on her face that meant he’d crossed some unseen line. It couldn’t have been her name - was her training not going as well as Bruce had said? Or was it just one of those secretly-sensitive subjects?

“So… What’cha doin’?” He asked casually, stopping at the edge several feet away from her to look down into the street. “People watching, or crime scene watching?”

“Crime scene watching. Aren’t you supposed to be in that halfway house?”

He couldn’t decide whether the tone was accusatory or curious. It kinda sounded like both… Well, best to be nice about it. She had Bruce’s number on speed-dial, after all. “I am; I’m technically on a break from the mandated work. What about you, Tiff’?”

She raised a brow, and her tone was instantly recognizable; the same rebellious sort that came when someone nosy asked Harley what she was doing. “What about me?”

John fiddled with his phone, clipping on the magnifier lens to cover the camera. “Are you skipping work entirely, or just going in late?”

“Late. I would never skip.”

Really? Never-ever? He doubted that. “Eight hours a day, five days a week - and that’s not even counting your night gig. Doesn’t it wear on you?”

Tiffany didn’t quite seem focused on that tablet screen. “Sometimes. But last time I took time off, Bruce scolded me.”

“Do you mean he actually got angry, or he was he just like ‘Don’t be irresponsible, Tiffany. Just because my double-life allows me to up and leave work for as long as I can’t walk doesn’t mean you can take a break,’” John said in his best imitation of Bruce’s smoother-but-stern voice.

Tiffany gave a noise that might have been covering a laugh. He could see the smile on the edge of her mouth. “That does kinda sound like him.” She made a swiping gesture on the screen and looked over at him. “But it was more like he’s worried I’ll get too into the night job and go work on stuff without him.”

That wasn’t quite right. Bruce cared about people - more than likely, he just didn’t want Tiffany to get hurt or be in danger when Bruce couldn’t be around. John had caught sight of Batman staying outside of Arkham some nights when Bruce hadn’t stopped by in a couple of days, as if he was just checking up on things.

That was the type of person Bruce was - clearly it extended further where Tiffany was concerned, and she was clearly tired of hitting that ceiling.

“So, like you’re doing now?” John grinned, focusing the camera on his phone to try and zoom in as far as he could on the remains of the van in the distance. They were just high up enough to see most of the scene.

Tiffany was finally smiling. It was small and smug, but it was a definite change from the last time he saw her. It reached her dark eyes, lighting them up like a little candle in the dark. “Yup.”

John squinted at the image of the wreckage on his screen. “Yeesh, that was some firework they planted. Looks like the whole thing went up in smoke.” He zoomed in as much as he could. “Wow, the back doors are either open or gone on that thing.” The strangeness of it seemed to click the second he said it. “Or the explosion came from the inside.”

“That’s what the C.S.I. think, too,” Tiffany answered. “The glass all shattered outward; I think someone planted it there. That, or the dumbasses left the keys in the van.”

John giggled at that. “Mobsters leaving their keys behind? In Gotham? No way.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the more lunkheaded ones was in charge of driving.”

“No, no, you want the people with quick reflexes to drive, not the muscle. It’s why I was the designated chauffeur for the Pact,” he said somewhat proudly, “That, and Harley liked being driven around. Said it made her feel all fancy.” He scowled to himself as he felt his gut twist at the old memory. “Though Dr. Leland thought that was just another example of her using me for her own gain...”

“You don’t still miss her, do you?” Tiffany asked, the accusatory tone lacing in between caution.

John thought. He kind of did. Not the same way he missed Bruce - not by a longshot - or the same way he missed Dr. Leland.

He shot a look at Tiffany. Were they at the point of bringing up ‘personal’ stuff yet? They’d worked together before, and they were on the same team now… He supposed that there wasn’t a better time to find out than now.

“It’s...more like I miss the fact that I could talk to her. Being in her company was easy, you know? That sort of ‘natural connection’ thing. In hindsight, there were some red flags about our whole relationship...but I can’t just pretend everything that happened between us just never happened.” He breathed out through his nostrils, already angry even though there wasn’t even a Harley there for him to be angry at. “Even if she did try to hurt Bruce.”

“And left you behind several times, tried to kill me alongside Bruce, and took advantage of you at every chance,” Tiffany said pointedly, a sardonic sort of smile perking up. “You shouldn’t just value Bruce’s life that much - you’ve got your own, you know.”

John snorted. She sounded a lot like Leland, in her own way; neither of them really quite got his relationship with Bruce. “Not much of one.” Though… “I guess it is getting a little better.”

She had that sort of pitying expression on her face. He wasn’t really a fan of those. Sympathy was fine, empathy was better - but pity? He didn’t need that. He really, really wanted to just change the subject rather than deal with any conversation pertaining to that.

“Speaking of lives, though - any idea what happened with the ship? I can still kinda see it in the harbor.”

“...how did you know about it?”

“How else? Bruce dropped by this morning.” He saw the mild bewilderment there, and decided he might as well drive the point home and make her jealous at the same time. “He always shares his case details with me. Among other things,” he added slyly. “But I had to go to work, so the conversation got cut before I could hear the juicy details. You were on patrol with him, right?”

“I wasn’t there in person,” Tiffany grumbled, going back to tapping her tablet. (What was she doing on it, anyway?) “I was using my drone from the cave, before some trigger-happy asshole took it out.”

John remembered her father had made those; no wonder she was upset. He should offer comfort. Better comfort that the last time they’d spoken about her father. He’d learned what to say since then. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he echoed with all the sincerity he could.

She looked more puzzled at that than anything, but she didn’t look more upset, so that was probably a good sign. “Uh, thanks… Anyway, Bruce saw everything - I only got the data feed from his drones.” She tapped something, and seemed to think. “You sure you wanna see this?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

“They’re pretty bad.”

He didn’t care. It wasn’t the blood or wounds that got to his head the last time he’d seen carnage second-hand; it was the ferocity, the terror on the people’s faces, the familiarity of it all that brought back the memory of the manic episode that had spiralled him to his worst point, and it made him feel very...displaced. But it wasn’t video, and John’s curiosity and his drive to help Bruce overrode everything else.

He wanted to squeeze something. He settled for putting his hands in his pockets and feeling the back of his phone case. “I can handle it.”

Tiffany turned the screen towards him. “There were eight victims. Most of them were stabbed.”

There were two men sunken in plastic chairs in the ships kitchenette, each with one of their eyes gouged out.

It was the kind of thing to put a sharp thrill in his gut and made the neurons in his brain fire away; enough to make him smile. No weapons in the wounds, and from such fun angles! “You know, I’ve always wanted to see a knife-thrower in person. I wanna find out how they do that.”

When he looked back up, Tiffany’s nose was wrinkled in the kind of stern disgust that Bruce displayed at the sight of dead bodies - only she lacked the spark of intrigue he always had. (Guess she wasn’t as far along in the training as he thought…) “Knife-throwing, huh…”

“Yeah, with reeeally long blades - I mean, I think some butter knives are big enough to hit the brain, too, but they’re probably harder to aim just right.”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t want to know how you know that…”

“It’s kind of obvious,” he answered anyway, unsure of how else he would know, “I mean, look-” He spread his thumb and forefinger to measure and held it up against his head, “it’s at least three inches to the temporal lobe; butter knives aren’t that long! Unless it’s for the world’s largest stick of butter.”

He was clearly close… Just a scoach more, and she’d surely crack. Her frown turned upside down for a little bit, there. The wall was dropping, further and further - he had to time these things just right…

Tiffany swiped on the screen, her expression souring at the sight of whatever-it-was, and his tiny hope died like a butterfly caught in a snowstorm. That was too serious a look to run with.

So he dared to scoot a little closer and peer over her shoulder, catching sight of the overhead image of the ship’s storeroom.

Four unfortunate men were laying on their backs, positioned so their arms crossed their chests like they were newly-buried pharaohs. Their heads all touched, three nestled snug together at forty-five-degree angles while the last one touched them all in the middle; a three-to-one ratio.

John itched to just grab it out of her hands to have a better look. He clenched his hands once and released halfway, forcing the impulse to pass. He didn’t want to be rude, even if they weren’t on the best of terms; and she was clearly in a rebellious streak, so acting demanding was right out. “Can I see that?” He asked instead, as politely as possible.

“Please?” He continued, seeing the morbidly-curious look in her weirded out face, “Just to check something?”

She was more guarded than ever, looking straight at the tablet in her hands...

At her right hand, just briefly, thinking back to the knife he’d plunged into it that day months and months ago, debating on whether or not she could trust him with even holding one of her tools when he’d trusted her completely back at the skyrail station -

“Alright,” she said finally, holding it out to him and letting him take it without another word of protest. He could see the faded scar on her palm, not quite identical to his. Like fraternal twins. Just how deep does that parallel go, he thought. “What are you checking?”

“The shape,” he answered, pulling open the editing menu.

He started doodling over it, first in pink - red was too close to home, in this case. A large inverted triangle...

No…a trapezoid on top of a pole, perhaps?

He switched to neon yellow. A miniature upside-down triangle, with a point down. That looked better.

He switched to green, tracing a line over each body. A trident, maybe? Maybe.

It was… Something. He’d seen it before. Somewhere, sometime…

“Have you ever seen this before?” He asked, keeping the tablet flat in between them so they could both look.

“I dunno, gang symbols? There’s a lot of weird ones around,” Tiffany said. “I know someone in the Cauldron uses some weird triangle as their tag…” She looked at him, no more wariness or caution or anything negative in her expression. Just simple curiosity. “Does it look familiar?”

A phrase he’d heard a hundred times before. Always a no. Always followed with ‘are you sure’ and more no’s and follow-ups of ‘well what can you remember?’ in that same insulting tone that tried so hard to appear inquisitive...

John drummed his fingers against the tablet, feeling the material of the reinforced case under his short fingernails. He was talking to Tiffany Fox, on top of a roof, both of them taking time out from work to look into a crime scene.

He laughed at the ludicrousness of it - she could push him off the roof or tase him or escape with a grappling hook, and she was just here talking to him, like things were actually changing.

(They were, though. He could smell the smog and the harbor. It was real.)

John let the short laugh die out with a little cough as he saw the look at Tiffany’s face.

“Sorry,” he said, being used to apologizing for causing any level of ‘disturbed concern’, “But, no, it’s, uh, more like a nagging feeling.” She didn’t seem to understand that; her brow was raised, almost skeptical instead of curious, and still unsure of him as a whole. “Déjà vu with no direction.”

Tiffany actually looked like she was thinking about it, pulling apart the words in her head… “That’s...a different way of putting it. So, you might have seen it, but you don’t know where or when?”

He rolled his eyes slightly at her. He wasn’t going to dignify that was a proper response.

“I guess I’ll look into gang symbols,” Tiffany said, carefully taking the tablet back. “I’ll go back a few years, see if someone revived an old gang or something…”

“Or they could’ve just stolen the logo,” John pointed out.

“True.” She stared down at the tablet, concentration furrowing her brow. “You know, you might be right… It is kind of that nagging feeling.”

“Speaking of nagging, you haven’t found out anything new about those Black Mask guys, have you?”

“Only that one is still missing. There weren’t any tire tracks or bullets casings left behind, so whoever killed them made a clean getaway…” She cast a look over at the crime scene in the distance. “At least until I get the footage back from the broken drone. It might have picked up something.”

John hummed. A rival gang on the hunt - they would likely send whatever pieces were left to Black Mask. “Were they found the same way?”

“No. The members we found were all shot.”

Interesting! “Head or torso?”

“Does that really matter?”

“Depends on how sloppy our killer was!”

“...I don’t know how you’re so enthusiastic about this,” Tiffany grumbled, eyeing him scrupulously.

“Oh, come on, Tiff’, crime’s my specialty! We’re investigating a potential gang war, here - if it’s mostly headshots, it’s professional executions, which means a rival mafia sending a message; if it’s torsos it’s more likely to be newbies.” he thought for a moment. “Unless it’s the Corazón troupe, of course. But I’m pretty sure they’re all dead. Or really old.”

It was clear to see she hadn’t thought of that. “I’d say it looked like upper-body shots from the pictures I saw last night. I don’t have those handy, though. I’ll bring it up with Bruce.”

Hm. Hm, hm, hm. The van exploding, the crew ending up dead with only one missing as a hostage or informant - it sounded too much like a professional job. Someone planned it carefully. So why did one group get stabbed, and another shot? And why were the knife marks so precise when the shots were… Well, they could be precise. He’d have to see the pictures. Or at least hear of it.

“Speaking of him, I gotta go. I don’t want to be too late,” Tiffany said, tucking her tablet away.

“Ooh, before you do-” John quickly opened a new contact page and pushed the phone at her - “here, I don’t want to have to surprise you every time I see you.” There was the small chance she’d take it and throw it over the building, or slap it out of his hand, or just give him that weirded-out look she got sometimes or -

Tiffany defied the anxious conspiracies his brain was spinning; she took the phone and dutifully punched the number in, handing it back without any kind of strange look. “I better not find myself added to any weird listings,” she said jokingly, offering a small smile. A peace offering.

“Not even cute cat videos?” He teased, adding the fox and computer emoticons to the end of her name.

“I’ve already got a playlist on UBox for that,” Tiffany shrugged, heading back towards the fire escape. “’Bye, John.”

“’Bye, Tiff’,” he echoed, thinking for a second, “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

She blinked, turning for a moment, her hands already on the ladder railing. “You think you can find something from the inside of the halfway house?”

She was underestimating him. It was an advantage sometimes, but mostly it just annoyed him. He wasn’t anywhere close to Bruce – a man of the world in every sense – but he did have some physical power and brains and could put things together when they interested him enough. “You think that could stop me?” He answered, thinking back to every little secret he ever learned within the padded walls of his former home. “I’ve got my ways, Tiff’ – I have access to stuff you and Bruce could only dream about.”

He saw the wariness return on her face. She was unsure of what he knew and how he knew it, and just what he did to get people to talk, or what he did to take.

But like hell he’d tell her. She wouldn’t get it. Not now, at least. Maybe someday. “Be careful out there,” he added, letting the seriousness sink in before turning back into something more optimistic for both their sakes, “and have a good day at work!”

Tiffany left his view, and John cast one more look out at the crime scene in the distance.

At least he had some new things to think about at all hours of the day. Two groups of filthy criminals pitted against each other over their petty toys, unaware that Batman would be hell-bent on stopping it, using his loyal assistants who were waiting and watching from the shadows for help…

But the questions were what their precious toys were, and when and how Black Mask would get revenge – and figuring all that out would be easy once John could pinpoint who the rival group was.

How fun!

Notes: Yes, Bruce might be the main character, but relationships work both ways - John is his own person regardless of what their relationship is like, so we get to see his life, too! (Yes, that means even if he’s a villain - though he’d probably start at a hideout rather than the halfway house, considering TT wouldn’t be likely to let him have any kind of redemption arc. But we have nothing to hold us back anymore! No bars, no chains, no gods, no masters!!! So villain!John can have a redemption arc too if you want, probably starting back in season 3 and continuing on here, because he’s an ill man who needs a support system and you can make it however you want!! Fight me, TT!!!! Oh wait, you can’t! Ahahahahahahaha!!!!!!)

(You’ll still be missed by us all. Thanks for the fun and new beginnings, TellTale… I hope you know my teasing comes from [mostly] love.)

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to have some new mechanics, so “drawing” and “photography” are now things “the player” can do practically free-style! And of course a big new addition is also “character perspective swap”, to focus on John for some of the time so “the player” can experience different sides of this story. And of course John’s choices affect the story, too! And depending on what you do with him…wait, that’s spoiler territory…I can’t tell you yet... You’ll have to wait along with me. But I pinky-swear it’ll be worth it. (｡•̀ᴗ-)b✧

I try to provide updates on tumblr/my Ao3 profile but nothing is guaranteed, so subscribing/bookmarking would be ideal for you to keep current! I hope to see you April 17 for our next look into this case! (･ω´-ゞ)^☆

#ttoj #season 4 #bttts s4 #batman the telltale series #telltale batjokes #john doe #batjokes #blood tw #corpse tw #mental illness #today was stressful omfg #i feel bad that this is late #at least i managed to perfect it before i left work #reblogs are love #so are likes!!!#💜💜💜#the tolls of justice

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deakyjohns · 5 years

Text

All Dead, All Dead - Brian May x Reader

Summary: The reader notices that Brian’s new song has brought up some emotions, and wants to comfort him. (Can be with Gwil!Bri or Real Bri, whichever you prefer!)

Warnings: so tooth-rottingly fluffy and sappy because i’m a soft bitch, mentions of animal death, discussions of loss, [word count: 1,510]

When you awoke, the space beside you in bed was empty. You frowned, squinting into the sunlight that filtered into your room, but soon you heard the soft sound of the keyboard drifting in from down the hall. It put a smile on your face, and you crept out of bed. Your steps were quiet, as you didn’t want to disturb Brian while he was writing. He didn’t notice you right away–– you were leaning silently in the doorway of the sitting room–– but after a moment you spoke up.

“That’s beautiful, Bri,” you said gently. He sat up straight when he heard your voice and sniffled.

“Er, thank you. I didn’t know you were awake.” He passed a hand across his face and you frowned, padding over to his side. Was he crying?

“I only just got up. Love, are you all right?” You tucked yourself against his side, sitting on the edge of the keyboard’s bench. He’d wiped his tears away, but the tracks still glistened on his cheeks. He turned his head from you ever so slightly, but you brushed his curls out of his face, gently turning his chin so he’d look at you. “What is it, Bri? What’s wrong?” He smiled at you sadly, a hand coming to rest on your thigh.

“It’s… I’m all right. It’s silly, really.” He pecked your forehead and stood, drifting over towards the couch. You stood and followed him, brow furrowed. Brian was usually so open with you about how he was feeling. He’d stopped, looking out a window, a faraway expression on his face. You stepped behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Bri, you know I’d never laugh at you. If it’s making you feel something, it certainly isn’t silly.” He sighed, and you could feel him cave in, shoulders drooping forward. His hands were warm as he ran them over your arms, locked around him.

“Will you sit with me?” he asked, almost shyly. You moved so you were standing in front of him, making sure he caught your eye, could see that you passed no judgement.

“Of course I will.” Your voice was gentle and you laid a hand on his face, letting your thumb stroke over his cheekbone. He gave you a weak smile and shuffled over to the couch, keeping one of your hands in his. You sidled up beside him once he sat, winding your arms around him, one draped around his shoulders and the other hand clasped in his, resting idly in his lap. You sat there in silence for a few moments, forehead resting against his temple, breathing with him. Finally he spoke, eyes cast in front of him, not focused on anything in particular.

“When I was a kid, my cat died. Pixie.” You nodded. He’d told you so many lovely stories about growing up with that cat. “She was the sweetest thing in the world,” he continued, “and… And I couldn’t–– I can’t. I just can’t understand it.” Brian turned to look at you, and you returned his gaze, concern pinching your brow. You moved your arm from around his shoulders, instead letting your fingers slide comfortingly into the hair at the nape of his neck. He relaxed at your touch, but looked away from you again, head hanging.

“It’s just so horrible,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “And I know, I know that every living thing dies… You know, I’ve lost friends. And it’s never easy. But it seems too cruel that even the smallest, kindest, most innocent beings…” He made a small gesture with his free hand, as if imitating a puff of smoke. “Gone. Suffering, and then… gone.” You nodded, toying with a few of his curls.

“What brought this on?” you asked softly. “Did anything happen?” Brian let out a humorless laugh and shook his head.

“Really, you’ll think it’s silly.”

“Brian,” you said seriously, turning his face towards yours again, “I’m telling you I won’t.” The look in your eyes told him you meant it, and he sighed.

“Last night, I dreamt…” he dropped your gaze. “Well, I dreamt that you’d died. And you were there when I woke up, of course, but it still… It still hurt,” he admitted, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. He looked at you again, as if to reassure himself once more that you were there. Your eyes shone with emotion and before he could say a word to try and comfort you–– which you could tell he was about to–– you slung a leg across his lap and pulled him into your arms. You tucked his head against your shoulder, face pressed into his hair. The embrace took him a bit by surprise, but he quickly relaxed into it, letting you hold him.

“Oh, Bri…” you said soothingly. “You have such a big heart. And such a kind, beautiful soul.” You let a hand run comfortingly up and down the length of his back, and he held you tighter, letting out a modest laugh. “No, I mean it. You’re so full of empathy, my god. This world doesn’t deserve you, it really doesn’t.” He let out another chuckle at this, seeming to be a bit more comfortable, though you could feel a few tears staining the sleeve of your t-shirt.

You pulled back to look at him, cradling his face in your hands. He smiled at you tearfully, giving your hips an affectionate squeeze.

“Loss is so awful,” you said, hands slipping down to his shoulders. “But the fact that you feel it so deeply only speaks to how fiercely you love the people you know while they’re alive. And that never dies. That love never leaves us. I believe that. And you’ve still got me, right here. And I love you, Brian May. With everything I have.”

“Oh god, you’re going to make me cry again,” he murmured, embarrassed, as he tucked his face back into the crook of your neck. You smiled, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“That’s okay, babe. You let it all out if you need.” You carded your fingers through his hair, holding him close. After a moment, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder and lifted his head to look at you again.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, taking your hands and pulling you in for a chaste kiss.

“Think nothing of it,” you said quietly, forehead resting against his. “You know I am always here, whenever you need me.”

“I know.”

You both sat there for a few moments, letting the tranquility of the moment linger. After a few moments, you spoke up.

“Would you play me your song, Bri?” He smiled.

“It’s not quite finished yet.”

“Even better.” He let out a fond chuckle as you climbed out of his lap, extending your hand to him. He took it, slender fingers interlocking with yours as you led him back to the keyboard. He sat down and began to play you what he’d written. You pulled over a chair so he’d have enough room to play freely, and watched as his fingers danced over the keys and he began to sing.

She came without a farthing,

A babe without a name,

So much ado about nothing

Was what she tried to say.

So much ado, my lover

So many games we played,

Through every fleeted summer,

through every precious day.

All dead, all dead

All the dreams we had,

And I wonder why I still live on.

All dead, all dead,

And alone I’m spared.

My sweeter half instead, all dead

and gone.

All dead…

He began to play the gorgeous yet haunting melody that you’d woken up to before trailing off, and looking back to you. You shook your head, amazed, before saying anything. Brian was so mesmerizing when he performed and you needed a moment before you could speak.

“Brian, it’s really breathtaking.” He smiled, shifting a bit, uncomfortable in the praise.

“Thank you.” You moved to sit on the piano bench again, one leg hanging over either side, and Brian moved to do the same, catching your hands in his when you sat.

“And I want you to express everything that you’re feeling. But I also need you to know that I am always going to be here by your side.” Brian nodded, and you trailed your hands up and down his arms. “So no matter how dark it seems, you are never going to be alone, you hear me? You are not alone.”

“I love you,” he said earnestly, “I can’t even begin to tell you how much.”

“You do tell me how much,” you replied, “you tell me and you show me every day, my love. And I love you right back.”

And though the ache in his chest was not all the way gone, Brian knew he didn’t need to be afraid of it swallowing him whole. He could face anything with you by his side.

#brian may x reader #gwilym lee x reader #queen x reader #queen imagine #brian may imagine #gwilym lee imagine #OK HERE WE GO A BITCH DID IT #writing #my writing

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stressa-bessa · 5 years

Text

Tonight, all is silence in the world

While this is much overdue, this is a prompt submitted by @notsogracefulgrace for my 100-follower celebration! Thank you for your patience! I am so sorry this took so long, I have been stuck with midterms and finals at school, but I hope to get back into the swing of things soon!

Prompt #29 – “I didn’t know you could sing!” “I can’t.”

Spider!Son x Iron!Dad

Word count: 2366

It was a quiet afternoon in the tower. The avengers had spent the entire week away fighting HEXE, cooperatives from HYDRA, in Russia, and Tony was relieved to finally be home. Peter was staying with the Stark’s as Aunt May had to go out of town for a business meeting. Other than the young avenger, the rest of the team had decided to go to their respective homes for a much-needed break.

Tony enjoyed having Peter stay with him and Pepper at the tower. He felt that he was able to live his secret dream of being a father, getting to share the moments and experiences that he missed out on with his own father. Peter was such a good kid, Tony was honoured that this bright eyed, inspiring young boy would chose him to be his mentor. If anything, Tony looked up to Peter. His resilience and ability to be positive when things get tough, the kid is made of steel.

In those moments where Peter wasn’t in the tower, it felt empty. Those quiet hours sparked many conversations about children and marriage between Tony and Pepper, usually initiated by Tony. He wanted the chance to be like his mom.

Tony was the apple of Maria’s eye, she always wanted the best for his son. She knew that her husband was absent as a parent and she made sure to make it up to the boy as much as she could. Tony remembered how his mother would attend every little league game, cheering loudly from the stands with slices of watermelon sitting on her lap for the boys to enjoy after their game, or how she would secretly teach Tony how to play the piano and read him Shakespeare when Howard was away. Tony also remembered all the times that she would stand in front of him and absorb the verbal and physical abuse from Howard, in an attempt to salvage whatever pieces remained of Tony’s childhood.

Tony wanted the chance to take away all of Peter’s pain, the way his mother had done so for him. He knew that Aunt May was more than capable of taking care of Peter, however, Tony knew firsthand what it was like to grow up without a father figure. At the very least, he wanted Peter to have that positive male presence in his life. Tony always worried about stepping on Aunt May’s toes as he never wanted to make her feel that he was trying to replace Ben. That was the last thing Tony wanted, Ben was Peter’s ‘father’ and there was no way Tony could ever be as pure and good as Ben. It wasn’t fair to Peter as circumstances ripped away not one, but two fathers from him before their time. It wasn’t a horrible situation like the one Tony grew up in, Peter had had a loving and nurturing father figure in his life.

“Tony, I’m stepping out for a while. I believe Peter is in his room doing school work.” Pepper interrupts Tony’s thought, leaning down to press a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe we could make pizza tonight, as a family?” She adds, a smile growing on her face. Pepper loved Peter, but what she loved more was the smile that grew on Tony’s face whenever the boy would run in and show him the A he got on a science project or ask about girls. Pepper wished she could grant Tony’s wish to be a father. They had been trying for a while, but the doctors had said that due to their age, it will be difficult to conceive.

“I think that sounds great, Pep.” Tony replies, looking up into his fiancée’s eyes.

“I’ll get everything we need, including gluten-free crust!”

“Really?...Do we have to have gluten-free crust? It’s pizza for god’s sake-“

“Anthony, what did the doctor say! Low-carb helps with insulin resistance, which regulates hormones-“

“Which helps with making babies. Fine, fine, fine.” Tony chuckles, pressing another kiss onto Pepper’s lips before she walks out of the lab and into the elevator.

The silence of the tower drove Tony mad. With all the thoughts roaming through his mind and lack of work to do, he found himself walking by his piano.

This beautiful Steinway, that was once his mother’s, sat in his parlor growing dusty over the years. Tony couldn’t remember the last time when he had the chance to play. The last few years had been a whirlwind, but perhaps falling in love with music again was the relief that he needed. Now that the arc reactor was gone, and he had his health again, he needed to find ways to relax and be at peace. The earth was once again whole after the defeat of Thanos and Tony’s therapist had suggested that he find a hobby that doesn’t involve mechanics and science. Something relaxing, creative and something that would open him up emotionally. Tony’s therapist had labelled him “emotionally constipated” in their last session, scoring a laugh from both Tony and Pepper as the therapist had hit the nail on the head.

Tony lifted the heavy, quilted cover off the piano and dusted off the cover, the shiny black hue of the piano starting to regain its beauty. Tony’s worn hands gently lifted the keyboard cover before he softly blew the remaining dust off the ivory keys.

He sat at the piano, hands hovering over the keys, unsure as to what to play, unsure as to what they remembered how to play. Tony gently pressed the keys, leaning into the stiff ivory. He couldn’t remember what the name of this melody was or who wrote it, but his hands had remembered as if it were an old friend.

“Mozart.” Tony breathes softly, a smile spreading on his cheeks as he remembers the piece his mother taught him as a child. The adrenaline rush that Tony used to gain from playing had start to return, he kept asking himself why he had stopped playing all those years ago.

After reacquainting his hands to the keys, he started to play a classic favourite of his. Unlike his usual rock and roll, his hand started to play Jungleland by Bruce Springsteen. A song that brought Tony back to his wild, teenage years running through the streets of New York. Carefree, responsibility and adulthood on the horizon, full of young love, lust and rebellion.

His rough voice slowly joined his hands, and before Tony knew it he was captivated by the song. It felt as if he was on stage with the Boss himself, reliving the glory days before his world turned upside down. A world where all these horrible things hadn’t happened, a world where he was young and free, and his mom still had his back. A world where his mother was still alive and able to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

“I didn’t know you could sing!” a quiet voice mutters in shock, pulling Tony away from his daydream. His hands abruptly stop, banging on the keys to provoke a clashing sound.

“I can’t.” Tony looks over his shoulder to see Peter standing there with a pencil behind his ear and a science book in his hand. “What do you need, Pete?” Tony asks, his tone changing once he realized that it was the curious boy who had snuck up on him. “Remind me to bubble wrap the place that way you don’t sneak up on me!” Tony chuckles.

“Uh, I had a couple of questions I could use a second opinion on…plus I heard you playing and wanted to see if it was a recording or…”

“Oh, uh that was nothing. Just trying to listen to my therapist.” Tony brushes off the boy, “how about those questions?”

The two were sat at the kitchen table talking about chemistry, Tony working his way through a problem to show Peter that you can sometimes skip steps in the process.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? What was that song you were playing?”

“Kid, drop it. It was nothing.” Tony mutters, embarrassed that he had been caught by the boy.

“It just sounded super familiar, like I’ve heard it before.” Peter add quietly, his hand reaching to rub the back of his neck.

“Jungleland. Bruce Springsteen.” Tony sighs as he looks up at the boy. He could see something flash before Peter’s brown eyes before the boy looked back down at his homework, shaking his head in the process.

“Uncle Ben used to love Bruce Springsteen. He’d play this one album over and over again in the car. That’s probably where I heard it.” Peter half smiles while looking at Tony.

Tony felt bad for being so short with him. Peter was truly just being inquisitive, trying to get to know Tony and he had refused to let the boy in. The absolute opposite of what his therapist had suggested, even worse, it was something his father used to do to him.

“Yeah? Do you know what his favourite song was?” Tony smiles, closing the textbook that was on the table.

“Uh, I think it was Rosalita. He said it reminded him of Aunt May.” Peter chirps, a grin pulling at his cheeks at the mention of his aunt.

“That’s a good one. Why don’t I show you my music collection? I have a feeling you might like it.”

Peter’s face lit up like Christmas morning. Tony felt good for once, he felt that he had done something right. As the two boys walked to Tony’s study, Peter had started rambling about the story of how May and Ben met and why Rosalita was important. Peter’s enthusiasm brought a smile to Tony’s face, hoping that the boy would continue to open up and tell him about his life before the Avengers.

“Pizza time!” Pepper hollers from the kitchen, finely chopping vegetables on the marble countertop. She had returned from her afternoon of appointments and errands and had started prepping the toppings immediately, as she figured that Peter would probably be starving.

Peter’s head slowly peeked around the corner, looking into the kitchen where Pepper was chopping. Tony waltzed up behind the boy and pushed him gently into the kitchen.

The three had a blast making their own pizza’s, creating different silly faces out of toppings.

Once they were cooked, Tony and Peter set the table and they all sat down for the meal together.

“How was your afternoon, Pepper?” Peter asks softly, taking a much anticipated bite of his pizza.

“Oh, it was lovely. Got to see an old friend for coffee, stopped in at the doctors, got groceries-“

“You went to the doctor?” Tony asked in a concerned tone, slowly sipping at his drink, refusing to break his gaze on Pepper.

“Yes, I did. I have good news.” She smiles, pulling a paper out from her back pocket. “He said we can start hormones next week. We have to go pick up all the medication tomorrow.”

“What does that mean?” Tony replies, staring into Pepper’s soul, his gaze sending a flutter in her chest.

“Uhm, yeah…What does that mean?” Peter adds quietly, slouching in his seat trying to conceal his embarrassment.

“It means that we are good to go for our first round of IVF. We can start the process, Tony!”

“Wait- What!? Does this-“

“Yes! Tony, this time next year we could have a baby in our arm!” Pepper mentions calmly, a smile growing on her face. Tony looked at her, eyes wide and in complete awe. Peter bounced between looking at Tony’s aghast face and Pepper’s sly smile.

“Wow, congrats you two!” Peter peps, interrupting the pregnant silence at the table. A grin forms on Tony’s lips as he starts to laugh in absolute disbelief. His dream was finally going to come true if everything went well with this round of IVF. Pepper stood up and squeezed Tony on his shoulders, pressing her lips to his cheek. Before walking into the kitchen, she ruffles Peter’s hair.

“You know, Pete. If you hadn’t come into our lives, we never would have wanted kids.” Pepper mentions from the kitchen, emerging with a salad that she had forgotten to place on the table.

“Really?” “Of course, Pete. We consider you to be family.” Tony smiles, a big bite of pizza filling his mouth.

“Well, I consider you two to be like parents. Of course, Aunt May is number one, but you’re like the cool step parents that my friends have. The ones who go to all their soccer games and happily co-parent without bickering about legalities and-“

“You’re adorable, Peter.” Pepper smiles, sitting between the two boys. “I’d come to your soccer games any day.”

“But I don’t play soccer.” Peter says in a confused tone, his mouth hovering over a bite of pizza.

“Pete, it was a metaphor. We know you don’t play soccer.” Tony sighs, staring at the confused boy.

“Oh.” The boy breathes, a blush growing on his cheeks as he slowly understands the joke.

“How about you go pick a movie after dinner for all of us to watch?” Pepper states, passing the salad across the table to Tony.

“Sure!”

Tony looked endearingly at his wife. How could he be so lucky to have Pepper in his life, supporting him in all his shenanigans. Tony was so grateful for Peter, as well. As much as the boy could irritate him and make him crazy, he loved the kid. Tony couldn’t picture life without Peter these days. It was because of him, that Tony felt whole again. Tony felt that life was finally starting to settle and he was finally becoming the man his mother had always hoped he’d become.

taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts @spiderlingsweb

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